#there is so much he could be blaming her for -

[luveline]

I would dieeee for some more of Spencer and bombshell after her getting injured😭 him taking such good care of her, the BEST doctors, researching every single option😭 reassuring her rhats shes just as pretty😭

—Spencer looks after you while you recover from a brutal injury. fem!reader, 1.1k

Spencer thinks it’s one of the team's more gruesome injuries. Hotch has been stabbed to mince meat and Emily half-killed, Elle got shot, and he’s had his fair share of violence, too, but he can’t imagine the horror of being hit in the face with a hammer. The pain so close to your eyes, your teeth, your brain, the fear and the sudden crack. He feels sick whenever he remembers the sound, and he was sick the first time he dreamt about the way you cried as it happened. Your strange yelp, the immediate drop to the floor. 

Spencer never hit somebody as hard as he did that UnSub. His gun whipped out possessed across the UnSub’s face, and then drove forward into their nose with a stomach turning crunch. 

They’re in custody, and you’re in bed recovering with some of the best doctors in the world. Spencer thinks you both won this round, even if it doesn’t feel like a win right now. 

“Shh,” he whispers, “shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t cry.” 

You cling to his chest as though worried he’s going to move out of reach, sobbing. You’re careful not to touch your face or his chest, the soreness too much, but the rest of you is clinging to him. You don’t have to worry, he’s not going anywhere. 

“Please, it’s okay,” he says, the tip of his nose to your forehead. “You can have another dose in twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes.” 

He supposes the pain reminds you of the full extent of the injury, your jaw fractured in two places, your gum traumatised, your face more bruise than anything else. You hate your appearance being out of your control, it’s making you panic —he can feel you shaking.

He’d sat down with your drink to find you already crying, he couldn’t have been gone for ten minutes, but it was long enough for you to fall deep into the throes of hysteria. You’d grappled for him as he sat down to hug you, your face hidden ever since, and now the shakes have started. He’s hopeless. 

But Spencer’s willing to do anything to make it better. “Can you tell me what’s upsetting you? Please?” he asks.

“It’s–” Harder sobbing, your tears dripping down from your chin to wet the thigh of his pants.

He has to calm you down.

Since you met Spencer, you’ve been the comforter. He can’t count how many times something has hurt him and you’ve rushed to save him. You’ve hugged and held and kissed him into smiling, you’ve never let him down, you’ve forgiven him after a hundred stupid mistakes, so Spencer doesn’t care that you’ve been inconsolable for days. He really doesn’t mind that he’s had to look after you this attentively. It’s his pleasure, and he’s getting better at it. 

He presses a few soft shushes somewhere in your hairline, his hand rubbing a circuit into your back with a firm pressure that never tips into roughness. He does it until his palm is numb. He could paint the slant of your back from muscle memory, fingers tripping down the creased fabric of your pyjamas, pulling back up to your neck. He’s never felt such tender sympathy. He hates that you’re in pain, but he doesn’t hate getting to rub your back. This is surely boyfriend territory. 

“You want something to drink now?” he asks quietly. 

You open your mouth to answer, sighing in pain momentarily. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Did you want the straw?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” He can’t force himself away. “You okay for me to move you?” 

“Yeah.” 

You can’t be blamed for short answers. 

There are surgeries to hold your jaw together when it breaks, and while you were unconscious (shock, rather than head injury), Hotch consented as your next of kin for the doctors to make sure things wouldn’t get worse, but it was Spencer who had to advocate for you afterwards. They’d wanted a metal connector to prevent dislocation. Spencer knew this could mean another scar, so he said no, because you might’ve said no had you been awake, and they should’ve asked you anyways. 

When you did wake up, you were vehemently against it. Which is fine, you can heal without it, but it’s scarier to do it unaided. Your jaw could dislocate if you do something wrong, which is not only horrifically painful, but a painfully horrific injury to have. You talk quietly. You take small mouthfuls of soft foods. 

Spencer looks at you now, tearstained, back arched like a kicked dog, and doesn’t know what to do. He wishes he were the one who got injured instead. 

He takes the hospital bed controls into his hand and presses the button to make the top of your mattress elevate. Tomorrow, they’ll send you home, and Spencer will have to construct a nest of pillows for you to sit in while you recover, but it’ll be worth it. Things won’t feel as intimidating when you’re in your own bed. 

“Lean back, beautiful,” he says. 

Your smile is a straight line with eyes lit up. “What for?” you ask. 

“Comfier. Less stress on your head.” You lean back. “Oh,” he adds, “and so I can get a better view of you.” 

Your eyes get impossibly brighter. “What do you think?” you murmur. Your voice sounds scratched to death from crying, tight from holding your mouth a certain way, but pleased anyways. It’s just as pretty as it always is to him. 

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, reaching out to cradle your waist, his hand moving up and down the side of you tenderly. 

You have a bruise from under your left eye and bleeding down your neck, and you haven’t slept right for a few days, but you’re undeniably beautiful in Spencer’s eyes. 

You’ve been the most beautiful girl in the world literally from the day you met onward, with as much to do with your heart as your lovely face. He should tell you that, but he doesn’t. 

“Can I have water now?” you ask, covering his hand with yours. 

His confidence wobbles. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Sorry.” He grabs your drink, water spilling down the side to wet his hand. 

“Please don’t make me laugh.” 

“I’m not trying to,” he says pathetically. 

He holds the cup of water to your face and you guide the straw between your lips. Spencer’s sure he’s been in love with you forever, and it’s all but cemented now. 

#spencer and bombshell reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[gay-dorito-dust]

You may request A batboys reacting to the death of the reader

First time writing for Tim, so he’s probs ooc in this one.

Dick feels as though he’s failed you.

He tries to act like he was fine but he was far from it and everyone knew it as they stepped on eggshells with him during this time.

Dick would often find himself sat on the very rooftops where he’d take you on countless dates or just to star gaze and talk as though you were still with him.

It was his own way of comforting himself with your loss but that was never enough to stop the tears that fell from his eyes when he spotted a bright star he’s never seen before until now, and laughs humourlessly.

‘I see you’ve finally made your way amongst the stars huh sweetheart?’ He’d say as your star would twinkle in response, making him chuckle. ‘You’re so beautiful, the brightest of your kind.’ He adds sombrely as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he felt his heart sing out for you, only to receive nothing in return.

Reality was often disappointing but with you it was a fairy tale.

Waking up to you was a dream within itself and getting to do mundane things with you before heading off to work was something that could only exist in a daydream.

He knew Hayley misses you as badly as he does with how he’d hear the poor dog whine and whimper at the door, as if waiting for you to walk through it and tackle her with kisses and love like you always did, only to get nothing for hours.

‘I know, I miss them too.’ He says against Hayley’s fur as she whimpers and whines at the door. ‘I miss them so fucking much it hurts.’ He adds as he allows himself to mourn for you alongside his dog long into the night.

Jason blames himself for not being fast enough or strong enough to keep you protected and safe.

The apartment you once shared with him that only recently had started to feel like home to him now felt cold and haunted with the ghost of you, so much so to the point he avoids it at all cost.

Nothing felt right without you, everything felt wrong and unjustified that he became more ruthless then before on patrols just to let off some steam and would come back from them more beaten and bruised then normal.

He didn’t care, he couldn’t feel anything anymore with how numb he became after loosing you.

Dick and Roy would stop by to see how he was doing but each visit was the same with Jason refusing his older brother and best friend entry as he held one of your plushies tightly against his chest. He knows they mean well but he just couldn’t find it within himself to hear the same thing he’s heard from everyone else; It just felt disingenuous after a while and didn’t feel as though people truly understood the impact that you had on him throughout your time together.

Jason would become more destructive with himself and going headfirst into danger without a second thought and damns his teammates for dragging him out by the scruff of his neck as he fights and kicks out of their hold. He doesn’t want to be saved! He just wanted to be with you again, why couldn’t they see that?!

After loosing you Jason becomes more prone to angry outbursts and often lets them out on the wrong person but he couldn’t care less at this point, his favourite person was gone and he was left back where he was before you.

Lost and deeply afraid.

Tim would retreat from everyone and everything by cooping himself into his room, rarely to come out.

He’d rather rot in his bed and on his phone, looking through all the photos you’ve taken together and seeing just how happy you both were, all the while a pit in his stomach grew at the thought of all the plans you’ve made but would never get to do.

He hated how easily he gave you his heart and hated it even more at just how easy it was to loose you that he wishes that he could stop himself from meeting you for the first time, just so he could selfishly save himself from the best moments of his life and the inevitable heartbreak he’d soon suffer.

Tim would do anything in his power to get you back but knew that it just wasn’t possible.

He knew Jason was given life by the Lazarus pit but he wasn’t willing to subject you to that even if he was held at gunpoint. He’d rather you rest in peace than force you to live with the knowledge that you should technically be dead.

Tim would remain in his room, wondering about the what ifs and the what could’ve beens if you hadn’t died. Would someone have taken your place? Was your death an unchangeable fixed point in time that was meant to happen?

He would only be reunited with you in his dreams where he has saved you and you had gotten to live out the rest of your life happily, rather then left for dead in an alleyway not too far from the place where you were originally going to meet up for date night.

Damian dedicated his life to getting revenge.

He had lost the light in his life, so why should he think his adversaries should live when you weren’t even given the option?

There will be more bodies pilling up on the streets of Gotham at a faster rate than normal whenever Damian is on patrol, much to Bruce’s dismay.

His anger and grief was all consuming and that left little to no room for logic to make him stop and see what he was doing was no better than the thing that took you away.

Life was black and white for a long time for Damian and you were the colour.

You were the air he breathed and without you he was gasping.

He knew about the Lazarus pit in his grandfather’s possession and its mythical properties and how it gave Jason a second chance at life. However he was at a cross roads on using it for his own selfish gain, on one hand he could have you back and everything would be fine again, but on the other hand you wouldn’t be the version of you he fell in love with…

Damian didn’t know what to do. The grief, the anger, the sadness…it was all too much for him. He felt as though he apart of him was missing and he would never get it back, it just wasn’t possible.

Bruce feels as though nothing has changed since his parents death.

He may be older, faster, stronger and wiser but that didn’t mean nothing in the face of death, and your death only proved that to be true as he held you in his arms, holding you close to his chest as he quietly sobs into your cold neck.

Much like Tim, Bruce doesn’t take care of himself anymore and it was up to Alfred to make sure that he doesn’t keep over and die unexpectedly.

‘They wouldn’t want this for you sir.’ Alfred would say as Bruce slams his hands down on the surface of his desk. ‘And what would you know that they want for me Alfred, y/n’s dead and it’s my fault.’ He would bark and bare his teeth at the only father figure he had in his life, a father figure whom has seen this expression bore on the young master’s face more times then he could count, but it still hurt him to see Bruce in pain and heartbreak.

‘They would want you to take care of yourself, sleep proper hours, eat full meals, shower, reach out to anyone,’ Alfred began to walk towards Bruce and place a hand on his shoulder, where he could practically feel the unbridled anger and pain radiation through him that he kept under control. ‘They wouldn’t want you to wallow in pain alone, Gotham needs you.’

‘And I needed them.’ Bruce replied sharply, aggressively wiping his eyes with his hand as he looks over at a framed picture of you that he always kept nearby. ‘All I wanted was them.’ He adds softly this time as he looks at Alfred, lost and confused at what to do now that his anchor was gone. ‘I miss them so much Alfred.’

Alfred brings Bruce into his arms, much like he did when he lost his parents, when he lost Jason and now you, allowing him to burrow his face into the Butler’s shoulder and softly sob into the fabric. Alfred felt his heart break even more as he rubbed Bruce’s back in an attempt of bringing him comfort. ‘I know master Bruce, I know, but you’d be doing their memory a great disservice by destroying yourself.’ The older man started as he looked over at the framed picture of you and smiled soberly, you were a beacon to Bruce and Alfred wasn’t afraid to say that he viewed you as his in law with how happy you made Bruce and that was all Alfred could ever want for him.

Now that you were gone, Alfred couldn’t help but feel that the manor got just that little bit lonelier without you.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake imagines #tim drake x you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne imagines

[blue-ink-pearls]

So, I know people are really desperate for Sandra Lynn to have hooked up with Pamela Dawn instead of Bobby Dawn, and I completely understand that!* Bobby Dawn is slimy and awful and we don't know much about Pamela, so maybe she's better? But it is 100% Bobby Dawn for two very clear reasons:

Sklonda literally said it was him

Bobby Dawn has always been a predator

The first thing we learn about Sandra Lynn's affair during Spring Break Sophomore Year was that she had just left Aguefort (she dropped out her senior year and got a diploma later on) and she was very young. She was asked to join an established adventuring party of people who were older than her and that had lost one of its members. She fell in love with another member of the party that was already in a relationship, they had an affair, and then when the affair was discovered, Sandra Lynn was blamed, kicked out of the party, and her name was smeared as far and wide as possible by the person who had taken advantage of her so that person could absolve themselves, likely in the eyes of their partner and the party.

So what we can immediately deduce from this is that Sandra Lynn was an outsider to her new adventuring party, likely looked down on as "just a kid", maybe disdained for being a dropout, and most definitely resented for taking the place of the (presumably) dead party member. She was in actively dangerous and stressful situations while questing with the party and she probably had little support from the group during that time.

Sandra Lynn was very very vulnerable.

When he met Sandra Lynn, Bobby Dawn would have been about 20 years younger than he is now, likely in his late 30s/early 40s.** Probably still handsome, still a "dashing" active adventurer. He was married to Pamela already (not just in an established relationship), since he had a child by then that was close to grown and I don't think the Church of Sol would be very happy about a child out of wedlock. He would have been a cleric of Sol and probably still preaching "the good word of Sol" but it likely wouldn't have been constant. You can't give sermons while fighting monsters. I'm sure he even saved Sandra Lynn's life a few times!

The thing about Bobby Dawn being a televangelist now, but not then, is that when he was young, he was probably just as good at persuasion, at finding vulnerable people and exploiting their weaknesses to get what he wanted, and yet he hadn't made a name for himself as a televangelist, so people wouldn't know to be wary of him trying to convert or manipulate them.

The scene between Bobby and Kristen, when Kristen is pretending that Cassandra died shows exactly what kind of terrible person Bobby really is. He is happy to find Kristen devastated, that she is having "a real dark night of the soul" and needs guidance. He refuses to help Kristen stay at Aguefort (something that's within his power), despite knowing how beneficial that would be to her well-being, because that goes against his own goals. He is smug and condescending and cruel. He is preying on Kristen's devastation and vulnerability (not knowing it's an act), to draw her back into the fold of the Church of Helio/Sol.

The person who did that to Kristen, is the exact same person who took advantage of Sandra Lynn when she was still basically a kid, just out of high school. He took advantage of her feelings for him, her inexperience and isolation. And then, when they were discovered, he threw her away and made her the villain so he could get away with it.

He ruined Sandra Lynn's life. Yes, she's happy now with her daughter, her partner, and the beautiful home they've made at Mordred Manor with Adaine, Kristen, Lydia, Ragh, Tracker, Zayn, Aelwyn, Boggy, and 15 cats. But Sandra Lynn ended up with self-esteem and relationship issues that she is still dealing with to this day. Those issues ruined her marriage, could have ruined her relationship with Jawbone, and likely played a hand in the difficulties between her and Fig in Freshman Year, as Sandra Lynn saw her daughter take her first steps into the world of adventuring.

Because Sandra Lynn first wanted to be an adventurer and Bobby Dawn took that away from her, just like he tried to do to Kristen.

Bobby Dawn has shaped his career as a high priest of Sol and as a televangelist by portraying himself as the epitome of righteousness. He is rotten to the core, a predator in a job where he is meant to help people, and I CANNOT WAIT to see the Bad Kids take him down.

*I don't really understand it. Pamela Dawn is likely just as bad as Bobby. She's the chief paladin of the church of Sol, her husband is a televangelist and a High Priest of Sol, and she would have been around the same age as Bobby and having an affair with a vulnerable young girl who she then kicked out of the group and slandered. It being Pamela would still be awful!

**Even with the assumption that both Bobby Dawn and his child had their kids at a young age, the math still has to take into account that Sandra Lynn's daughter is the same age as Bobby Dawn's GRANDSON.

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #sandra lynn faeth #bobby dawn

[ham1lton]

fight for this love.

pairings: jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader

warnings: nothing!

faceclaim: bella hadid.

summary: jude meets you at a promotional event for a brand you both have a deal with. after the first meeting, he’s smitten, but there is a problem. he never got your number.

— part three of my 500 followers celebration ♡ —

liked by gucci, judesgf and 1,028,728 others.

vogue: gucci’s newest ambassador, footballer jude bellingham, spills the beans (no pun intended) on his fav outfit combo, his ideal type and his favourite kebab place back home in birmingham.

user1: NEED HIM SO BAD 😍😍😍😩😩😩

user8: brb going to buy out gucci rn.

user7: WAIT…. his ideal type???

-> user9: it’s lowkey kind of boring. specific but not specific. he says he loves girls who are focused, smart and have good relationships with their friends and family.

-> user7: check, check and CHECK 😩 brb calling up my deadbeat dad rq just for u jude 😘😍

user6: gucci king we love him.

————————————————————————

liked by yourbffname, oscarpiastri and 1,237,665 others.

yourusername: gucci loves me and i love gucci ♥︎ thank u to the whole gucci team for having me alongside the other ambassadors at today’s event! it was so much fun!

oscarpiastri: you had the entire gucci catalogue to choose from and you still chose to dress like an ailing grandfather.

-> yourusername: drip or drown baby!

-> oscarpiastri: you’re the latter.

user1: i met you today at the gucci event!! you were so sweet. i was the one who gave u the bracelet! 🫶🏼

-> yourusername: yes!! thank u sm!! it was so cute and matched my outfit so well. i’m still wearing it!

logansargeant: when are you hooking me up with free gucci 🤨😒 we’ve been friends for more than a decade ms l/n….

-> yourusername: lemme work my magic 🙈✨

user78: she should have been a model instead of a formula one driver!! so pretty!! that bone structure 🤤

user7: did you see jude looking at her throughout the whole damn event? omg. he’s down bad.

-> user63: bro was simping 😭 i don’t blame him. i mean… it’s y/n.

————————————————————————

————————————————————————

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbffname and 1,237,765 others.

judebellingham: took these pics last night. whoever my midnight muse was, please message me.

oscarpiastri: i know her mate. it’s landonorris.

-> landonorris: yes ‘tis i, your gucci girl 🥰

logansargeant: it’s yourusername, man. thank you for this. now she’ll stop talking about you in the gc 🙄🙄

-> user7: american and british solidarity.

user8: need a man willing to do a worldwide search for me.

-> user26: commit a crime, flee and you’ll get a whole fleet of men doing that for you <3

user12: oh to be jude bellingham’s midnight muse.

user90: how does bro not know the current world champion and first female f1 driver to break many barriers in the sport?? like she’s a household name 😭

-> user25: chronically offline 😭

yourusername: hi!! it’s me! these photos are gorgeous! yes, please message me <3 also ignore oscar, logan and lando in your comments please. they have no home training.

-> logansargeant: you could have stopped me if you had given me the gucci u promised 🤨

————————————————————————

liked by judebellingham, ynswifey and 1,272,892 others.

yourusername: i felt like my paddock outfit just wasn’t appreciated enough today.

oscarpiastri: this is all you post after your win?

-> yourusername: i put a lot of effort into this outfit! only charles said something. 😔

-> oscarpiastri: wow! y/n! jeans and a t-shirt! revolutionary!

-> yourusername: i’m gonna pretend that wasn’t sarcastic 😝🥰

user728: oscar doesn’t see the vision. this is super cute!!

user267: her posting this after she just hard launched her relationship with jude?!

-> user128: like girlie straight up jumped and kissed him after her win and hasn’t even acknowledged it???

judebellingham: u look so good.

-> user682: you couldn’t have texted her this shit? lmaoooooo.

user516: i appreciated it!!

-> yourusername: i love u sm 🫶🏼😍

————————————————————————

liked by ynsgf, zendaya and 1,727,982 others.

yourusername: tried to find out if blondes do truly have more fun. answer tbd.

— 📸 creds - my bf.

judebellingham: that’s ME in the caption btw.

-> yourusername: we know babe 😁🥰😝

gucci: i guess we’re matchmakers now?

-> logansargeant: YASSS 😩 now can i get free gucci or no 🤨

-> oscarpiastri: crazy emoji use man 😭 is it ever that serious.

judebellingham: i love you so much.

-> yourusername: love u forever. glad to be urs. 💕🫶🏻

user1: she ate this down we love a bad bitch and her supportive bf!

user71: him flying her out after she wins the championship!!! we love this for her!!

user16: why can’t i have a hot gf, be sexy, be rich, one of the most promising young athletes currently and be lounging on a beach somewhere…

-> user72: why can’t i have a hot bf, be sexy, be rich, one of the most promising young athletes currently and be lounging on a beach somewhere…

user68: we love a blonde moment!

-> yourusername: halfway through our holiday, i saw zendaya, rihanna and beyoncé go blonde and got extreme fomo.

-> judebellingham: she made me dye it. i was terrified.

————————————————————————

author’s note: reader here is heavily based off of what it would have been if nepo!sis reader was the driver instead of o/s but in that universe, she never would have dated lando. so… small blessings ig?

#jayde’s works ☆ #ham1lton 500 ☾ #f1 smau #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #football x reader #jude bellingham smau #jude bellingham fluff

[puck-luck]

Forever yearning for a jealous, dominant Luke Hughes. I mean spitting in your mouth, edging, mirror sex, etc. I need the filthy, down bad luke.

Scenario: maybe you’re becoming close with one of the other players (completely innocent-just forming a friendship) but Luke doesn’t see it as that way…

👉🏻👈🏻

warnings (in no particular order): spit(!!), jealousy, dom!luke, edging, mirror sex, one (1!) slap to the face just for the enjoyment of my friend jo, spanking, drinking (technically underage hiii luke turn 21 already stop being lame), beating yourself up, pet names and nicknames as FUCK (always bro do y’all even know me), road head, face fucking, unprotected p in v, dare i say breeding kink, implied subspace, allusion to size kink (probably established size kink to be fair), I THINK THAT’S IT BUT I’M NOT SURE! pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader summary: the one when luke gets jealous at the bar and doles out a bit of a punishment (code: luke is insecure about his performance on the ice, so when his gf starts talking with another teammate who is her friend, he gets jealous and feels like he has to prove himself by making her feel good, but he’s still a dom bc HOTTTT) wc: 6416

The Devils’ last game of the season was at home this year. There was no chance that they would make the playoffs and Jack was out in Colorado for his shoulder surgery, plus Luke’s parents weren’t able to make it from Michigan for his final rookie game. He was depending on you to be there, so there you were. You were cheering, you were yelling at the officials when they missed a call, you were laughing at Luke when he took a trademarked Hughes spill on the ice with barely anyone around him. Yeah, you were disappointed at the end of the game when the Islanders won (and it wasn’t even close), but it was just one game. It wasn’t the end of the world. It was a disappointment, but it wasn’t life-changing.

Luke, however, was much more upset with their performance when you met up with him after the game. He drove the two of you to the bar where the team was meeting for one last celebration before the off-season and he tried, he really did, to keep his complaints inside. He was stewing, just letting it well up inside of him and fester in the silence between you, until it spilled over.

“It should have been a better game,” Luke finally said, the harsh edge in his tone rubbing you in all the wrong ways. “We could’ve done more. If I had just–”

“Lu, baby,” you interrupted, voice soft. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was out there the longest, other than Jake,” Luke argued. “They depend on me and I let them down.”

“You were only on the ice for one goal, Lu. You couldn’t have done anything about at least the other three.”

Your statement was not something he wanted to hear. Your boyfriend, sweet as he was, always saw the best in everyone else and the worst in himself. Where he could have been blaming Brendan for the loss, since Brendan was on the ice for three of the four goals, he was instead blaming himself. He was never one to hold a grudge against his teammates or his friends or his family, which was part of the reason why you were so in love with him.

He grunted instead of giving you a real response, but you knew it was coming from a place of knowing you’re right but still feeling hurt.

“I love you,” you told him, just a reminder that his performance would never affect your affection towards him. 

“I love you too,” Luke replied, and you two fell back into silence. It was less tense this time, but his shoulders were still tense and he was frowning, almost pouting. He was so pretty, even now, but you hated how this expression marred his face.

When you pulled up to the bar, you were met by Luke’s teammates. While some of the men had gone home after the game, it was mostly the ones who had families. You knew their wives and girlfriends would have encouraged them to go out with the team rather than stay home with the kids, but you understood. If Luke had wanted to go straight home after the game, you would’ve gone with him and cuddled him until you fell asleep.

“Do you want to get out and get me a drink, baby, while I find parking?” Luke asked, always so considerate. 

“Yeah,” you agreed easily, leaning over the center console to peck his lips before you left the car. 

Waiting outside the entrance of the bar, Nico and John smiled as you got out of the car and walked over to them. You hugged each of them before entering the bar, Nico walking in ahead of you and John following you with a hand on your back. 

It didn’t mean anything to you or to John, but when Luke watched John guide you into the bar before he drove away to search for a parking spot, something sharp and green poked at his heart.

Luke finally made his way into the bar about ten minutes after you walked in, and your face had lit up when you saw him like it had been much longer. He didn’t see you at first, so you had the chance to watch him scan the room. His brow was furrowed as he scanned each person’s features. You knew that he was trying to spot you without looking for the other boys at first, but it was proving difficult with how crowded the room had become.

Timo appeared at his side and patted Luke’s shoulder in greeting. Luke talked to him for a minute before Timo pointed your way. Luke’s face split with a smile when he saw you and he gave Timo a pat before beelining towards you.

You looped your arms around Luke’s neck when he joined you, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Gross,” Nico complained from next to you. “It’s only been a few minutes since you’ve seen each other.”

“You’re not in love,” Luke replied, snarky and sarcastic like he tended to be when it wasn’t just the two of you. He then turned to you. “Where’s my drink?”

“What a priority,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him. He pinched your side. “I sent Johnny to go get it.”

Luke’s expression changed for a split second before he schooled his features. You wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t so in tune with his emotions, experience that comes only after years of dating a person. 

You let it go, knowing that it can’t be too important, or Luke would have said something. He knew you were friends with guys on the team. After being around them for almost a year, having moved out here with Luke at the start of his rookie year, it was bound to happen. Plus, Luke wasn’t the jealous type. He knew that you loved him and you’d love him forever, saying yes in a second if he chose to propose.

But to him, there was something about the way you said “Johnny” instead of John. It was that and John’s hand on your back as he guided you into the bar, on top of an already hard night, that had Luke questioning himself.

“I asked him to get you a rum and coke,” you said, tilting your head up to poke Luke’s nose with your own. “Is that okay?”

“It sounds good, thank you,” Luke replied. 

You resume conversation with Nico, turning to face him but staying tucked into Luke’s side. He had a hand on your hip and the other accepted the drink that John handed Luke when he returned. He nursed it quietly for a while, engaging in conversation here and there, but mostly just enjoying his time with his friends. 

The game was the last time that his whole team would be together like that, but this night out was the last time that his team, his friends, would be together in the way that mattered. Even if no one was traded, if no one changed in the slightest (except Jack, coming back from injury), things still wouldn’t be quite the same. It wouldn’t be his second year, his presence wouldn’t be new or exciting. He would have to try harder, do better, and be consistent to show that he wasn’t just an example of beginner’s luck.

He clutched you a little tighter to his side at that thought. He was comforted by the way that you melted into him, moving to lean back against his chest. Your hand covered his and the other polished off your drink. He took the empty cup from you and kissed your cheek before pulling away to toss your cup, and his, in the trash can behind him.

When he returned, he was taken aback by the sight before him.

You had stepped forward and were carding your fingers through John’s curls and Luke saw red before he saw the thoughtful look on your face. John had just said to you and Nico that he thought his hair was getting too long, too unruly. You didn’t agree– it was a good length, the curls were just settling into their shapes.

“I don’t think you should cut it, John,” you were saying before Luke grabbed your other wrist and yanked you towards him. “Luke!” You exclaimed, startled by the movement.

“Time to go,” Luke announced, loud enough that the other boys could hear. He clutched your wrist, not your hand, your wrist, and pulled you along as he stomped toward the exit.

“Luke, what is going on?” You asked, voice resounding in your ears like it’s much louder than it actually is. 

Luke kept walking like he didn’t even hear you, pushing through the door and leading you down the block to the car. He opened your door for you and helped you in, but he slammed it shut once you were buckled into your seat. He rounded the car and opened his own door, glaring at you in a passing glance before settling into the driver’s seat.

“Lu,” you implored, pressing your hands against the top of your thighs. 

When he didn’t reply, you tried again.

“Babe, talk to me–”

“I don’t want you to speak unless you’re spoken to,” Luke said. He refused to look at you. “You think you can touch John’s hair the way you touch mine? You’ll let him guide you into the bar the way I would? I’m not enough for you, huh, baby?”

You blinked, suddenly shifting up to sit a little straighter. Luke, your sweet angel Luke, the baby of his family who would never hurt a fly, who avoided hockey fights at every cost, had flipped his switch.

“Answer me. I asked you a question.”

“No, sir,” you said. Your eyes flickered down to where Luke’s knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. You inhaled sharply as you made eye contact with the veins decorating the back of his hand.

“No?” Luke repeated, mocking. “I’m not enough for you?”

“No! Lu, you’re more than enough, you know you’re the only one I need.” Your words came out scrambled and you tripped over them. 

Luke clicked his tongue, disapproval written all over his face. “Can’t even speak, can you?” He scoffed, reached down with one hand, and popped the button on his jeans. “Let’s put your mouth to a better use until you can find your words.”

“You’re driving,” you pointed out, casting a worried look at the road ahead of you.

“It wasn’t a question,” Luke threw you a glance. He looked back at the road, then back to you, this time holding your gaze. He cocked his head to the side, eyes softening for a moment. “Was it?”

“No,” you breathed out. 

“Good girl.” A smile spread over Luke’s face and he turned back to the road. “Get to it.”

You clenched your thighs together and unbuckled your seatbelt so you could twist towards Luke and lean over the center console. You reached out to unzip his pants, but he knocked your hands away.

“I didn’t say use your hand. I said,” he paused, grabbing your hair and tilting your head up so your eyes met his, “Use your mouth.”

The noise that escaped you was involuntary. You moved forward that extra inch and carefully took Luke’s zipper in your mouth, dragging it down. His boxers were revealed by the action, but that was the extent of it. 

“Come on,” Luke encouraged, growing impatient. What you couldn’t see from your position was the smug tilt of his mouth, knowing there was no way to get his cock out of his pants with just your mouth. “Take it out.”

“Can’t,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you can’t?” Luke mocked, feigning sympathy. “Poor baby needs my help, yeah?”

You nodded and hummed an agreement.

Luke’s grip tightened on your hair and he gave it a sharp tug. “Use your manners.”

“Please, Lu, help me,” you conceded.

“Help you what?”

“Help me take your cock out so I can suck you, please, sir.” Your voice was close to breaking, you were itching to get your mouth on him and make him feel good. 

Luke obliged, revealing himself to you. You opened your mouth and he pumped himself twice just to tease you before slapping the lip of his cock on the flat of your tongue. He fed you his cock, returning his hand to your hair when you had taken as much of his length in your mouth as you could. He gathered your hair into a messy ponytail with his one hand, the other still on the wheel, and began to guide your head up and down. 

You gagged when he guided you to his base, nose touching the fabric of his boxers around his cock, but the groan he let out made the discomfort worth it. It was low and desperate, just pure relief.

“Wanna fuck your mouth,” Luke breathed out, pulling you up so just the tip of his cock remained in your mouth. 

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked, swiping your tongue over his slit and relishing in the taste of his precum in your mouth. 

He moaned aloud, the sound seeming to echo throughout the car. You could feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. You let out a sigh, suddenly overwhelmed with contentment for your situation. Luke was perfect. He was the perfect boyfriend, whether he was his soft and cuddly self or this dominant version of him that wasn’t afraid to tell you what to do, to communicate what he wanted. 

“Would if I weren’t driving, too,” Luke mumbled, mostly to himself. “Fuck, baby, make me come. You know how.”

Luke returned both hands to the steering wheel and allowed you to move your head freely, to go at your own pace. You bobbed your head with enthusiasm, spit dripping down his shaft and soaking the fabric around him. You gagged at times, but the tight squeeze of your throat around him just added to Luke’s pleasure. He wasn’t shy about telling you how good you felt, either, making you more determined to make him come.

“Fuck, pull off,” Luke said, his voice a little shaky.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t, not when he was so close. The idea of having his come in your mouth, on your tongue, the manifestation of how you made him feel, was too alluring. 

“Y/N, pull off,” Luke commanded, reaching down to yank you off of him by your hair. He clenched his jaw as he held you just far enough off his cock that you thought, with just one bump in the road, you could capture it again. He steered out of the lane and parked on the side of the road. “You don’t want to listen? You’re so cockdumb that you can’t follow my orders?”

All you could do was look at him, eyes wide. 

He spoke through his teeth, never once blinking or breaking eye contact. “Since you want me inside you so bad, I’m gonna fuck your mouth until I come. You’re gonna take it. Even if you gag, even if you cry, I’m not going to stop until I come. Then, you’re going to sit back and buckle yourself in and I’m going to finish driving us home. You will not swallow. You’re going to hold my come in your mouth until I say so. Do you understand?”

Your jaw dropped at the words, the tips of your ears growing hot. “Yes, sir.” It’s nearly inaudible and you can feel your panties growing damper with just the thought of it– minute after minute ticking by, Luke’s come coating your tongue, not being able to speak or swallow. You’re completely under Luke’s control.  

He leaned back in the seat and motioned toward his cock. 

You allowed him to guide you onto his length again, getting comfortable with its size. You hollowed your cheeks and looked up at him, pausing your movements and staying statue-still.

A smirk took over Luke’s face. “That’s my girl.”

He took your head with both hands, keeping your hair out of your face and keeping you from moving an inch, and began to thrust into your mouth. It was sharp and hard and you tried to create a vacuum-type suction around his cock, as tight as you knew he liked it, but it was hard with the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat with every buck of his hips. You ended up gagging, and crying, and drooling all over his cock, just like Luke had said, and he fulfilled his promise that he wouldn’t stop.

“Look at you, making such a mess of yourself,” Luke scoffed. “Such a mess all over my cock, just to make me feel good. You’d let me do whatever I wanted, wouldn’t you, baby? You’d never let anyone else take you like this, just me, yeah? No one else gets to see you just leaking all over my cock because you’re mine.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at that and the moan you released around Luke’s length caused his hips to stutter, made him unable to hold back his orgasm any longer. He came in stripes all over your tongue, some of it leaking down the back of your throat before you could stop it. He pulled you off of him and crashed his lips against yours, a close-mouthed kiss because you wouldn’t dare disobey, couldn’t handle the idea of disappointing Luke.

“My good girl,” Luke cooed when he pulled away.

You offered him a lazy smile, head foggy and bones mushy. You were sated, an elevated version of just happy, and so, so comfortable. You loved him. He was everything.

“I’m not done with you yet, am I?” Luke asked softly, thumbing over your bottom lip. 

You shook your head.

“Open,” Luke said. “I want to see my come on your tongue.”

You hesitantly opened your mouth, pushing your tongue out so he could see the milky white substance coating the muscle. 

Luke captured your cheeks with one hand and leaned in with the other holding your head in place. You stared at his eyes, which were watching your tongue as a line of his saliva mixed with the come in your mouth. When his eyes rose to meet yours, it was the embers of desire that made your head roll back and the instinct, the pure instinct of having something in your mouth, that caused you to swallow.

Your head snapped forward, eyes wide and not doe-eyed, not purposefully innocent to make Luke’s heart jump. No, your eyes were wide with worry because you disobeyed him. It wasn’t something you did to spite him or push him further over the line. 

“I’m sorry.” The words leaked from your mouth and you scrambled to take Luke’s hand in yours, clutching his right with both of yours. “Luke, it was an accident, you know I’d never–”

His mouth was open in shock, briefly, before it snapped shut and his eyes twinkled with something downright predatory. His hand was limp in yours (though not pulling away) and he was still.

“But you did,” He interrupted. “You did.”

“I didn’t mean to.” You were trying to reason with him, but you knew the damage was done. Whatever he had planned for you when you got back to the house, it was going to be ten times worse now.

Luke just shook his head and removed his hand from your grasp, pulling back onto the highway and resuming the drive home. You weren’t far, the area around you looking more and more familiar with each passing second. The minutes stretched for what seemed like hours with Luke’s silence. You held your own hand nervously, pinching at the skin of you knuckles and avoiding Luke’s face. You couldn’t handle seeing the disappointment etched into his features.

Luke pulled into the garage of the apartment complex after just about five minutes. Suddenly, it hits you– you have the apartment all to yourselves tonight. There’s nothing to stop Luke, or you for that matter, from being as loud or as public as he wants. There’s a window in the living room, one that Luke mentioned after your last session. A spark traveled up your spine when you realize that tonight might be the night that he fucks you out in the open, for anyone to see.

When he shifted the car into park, Luke turned to you expectantly.

You apologized again, softly, once he looked at you.

His features softened then, seeing your apprehension. He reached out and took your hand. “Are you okay?”

“I feel bad that I didn’t listen,” you replied. Your eyes fell on your shoelaces, which were an off-white color after plenty of use. You made a note to yourself that maybe you should wash them soon. You wondered if they’d return to their original color. The shoes were much more interesting than looking up at Luke and meeting his eyes.

He tilted your head upward with a guided hand anyway. “You’re still my good girl,” he reassured. “Are you okay to keep going? Or do you want me to stop? I won’t be mad. Whatever you want, we can do it. We can leave this in the car and I can take care of you, baby.”

You could cry at his words, how great he is about your slip-up. You did want him to be sweet, but you knew that he needed this. He needed to work through whatever was going on in his mind and if he could just be in control of this, just for a little while longer, it would be so much easier for him later.

“I want to keep going,” you admitted.

“You know your word?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me?”

“Flower.”

“That’s right, baby.” Luke pecked your lips, but when he pulled back he was back to business. “Now, are you ready to listen to me?”

You nodded, eyes trained on his. Neither of you blinked, a silent contest that he ended up losing (something that would normally cause you to gloat, but now doesn’t seem like the right time).

“When you get to the apartment, you’re going to strip. You’re going to sit on the edge of our bed. You’re going to touch yourself while you wait for me and I want you to watch yourself in the mirror. If you come, and you know I’ll know if you do, you’re not going to come at all tonight. I want you to bring yourself right to the edge and stay there. Can you do that for me?” He spoke slowly and clearly, his voice gravely and dominant. He didn’t stumble over his words or pause and “um” like he did in interviews. No, this was when Luke was at his surest. This was when he knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say.

“I can do that,” you agreed, unbuckling your seatbelt and gathering your things.

“I’m going to give you a five minute head start.”

You nodded at Luke, opened your door, and left the vehicle. When you got up to the apartment, you didn’t bother to hang your coat or purse on the hooks Luke put up just for you. You didn’t put your shoes neatly like the door like you normally did. Instead, you dropped your belongings and kicked the shoes off one by one on your walk to the bedroom. You shed your clothing in a similar manner, leaving a trail behind for Luke to chuckle at when he walked in the door. 

Fully naked, you stared at yourself in the mirror that faced your bed. You read once that it was bad luck to have a mirror face a bed, that your reflection could like… capture your soul, or something, but you kept the mirror there anyway because if there was anything Luke enjoyed, it was seeing himself fuck you in the mirror. He liked to watch you ride him in reverse cowgirl, so he could see your ass jiggle as you bounced on his cock with his own eyes and your whole body in the reflection. 

Sometimes, his hands would drift up and he would hold your tits, watching how he could envelop them in his palms. You tilt your head to the side, watching your own hands slide up your body to do the same. 

For everything you could imagine Luke doing, there your hands were trying to satisfy yourself. If you closed your eyes, you could convince yourself that it was him instead.

His cock would disappear into your pussy, thrusting in and out and causing you to whine. His fingers would circle your clit or pinch your nipples. He would palm your ass, or reach up to wrap his hand around your neck. He would reach just that spot…

You didn’t ever hear it when Luke opened the door and joined you in the room. He thought you knew he was coming, with the way you were whining his name and begging for him. Your eyes snapped open as he closed the door behind him and you quickly pulled your fingers out from inside of you.

Luke walked over to you and sank onto his knees between your legs. “Gimme a taste, love.”

You offered him your fingers, which he took into his mouth. He sucked on them softly for far too short a time, in your opinion, with the way his cheekbones became more prominent as he cleaned your fingers of your wetness.

“Tastes good,” he told you with a smile when he was finished. 

“Thank you,” you replied, practically a whimper. Your chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing your heart in your chest. You were waiting, just waiting, for Luke to tell you what was next.

He rose to sit on the bed next to you, guiding you to shift over so you were sitting on his lap. “I’m going to spank you,” he whispered against your lips. “Just ten times. That’s all. It’ll go fast, but I’m not going to go easy on you. I know you can take it.” Luke kissed you again, snuck his tongue into your mouth for a quick, far too quick pass, before pulling back. “Turn over, baby, and lean over my knee, yeah?”

Your movements were slow, your brain turning foggy again like it was in the car. Luke helped you over his knee, still clothed. The contrast between how clothed he was and how naked you were almost made you drool. It was nearly embarrassing, being this down bad for Luke when he seemed to be completely fine, unaffected.

Luke snapped you out of your thoughts with a spank. The pain was only there for a split second before Luke was rubbing soothing circles over your skin. You shivered when he dipped his hand lower and trailed a finger through your folds.

“So wet,” he murmured.

You clenched down and he pulled away, only to deliver a second slap to your cheek. You shivered, goosebumps rising over your arms.

“So, baby, tell me,” Luke began, bringing down his hand again. “Why am I spanking you?” He waited for you to answer before bringing his hand down again. “Because I swallowed– oh– when you told me not to.”

“Mhm. Why else?”

Another spank. Now, it was starting to sting. Your ass had turned a pretty shade of pink that caused Luke to bite his lip and run his hands over your skin, feeling the heat radiate off the surface.

You were quiet. You weren’t quite sure. Holding his come in your mouth had been the punishment for not pulling off when he told you to. You had been slow to say please in the car, but that wasn’t ever something Luke would punish you for, just something he’d remind you to do. “For, um…” You trailed off, not sure what to say.

Luke scoffed and spanked you three times, harsh enough that his handprint stayed imprinted on your body for longer than it normally did when he spanked you. You cried out, your head dropping and tears welling up in your eyes. 

“‘For, um,’” he mocked. “You don’t know? You’re that fucking dumb that you can’t remember what happened less than an hour ago?”

“Lu, please,” were the words that escaped your mouth instead of an answer to his question. They were teary and he almost stopped, almost, just because of how your voice shook. 

“Please what?” He spat, another slap echoing throughout the room. 

“I don’t know,” You sobbed. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me.”

“Five more,” Luke warned you and you nodded. 

It took a lot out of you, agreeing for five more, but Luke wouldn’t do anything he didn’t think you could handle.

“How about this, baby?” Luke said. Slap. “For touching John’s hair the same way you touch mine?” Slap. “For letting the boys guide you into the restaurant like you’re their girlfriend, not mine.” Slap. “For sending John off to get me a drink when I told you to do so?” Slap. “For not listening?” Slap. “For being a fucking brat?”

You wailed, slumped against Luke. He got a good look at you in the mirror, boneless over his knee. He took in the red skin of your ass, tracing the line of his raised handprint. 

“You’re mine,” Luke continued, sounding off. You turned your head towards the mirror, eyes hazy but still able to make him out. He was waiting for you to look at him, for your eyes to meet his. “You can’t– you can’t treat him like he’s special.”

And suddenly, it all clicked. Luke was jealous because he was scared of the same thing you’d skated around in your conversation right after the game. Luke wanted to be special, wanted you to see him and need him. He needed you to need him, to let him take control and take care of you and decide things for you, all because he didn’t want to be the person who lost everything because he wasn’t good enough. Even the idea that John could possibly take Luke’s place, as preposterous as it was to you, sent Luke into a spiral.

“Fuck me, Luke,” you said, voice shaky and light because of the headspace you were in. “Take me. I’m yours. Prove it.”

Gently, so gently in contrast to his prior actions, Luke helped you up and lay you down on your back on the bed, placing a pillow under your hips. You lay there for a few minutes, blinking slowly and watching as Luke shed his clothes and rummaged through his dresser drawers for something. His back was to you and you smiled to yourself, too fucked out to let out a giggle, at his backside. When Luke turned around, two of his gameday ties in hand, he cocked his head to the side at your smile.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked.

“Boy butts are so funny,” You answered. “They’re just so small. Like… where are your hips, Lu?”

Luke blinked a few times, then shook his head. “Oh my God, you’ve lost it.”

“I’ve been thinking it. We need to get you in the gym.”

“You’re being a brat.”

“And your butt is small.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Luke scoffed. He had walked to the bed and was tying one of your hands to his headboard.

“I’m waiting.”

Luke huffed out a laugh at your response. “You’re making it hard to dom you, baby.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was the road head not enough?”

Luke shushed you, moving to your other hand and tying that one with the other tie.

“What about the spitting in my mouth and spanking me?” You continue, goading him. 

Luke crawled up your body, kissing up your stomach and chest and neck as he went. 

One more sentence, and he wouldn’t find it so difficult to dominate you for this final stretch. 

He’s hovering over your lips, his breath fanning out over them.

“I bet Johnny could do it better.”

Luke pulled back, jaw dropped. His mouth returned to a strait line and his eyes turned murderous. There it was, there’s the dominance that he thought he lost.

 You smirked at him, proud of yourself for the comment you made, until Luke’s palm made contact with your cheek. Your head turned with the impact and you swore your heart stopped. You were too surprised to say anything. As the seconds of silence passed where you and Luke just stared at each other, same shocked expression on your face, you realized: huh. That’s not so different from when he spanks me.

Then, another second after that: That was kind of… hot.

“Are you okay?” Luke breathed out. He’s practically frozen in place.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Oh my God, Luke, yeah.” You pulled on the restraints above you, itching to get him inside of you. You circled your legs around his waist and raised your hips, trying to make contact with him. “Fuck, Lu, that was so hot, please fuck me.”

Luke blinked twice and searched your face for any discomfort, anything that would show him that you were upset or hurt by his slap. He hadn’t even done it intentionally, just driven by the pure rage of you mentioning John, saying that John could be better for you than Luke was.

It wasn’t until your wiggling hips caused his cock to make contact with your weeping pussy that he began to move.

He started by pinning your hips down.

“Greedy,” he chastised. 

“I need you in me, don’t treat me like I’m made of glass,” you whined.

Luke positioned himself at your entrance and snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you in one fell swoop.

It knocked all the breath out of you. Even after dating Luke for ages, his size still surprised you.

“How’s that, huh? Can you feel me? Do you think I’m treating you gently?” Luke asked, grinding his teeth as he fucked in and out of you. His skin was slapping against yours and he moved one of our legs so your knee was thrown over his shoulder. “You think Marino could fuck you like this?” He practically spat out John’s name, disgust coating each syllable.

“Probably,” you quipped, your voice snarky. You were itching for Luke to slap you again, or something, because he wasn’t giving it everything. He was still shaken up by the fact that he hit you at all.

“‘Probably,’” He repeated, incredulous. “You’ll never know, will you, baby?” He snaps his hips harder, faster. “This is my pussy. It only gets wet for me, you only spread your legs for me, you can be a slut all you want but only in the confines of these four walls. You can be bad, only right here… where I’m able to fuck. it. out. of you.”

You moan, wanton and long in the back of your throat. Your hands are aching to grab his hair, to twist the curls between your fingers. “Lu, my hand,” you told him.

“What about it?” He asked, not slowing his pace.

“Untie it, please!”

Luke looked down at you, confused. “Why?”

You whined, keening as your back arched and you squeezed his cock. “Need to get a hand on you, Lu, fuck. Wanna pull your hair. So pretty, so much prettier than John’s.”

“Oh,” he whispered, his stomach turning. He reached up to undo the knot, trying to continue to fuck you and untie it at the same time. When your hand came free, it immediately found purchase in his curls. Your fingernails scraped his scalp and his eyes rolled in the back of his head as he bucked into you with uncoordinated thrusts. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned. “Gonna make me come.”

“Please,” you begged. “Inside me, inside me–”

Your vision went white and your pussy was like a vice around him as you came.

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke agreed, voice strained. He watched the bliss wash over your features and whined. “Fuck you til you’re full, show everyone you’re all mine.” 

It’s the thought of pumping his seed into you, making you round with his child, that sends Luke over the edge. No one would think to take you from him then, not that you’d ever go. No one would ever be able to call you theirs like he could call you his, not when he’s fucked you full, not when you’re carrying his baby.

“So perfect for me,” Luke mumbled in your ear, collapsing on top of you as he came down from his orgasm. 

“Just for you, Lu.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You paused, rubbing his back. “You know we have to talk about this, right? You’re more than enough and I don’t want you to feel insecure anymore.”

Luke pulled himself out of you, wincing at the sensitivity. “Can we talk about it tomorrow? I think we could both use some rest.”

He got up from the bed and walked into his bathroom, grabbing a towel and coming back to wipe you clean. 

“Can it wait that long?” You fixed him with a look of concern.

“Baby.” Luke cut his eyes at you, then finished wiping you down. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

You shrugged. “Okay,” you agreed, then made yourself comfortable, pulling the covers over your body. You turned over, back to Luke, and spoke like it was an afterthought. “I loved it when you slapped me, you know.”

Luke groaned, leaned over to give you a kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“Mmm, mean Luke gets me hot just like sweet Luke,” you replied. You turned your head and kissed his lips. “I like sweet Luke more, though. Sweet Luke cuddles me while I’m asleep.”

Luke laughed, going to toss the dirty towel in the dirty clothes hamper. “Sweet Luke will be back to cuddle you after he brushes his teeth,” he said.

When he returned, your breath was even and you had already fallen asleep, the ghost of a smile still gracing your lips. Luke bit his tongue, joined you under the covers, and threw his arm over the curve of your waist. Within just a few minutes, he was fast asleep next to you, softly snoring with his nose pressed into your hair.

notes: so, I, uh..... got a little carried away. I just kept having ideas. And I hope it worked out for me, to be fair. Hiiiiiii anon I hope this was good for youuuu love you bigggg I felt so awky-tawky writing some of this because as much as I would looooove a man to treat me like this, it feels so silly to write. Anyway. Loving y'all.

SEND MORE REQUESTS! I'LL GET TO THEM EVENTUALLY (they might not all be this long LOLLL)

#puck-luck's fics #luke hughes #luke hughes smut #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #lh43 #andy writes anything🍄

[bratzforchris]

Inked Daisies (Chapter 2)

A series

Summary: For the past year, you've been running the flower shop that's next door to your friend, Matt's, tattoo studio. But what happens when the feelings start to get more than friendly?

Read Chapter 1 here

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Matt x floristfem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drinking (reader and the triplets are 22 here), characters walking in on each other showering, nsfw content (no actual sex), a few uses of y/n (sometimes it's inevitable, y'all :P)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Y'all are about to kill me for this cliffhanger 🤗

“You’re here!” Chris smiled, throwing open the door. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“It was yesterday, Chris,” You giggled. “Now let us in so we don’t drop your dinner.”

“Us?” the youngest triplet asked you, cocking his head to the side. 

Chris opened the front door wider to reveal Matt standing behind you, clearly annoyed at the fact that he hadn’t been let into his own home yet. You were holding a box of breadsticks and drinks from your favorite local pizza place while Matt carried the four boxes of pizza. Despite your protests that you could carry the pizza, the boy had refused, saying that he could do it because it was him and his brothers that could easily slam a whole pizza each by themselves. Secretly, you just thought it was cute that Matt wanted to help you, despite his “tough guy” façade. 

“You guys came together?” a look of what could have been confusion, but also something else flashed across Chris’ face. 

“You’re wack if you think I’m leaving her downtown alone at night. She’s too trusting; it’s like a puppy.” Matt murmured, shoving past you and Chris and into the house. 

“Uh oh, Mattitude’s out now.” whatever expression had been on your best friend’s face was gone now, leaving you with the happy, sunny Chris you had always known.

“Out now? It’s always out.” You laughed, making your way into the kitchen you were all too familiar with.

“I heard that.” 

You giggled to yourself, sitting the boxes down on the island. Breathing in the familiar scent of the boys’ home, any trace of the unease you had felt at Matt’s earlier demeanor disappeared. The triplets had been your best friends since high school, and not much had changed now that you were all adults, other than the fact that your hangouts were less frequent. Just like old times, you all piled onto the couch with your plates of pizza and drinks, scrolling through Netflix for a movie to watch. 

You had sandwiched yourself between Nick and Chris, while Matt sat at the other end of the couch, silently eating his pizza and scrolling through his phone. You didn’t take the silence personally, though. After the conversation at the shop about the man who was making his job more difficult, you couldn’t blame the brunette for wanting a break. Though you weren’t as close with Matt as with the other two brothers, you still cared deeply for him. If that meant him being a little more quiet in order to rest, you didn’t mind it. 

You turned towards Nick, snatching the leftover crust off his plate. “The stickers are selling well.” You stated, taking a sip of your Fanta. 

Being close friends with a graphic designer as a business owner definitely had its perks; for example, the small, cartoon-style flower stickers that read “One Trick Peony” had sold out within three hours of your shop being open for the past week since you’d started stocking them. Despite his busy job as one of the most reputable graphic designers in Los Angeles, Nick still found time to prioritize your business. The stickers had been just one of the hit merchandise pieces he’d supplied you with. 

“Do you know what you should sell?” Chris added, poking your cheek and then smiling when you looked at him fondly. “Alcohol. Lavender martinis would sell like crazy in a flower shop.”

“I’m not getting a liquor license,” You snorted. “Besides, I don’t even think the store has enough room for a bar.”

“Who said anything about a bar? All you need is a bartender.” Chris hummed, pulling you into his lap. 

It was true. Chris had become quite skilled in his ability to make drinks any and everywhere over the past year since he’d gotten his bartender certification. In your opinion, the job was perfect for him. The fast-paced, fun environment and the amount of money you could make if you were entertaining and talkative was right up the brunette’s alley. His good nature made it pretty normal for him to come home on any given Friday night with about 600 dollars in cash. 

You snuggled into your best friend’s chest, breathing in his boyish scent happily. “Maybe one day we can open a flower and brunch place with a bar.” You told him. 

“You guys hear that? I’m the one Y/N wants to run a business with.” Chris chuckled, sticking his tongue out at the other two triplets. 

“Just wait til she figures out how you actually act,” Nick grumbled, pressing play on the movie you all had decided on. “Now be quiet.”

Before looking over at the movie, you turned your eyes towards Matt. He was still withdrawn into himself, curled into the L-shaped corner of the couch now. He had put his phone down, though, and in a feat of chance, turned to look at you at the exact same moment. Matt cocked his head like he wanted to ask you a question, but then shook his head, averting his eyes. You shrugged, figuring it still had to do with the exhaustion and stress from earlier in the day, but you couldn’t help but notice the feeling growing in your tummy at the thought that Matt had been looking at you first.

One terrible, low-budget movie later, you sat up out of Chris’ hold and looked around the living room. Nick had abandoned the movie in favor of his laptop, seemingly editing some sort of advertisement. That was just his personality. If something recreational didn’t immediately capture his attention, he was back to working his ass off. Maybe that was what made him such a successful entrepreneur, but either way, you admired him for helping people bring their dreams for their designs to fruition. Chris was scrolling through his phone, every now and then migrating into his work group chat to chuckle at the stories his fellow bartenders had to share about cutting someone off for the night. Matt, on the other, had fallen asleep, chin resting in his hand. You felt rather bad for him; January was always a stressful month for tattoo artists and piercers because people had Christmas money and gift cards, and they wanted their modifications to be healed by summer time. 

“I’m gonna shower,” You told your two (awake) best friends, standing up and stretching. “Do you guys mind?” 

“You know that’s like asking to shower in your own home, right?” Chris stood up behind you, tickling your sides. 

“It’s…still…the polite thing to do!” You laughed, gasping for breath at the tickling. 

“But yes, we don’t care. Go ahead.” Chris placed a friendly kiss on the back of your head. 

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you and your best friends to share platonic cheek kisses, cuddles, and hugs, but it didn’t make your heart any less happy. You smiled, making your way to Matt’s bathroom. You had kept shower stuff at the triplets’ home ever since the four of you had moved to LA. After all, you were at their house almost more than you were at your apartment. You trekked towards Matt’s bathroom since it was the closest to the living room. You knew he wouldn’t mind, especially because A) he was asleep and B) you’d done it before. 

You warmed the water up, ridding yourself of your clothes from the day, and stepping into the steamy heaven. You didn’t bother locking the door, knowing that on the off chance Matt did wake up, Chris and Nick would inform him that you were using his bathroom. You began to wash your hair, letting the rose scent of your shampoo fill the bathroom as you massaged your scalp, washing away the worries of both a busy day at your business, and the odd encounters you’d been having with the middle triplet all evening. You were so caught up in thinking that you didn’t even hear the doorknob to the bathroom turn as Matt stepped into the bathroom. 

Matt knew he shouldn’t have. You were one of his closest friends. There was no way he should be watching you showering. It was weird and wrong on so many levels, yet he couldn’t pull his eyes away from your body. You looked peaceful, head thrown back under the water and eyes closed, soft moans escaping your lips as you relaxed. The way the warm water and soap suds caressed your body and curves as they cascaded into the drain made him think about what other white substances would look like dripping down your body in the shower. 

What the fuck? Why was he thinking about railing you? You two weren’t even that close and he didn’t like you like that. Still, Matt couldn’t deny the tightening in his cock at the image of you in front of him, and the image of you in his mind. He told himself that it was just because he hadn’t been laid in so long, but the brunette couldn’t help the soft groan that made its way out of his mouth. 

At the sound, your eyes flew open, head turning towards the door. “Matt?” You futilely tried to cover yourself, knowing it was useless. Matt had already seen it all. 

“Fuck, I…uh, fuck–Y/N, I’m sorry,” he grumbled, clearing his throat. “I was just coming to brush my teeth and Nick and Chris didn’t tell me you were…in here.”

You shut the water off quickly, grabbing the towel you’d thrown over the side of the glass door and wrapping it around your body. “Shit, I’m sorry, Matt. I should’ve locked the door.”

“It’s um, it’s fine,” Matt coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as his face turned red. “I’m just gonna…grab my toothbrush and use Chris’ bathroom tonight. ‘S all yours in here.”

You watched as Matt grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste and scrambled out of the bathroom. You were still standing in the draining shower, dripping wet and shivering. Part of you couldn’t believe that one of your best male friends had seen you showering, but for some reason, another part of you wasn’t mad about it. Unbeknownst to you, though, Matt was feeling the same way in his cold shower downstairs. 

tags ♡:  @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

#inked daisies #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew bernard sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagines #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo fulff #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 12 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her. warning(s): a homophobic character saying some homophobic shit. listen, it's set in 2004 it was inevitable.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11

"So..." Gretchen drawled from the passenger seat. "You're still not doing the dance with us?"

Regina glanced at her. "No."

"Cady's taking the lead." The brunette said, very badly acting as if she wasn't looking for a reaction. Regina resisted the urge to bite back, to defend her honour, and kept her eyes on the road.

"Great." She said, voice tart. "She's doing the stunt, is she?"

"Yup." Gretchen's breath hitched. "She's, uh, got it nailed down."

A mean smirk spread her lips. "Oh, really? I'm looking forward to it."

Gretchen swallowed. Regina spied from the rearview mirror Karen was watching the scenery pass by dreamily.

"What's up, Karen?" Regina asked.

"The sky!" Karen stated proudly. "And birds, I suppose. Hold on..." She felt up her boobs, pulling at her nipple obscenely. "Ouch. Yeah, it's gonna start snowing soon."

Regina, knowing the forecast had promised much the same thing, hummed. "Gonna have to stay in, then."

Gretchen shifted her weight on the passenger seat. She seemed uneasy. Both she and Karen had been severely late to arrive at her car today and had seemed... Dodgy. Regina could hardly blame her, though. Things had gotten weird recently.

She wasn't being nice. Not exactly. She'd just, kind of, dialled it back a little. A year ago she'd have spent the days leading up to Christmas break making the rounds, spreading nasty rumours about this and that, ensuring everybody's holidays were ruined just the right amount. This time, she'd forgone that.

A part of it, a large majority, was due to the Thanksgiving fiasco with Jorts. Another, smaller part, was because she was tired. She just didn't want to.

Arriving at her house, Regina parked and stepped out of her car. Gretchen and Karen followed her inside where mom greeted them with mugs of hot chocolate. Fancy chocolate and skim milk. Regina pointedly left her mug on the tray.

As she was going up the stairs, she noticed neither Gretchen nor Karen had grabbed a mug.

"Take them." She gestured vaguely back to her mom. "Don't be wasteful, girls."

Making her way up leisurely, she relished in the sound of the two girls scrambling to grab their mugs and then follow her as fast as possible. She might've loosened her hold on the student body, but Gretchen and Karen she'd keep. She didn't care if it was immoral or something, she'd done a lot of work to get them where they were.

"Shane Oman's doing a Christmas party this Friday," Gretchen informed them as they settled around Regina's room. "There's talk he's specifically invited Doris Harris."

"Who the fuck names their kid Doris Harris?" Regina scoffed and inspected her nails. She'd have to get a new set soon. "Are you going?"

"What? You- you're not?" Gretchen sputtered.

"I have... Plans." Important, top-secret plans. "Shane Oman is a sleazebag and a womanizer. Doris can have him." She said airily and looked at the two girls sitting on her floor.

"What plans do you have?" Gretchen probed. Karen looked on, seeming to be in her own world. Little specks of snow were beginning to fall outside.

"Private." She left it at that. "Who are you bringing to the party?"

"Probably Jason." Gretchen sighed. Regina's face twisted.

"You're still with that douche?" She sat down cross-legged near the two. "Why?"

"Oh, do you think I should break up with him?" Gretchen looked between her and Karen, seeming lost. "I can do that."

Regina rolled her eyes. Okay, maybe she'd put a little too much work in these two. They were old enough to think for themselves.

"Look, Gretchen..." She closed her eyes. "I'm not gonna say sorry. I'm, uh, just not going to." She didn't tack on the yet that meant to crawl up her throat. Too much too fast. "However, it's becoming apparent that my usual methods are no longer as effective. Exhibit A, Cady Heron."

Gretchen stared at her. Then, her head tilted to the side like that of an inquisitive dog. Karen was gaping at her, having probably not comprehended a single word. Regina sighed.

"Look, I'm not gonna just waste my time and energy putting people down anymore!" She was feeling way too defensive and the others hadn't even said anything. "I might, like, join a sports team or something for senior year. Focus on myself."

"Wow." Gretchen breathed out. "So, you're just gonna step down?"

"I'm still Regina fucking George. I'm not gonna stop being me." That being a vicious bitch with a lot of hate in her heart. "I'm just saying that it's getting old."

"Why? You- you can't just stop. That makes no sense. Someone's gonna take you over, like- like Doris Harris!" Gretchen took several short breaths, this close to hyperventilating. "Doris Harris is going to be the new Regina George!"

She rolled her eyes so hard her entire head rolled with them. "That statement contradicts itself. If she's the new Regina George, I'm still on top. The original."

"You sound so alike." Karen smiled. "You two are so cute. True love."

"Karen!" Gretchen snapped, sounding like a chihuahua. "Shush!"

"Who sounds alike?" Intrigued, Regina leaned forward. "Me and who? True love?"

"Oh, uh..." Karen looked to Gretchen, who was trying (and failing) to subtly shake her head, and then to Regina whose eyes bored into hers. "Uhhhhhhh..."

"She's rebooting." Regina huffed, leaning back. "Gretch, I just... I don't care anymore."

It had been a startling realization. Not a quick one despite the one eureka moment that'd brought it all together. There were things more important to her than maintaining a hierarchy in high school. It still was important, to a degree, but well. If she had to pick between one-upping some random girl at a shitty party and date night with Jorts, the choice was entirely too obvious. It was going to be date night every time.

(If she even had that privilege anymore. She's called her slurs, for fuck's sake. She could only hope her apology would be good enough.)

"How can you not care?" Gretchen screeched. Karen sipped at her hot cocoa nervously.

"I just don't." Something like this, not caring about something, wasn't a decision she could consciously make. At least, not entirely. Once you stopped caring, you just did. That was that.

It wasn't easy, though. She didn't have the strength of will to be deliberately mean to everyone, every single day, but she would not tolerate people stepping on her toes. If somebody encroached, she wouldn't hesitate to bring them down. Where the line went, distinguishing between a serious threat and a general nuisance, was the hard part.

Letting go of the instinct to just be mean was a challenging hurdle.

"She's changed you. All this time, you've been talking to her, haven't you? J, Jorts, whoever she is. She's corrupted you." Gretchen sneered. "What happened, Regina? Or should I say, Reggie?"

Regina looked at her friend, minion, accomplice- whatever.

"Excuse me?" She said, so quietly it could've been mistaken for a whisper.

"You heard me." Gretchen's sneer dissolved, old instinct to cower kicking in. "Reggie." She hissed, a feeble attempt at keeping her power.

"What the fuck do you know about J?" Regina could feel herself grow cold, anger mixing with panic, mixing with visceral, palpable terror.

Of course, all that manifested as blind fury.

"We know plenty about J. You've never shut up about her. Y'know, I used to think she was an ex-boyfriend of yours 'cause of the way you talked about her. And now, it all makes sense." Gretchen spread her arms provocatively. "Because she's gotten into your head, used her sticky, lesbo fingers to mix you up. Snap out of it, Regina. This is not who you are."

Anger roiling in her stomach, she was about to release pure acid onto the dimwitted, insensitive, stupid girl, when Karen spoke up.

"Gretchen, you're being stupid." She said so lightly. Both of them turned to look at Karen. She was watching the window, looking immensely pleased with herself. Yet another correct weather report.

"What?" Gretchen breathed out.

"Stupid. That's stupid. I didn't know you were, like, homophobic." Seeming to focus, Karen turned to face Gretchen. "I think I told you my brother's gay."

"Oh." Gretchen deflated. Regina didn't know what she should do. "Well, that's different, he's a guy! Lesbians are totally different."

"How?" Karen, more engaged than Regina had witnessed her be in a long time, kept her eerily wide eyes trained on Gretchen. "How is it any different?"

"Listen, everybody can do what they want with... Whoever, like, consents, but it's different when they shove their beliefs in people's faces." Regina, quite astounded, didn't know what to say. Karen did, though.

"J didn't shove anything in our faces. I don't think she shoved anything in Regina's face." She put her finger to her chin. "Unless they're into that sort of thing."

"Karen..." Regina sighed.

"Anyway, I think your opinions about gay people are weird, Gretchen. You should look into that."

"My opinions are just fine!" Gretchen's shoulders rose all the way up to her ears. "You guys are the weird ones! It's not like I hate gay people! There's just, y'know, healthy concern. If it was so easy to turn Regina then what can they do to impressionable little kids?" Gretchen licked her lips nervously. "What about Kylie?" She asked, looking to Regina for sympathy or agreement or something.

By that point, Regina had checked out.

"I don't think Regina's changed. Not really." Karen's owl eyes turned to her. "She's just... Shedding. Like a snake. Getting a new skin." She dragged her eyes up and down. "Yeah. New, shiny scales. Like a blonde, human green tree python. My dad has one. A snake one."

"Thanks," Regina said, tone flat. She then turned to Gretchen. "Get out."

Her hands trembled. Rage or fear, she couldn't tell where the tremor stemmed from.

"Regina, this isn't right-"

Just the sound of her voice made her blood boil. Her eyes stung too, but she refused to feel anything but anger.

"What isn't right is that you're still in my house. J is my childhood friend and the assumptions you've made about her are life-threatening. People are killed because they're gay, Gretchen. She hasn't turned me into anything, much less something you're insinuating." The claim that Jorts had turned her into a lesbian was false. If there were to be a claim about Regina's sexuality alone, then the answer wouldn't be so clear. "Get your fucking act together. I'm too good to bother with high school politics. We're going to college in two years. Stop being so small-minded and do something with your life for once."

She heaved in lungfuls of air. She stood up abruptly, walked to the door and pointed down the hallway.

"I-" Gretchen tried to say something, but Regina just reiterated her point.

"Out!"

She didn't particularly care that her friend (ex-friend) didn't have a ride home. She didn't care that she was a bigot, that Gretchen was right about her and Karen being the weird ones. She didn't care that Jorts had definitely changed her in some way.

As soon as the brunette had scuttled down the stairs, the front door slamming on her way out, Regina slumped against her door. She didn't care. She did not care.

"So, is it just us, now?" Karen asked from her spot on the floor. Regina was pretty sure she hadn't moved an inch since she plopped down. "Is J gonna be our new friend?"

"I don't know, Karen." She buried her face in her hands. Fuck. She wasn't supposed to care. "I didn't know Gretchen was like that."

"Hmm." Karen hummed. "I didn't know you weren't like that."

Her head snapped up, looking at Karen. Her expression was unreadable, like a book with blank pages.

"I... I'm scared, Karen."

"Yeah. My brother's boyfriend is from Alabama and he's been beat up before 'cause he looks gay. And he is gay, but the earring gave it away, I think. And my uncle died of AIDS and my family don't really talk about him and we weren't allowed to see him. My aunt that's in New York's been living with her best friend of, like, thirty years for forever and I went to visit one time and they had only one bedroom."

That was perhaps the longest, most coherent sentence Karen had ever said. Too bad the subject was so grim.

"Wow, Karen. Sounds like your family's full of..." What could she call them? Her mind defaulted to nasty slurs. "People like that."

"I guess." She smiled faintly. "I hear them crying sometimes, in my brother's room, when they're home for the holidays. Mama says I shouldn't go up and snuggle them until they feel better. They're having a moment." Karen looked confused at that. "Are we having a moment?"

Regina slowly unfurled from her slump against the door. "Maybe."

"Oh. Okay." She accepted easily. The familiarity of the scenario had a smile creeping back to Regina. "My brother smiles the biggest when me and his boyfriend team up against him at board games. My mom cries when we visit my uncle's grave. She tells us stories about him and shows us pictures. My aunt has three cats with her bestie and they call them their children and they wear matching rings."

"That's really sweet, Karen." Regina, now smiling in earnest, shuffled closer.

"I don't really get it." She said in the same light tone she'd use when talking about schoolwork. "Like, my brother's boyfriend is really nice so I don't get why people beat him up for dating my brother. And I think it was really mean that my grandma didn't let mama see her brother when he was sick. And my aunt and her best friend already live together, have cat-kids, and kiss on the mouth, so why can't they get married for real?"

Regina stared ahead, more than a little floored. Gretchen, simultaneously surprisingly and unsurprisingly, was a homophobe. Regina knew the political climate and knew that being openly gay was social suicide, and sometimes literal suicide, but she hadn't expected someone so close to her to be like that. They hadn't talked about it much, to be fair. Besides, Regina wasn't much better. While she might've not been a real homophobe, as in actually subscribed to the ideology, she'd done plenty of homophobic acts.

Whether or not in the name of projection or denial didn't really matter. Janis 'Imi'ike had been the first girl she'd subjected to hate crimes and discrimination, but not the last. How many times had she shoved other girls under the bus so she could get off scot-free? How many times had she done it for a twisted sense of fun?

Too many, was the easy answer. Not enough, whispered the scared, hidden thing in the back rooms of her mind.

And Karen was an ally. A supporter of the cause. And unexpectedly well-spoken when she had something she liked to talk about.

"Karen, I like girls."

"Me too!"

Regina's heart beat like a drum. She was beginning to sweat.

"No- I mean, like, I'm... A lesbian. I guess."

"Okay!"

She snuck a glance at the other girl. She was peering mournfully into her empty mug.

"Like your aunt and her best friend." She took a deep breath. "I like girls in that way."

"Uhh, duh," Karen smiled at her, beamed, really. "J is your true love."

"I wouldn't go that far." Regina sighed but had to purse her lips to keep from smiling. At the same time, a knot tightened in her chest, like hiccups trying to escape. She threw her head back and puffed out a breath, blinking rapidly.

"Let's go get more hot chocolate and I'll tell you about my talent show performance." She wiped discreetly at her eyes and extended a hand to Karen.

"Hot cocoa!" The girl exclaimed as she pulled herself up with Regina's help. "Ouuuhh, what kinda performance?"

"A song." Regina guided them down the hallway. "For her."

Obviously, she had more than just a song planned. A proper apology, for one, was in the works. Karen didn't need to know about that, though. That was between her and J.

Notes: Boo I lied it's not the last one. I thought it would be! I was wrong! I did start rambling like I kind of predicted in the notes of the last chapter. Or, like, I felt the ending would be a little too abrupt without some downtime. So have some Regina POV!

Will no longer be making predictions about when the end is. I'll only be contradicting myself lol. But like, the arc is coming to a close, a natural end is coming. And then the epilogue things.

Praying to god the taglist will work. Trying a new method today, fingers crossed! Hand-typing every single fucking name, no commas in between names, the utmost technicalities. This is the night fellas, the night we've been waiting for.

Edit: it didn't work. in fact, it worked worse than the other times! fuck! put another version of the list, back with commas, and it seems to tag some people but not all. gonna have to do some scouring on the internets.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism , @9unknown0 , @sage-rose2000 , @massive-honkas , @nattys-swiftie , @likefirenrain , @luz-enjoyer , @dandelions4us , @natashamaximoff-69 , @alexkolax , @jareaul0ver , @here4theqts , @charleeeesworld , @natsbiggestfan1 , @brocoliisscared , @yellowwallflowers , @scarlettbitchx , @ayoungexwife , @cyberbonesworld , @syddie-reads , @screechcat , @theenglishswiftie , @gabby-duhh , @sweetmissnothing , @masterofpuppets-10 , @l1lass , @starved-mortal , @nothanksbye07 , @nenas19 , @jvuyii , @starry-night17 , @reneeswife24 , @glorioushamsterqueen , @krononan , @slug-on-bike , @rayisaknight , @chaseatlanticlover91 , @reginassweetheart , @mirage018

(if you want to be added to the taglist, comment so on this post! beware it seldom works. i try my best.)

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #mean girls x reader #lesbian regina george #wlw

[vampiresbloodx]

pairings: Wanda maximoff x Reader

warnings(18+ ONLY): legal age gap, Wanda's in her forties and reader is in their twenties, I try not to use specific gender for reader as I want everyone to enjoy but for smut I will use proper tag, oral s*x (r!receiving), top!Wanda, jealous Wanda, weird creepy guy(ew).

part 1, part 2, part 3.

Older!Librarian!Wanda getting jealous when anyone flirts with you, has their hands on you a bit too long for her liking.

She knows she's possessive, maybe even a little bit obsessive. Everyone should know you're hers and only hers. Even if she has to put a collar on it with her name.

Wanda wasn't always the jealous type, as she claims. Ever since you officially called her your girlfriend, she's been more protective, something changed in her that she couldn't quite understand.

She's still getting used to all this, it's way different than how she's used to it being, back in her day. Now she's got you by her side, you were just so damn pretty, she couldn't believe she's lucky enough to have you.

When she takes you out for your weekly dates, of course, shed not too surprised when someone comes up and tries to ask you for your number or compliments you, she doesn't blame them. She too would be in their shoes if she saw you.

A guy comes up to you, immediately, her grip tightens around your hand, pulling you in closer to her body, she can't help it. She needs you close. He's a waitress at the restaurant she's taken you too, he's being a bit too friendly, you didn't seem to notice, you're sweet, but Wanda has noticed you can be naive.

Naive to the point where you think the waitress was just being nice.

No.

Wanda wasn't stupid.

She glared daggers at him the entire time he was taking forever to take both of your orders, purposely ignoring her presence just to talk to you, when his hand touched yours, she saw you flinch away, laughing awkwardly, Wanda raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to continue, if he knew what's best for him.

He got the message as soon as she placed her hand on top of yours, and brought it to her lips, kissing your knuckles, enjoying how flustered you got.

She had already lost her appetite. The only thing she wanted was you.

She abruptly got up, ignoring the waitress as she was too annoyed to acknowledge anyone else but you. She grabbed your hand, forcing you to follow her as she pulled you into the bathrooms, locking the door behind you.

"Wanda? What's wrong? Are you-"

She cut you off by pressing your body against the wall, staring at you as her eyes go dark, you seem to get the message, not backing away as the aching in between your legs grew, more desperate for her.

She smirked, lips meeting yours to shut out the noises, though as much as she'd love for everyone to hear you scream her name as she makes you come, this is for her only.

Wanda got on her knees, staring at you the entire time she did so, making sure you were looking only at her, her heart hammering in her chest. She wasn't sure what overcame, why this feeling was so intense. She knew she was going to have to bring it up later.

But for now, she wanted to taste you, it would be better than anything this restaurant could ever provide anyways.

She has your mouth stuffed with your panties, wanting to know just how soaking wet you are for her and she's just started. Wanda expertly licks up your cunt, inserting a finger inside your tight hole, god, no matter how many times she fucks it she still can't get over how it clenches around her.

She feels you squirming, she loves it. Wanda doesn't look away and neither do you. It's a lot. She can feel it.

You come into her mouth, wetness pooling in, some of it dripping onto her chin, your cheeks burned at the sight as she pulls your panties out of your mouth, leaving you breathless.

"fucking hell" you muttered, slumping against the wall.

She grinned, pleased, licking her lips.

Then you say the words she was looking to hear.

"can we skip dinner please? I want you."

#librarian!wanda #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #stuff i wrote

[ginnysgraffiti]

jealousy, unprotected sex, violence, anger, cursing, fingering, 18+

&. PAUL ATREIDES x yn

could you blame yourself?

no, not really.

not the way you claimed it, at least.

you always placed so much trust and respect in the visions that paul witnessed in his dreams, for they usually concerned the holy war or future events not clear to his complete awareness yet.

however, you never expected something like this.

you couldn't say exactly if it was due to the fact that you and paul had established an increasingly stronger connection and intimacy, but you were sure that it was definitely because of other factors.

paul and his intuitions had been (disturbingly) accurate for weeks, and your boyfriend was even able to see your sexual needs in his visions.

you liked it, yes. it turned you on like hell, and you knew it had the exact effect on him.

you recognized paul's gaze when he had visions of that kind, you glimpsed it through his hungry eyes and you experienced it when his strong hands destroyed your body.

you lived with a certain constant tension, but your inner self knew that you just wanted that moment to come.

"shut that fuck up! take my cock like the slut you are!!" paul's hand slapped your butt, causing a bitter tear to fall from your face.

this excited him greatly and with his other arm he twisted your legs around his waist, making you arch your back to welcome his wet and warm dick as deeply as you could.

you didn't know if it was your fault, but paul was so furious he would have swallowed you alive.

"look at me in my eyes, damn it! or do you want me to call him, uh? to call your beloved feyd rautha and make him fuck you like i do!?"

"paul-"

yet another thrust of his hips brought your hip bones to clash painfully with each other.

you left a loud and pleading moan but his quick fingers choked you in time and reduced it to a pathetic strangled scream.

"who's the one who touches herself while feyd's name slips down her tongue?! her damn fucking tongue! uh?!"

"p-...paul it was just a-a...a vision-"

deadly move.

the bed creaked and for a moment you imagined the springs surrendering to its bloody rhythm.

your boyfriend grabbed your hair mercilessly, almost detaching them from the roots, while his cock was destroying your inner walls beyond limit.

you were crying, but you were just choking on your own moans and sobs, like a sinful child.

it was just a vision, in fact...but now he was going so rough and raw that crying more made you feel real slut.

your sight was still granted to you, even if your retinas were caged in tears as hot as spice.

you could see him, see your boyfriend taking your pussy with a heavenly expression on your face, perhaps the one you wore in his dirty visions.

his mouth was wide open with pleasure and his eyes closed with excitement. he moved his hips for his own burning pleasure, making you aching, sore and wet all in.

"I don't know what would turn me on more, maybe you really deserve to end up in his maniacal arms! you would regret it of course, but it would be too late to go back!!"

you wished somebody could hear you for your own sake.

the wet and sticky tip of his cock was roaming roughly inside you, but the initial pleasure had reduced you to an unbearable burning sensation. you could feel your chest confiding with every sob, but his hands would travel again, landing on your throat already full of purple, almost black bruises.

"you're so soaked, you little whore. you don't even deserve it, on my sheets!!" he groaned, his own anger causing every vein to pump on the smooth skin of his neck, making him there red with anger every time the jugular pumped before your eyes.

he grunted like an animal too proud for the zoo. he wanted to destroy you until you couldn't stand up anymore.

humiliation.

you could feel his tip reaching the deepest places. you knew that paul didn't care about protections in these extreme cases (even if it was the first time he was so out of it), thus implying that he would even risk pregnancy to satisfy his dick to the point of nausea.

"you hold on too well-"

you held the sheets for dear life when you felt him pushing away but replacing his sex with one of his agile fingers between your sores.

you gasped as he pecked at all the soft spots of yours. he knew too damn well you were too vulnerable and breakable when it came to his experienced hands.

at the same time you knew how much effort would be required of him to make you suffer precisely, hoping he would get tired.

"so fucking sensitive-"

he inserted another finger, moving at an exorbitant speed. you could feel your wetness even reaching his wrist.

ashamed again.

"p-paul-...i beg-"

he entered you using his thumb to reach your clit.

you moaned as he lapped at your walls, sliding his sizzling tongue into the heat.

he raised his lips sucking greedily, sliding two fingers in once more.

his grunts made everything wetter.

your body came moaning and shaking, your eyes rolling back.

you whimpered as you felt his cock filling you up, preventing you from coming any further.

"p-...paul, you know you're...the only one i love! a vision doesn't mean anything! i-...i- had always loved you, you're the boy of my life, the one who always had all his trust posted about me. so i ask you praying...believe me..."

your boyfriend moved one inch, hitting your weakest and most stimulated point.

you could feel a slight gag rising in your sore and dry throat as the last bit of lucidity left your body in a deep sleep.

[...]

when you wake up a strong pang pierced your forehead, making the room square and moving around you.

paul was curled up on you, not completely resting on you so that his weight didn't give you even more trouble regaining consciousness.

his white and puffy cheek was resting on your bare breasts, a hint of saliva at the sides of his red and swollen mouth.

you couldn't move so you didn't even try, until you felt something holding you back.

paul was lightly sleeping thanks to a bene gesserit relaxation technique, you could now sense that he was completely alert and attentive to your needs.

his delicate hand was hugging your wrist, listening to your heartbeat since you had probably passed out.

you knew that in the end, he loved you more than anything on that planet.

you were his duchess already.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chamalet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x y/n #timothée x you #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune #paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x you #&. PAUL ATREIDES #PAUL x reader

[ncroissant]

you can ignore this request but can I ask you to Make a story of Francis mosses and like a housewife reader who has an ignorant husband so when the milkman comes visit she "pays" him very nicely

switch! francis mosses x fem! reader

summary: paying your neighbourly milkman a hefty tip

wc: 2.2k

content warning: nsfw, cheating, double infidelity, masturbation, slight nipple play, soft dom francis energy, slightly subby francis, kind of unrealistic p in v (i was too lazy to write foreplay), creampie, very fluffy

author's note: hii anon, thanks sm for the ask :)) i love this sm and i hope ur okay with some sub married francis teehee >:) this was soooo self-indulgent :O hope u guys enjoy this one !! not proof read, minors please dni!!

your marriage was bland to say the least.

your husband was a busy man, working to provide for you to max out his credit card, but never giving a second of the day. he always blamed his lack of time at home on his job, never taking accountability.

you felt bored. he promised you a life of luxury with no work, but it was boring staying at home all day. weekly visits from cleaners to clean up the apartment gave you absolutely nothing to do at home.

but the longer your husband stayed away, the more time you spent listening in on your neighbors to past the time.

the milkman and his wife were a noisy couple.

you could hear the headboard thunking against the wall, his grunts and her awfully loud moans. he must be so good to her, you thought, feeling your fingers slip down your pj shorts.

you felt yourself passing the time, humping pillows, playing with toys and fucking yourself with your fingers. you could read every book in your apartment, watch tv for god knows how long and still be bored.

but one particular night, you heard a knock on your door.

you perked up, almost skipping to the door in excitement. you haven't had a visitor in ages and it was about time someone kept you some company in this little cage of yours.

"milk delivery." your eyes widened when you fully opened the door, realizing who was in front of you.

the buttons of his uniform were struggling to close, his hands veiny from his grip on the milk box he held in his arms against his stomach. seeing him this late at night was making you think of not so holy thoughts.

"what're you doing here so late? it's almost 9," you peered up at him, unaware of how your breasts nearly spilt out of your lingerie. you were wearing a skimpy little nightgown, forgetful of how you were married and half naked in front of another married man.

he smiled, placing the milk box beside your doorstep. "you're my last stop since we're neighbours. did i disturb you?" he crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.

you felt your heart beating out of your chest, you could feel your fingertips vibrating. "no, not at all..." you bit your lip, feeling your thighs clench tightly.

"i needed some milk for my tea. would you like some as well?" you worked up the courage to ask, looking at him with an expectant look in your eyes. "if you're not tired," you clarified, lifting your hands.

he didn't look like he took much time to think it over, nodding at your suggestion. you didn't wait for a verbal response, ushering him inside, locking the door.

now, here he was, sitting at your kitchen table while you made tea. if only you could see what he could see. the entirety of your back was exposed, a v-cut just above your ass to cover the rest of your lower half.

"chamomile or green tea?" you called out softly, snapping him out of his daze. you looked back at his lack of silence, looking at how flustered he looked for dozing off.

"green tea," he murmured, averting your gaze. he was so comically large, making your kitchen chair look small. his hands were gathered on his lap, his back straight against the backrest, waiting for you to finish making his tea.

you sauntered over to his, leaning your hip against the kitchen table. "n-nice place," he stuttered when he got a closer look of you, trying to break the silence.

you didn't expect him to come in, but now that he was here, you didn't want to waste this perfect opportunity. "mhm...i decorated it myself," you leaned closer, giving him an innocent smile.

"y...you're very good at decorating," he swallowed. his hands were sweating, he felt them grip at his slacks anxiously.

"isn't it so sad that my husband didn't help me decorate at all?" you pouted, puffing out your lower lip. his eyes switched back and forth from your eyes to your lips.

francis mirrored your nod, gulping when he realized how close you were. you placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "you're very cute, francis," you chuckled as you pulled away.

you scurried away to turn off the stove, watching the water spill out of the kettle. when you reached your hand to grab the kettle, you felt a hand reach over yours to pull you back.

"careful, it's hot." he was pressed up against you, his painfully obvious bulge pressed against your ass. maybe it was because the only thing that was preventing your bare skin from touching his was his shirt, or how small you were compared to him, but he was literally shaking.

you spun around, hands now holding onto his sleeves. "help me onto the counter?" you looked up at him, slowly tugging him towards you.

francis was a loyal man. he was dedicated to his wife, to his work and to everything else. but however wrong he wanted to feel about lifting you onto the counter and smashing his lips onto yours, he just couldn't.

"so pretty," he mumbled against your lips, while your hands found themselves tangled in his brunette locks. "you're so pretty," he was almost whining, brows knit from the intensity of the kiss.

your other free hand cupped his cheek, dragging his even closer to deepen the kiss. his kisses felt even better than imagined. lips soft, tongue warm, sloppy.

you were scared that he would hear the way your heart thumping out of your chest. "f-francis," you'd pant, but he'd be too lost in the way your lips felt against yours to focus on anything else.

he'd pull away to just soak in the sight of you, admire the lips of the woman he just ruined. he'd look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, watching the way you'd nuzzle against his hand when he wiped away his spit off your lip.

"are we stopping here?" you frowned with a huff, tugging on the loop of his belt. "or can i tip you, hm? for the delivery?" you pleaded, tilting you head to look cuter.

he fell for it, having no intentions of stopping. "yeah, yeah. tip me or whatever, just don't stopping kissing me," he pressed kisses up your neck trailing up to your cheek.

you wanted to chuckle at his neediness, but you were feeling the same. your arms wrapped around his neck, allowing him to effortlessly lift you into his arms.

while you two made out, he carried you to you and your husband's shared bedroom, laying you down. he toppled over you, knee nestled between your thighs and arms caging you in his hold.

"i wish you could see yourself right now," he pulled away, his hand trailing up to your chest. your nipples were poking through the thin fabric of your night gown, his fingers toying with the neglected nub.

you jolted, biting your lip to hide an embarrassing moan. "d-do i really look that pretty?" you hide a moan with a laugh, throwing your head to the side when he pinched your nipple lightly.

"you're gorgeous," he sighed, rolling his fingers under your gown to lift it off your body. you were more beautiful than he had even imagined, waiting so patiently for him to do something.

before he leaned down to kiss you again, you tugged at his shirt. "take this off? 's embarrassing being the only one naked," you blushed, his eyes widening.

for a married woman, you were surprisingly inexperienced. francis never heard you getting railed by your husband. he could only hear your pretty whimpers when you pleasured yourself with toys, but never finishing.

he could only chuckle, reminiscing your frustrated sighs when you couldn't get yourself to finish. he smirked knowing now he could take matters into his own hands.

"whatever you want, sweetheart," he effortlessly tugged at his bowtie, unbuttoning his shirt. he was so handsome. lean, but not entirely skinny. bulky, but not too much. he was perfect.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to press your lips against his. "you're so handsome, francis," you cooed. he felt his ears flush from your compliment, his knee riding higher up your thigh.

you moaned when you felt it reach your core, feeling yourself grind on it for more friction. "make me feel good, hm?" you flicked his loose hairs out of his face, making him bite his lip.

"want it inside, francie," your fingers trailed down to your pelvis, slightly opening your folds. his felt his dick throb, his eyes unmoving from your cunt.

almost immediately, he felt his dick throbbing against his suddenly too tight slacks. he grunted as he finally unzipped to let his cock free, his dick slapping against your tummy.

you gulped at the size, looking up at him in awe. "j-just the tip," he whined, his cock sliding against your stomach. a part of him still wanted to be somewhat loyal, but you so badly wanted him in you, your fingers wrapping around the head.

"you're so big," you gasped, your eyes were still widened. he could only rub himself against your fingertips, whimpering at the friction. "just the tip, hm?" you grabbed the head, dragging it down to your entrance.

when francis felt the warmth of your cunt against his cock, he was almost 100% sure his loyalty would be thrown out the window. "j-just the, hngh..."

he felt himself thrust into your wet, soppy cunt almost too quickly, completely devoid of reason. he was nestled so deeply into your core, allowing you to adjust to his massive length.

"i-i'm suhh...sorry, i said just the tip, but i...mnghh..." he could barely get a word out, too lost in the feeling of your tight cunt sucking his cock in. "y-you feel so, so good. it's so good, so..."

he was chanting it like a prayer, babbling whatever came to find. "francis, can you move?" you bluntly asked, guiding his hands to your waist.

almost like a switch, he thrusted into you wildly. his cock was reaching parts that you weren't even sure were possible to reach, especially with your husband's tiny, flimsy cock.

"am i making you f-feel good?" he asked, his lips just barely ghosting over yours. you felt his breath brushing against your face, the neediness evident on his face.

you nod, pressing a kiss on his lips. you moaned against his lips, feeling so full of him. "p-please say it. please say i'm making you feel good, ngh," he pleaded, pressing kisses against your neck.

your eyes were nearly rolling back, the entire galaxy filling your line of sight. "you make me feel so good, francis," you squealed when he hit a specific spot in you.

satisfied with your answer, his pace sped up. he was entirely bottomed out in your cunt, his pelvis pressing against yours.

you felt yourself getting close when his thumb trailed down to your pelvis to roll it against your weeping clit.

the squelches from him fucking you were so vulgar, it made you remember the sounds you heard when he fucked his wife. and finally you were living in the dream you so desperately wanted to come true.

"'m so, so close. m-might cum," you groaned, throwing your head back against the mattress.

he shook his head, feeling his hips stutter. "no, no. wait for me please. wanna cum together, hm?" he panted, mouth filled with saliva. he had grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly.

you could feel the coolness of his wedding ring against your fingers, making yourself get closer. you, a married woman, were fucking married man. the dirtiness of it all excited you so much.

here he was, the man you've been masturbating to for weeks, begging you to cum at the same time. "t-together, right?" he begged, his high coming so, so soon.

his thrusts were getting sloppy and your cunt was getting tighter. you nodded, his lips crashing onto yours, kissing you until you came together.

his cum spilled so deeply into your cunt, filling you generously. "you're so beautiful," he sighed, wiping the sweat soaked strands of hair off your forehead.

he just stayed inside of you for a few minutes, admiring you.

he'd tend to you right after. taking a bath with you, drying your hair for you, cooking you a meal. he did all the things you wished your husband would do for you.

and when it was finally time for him to leave, you'd be in bed sleepily, arms wrapped around his torso, head leaned against his chest. "don't leave," you whined.

he didn't want his wife to question why he came home so late, so staying the night was out of the question. "i'll be back again, okay?" he smoothed out your hair, patting your head.

"i'll be back here tomorrow same time with another delivery, hm?" he smiled, hugging you tightly. you were so cute when you were clingy and nearly asleep.

"i'll tip you again," you yawned, feeling your eyelids get heavier with every blink.

he placed you onto the bed, tucking you in well. he looked at you once more, brushing your hair out of your face. "sweet dreams," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you smiled as you drifted off to sleep, knowing he'd be there same time again tomorrow.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #tnmn #tnmn milkman #milkman #that #that's not my neighbour #that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #x reader #ncrescent asks

[gyuvxx]

A Party ꩜⋆.°⭑

Sungchan x Reader

In which YN meets a cute boy at a party…

Genres/warnings: fluff, crack, party fic, mentions of drugs and drinking, suggestive (no smut!), make out session, consent is given!! kinda open ending

The wind blew across her skin as she walked behind her friends. She listened to them talk ahead of her, excitedly chattering about something she couldn’t quite make out. Her outfit was ill fitted for the weather, more skin exposed than covered, that did nothing to keep her warm. They had been walking for about fifteen minutes, with ten more to go. If they didn’t freeze by then.

YN felt herself wobble in her heels, none of her friends ahead of her were waiting up for her. She just continued, not too bothered by silence, enjoying the peace in the atmosphere. She appreciated quiet moments, but couldn’t deny she felt a bit left out. She suddenly felt an arm sling around her shoulder, and turned to find who was next to her.

“Don’t be nervous,” She said playfully. Yunjin was dressed as a cowboy, a bandana tied around her neck, and a brown hat sat on her head. She said she was matching with the hosts of the party, two of her friends from class.

“I’m not nervous,” YN laughed, leaning into Yunjin. “I just don’t really want to go,” she confessed. YN was dressed like cupid, wearing a pair of little wings, and white boots that were too tall for her to walk in comfortably.

Yunjin smiled at the shorter girl. “If an hour passes and you still aren’t feeling it, then we’ll walk to the milkshake place,” She told her, lightly shaking her friend. “But you have to actually try to have fun, have a drink or something,”

YN nodded, but still felt reluctant. She was never the type to party, which was polar opposite to many of her friends, who spent a fair amount of their weekends at house parties thrown by other people at their school. YN didn’t blame them, she could see how they enjoyed the parties, but never really liked them herself. She didn’t like the crowds of strangers, or having to shout over everyone to talk to a friend, and she didn’t want to get drunk in a room full of strangers.

Her friends had convinced her to tag along with them, telling her it would be fun, and they would all stay together. It was halloween, she’d be so lame not to go. She agreed reluctantly, not holding much hope that she’d have a particularly good time. The group was made up of girls they’d met in class, all sweet, friendly girls, but Yunjin was the only one she was really close with.

When they got to the door and the host opened the door, YN could immediately gauge the atmosphere of the house. Loud, and crowded. Wonderful. The host, Shotaro, was in her chemistry class, and seemed to be close with Yunjin. He let them all in with a smile, and when she stepped foot into the building, the smell of weed, alcohol and body odor hit her senses immediately. As her group walked in, they all huddled for a moment, sticking together for the most part, until one by one, they began splitting off.

Yunjin kept her hand on YN’s, not wanting her to get lost in the crowd, leading them into the kitchen to get some drinks. She looked around cautiously before opening the fridge and grabbing two bottles of beer. No one was supposed to get into the fridge, but YN assumed it was okay since Yunjin was close to the host. She grinned as she handed her a bottle, and the two clinked their glasses together.

The two girls drank for a while, moving around from time to time whenever Yunjin felt like it. They laughed while trying to yell over the loud music, and the other people yelling around them, finding it amusing how the other would say ‘what?’ after every five seconds.

YN saw Yunjin look around the room, and wave to some people YN didn’t know. Yunjin turned back to her friend.

“Do you wanna come with?” she yelled, gesturing over to two boys dressed as cowboys.

“I’m okay, go talk to them!” YN yelled back.

“Are you sure?” Yunjin asked, not wanting to leave her friend.

“Yes, now go!” YN yelled with a small laugh, pushing her friend away to go talk with her other friends. Truth be told, she didn’t want Yunjin to leave, but also didn’t want to be a stick in the mud.

After a few minutes of Yunjin being gone, YN got annoyed with the atmosphere once again, moving from her spot to lean against the wall. She sipped her drink, which by that point was getting warm and sticky. She opted to people watch from her spot, waiting for Yunjin to come back.

No one approached her, which was a relief, she didn’t want to deal with drunk college students. She looked around the crowds for Yunjin, but couldn’t find her. The music seemed louder without anything to distract her, the house was hotter, and the smell stronger. It all was beginning to be too much for YN. So when Yunjin pushed her way through the crowds with a grin, YN couldn’t stop the sigh she let out.

“Have fun?” she asked, returning to yelling like before.

“Yeah!” Yunjin shouted back. “They’re in the basement right now, it’s cooler down there!” she yelled, and YN tilted her head.

“Who?” YN asked.

“My friends, duh!” Yunjin locked arms with the shorter girl. “And there’s someone I want you to meet,” she wiggled her eyebrows as she began leading her downstairs. The pair weaved through the crowds, pushing their way past people as Yunjin grinned. They walked downstairs, and YN felt a rush of cool air graze her skin.

“Is that her?” one of the cowboys asked from the couch. YN looked down at the seven pairs of eyes staring up at her, and gave a small wave.

“Yup,” Yunjin dragged her down all the way. “This is YN, everyone say hi,” the boys all greet her at the same time.

“Hi, I’m Shotaro, and I’m also the host tonight,” one of the cowboys stood up to greet her. “The other cowboy is Eunseok, we’re twinning with Yunjin. Freddy kruger is wonbin, Luigi and mario are seunghan and Sohee respectively, men in black wannabe is anton-”

“It was last minute!” the younger boy shouted in protest.

“Okay, whatever. And angel boy-” he looked around before getting cut off by a tall boy approaching with two drinks, one that was somewhat unfamiliar, and one that happened to be her favorite.

“I’m sungchan,” The tall guy said to her, a playful smile spread across his pretty face.

“Nice to meet you,” She replied with a small smile, locking eyes with him before his eyes drifted to examine her further.

Sungchan handed her the bottle of the drink she liked, and she took it without hesitation. She looked around the room, the big couch in the center with a pretty big TV in front of it, and a bar by the stairs. It was a calmer atmosphere, relaxed, just YN’s cup of tea. Shotaro told her she could sit on the couch if she wanted, so she walked over.

“Yunjin said there was someone she wanted me to meet?” YN asked as she sat down. She saw how Eunseok and Shotaro smiled teasingly and Sungchan looked behind him to see Yunjin grinning at him.

“Some friends are playing some games upstairs,” Yunjin grinned. “You can join us if you want,” she offered before walking up, Eunseok and shotaro joining her.

Seunghan and Sohee were upstairs drinking, catching up with their other friends. Anton was talking to a girl he liked upstairs, and Wonbin was playing beer pong. It was just Sungchan and YN in the basement. She didn’t realize until the awkward silence set in, and she looked up to see sungchan standing by the bar, sipping his beer.

The two of them made eye contact, as sungchan was already looking at her. She broke it after a moment, looking down at her lap. Sungchan took the opportunity to walk over, sitting down next to her, a little bit away. He turned to look at her, and she glanced up to meet his gaze. He gave her a soft smile.

“I think I’m the one Yunjin wanted you to meet,” He confessed, and YN tilted her head.

“Why do you think that?” she asked, moving to face him a little bit.

“She overheard me talking to shotaro about how I thought you were pretty,” He shrugged with a smile. “I saw you while you were upstairs, and told them about you. Yunjin went ‘oh I know her, i can go get her!’ and then she dragged you down here,”

YN smiled a little. “So that’s why she seemed so excited,”

“I guess,” sungchan agreed. “You have full right to tell me to fuck off by the way, I will not be offended,”

YN laughed, pushing her hair over her shoulder before looking at him. “I wasn’t really planning on it,” she shrugged. “I think you’re pretty cool, and for whatever it’s worth,” she paused, contemplating her words. “I think you’re cute too,”

The two looked at each other for a moment. YN felt the heat rush to her cheeks, feeling silly for just calling a guy who was two heads taller than her cute. Sungchan just smiles, relaxing into the couch a little bit, a smirk on his face.

“So… would you want to chill with me? I’m great at scaring people off,” Sungchan offered, looking over at her.

“Sure,” YN nodded. “Do you wanna go upstairs? Have some more stuff to do?”

“Sounds good to me,” He stood up, and offered His hand to her, seeming more confident than before. She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet, interlocking fingers as Sungchan led her upstairs.

The two of them joined their friends upstairs and teamed up for some games. Sungchan taught her how to play beer Pong, standing behind her to help her aim to sink the ball she threw. He cheered her on through the game, and drank whenever she drank. When the two of them won the game, they high fived each other, and neither of them fully realized Sungchan’s fingers intertwined with hers.

Through the next game, Sungchan’s hand rested on her waist, keeping her close when she took her third shot. YN always had one hand interlocked with his as they continued, pressing up against his side as the night continued, feeling gigglier than usual.

They played a few more games, and took a few shots too many, when YN felt that fuzzy feeling she got when she had a little too much to drink. She leaned against sungchan, talking to Yunjin as she felt the alcohol really kick in.

Sungchan stopped drinking a bit before her, only having a light buzz when he realized YN was getting a bit drunker than he was. He kept her close while they were upstairs, trying to keep her out of trouble, and to keep her from getting lost.

Sungchan had suggested they take a break from the crowd when he noticed her steps got wobbly, and started giving her water instead of more alcohol. He saw Yunjin give her a look from across the room, and he knew it was about time for them to start winding down, so neither would be too hungover.

The two of them went back to the basement, sitting on the couch while their friends relaxed around the room. YN leaned against him, as his arm draped over her, fingers rubbing gently against her dress. The two of them talked for a while, getting to know little things about each other. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, almost resting on his lap, as sungchan absentmindedly played with her hair.

“I want another drink,” YN murmured before looking up at sungchan, battering her lashes to really convey the message.

Sungchan smiled at her, and brushed the hair back from her cheek. “You’re drunk, cutie, you shouldn’t drink any more,” his finger grazed her cheek, squeezing her skin lightly.

YN jutted out her bottom lip, looking up at him through sad eyes. When she saw his smirk, and subtle head shake, she returned to leaning against his chest. “You’re no fun,”

Sungchan laughed a bit. “Sorry, baby,” he said softly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her hair. He rested his arm around her again, holding her close to him as they sat together.

There was a silence between them, comfortable as He played with her hair. Sungchan noticed some of his friends had left, and now the only three left were Yunjin, Eunseok, and Shotaro. The three of them were clearly trying to observe what was going on between Sungchan and YN, and noticed Sungchan looking back at them. They made a few gestures, shotaro mouthed, ‘should we go?’ and all three filed upstairs when sungchan nodded.

It was just them in the room, and sungchan felt his heart beat against his chest. He didn't know what to do in the moment. He didn’t know what would be the next move, or what would be too far. So he decided to just try and take things slow.

“You know,” he spoke up, ears heating up at the confession. “Yunjin told me what beer you liked before you came downstairs,” YN looked up at him a bit. “She also told me you were a lightweight, so I should probably keep an eye on you,”

“I’m not a lightweight,” YN pouted.

“Sure,” Sungchan smiled, looking into her eyes. “But you’re drunk now, so i’ll take care of you,” he had a silly smirk across his lips, hand resting against her waist.

“You don’t have to take care of me, I’m just buzzed” YN muttered, looking down. “I’m a big girl,”

“I know,” he admitted, bringing his hand under her chin. “I just want to,”

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, YN’s eyes were wide, getting lost in his soft gaze. It was only a moment before YN sat up a little bit and leaned forward, gently pressing her lips against his. It was a soft kiss, lasting a fleeting moment before YN pulled away, embarrassed by her sudden movement. She looked at sungchan who had a playful smile before brushing his thumb against her bottom lip as he held her chin.

YN grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him closer, looking into his eyes, all the embarrassment gone. Sungchan’s gaze faltered for a moment.

“Is this okay?” he asked in a hushed tone as YN leaned back on the couch, pulling him to hover over her.

YN nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, feeling one of his hands press against her waist. His lips pressed against the skin of her cheek, breathing heavy.

“Are you sure?” he whispered before pressing a kiss to her jaw. “You’re drunk,”

YN just nodded again, pulling him close and kissing his lips. This time sungchan Let her have her way, still lightly buzzed by his previous drinks. He groaned lightly as he kissed her back, his forearm resting on the couch cushions while his other hand held her waist. YN had a hand in his hair, lightly brushing her nails along his skin.

They were both frenzied, lost in their own passion and lust for each other. Their kiss grew sloppy as YN began unbuttoning Sungchan’s shirt. Everything felt so fast to her, and she was unable to tell if it was because of the alcohol or sungchan, and his intoxicating cologne. Sungchan was about as lost as she was, kissing her neck, leaving light marks across her skin. The two of them were so lost, they didn’t even realize Sohee had walked downstairs.

“Oh shit!” Sohee gasped, pulling Sungchan and YN out of their dazes. He quickly covered his eyes and ran upstairs, hollering, “I saw nothing!”

Sungchan groaned a bit and YN just looked up at him. She met his eyes before she continued unbuttoning his shirt. Sungchan’s eyes widened, and he lightly grabbed one of her wrists, shaking his head.

“What’s wrong?” YN asked, eyes wide, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Nothing,” he said gently. “I just… don’t think we should do this right now,” He told her, pulling her up from her position to sit next to him. “You know, in the basement of a stinky house party,” He heard a soft Giggle from YN. “And you’re drunk, so let’s not do anything we could regret,”

YN reluctantly nodded, smoothing out her dress and looking down at her hands, feeling the embarrassment creep back up on her. Sungchan studied her for a moment, noticing the shift in demeanor, and how she tried to make herself smaller.

“Let me take you home,” Sungchan Offered. YN looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. “I’m bored of the party, and you probably should go get some rest,”

“I didn’t drive,” She admitted.

“I did,” Sungchan reached for her hand, and took it gently.

“We both drank,” She points out.

“I’ll walk,” He told her, looking at her with a serious look. “If you don’t want me to take you home, just tell me,”

“No! It’s not that, sorry…” She sighed, pushing her hair back. “I’d really appreciate it, thank you. It just surprised me a little.”

Sungchan smiled and stood up, buttoning his shirt back up and pushing his hair out of his eyes. He offered her his hand, and pulled her up to stand next to him. The two of them walked up the stairs and through the house, said goodbye to their friends and left.

The walk To YN’s apartment was quiet, neither of them knowing what to say to break the silence between them. YN showed him the way, and sungchan walked along with her, keeping their hands interlocked despite the unspoken words between them. YN felt embarrassed for getting drunk, and being so forward with Sungchan, only to somewhat be rejected, and have him walk her home. Sungchan didn’t mind at all, enjoying the change of pace for the night. It gave him a moment to study her more, to take in her beauty.

When they got to her apartment, YN let go of sungchan’s hand, dropping it to her side, missing the warmth of his palm in hers.

“Are you okay here?” Sungchan asked, studying her expression.

“Yeah,” She said after a moment, a slight sigh in her voice. Sungchan picked up on it.

“Do you want me to walk you up?” He asked. He watched as she processed his question, debating in her mind what she should say in response. He was hoping she’d say-

“Yes, please,” She gave him a shy smile, and Sungchan wrapped his arm around her waist, nodding for her to lead the way.

In the elevator, YN leaned against Sungchan, wishing she had taken the stairs to try and squeeze in more time with the handsome stranger she met that day. The two of them didn’t speak much more, just resting their arms around each other and enjoying the peace. They reached her floor, and Walked towards her flat. When they reached the door, they each said a quiet goodbye before YN slipped inside, and closed the door.

YN regretted it instantly, wishing she would have invited him in for some food, or to just try and get more time with him. Likewise, sungchan was beating himself up mentally for not trying to make another move. They both stood on opposite sides of the door, both ready to make a move to try and get the other to stay, even if just for a moment.

When YN swung her door open, she was met with the sight of a shocked sungchan, who had his fist raised to knock on the door. “You’re-!” they both stuttered out, shocked to see the other had the same idea that they did. The shock wavered and left the two just smiling at each other, both blushing a bit.

“Do you want to-”

“Can I get your number?” Sungchan interrupted her, feeling like if he didn’t ask at that moment, he’d never be brave enough to ask again.

YN smiled and took his phone, entering her contact information, and a little heart next to it. Sungchan grinned and pocketed his phone. “I wanna take you on a real date, not just a sloppy makeout session,”

“I’d really like that,” She grinned at him, unable to hide her happiness at his proposal.

“What were you gonna ask?” Sungchan asked.

“Oh! Well, i was just gonna ask if maybe, you wanted to stay for a little bit… but i know it’s late so,” she told him shyly, not wanting to pressure him.

“Do you want me to?” He asked leaning towards her with a little smile.

YN smiled, grabbing his hand and lightly pulling him inside. “Just for one movie,”

ITS FINALLLLLYYYYYY OUT

I have a lil smth smth planned for a part 2… and 3, 4, 5 😈 so lmk if you want those or just a silly oneshot

taglist: @oftenjisung , @vhuteryh , @skzhoe4life , @cheederzchez , @so-lychee , @leehanascent

#sungchan x reader #riize sungchan #sungchan oneshot #jung sungchan #sungchan fluff #sungchan #riize oneshots #riize x reader #riize fluff #gyuvxx ᯓ★ #my love {sungchan} ☆.ᐟ #⋆｡°✩riize

[honeyed-hedonist]

Pairings: Aged Up!Damian Wayne x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Summary: You're always just a phone call away for Damian, so he calls when he needs you. And tonight? He really fucking needs you. Warnings: SMUT--MINORS DNI. unprotected sex, creampie, degradation, size kink if you squint, face slapping (once), oral (male & female receiving), orgasm control (kind of???), basically just 3k words of Dami tearing you apart in the best way. A/N: Hello again! Posting another old fic on mine. I still blame @heli0s-writes for sending me on a Damian Wayne spiral. I will never recover from this and it's all her fault. Enjoy :3

IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY, PLEASE REBLOG IT.

It’s late. It’s always late when he calls you—3am and you’re answering the phone, the pitch of his voice deepened and gruff with need. A need that only you can satiate. “Come over, darling.” You’re out the door before you end the call, hailing a cab to the manor, pulse racing because you know what’s coming.

The path you walk when you reach the gate is so familiar, you could do it with your eyes closed, feet carrying you to the front door. There’s no need to knock or ring the bell, the second your shoes hit the porch Damian swings it wide open, the cowl stripped off, blackened liner still smeared around those beautiful green eyes. He’s looking at you like he wants to tear you apart, but you’ve always had an affinity for pretty, dangerous things. 

A step closer and you catch the way the warm light of the entryway bounces off of the thin gold chain hanging around his neck. It sparkles, and your mind conjures up the image of it swinging above your face when you’re folded in half on his bed. It makes you clench, taking another step while your eyes make the slow trek downward, his bare chest and rippling stomach that cuts to narrow, defined hips has your mouth watering. You know what they feel like against your tongue, beneath your fingers.

There’s no need for words, his calloused hand closing around your wrist to tug you inside, the heavy door shutting with a definitive click that reverberates off the walls and arched ceilings of Wayne Manor. He’s already hard, you can feel it when his arm snakes its way around your waist to pull you even closer. And then he’s crouching down, sweeping his other hand behind your knees to lift you into his arms.

You’re trapped in the heat of his gaze, the salty, earthy smell of his skin--still damp with sweat from his night spent in triple-weave kevlar. Fingers dance up the back of his neck, tangling into that silky, black hair, and his chest vibrates with something akin to a growl. It sends your pulse rushing between your legs, desire warm and heavy in your belly as he walks you up the stairs towards the master suite. 

The second you’re past the threshold, you reach for his face, wanting to feel his hot mouth on yours, but he doesn’t budge, the corner of his lips quirking in an amused smile at the whine that comes tumbling out of your throat when you try, and fail, to kiss him. “Patience, beloved.” Damian is gentle when he sets you down on the lush, thickly weaved rug that spreads out from beneath his bed, forefinger and thumb coming up to pinch your chin. His nose brushes yours when he speaks again, breath hot and sweet as it fans out across your face. “Be good.”

You watch with baited breath as he settles himself on the edge of the mattress, thighs spread open, palms flat against his knees, his posture perfectly straight. He looks like a king on his throne, and you’re prepared to bow at his feet. “You’re very overdressed, don’t you agree? Perhaps you should remedy that.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument, your hands falling to the hem of your sleep shirt, tugging it hastily over your head. Your shorts are your next target, swiftly yanking them down your legs. Shoes, socks, and bra all join the pile of your discarded clothes after that, and Damian hums his approval. “Much better.” 

Lifting one of his hands, he points to the space between his feet. “Come.” There’s no hesitation from you, moving immediately with a step forward, but then he scoffs, eyebrows drawn down in admonishment. “Really, pet? Is that how you’re meant to approach me? As my equal?” His words make you short circuit, brain muddled with the fog of submission, because you will always submit to him--it’s not even a question at this point. He’s in charge, he owns you, and he knows it.

Dropping to your hands and knees, you crawl towards him slowly, eyes trained on his face, trying to read him--but Damian has mastered the art of impassiveness. His calves brush against your shoulders as you wedge yourself between his legs, the only sign of his pleasure is the tent in the front of his joggers and the rumbling in his chest. It’s enough--has you salivating from your place on the floor, eagerly awaiting instruction.

He leans forward, strong hand circling your throat, fingers tightening until he can feel the ripple of your swallow. “Have you missed me?” He asks, but you know better than to open your mouth, choosing instead to nod your head. Damian hums thoughtfully, free hand stroking at his slightly stubbled chin. “Hmm, I’m not sure I’m convinced. Why don’t you show me?”

“Yes, sir.” You answer, and he relents, releasing your throat to lean back on the bed, propped up with his arms extended so he can watch you--he’s always watching you--calculating, observing, learning. Damian Wayne knows all of the ways to take you apart, and all of the ways to put you back together again, but now he’s testing you, wants to see just how much you’ve learned since you began spending nights in his bed.

Shaking fingers dip beneath the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down his thighs until the heavy weight of his cock springs free, slapping against the hard plane of his stomach with a dense thud. You moan, how can you not? He’s impressively large, perfectly curved towards his bellybutton, nestled in coarse, dark hair, thick and throbbing just for you. His head is shining with pre, glistening in the orange glow from the roaring fire in the hearth nearby. Your eyes meet, faux innocence batting up at him from beneath your lashes. But Damian knows better, knows how filthy you are, and he’s losing his patience.

You let your hand circle the base, tongue dragging a hot, wet line beneath his length until your lips close around the tip, precum tangy against your tastebuds. You moan again, eyes rolling back. The musk of his night perusing the city is still fresh on his skin, and he always tastes so god damn good like this. Dirty. Natural. It spurs you onward, his tip popping into the back of your throat as you take him all the way down. He reaches out after that, fingers gentle against the skin of your neck, his cock seated so fully inside the wet heat of your mouth that he can feel himself beneath your esophagus when you swallow. It makes him grunt, satisfied with your efforts.

It’s all the encouragement you need to move again, cheeks hollowed as you suck him off. The only sounds in the room are your labored breaths and the nasty, wet squelch of your mouth on his cock. Damian’s eyes are blown black, watching you like a predator tracking its prey, hand shooting out to curl into the hair at the crown of your head and shove you down until your nose is pressing against his taut abdomen. He holds you there, testing your limits, keeping you still, voice strained with his pleasure when he speaks. “Swallow.” He commands, and you oblige, whimpering while your thighs shift in an attempt to alleviate the ache in your cunt. 

“What’s wrong, pet? Do you want to cum?” Damian smirks at the desperate look in your eyes before he answers his own question. “Too bad.” He mocks your arousal, knowing all you really want right now is for him to fuck a hole right through you, but he needed to feel your warm, wet mouth first.  And Damian will never apologize for having his needs met, because he always reciprocates in kind. Especially with you.

He volleys with you back and forth, letting you have control before ultimately usurping you to fuck your face. When he’s satisfied, your cheeks are hot, the remnants of the mascara that you carelessly forgot to wash off is smeared down your face, and your chin is covered in your own spit as he yanks you free from his cock by your hair. “Tch--look at you, such a mess.” Damian’s free hand breaks the string of spittle connecting your mouth to the tip of his dick and smears it across your face. He’s not gentle, and you don’t want him to be, moaning open-mouthed when his palm cracks across your cheek. “Get up.”

Your actions are instantaneous, done without pause or thought, rising to your feet with his hand still fisted in your hair. He stands, too, spinning you both around until your calves hit the mattress and he shoves you backwards. You fall gracelessly onto his comforter, and he gives you no reprieve, no chance to catch your breath before he’s peeling your thighs apart to inspect your slit. Your panties are an encumbrance, one that has him growling as his long, dextrous fingers tear the fabric clean off, ripping them away to toss on the floor. 

He wastes no time, hands framing your cunt to peel your lips apart, leaning forward, he takes a deep inhale, the tip of his nose bumping against your throbbing clit. It makes you jolt, body bowing off of the bed, but his eyes cut to yours and you still immediately, knowing that he’ll stop if you don’t behave. “You have the most beautiful cunt, and she’s all mine.” Damian hums, mostly to himself, pink tongue slipping out of his mouth to circle your clit slowly. Your hands fist his expensive bedding, knuckles bone-white as he begins to work you over with his mouth.

He’s an expert at many things--knows over a hundred ways to kill a man with his bare hands--and can get you to gush against his mouth in a matter of minutes. Damian plays your body like a fine-tuned instrument, hits all the right notes to make you see stars. He curls those long, rough fingers of his against the velvet walls of your pussy, free hand applying pressure at your belly, while his plump lips suction against your pulsing clit. Barely two minutes in and you’re already hurtling towards bliss, whining and whimpering and writhing--all for him. 

“Dami, please!” You want your release. Want to cum all over his handsome face. He can feel it in the way your cunt grips his fingers, fluttering in time with the expert swipes of his tongue. He knows it’s only a few more licks until you’re careening into your orgasm. His eyes meet yours between the valley of your breasts, glittering with mirth as you cry out, begging shamelessly for him to let you cum. And then, like the menace he is, Damian releases your clit with a wet pop, effectively slamming you into a brick wall, your orgasm slipping right through your fingers with a pained cry.

Tears of desperation brim in your eyes and he tuts, rising to his feet, forearm wiping your glistening arousal from his lips and chin. “Do you have no shame? Begging like a common whore.” He’s on you in a flash, joggers discarded, fully naked as his hand once again finds your throat and he snarls above you. “Your orgasms belong to me, beloved. I decide when you deserve to cum, and tonight, you’ll be coming all over my cock. Do I make myself clear?” 

He expects an answer, but you’re transfixed, completely mystified by his overpowering, eclipsing presence above you. Damian makes you feel small. It fogs your brain, makes it hard to do anything other than mewl, thighs parting to accommodate his hips as he settles above you.  “Tch--useless little thing. All you’re good for is being my tight hole to fuck, isn’t that right, pet?” You nod, helpless and desperate beneath him, every nerve ending in your body thrumming like live wires. It’s a fact that he captializes on, slapping the mushroomed tip of his dick against your drenched slit, the wet sound that reaches his ears making him moan.

There isn’t a sound on Earth prettier than hearing Damian Wayne moan for you, your mouth falling open as you gaze up at him in awe. It’s the perfect opportunity for him to sluice the middle fingers of his left hand over your tongue. Ever the obedient pet, your lips close automatically, suckling as those same fingers push so far back they make you choke. Through your bleary eyes, you can see the sadistic smile that graces Damian’s face. It’s dangerous, and it sends a fresh rush of arousal leaking from your cunt. 

It’s almost like he can smell it, and he probably can, his irises disappearing until all that’s left are the whites of his eyes as he inhales deeply. There’s no warning, no preparation, just his gaze rolling back to meet yours when he snaps his hips forward with perfect aim, his cock stretching you open and filling you in a way only he can. It makes you scream, your back beginning to arch, but Damian is right there, pulling his fingers from your mouth to grip your throat and pin you back down against the mattress.

His pace is unforgiving. It’s brutal and deep, carving his way into your body with harsh thrusts that have the headboard knocking flecks of plaster off the walls until they cascade down like rain onto the comforter. “You. Belong. To me.” He spits it through gritted teeth, and it’s not something you’ll ever deny. Your relationship may be unconventional, but you wouldn’t trade it. Any time spent with Dami, to you, is a gift, especially if it means he’ll fuck you absolutely boneless in order to reassert his control on those nights when he feels like the world around him is spiraling. 

You take it all--every thrust, the gnashing of his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, the suffocating grip around your throat, the drizzle of spit that falls onto your waiting tongue when he pries your jaw open. Anything Damian dishes out, you take without complaint, because while he craves control, you crave subjugation--the metaphorical yin to his yang.

Your voice is hoarse when you try to speak, breath stuttering with every powerful roll of Damian’s hips, barely heard over the lewd sounds of being fucked open. Each strike of his cock inside of you hits that spongy mound of tissue, dragging his silky, hot length against it with each withdrawal. It has you climbing right back towards your inevitable peek, the only question is-- will he let you finish this time?

“Dami--m’gonna--please, m’so close, baby.” You wheeze, and he smiles, teeth blindingly white even though the haze of your oxygen deprivation. You find some reprieve from the deliciously pleasurable pain when he finally peels his fingers back from your throat, hands sliding to your shins to fold them up and into your chest. His pace never lessens, he never slips out, following the bending of your body, the new angle allowing an even deeper stroke inside your gummy walls. It has you keening, hands clawing at his chest, his gold chain bouncing against the backs of your palms.

“Very well, I think you’ve earned it.” Reaching between your bent legs, Damian’s thumb slices through the lips of your cunt that are spread wide around his cock to seek out your clit. He’s precise, circling the aching bud in a way that makes you choke, throat vibrating with a squeal. You’re close again, rapidly approaching your release, so fast you can barely keep up, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable tightness. This time, when you meet his eyes, the malice is gone, replaced with what you can only describe as devotion. “Go on, make a mess on my cock, cum for me.”

That’s all it takes, his permission coupled with the expert swirl of his thumb and the perfect drag of his cock have you seeing stars, bursting with a cry of his name. You scream, back arching up, chest to chest with him as he cradles you close. “I know, beloved, I know. Let it all out.” He coos, still thrusting wildly through the resistance as your pussy tries to shove him out with each fluttering pulse. Damian can feel your cum weeping out around him, it wets his thighs, dribbles down the seam of his sack, drips down onto the mattress. It makes him groan, balls tightening as he reaches the point where he can no longer stave off his own release. 

With a low moan of your name he pumps into you once, twice--the third sending the first spray of his cum deep in your womb. You can feel the pulse of his length as he bottoms out with a grunt, forehead pressing against yours, breath hot against your mouth. Jet after jet of semen coats your insides, filling you up so full it almost hurts. You whimper out, and Damian shushes you, cupping your face to plant a soft kiss against your lips. “Shh,” he murmurs. “You did so well for me, my darling. Such a good girl. I’m so proud of you.”

All you can manage is a hum, Damian’s fingers carding through your sweat-slicked hair as he peppers soft kisses over your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your forehead. This has got to be your favorite part, because while he knows how to completely wreck you, he’s also right there to pick up the pieces and stitch you right back together again. 

He carries you into the bathroom, runs a bath for the both of you, coddles and keeps you close until the pair of you are falling into his freshly stripped bed beneath the sheets. His arm is slung snugly around your waist, his lips on the back of your neck as you settle in preparation of sleep. “I’d like you to move your things into the manor.” His voice is soft, there’s a hesitation there that is so uncharacteristic it nearly shocks you back from exhaustion. But again, all you’re able to offer him is a hum of acknowledgement, wiggling further into the warmth of his body, heavy eyelids closing as your consciousness wanes and you drift. 

You’ll tackle this moving in business when you’ve got a clear head and a full belly, but the prospect of taking the next step in your relationship with Damian brings you the most pleasant, peaceful sleep you’ve had in years.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #robin x reader #robin x you #batfam #batfamily #damian wayne smut #robin smut #smut writing

[bunnysbrainrot]

Unspoken Rules

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟹 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 '𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝' 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚢𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚘𝚣𝚒𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader, Jackson!AU

Content: Angst, protective Joel, kissing, sexual themes, make out session, size kink (kind of?)

Summary: The day after the town dance, Joel doesn't seem so sentimental for your time together. The emotional rollercoaster leaves you confused. Something is off about him now, and it's taking everything in you to not leave yourself to blame. Finally, Joel tries setting a boundary, but will he hold to it?

[ A/N: For this series, I invite the reader to make up their own backstory for how they end up in Jackson. I'll keep descriptions in the chapters vague, as I didn't want to assign a backstory when it's something people can have such fun with! ]

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep

The gentle chirping of your watch pulls you from sleep, but not without some protest. You groan softly at a headache taking form and begin to regret last night's decisions. Prying an eye open, a green 6:31 AM shines back at you, though the sun hardly shows it through your curtains. A dim lavender sky peeks through instead.

What a nice start to the day, you think to yourself, sighing loudly as you shift to sit up; the rush of movement swells your pesky headache, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Shit," you grumble, rubbing your eyes, "fuckin' mead, man... never again."

And especially never before patrol day.

The thought of riding your horse through rough Wyoming terrain doesn't excite you. Instead, you get the gift of an unsettled stomach, but pull yourself out of bed nonetheless.

••••

"Good morning!"

Your neighbor's cheerful greeting rings in your head, but you know she means well. She'd been at the dance last night, too, but you didn't get a chance to talk, from what you remember, at least. Giving her a small wave, you force a smile you hope is genuine enough to sell the 'I'm not hungover' act.

The food stall is desolate, to your relief, save for the man running it. You seem him every time you stop by, though neither of you have exchanged names, but he has memorized your order already. His eyes shine genuinely when he hands you your food.

"It's good to see you again," the man says, "welcome to Jackson."

You smile appreciatively and take the sandwich, giving him a brief thanks before heading off. He provides breakfast for the patrol groups, but never wants anything in return. Maybe you could repay him, somehow, you think. Mulling it over, you tear into the sandwich while you make your way to the stables. The thick, earthy smell of hay wafts past, and the sputtering of horses sounds ahead.

Rounding the corner reveals today's patrol group - it's evidently much smaller than last time.

Joel doesn't turn when your footsteps approach. You spot the beautiful mare you'd ridden last patrol, Belle, occupied with a bucket of hay. She huffs loudly when you meet her, angling her head to look at you, before resuming her breakfast. Joel silently adjusts a hefty saddle onto his horse nearby. Clinking of metal clasps fills the silence before Joel breaks it.

"How's the hangover?"

There's a terseness in his tone, as if forcing a conversation he doesn't want to have. He doesn't turn to you when he asks the question.

You pause for a beat, "Kicking my ass a little."

Joel nods once, "Been there."

This Joel isn't the same man you danced with last night, this version doesn't remember, or simply doesn't care. Nothing from last night was special enough to hold onto today. Shame starts to sink in your uneasy stomach. So he really did mean it, when he called himself a fool for dancing with you.

"Where are we meeting up with the rest of the group?"

A casual tone masks the pain blooming in your chest, and the tears that prick your eyes. You wouldn't dare let them fall in front of Joel. He shouldn't know how much last night meant to you, even if he wouldn't bat an eye at your tears. It seems like last night's biggest mistake was thinking that he, somehow, was true to his actions. When his lips were brushing against your neck, hovering over your ear, before his tone had gone seductively darker.

"Just us today. Smaller groups help cover more ground."

It feels like an invisible string is pulled between you when he speaks, growing more taught with each bated breath and expressionless comment. You come to notice that Belle is already donning her saddle and gear, a task you hadn't done yourself.

Glancing at Joel, you hesitate, "Thank you for getting Belle ready."

Finally, he turns from his horse's saddle and shifts attention to you. A steely look in his eyes reprimands you without words. It didn't seem like a favor. He'd done your work for you.

"Saddling up is the boring part. Not as tricky as it looks, though. I'll ask Maria to show you how," he offers dismissively.

It’s a nice gesture, but the Maria part begins to register. He won’t show you, or doesn't want to spend time alone with you after what transpired last night. Confusion lingers in the back of your mind - Joel invited you to dance, and now it's as if you've never held a conversation before.

You nod, "Sounds good to me."

Even though it was not, in fact, good at all. Maybe last night really was some drunken mistake, but it wouldn't make sense of Joel's demeanor now.

Why did he look like he had something else to say?

••••

"Pretty day today," Joel states.

Sunlight streaks between distant mountain peaks, painting the morning fog with a breathtaking display of orange and yellow. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see how it casts a golden halo around Joel's salt and pepper hair, highlighting its warmer browns. He turns to his saddle bag, giving you a glimpse of his face; the sunlight works wonders. He's warmer and brighter... there's more life to him.

Joel gestures to one of the peaks ahead, "See that mountain over there? The shorter one to the right - we stop at the base of it. On the way out there, we're on lookout, gettin' rid of any stragglers. At the turn-around point we'll rest, and the trip back is supply pickup, in case we find anything."

You clear your throat, carrying on, "Got it... Must be a long route, hm?"

"At an average pace, 'bout two hours or so. If you're bookin' it, you could do it in less than one."

The talking is helpful when it's useful information, but anything else reminds you of last night, of that version of Joel. When he was in such stark contrast to this gruff personality, and if you were being honest, it had intrigued you. Pulled you in deeper.

In fact, from the moment you saw him, he caught your eye. On that chilly morning, where you stood timid and anxious amidst the crowd, something clicked in place when he'd briefly turned to you.

A certain roughness in his look told you that something, many things, has roughed him around the edges over the years. You couldn't tell his age, but you could assume that he witnessed the fall of everything. Back then, the world crumbled with the rise of the infection, its haunting mortality rate, and there was no hope of it being stopped after it had begun. You wondered what Joel's life had been before he ended up in Jackson - how his 'regular life' was, back when the world made more sense.

His accent is distinctly and seductively Southern, one you could listen to for hours. Clearly he isn't from around here - any kind of travel across so much terrain isn't an easy task, and it would take months at a steady pace.

So how the hell did he wind up in Jackson?

Joel reaches for a canteen of water, unscrewing the top and tossing his head back, taking in a few deep gulps. His jaw twitches as he drinks greedily, and follows it with a low, satisfied sigh when he's finished. The sound casts you into a void of unholy thoughts. Something tightens in your core, a feeling that, you now realize, you haven't had in months. Years, maybe.

Effortlessly, Joel shines light on an emotion you hadn't addressed to even yourself: a primal need for something.

••••

With the exception of picking off the straggling infected, the patrol is continuing quite smoothly. The sun is slowly inching its way across the sky, keeping you comfortably warm in a gentle breeze that relieves your dull headache. Now, Joel leads you down a path veering toward an open stretch of pasture at the base of the mountain. Peering ahead, you see the trail reach its end at the start of the field, and beyond spans into a sea of rolling hills that takes your breath away.

"How you doin' back there?" Joel asks.

"Still good," you reassure him.

He nods his head toward a fence far off in the pasture, "We go to the edge of the perimeter, then we loop around. We'll take a breather first, though."

You follow in his stead until he reaches the old wooden fence, dismounting his horse, and carefully tying its reigns to a nearby fence post. Dismounting Belle gives your hips and thighs a wave of relief to get some blood flowing again. You head to the fence on unsteady legs, leaning against the weathered wood as another gust of wind rushes by. The cool wind across your skin makes you turn to face its source, tossing your head back to invite its presence at your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, and the world melts away for a while.

He wishes he could burn this image in his mind. You throwing your head back as the wind blows, entangling itself through your hair, your clothes. That soft smile tugging at your lips has him completely distracted before you let out a happy sigh. A soft, breathy sound that makes his imagination wander, against his better judgement.

After all, last night was a mistake.

The moment Cara had called for your attention, inviting you to join his group, Joel knew the night would end differently than he expected. You wore a shirt that accentuated every area his eyes shouldn't have wandered to, but they did. Across the lot, he'd watched you dance for hours, spinning and twirling and laughing and really, truly, living. He could see a light in you, a fire that couldn't be put out.

But if you're a fire, Joel is gasoline.

"Listen," he starts. He already knows where this is heading, that he's ruined this moment, and that there will be nothing in his power to make it any better.

But he can't let you fall into a delusion. This idea that you want him, yet you have no idea of what's underneath. He can't have you focused on him when there's a whole community to serve. He's doing a service by telling you now, he assures himself.

Nipping it in the bud.

You turn to face him quickly, knowingly. He can tell by your fidgeting hands that you might know what's coming. And he can see it in your wide-eyed expression, still somewhat hopeful. He braced himself to see that face fall.

"What happened last night... ain't my best moment. I didn't hold myself back when I shoulda have, and I..." he straightens, "it can't happen again."

The words come out meaninglessly. Joel speaks, but can't hear himself, his words come from some far-off mental script he'd prepared when he'd gotten home last night. He can see it hit you - the realization, the way your body goes completely still. Your bottom lip trembles slightly, yet you hold a solid smile despite the hurt he sees in your eyes. Your hands have frozen in place, knuckles growing white from gripping them together so tightly.

"I-I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have gotten so carried away," you explain.

Your apology is a blow to his gut. Have you been blaming yourself this whole time? As if you could even be at fault. Joel asked you to dance. You were about to go home, and he asked you to stay out of his own selfishness.

He needed that light, that fire. A brightness that only you've possessed, and it had him hooked from the first time you'd spoken, at last patrol. You had strayed away from your position in the party and had wound up next to him. It hadn't registered who had joined him, and before he had the chance to issue a harsh 'stay back', there you were, in complete awe.

Joel remembers it clearly: the way your eyes shone with delight, an infectious smile that for a moment, lifted his spirits. Every patrol was the same. Same people, same routes, over and over and over again with exhausting mundanity. Until you came along.

There was a light about you he could not touch.

In every way you are his opposite. On one hand, Joel is harsh, serious, and doesn't care much about his impact on others, let alone their feelings. You, on the other hand, represent everything Joel could've had for himself - kind, flexible, and you naturally cared for others.

Joel can't seem to remember when he lost that side of himself. He doesn't understand your capacity for kindness in a world this dark.

"You shouldn't be apologizing for anything," he says.

You pause and look toward the ground, wringing your hands again, "I should've just gone home."

If you had, you wouldn't be on the verge of tears right now.

A surge of regret fills his chest. Someone as kind as you doesn't deserve the pain of rejection; you should have someone who cherishes you, who can appreciate your softness without tainting it.

"Why'd you stay?"

There was no use for excuses now.

It's harder to meet his eyes this time, but you want to see his reaction to your answer.

"Because you asked me to dance."

Confusion knits Joel's eyebrows together when he asks, "And that was so special?"

"Yes. Was it not that way for you?"

He opens his mouth to answer, yet he hesitates. The long pause doesn't much to help your confusion, you truly want to know, to hear it from him first. If it wasn't important, it'd be easier to forget it happened in the first place.

It would certainly be easier than an unrequited love. Anything is easier.

"That's not what I said."

"It's implied," you state. Joel averts his gaze to the fence, idly picking at a loose piece of wood. "It's alright if it wasn't, I just... I need to know."

Another beat passes before he gives his answer, at long last. Joel matches your pose from earlier and leans with his back against the fence.

"It was. Special, that is," he says gently. That softness in his voice was greatly missed, and it's a breath of fresh air to hear it once more. "It's just... you're still new here. I don't want you getting distracted-"

"Are you calling yourself a distraction?"

Joel's eyes dart to you, "Am I not?"

You press your lips into a thin line, making his question ultimately rhetorical. He nods once, then turns his head to you. The intensity of his stare demands it to be met, so you meet his eyes and find a playfulness there, a hint of the Joel from last night.

"Am I one?"

"Telling you would just give you ideas," he teases.

You smirk, "So I am."

"The worst kind."

Shifting your weight on your feet reminds you of the soreness in your legs, so you lift your arms, and push yourself onto the top of the fence, dangling your legs over the side. The silence between you now isn't as uncomfortable as earlier. No, this is the silence of anticipation, wondering what or who will give a resolution.

"What about me is so distracting?" You ask.

In place of words, Joel makes his way to you, positioning himself in front of your swinging legs, which now shook a little more than you'd like to admit. He closes the gap with hands on either side of you, gripping the wood beneath his rough fingers.

There's no way to place his expression when he looks at you again.

He replies, voice low and strained, "Everything."

You can't miss it when his eyes wander to your lips, hovering there a moment longer than he needed to. Taking the opportunity you look at his as well - you knew they were soft, but hadn't felt much of them. Need and hunger are all you can feel as you stare.

When his lips meet yours, there's something that tells you that maybe this situation was inevitable. One look at him, and you knew how you felt, and exactly how willing you'd be to take your time with him.

But today, Joel doesn't need time. He knows what he wants.

He groans into your mouth when you move your lips against his - the sound of a starved animal finally getting their fill. It draws a moan from you, matching him in a sweet harmony. There's a gap between you still, that simply isn't enough.

You reach forward in search of the waistband of his jeans, hook your fingers through his belt loops, and tug Joel forward. His mouth crashes into yours once again, skirting his tongue across your bottom lip, begging for entry. One at a time, you wrap your legs around Joel's waist and secure yourself tightly against him, gripping at his shoulders with a ferocity you didn't recognize.

It's not as slow as you would've liked him to go, but it's the pace you need. For how long it felt to wait, for how impatient you'd been.

And he knows how to deliver it.

His hands roam carefully around your waist, squeezing and fondling with an avarice that shows he's been waiting just as impatiently. Every caress sets you alight, erupting goosebumps along your arms and neck, which Joel is slowly shifting his attention to.

"Joel," you pant, but it's all you can muster. There's more to the sentence, but his lips stop you. They play at the soft skin below your jaw, suckling gently before his tongue slides along your supple flesh, bringing himself to your ear.

He catches your earlobe between his teeth and bites playfully. Another moan falls past your lips, another breathy utterance of his name. Joel plants a kiss below your ear. You card your fingers through his hair, tugging at the soft strands.

"Careful, pretty girl," says Joel, reaching upward to support your head as it's thrown back in pleasure. He weaves his fingers into your hair for a comfortable grip, and pulls your head back further.

The constriction chokes you, but you smile anyway at the dull pain from where he holds you. With his strength, he has you exactly where he wants you, and can keep you there. The high-pitched moan you sing next has Joel losing his composure, his actions growing sloppier as you continue.

But, to your surprise, he releases you first.

Joel pulls back with a final kiss pressed to your lips again, a deep and savoring one. The back of your head stings from the grip he held on it, though it gives you a rush of adrenaline you won't trade for anything.

The sigh he lets out is one you can recognize, because you're breathing the same one.

This complicates things.

Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it took a long time to write, and I think it's because it's not smut, and it was very frustrating, so next chapter will have a LOT more (i'm already plotting)

#fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #smut #smut writing #bunny writes

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

There's something I don't see talked about enough in the SVSSS fandom.

The System.

I just received a comment on one of my fics - which has post-canon SQQ and SQH able to still use social media - suggesting that it would be very easy for people in the real world to point out that these characters using fake accounts to post on real life social media sites would easily be doxxed and the System would have no ability to do anything about that.

Something I have noticed among a lot of people who read this particular book is that not a lot of consideration is given to the very thing orchestrating everything. We often think of the system as a ridiculous guide or rule book that exists solely to give the protagonist what he wants/deserves. We don't really approach it for what it is.

This was my reply to that comment:

Doubt it. The System is able to kidnap people from their worlds and place them in other worlds and bodies in those worlds as punishment. And if you don't do as it wants, to the specification it doesn't directly detail, it can send your soul to an alternate version of the present world to be tortured in another body. I sincerely doubt an abstract, otherworldly being like that, which never receives consequences for anything it does because there is apparently nothing that can canonically challenge it, is going to be threatened by doxxing. If it can create things, link universes together, steal souls, and can be anywhere at any time, I wouldn't expect it to be incapable of manipulating people's perception. I even mentioned how in this fic, it WILL erase SQQ's sister's memories if he chooses to reveal his identity to her, but it becomes too much for her to handle. This suggests it has power anywhere and can do whatever it wants. So, in my mind, if someone actually tried to doxx their accounts, it's either going to lead nowhere, lead to somewhere fake, or the info will be stripped from their lives entirely the moment they find anything/nothing.

It was a very nitpicky kind of comment in my opinion, which warranted this response, but my response just made me realize that the System is effectively an amortal, omnipresent, and omnipotent Entity. It literally doesn't go away. We even think it's over and the Extras tell us, via SQH, that it's still there and still in control.

Think about it.

Think about every single thing that happened because of the System's actions or demands. It literally never faces consequences because there is nothing that could hope to punish it. I've only read 1 fic where higher beings step in to punish the System for kidnapping, coercing, and torturing innocent people for its amusement.

Because that IS something it can do. With ease. And seems all too happy to do.

The System is very dangerous and it's weird how this is something people forget when reading fanfics. SVSSS is the kind of book where crack ideas can work in the frame of the canon story because a character like SQH exists. Because he wrote PIDW with every single plothole and contrived story beat for the sake of money and survival, we can have the weirdest shit happen and blame it on his lack of imagination when writing PIDW. It doesn't need in-depth nitpicking to make it make sense. MXTX gave us a very large and generous sandbox to play in.

You don't need to rationalize a crack plot. And you should always keep in mind that canonically, the System is a terrifying Entity capable of outrageous things. It shouldn't be the deal-breaker that the Entity that kidnaps, gaslights, coerces, tortures, and manipulates people is capable of fantastical feats in a fanfic.

#svsss #bingqiu #shen qingqiu #shang qinghua

[lifeandlies-of-regulusblack]

Please….Please save me from the regulus discourse I keep seeing…i saw 7 posts about it in succession…he doesn’t deserve this…I need…regulus headcanons…

JUICY HEADCANONS HERE WE GO.

tagging @rizzulusarcturizz @villain-crown @ilovefanfics @arcturusblackregulus and @queerregulusablack because i love them.

regulus smokes his first cigarette in his brother's room, taken from a pack sirius left behind. he keeps the pack even after he's smoked all of what's inside, because that's where he puts all his little notes for sirius.

—

sirius likes to tell regulus that he loved regulus before he was ever born, and little regulus would always laugh at that. he tells his big brother to stop being silly, and sirius plays at being offended. "i'm not being silly! it's true! i was waiting for you all along!"

—

pre-hogwarts regulus and sirius once fought over regulus fussing over kreacher. sirius was looking for regulus only to find him trying to convince kreacher to let him wrap his injured finger with his handkerchief.

Sirius calls regulus out in annoyance because he didn't want his brother touching the elf, he was uneasy around them and he didn't think it was regulus' role to care for beings meant to serve them (as they've heard their entire lives). but regulus wouldn't budge. he grips on to Kreacher's hand tighter while glaring at sirius. the shock at regulus' ire turns into petty rage and jealousy, as the poor elf keeps telling regulus that it was okay, mumbling out a dozen other protests about how master regulus didn't need to lower himself and— and— this makes sirius angrier. so much so that he ends up yelling at kreacher to shut up. which in turn makes regulus scream at sirius to go away.

and so sirius does, angrily, hurt, and feeling slightly betrayed. so unused to regulus... fighting him. "Stupid little brothers," he says to himself. "See if I ever play with him again!"

Sirius was still by himself, thinking of turning regulus away when his brother inevitably came to his room later at night, to sleep in his bed, when he hears his brother's wailing cries. this puts a primal fear into his being that far overshadows whatever childish anger he was clinging to. he runs down the stairs to see what's happened. and there, he sees his brother, clutching at his cheek and cowering from the tall figure of his mother looming over him, wand drawn.

regulus was caught with kreacher.

for once in his (relatively young) life, sirius is frozen. he doesn't know what to do. this isn't a broken vase he can say he broke. this wasn't something he could say regulus did for him. the act of nursing an injured elf was so clearly an action belonging to regulus. only regulus would do this.

he looks at their mother and sees the disgust and disappointment lining her features. regulus was her perfect boy.

and her perfect boy had wrapped his handkerchief, with the black family coat of arms embroidered right at the center, and used it to bandage an elf's bleeding finger. his mother is incandescent.

sirius is too slow, too short, to reach his brother as walburga reaches to shake his brother with a frightening vigor that has regulus crying out in alarm.

"Don't you ever do that again, you hear me?" his mother shouts over regulus' panicked cries. At sirius' shout of alarm, she lets regulus go with a harsh shove and makes her way to him.

"You should've taught him better! What use are you to the family if you can't look after your brother?" she yells at him. she prods at his chest, making sure her nails dig in painfully, "This is your fault, you foolish child." Sirius can't even muster the rage he so usually feels at his mother, yet again, finding ways to blame him. At least she's let regulus go.

When, after their mother has left, sirius gathers his little brother into his arms and shushes him, rubbing his back best as he can. they're both reeling. regulus at being punished for what he thought was right, unused to being the recipient of their mother's anger. and sirius for not being able to do anything, to help him — replaying the way his limbs froze, his mind unable to think of something quick to say or do.

he wants to punish kreacher for his brother's tears.

—

regulus is top of his class in potions. really, it's him and severus that become the talk of the school. prodigies. Slughorn's two favorite students and the topic of most his open bragging. a lot of students remark on them being fortunately in separate years, avoiding the cutthroat competition that would've been for the top spot. they don't necessarily like each other, but the respect is there.

regulus expected to receive the brunt of severus' anger regarding his brother. he tells him this as they end up in the same library aisle, discussing which potions book had better methodology. and the older scoffs.

"It's sad how you keep wanting to be like your brother."

and the statement stings. he idolizes his brother.

"Get over yourself, Black. It's a compliment. You're not your brother and you've already made a name for yourself."

oh...

"Never talk to me about this again. I don't hate you but we're not friends."

After finishing 6th year, Severus gives him his potions book.

"Here, see if you can do better than me. Use it and let me know how it turns out." he stops before he walks away, "Or not. I'll probably hear about it from the professors."

—

something something regulus asking to apprentice under madame pomfrey. regulus slowly gains her trust and respect. eventually, she lets him help with remus, after he comes to her telling her how he knows, and how remus knows that he knows.

"I mean... Moony? Really?" he asks incredulously. He shoves his wand harshly under Remus' throat, "Do you think I'm stupid?"

—

Regulus tells Sirius to leave. He'll follow but not in the near future.

"Come on, Sirius. I'll survive without you. But you won't with me." "That's not true! Together or not at all, remember? We promised. I promised." "What, you think I'm not brave enough? Too soft to ever completely leave the family behind? That I'll lose myself to them?" "No, I think you've always been brave. Too brave. You don't have to be brave for them and not this way. Can't you see Reggie? This way's fucked up. We can just leave!" "It's... It's not that bad Sirius. Or at least it never was for me. I can be strong for the both of us and I want to — just promise you won't go where I can't follow." "As if. What do you want me to tell moony, you little shit?" "That I love him." "This hurts you know? This entire conversation has been one big pain in the ass, and it's going to be for a long while. Man, fuck you. Honestly. I can't blame you, but this hurts, just so you know." "I know. I love you." "...I know."

#asks #regulus black #the black brothers #sirius black #marauders era #regulus headcanon #hp marauders #sirius and regulus #severus snape #remus lupin #moonwater #the marauders #marauders fandom #dead gay wizards #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #my writing

[tiredfox64]

🔆 you’re popping off. your writing rocks brah.

I was hoping maybe you could do Raiden and Kung Lao fighting over readers (fem/afab) attention. Like back and forth jabs. And like Kung Lao trying to show off, kinda talks down on raiden in front of her. where as Raiden takes a more gentle approach with helping the reader with their training, helping her with her form he’ll glance at Kung Lao knowingly. It builds a small wedge between them, so reader decides to invite both over one night. And like you know that movie challengers? Like the zendaya scene where she’s got the two guys kissing her? Like THAT. LIKE THAT. If you can do this. I’ll piss rainbows. 🌈

Are You Challenging Me?

Prior notes: I had only the trailer to work off of so I hope I got things right. Also what a statement from you at the end. It’s not bad it’s unique and I like it.

Pairings: Kung Lao x Afab reader x Raiden

Warnings ‼️: Suggestive at the end

Even those who have been friends for so long can end up fighting over something. That something could be a girl. That girl would be you.

No one has ever seen Raiden and Kung Lao turn a friendly competition into a serious one. Constant bickering and jabs at each other that turn to hisses from nasty remarks. You would only see this kind of tension from middle school boys or some cheesy teen movie from the 2000s. Ah but boys will be boys. Who can blame them?

You are the prettiest girl they’ve ever seen. Not just that but you are tough and always willing to learn more. That’s why you train with them so much. Well, it used to be training. Things have changed since you came around. Mostly their attitude and their closeness.

You knew Kung Lao was cocky and boastful, even for a Shaolin monk. The things he did in front of you made the other monks groan in frustration and caused Raiden to shake his head in disapproval. He was always calling for your attention.

“Hey! Hey! Look! I can spin as fast as a tornado!” “Check this out! I can beat up five guys at once!” “I bet Raiden can’t strike as fast as I can! What do you think?”

That was the usual stuff you would hear. Though comparing himself to Raiden was mostly common. He would put Raiden down the moment he had the chance. It would go beyond fighting and go into ridiculous stuff.

He can eat more than Raiden. He can jump higher than Raiden. He can stay up later than Raiden. Everything Raiden could do, Kung Lao could do better. He’ll prove it again right now.

Kung Lao ran up to you and Raiden, almost crashing right into him.

“Hey Raiden, how about another fight? Whoever loses has to pay the next time we visit Madame Bo’s.” Kung Lao was hoping he would say yes just so he could beat Raiden up.

“I can’t, Kung Lao. Can’t you see we are busy?”

“Oh I see. You’re afraid of losing again. Bet you’re afraid of embarrass yourself in front of her. Don’t worry, I get it.” He patted Raiden on the back before letting out a laugh like he successfully humiliated him.

“That’s not it,” he rolls his eyes before speaking, “I’m helping her with training right now. We can fight soon just let me finish up here.”

Raiden loved to help you and you were grateful for that. Though it always seemed like you needed adjusting when it came to your form or help when stretching. Even if you are a centimeter off he had to correct you. Guess he is a perfectionist. Or maybe he is sneaky.

Raiden came behind you and placed his hands on your waist. His foot tapped yours to make it move to the side more. You didn’t notice but he gave a light squeeze to your waist. He wished he could wrap his arms around you but now is not the time. Though it would upset Kung Lao a lot.

His hands traced up your arms till they were at your head. Your face was so soft he wanted to kiss it. But all he can do now is adjust it. Raiden glanced at Kung Lao and saw he was almost seething with rage. For once he decided to be a little cruel to his dear friend.

He went down till his face was inches away from your thigh. His hands grabbed at the tantalizing piece of flesh before him and turned it slightly. Now your form was perfect.

Kung Lao couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Though Raiden’s straw hat was concealing his eyes it could not conceal that smirk on his face. He knows exactly what he was doing. He’s just too good at hiding his devilish intentions behind a sweet, kissable face.

It seems that no matter how many time Kung Lao shows off, Raiden will always be the winner here. He’s the one who gets to touch you.

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You’re not dense you can feel that something is wrong. There is tension in the air and it only appears when Kung Lao and Raiden are in the same vicinity.

You have been keeping a close eye on their relationship. They have been drifting apart for some time now. Everyone can see that. What you didn’t get was why. You were missing the signs. You missed the glances Raiden would give to Kung Lao. You missed the fact that Kung Lao would only call for your attention, not anyone else’s.

You had to do something about this. It would be a shame if their friendship crumbled over something silly. Whatever that silly thing was.

Inviting them over to your place was a great start. Though they might be shocked when they see each other at your place. You might have left that out on purpose.

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“What the—what are you doing here, Raiden?”

“What am I doing here? I should be asking you the same thing, Kung Lao.”

They both stared at each other with mouths agape. They were confused as if the possible reason was outlandish. It’s not like there is a universal rule that you can only invite one person to your place.

“What are you two standing there for? Come inside, you’ll catch your deaths out there.” You called for them.

They didn’t even realize you opened the door. But now that they do they were racing to get it. Kung Lao pushed Raiden out of the way, leaving him with a disappointed expression.

Your place was well decorated and well kept. It’s only you living in this small house. That doesn’t make it any less of a home. Your house expresses you which the boys really like. They followed you closely but realize you were heading in the direction of your room. There was hesitation, especially from Raiden. Why not just stay in the living room? What gives?

You don’t have time for this stupidity. You grabbed their hands and dragged them into your room. They always imagined being in your room , of course that fantasy always involved you on the bed and the other one not being there. Clearly none of that good stuff will happen, right?

“Alright, sit down, I need to ask you guys something.” You plopped down on your bed.

The bed is off limits in their minds. The chairs? No. The bean bag? No. The floor? Probably a safe bet.

They sat in front of you, looking up at you like loving puppies waiting to be loved by their master. That’s not the first order of business tonight. Don’t be fooled by their eyes. There is still a wedge between them.

“Mind telling me what’s got you two so bothered. Don’t act like I haven’t noticed your strange behavior recently. I’m concerned about you guys.”

They can tell that you really care just by the tone of your voice. But a silence still hung in the air. Kung Lao nor Raiden wanted to speak the truth. It’s awkward, especially with your bro there. Kung Lao’s cockiness got to him though, reminding him of who he is. He shouldn’t be afraid so he’ll say it.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.” He declared.

Well that was a shock. You know what else shocked you? Raiden.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.” He said as well.

They glared at each other after saying that. They don’t even acknowledge the fact that you were sitting there with a confused expression. It’s not usual for two men to ask you out at the same time, in the same way. It was at least straight forward. You snapped your fingers at them to bring their attention back to you. Like the good boys they are they obey.

“How often does this happen? Going after the same girl?” You asked.

“Not as often as you think.” Raiden responded.

“We usually have different types.” Kung Lao chimed in.

This is weird. Somehow you were the connection between them when it came to types yet at the same time being the wedge between them.

“So…are you saying I should be flattered?”

“Aren’t you everybody’s type?” Kung Lao said it so innocently that it was smooth. He does good when he’s not trying too hard.

Think about this for yourself now. It’s no lie that you like them both. They have their own quirk that draws you in. You love Raiden’s kindness yet ability to be brutal while in battle. He works hard and is willing to guide others to try hard as well. Kung Lao’s cockiness can be annoying to others but it enriches you. It gives him confidence and the ability to think of new ideas. That razor-rimmed hat didn’t come out of thin air. There is so much you can say and love about them. But which one do you choose?

Alright, you have an idea. A weird one but it’s an idea.

“Come here.” You motioned for them to join you on your bed.

“Which one of us?” Kung Lao asked but Raiden was already up and running to your bed. Kung Lao got there just as quick as he did.

Nothing else was said from you. You only had actions. You leaned into Raiden first, bringing his head closer to yours. Your lips captured his in a passionate kiss. It was just like everything he imagined. Your lips were soft and had the slightest hint of vanilla that came from your favorite lip balm. He was practically melting in the palm of your hands as he wished this could last forever. But you pulled away, you have someone else to get to.

When you turned towards Kung Lao he has an upset expression on his face. It turned to shock the moment he felt your lips against his. That softness and the taste of vanilla enchanted him. He almost turned the passionate kiss into a whole make out session. That desperation to have you and touch you himself was building up for quite a while. He doesn’t want to hold himself back. But just like with Raiden you pulled away.

From the kisses you gave to them you came to the conclusion that you like them both equally. You don’t want to break either one of their hearts since it will break yours as well. So why not have both men. This can do good in bringing their friendship together again. It might even make it stronger. Yeah, this can work out. And you would have told them but they came to a similar conclusion as well. That will be discussed later.

For now you are more focused on their lips that are leaving kisses all over your neck. It makes your body heat rise up and causes a stir between your legs. Their hands are all over you. Kung Lao’s reaches for your neck to hold it still while Raiden’s reaches for your chest. You whimper at the sensation of their tongues lightly licking your skin. Kung Lao thinks it best to stay leaving hickeys on you. It will show everyone who you belong to. Raiden should do the same so that all know that you belong to them.

They lightly push you back against your bed. There is a hunger in their eyes. One that has built up for days. Raiden just can’t wait to hold you close as Kung Lao goes to town on you.

There is no shame is wanting this as well. Don’t hide that devious smirk from them. It will let them know to keep going.

You know what they say. Sharing is caring. And they care for you a lot.

After notes: If you’re gonna piss rainbows do it in the ditch I dug. If a skittle don’t fall out imma be disappointed. I have a sneaking suspicion that imma be asked of more from this. I didn’t want to push it beyond anything I’m sorry if you wanted more. Now I must finish eating before I mentally prepare myself for my class tonight. Adiós!

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