#and it controls my goddamn life and i HATE IT i fucking HATE IT i wish i knew how to fix it. ghghrgurghrughruhg i want to fucking explode
Note
Cia I adore this gif you sent! (Thank you for the inspiration!!) I immediately got the idea but other stories came to my mind first 🤭
Still loving you
Robert Fischer x reader (and it’s also part of my grandma tribute) ♥️✨
Word count: 3,246
Robert waited next to the carrousel, there had been trouble with the system and people had to wait in order to pass with a custom. He just hoped this would be solved quickly because he had a meeting in…
That laugh and that voice only belonged to someone. Turning around he stopped looking at the screen on his phone.
No.
This couldn’t be happening.
¿Y/N?
Robert felt his body froze, his heart rate increased and memories came back and hit him like an avalanche. After all these years.
Flashback:
Y/N felt her knees go weak the moment she saw Rob stepping down his vehicle. Dressed in an immaculate suit with a silky black tie and that effortlessly hairstyle that suited him so well, his face seemed to be made by a Greek God.
It was odd that he asked about her appointment at the salon, perhaps he’d send his driver to pick her up for the gala…
She tried to grab his face to give him a welcome kiss, but Robert stopped her, giving Y/N an emotionless stare. She soon was aware of his cold reaction.
“What’s wrong?”
Robert shifted his weight from one foot to another uncomfortably.
“I’m going to the United States.”
Y/N blinked confused by his statement.
“What? When?”
He wanted to reach out and touch her, but instead he decided to hide his hands inside his pockets. “Tomorrow night, it’s all settled.”
“But.. but I thought you’d be starting on the September course.”
“No, I enrolled in the summer program.”
“Okay, I could cancel my Venice holiday and meet you there then…” Y/N proposed, thinking of some way to make it work.
They had just graduated and she was hoping they’d take the next step in their relationship soon, so moving in while he focused on his master degree in a foreign country sounded promising.
“I could start hunting apartments right away, are you staying in a hotel meanwhile babe?” She smiled again, thinking it could be good he took the lead and moved there first, so he could explore the area and find potential places. “But first I’d need to fly there, do you think your Dad would still let me use his private plane? He had said before anytime, but since you’ll be there…”
“Y/N…” the way he said her name, made her look at him. But she didn’t like what she found in his eyes. “This is why I needed to see you. I’m going away for a couple of years, we’ve to end this. Right here, before I go.”
And she couldn’t hear anything else he said, because her ears were buzzing, she felt like she was underwater and that someone was stealing the air from her lungs.
“But I could fly over and be there, lots of people have a long distance relationship nowadays.”
“Don’t make this more difficult.” He begged, making an effort to keep his emotions at bay.
“You can’t be serious.” Y/N blinked nervously, trying to find for a sign in Robert’s face that this was a bad joke.
She waited a few minutes, eagerly to hear him ask her to come with him, that he was only messing with her, he was always joking.
But when he didn’t back off, she swallowed hard.
“Really? You can’t even tell me a valid reason to break up with me?” Tears would start falling any minute now.
“You know I’m going to start my master degree overseas. It’s for the best.” Robert tried to excuse his sudden decision.
“The best?”
She barely had time to process the sudden news. How long had he been planning this?
Anger took over her, pinching the bridge of her nose, she tried to control her emotions. “You know what? Do whatever the fuck you want Robert! Go and study your goddamn master, I hate you!”
Taking her purse, Y/N rushed, needed to get to her car as fast as she could. She had dreamed Robert would ask her to go with him to the United States, to live together and then, get married. But instead he broke her heart? He was he love of her life, they had plans together for the future, they were good… or at least she thought so, now realizing how selfish he really was.
Tears ran free down her face and she cursed in frustration now realizing how selfish he really was. The son of a bitch, he didn’t care about anyone else but himself.
Y/N never saw the way he broke into a crying mess. Feeling guilt eat him alive for causing her such pain. But he was suffering as much as her or probably even more, she had been his rock, his safe place to hide, he could be real and honest with Y/N. But now, not only she was gone, but that part of him as well.
Robert kept his head down during the entire ride to the charity event his family was hosting, thankfully his driver kept quiet. Images of Y/N giving him a look full of sadness and disappointment for breaking up with her filled his mind, he hoped the image would stop haunting him at some point. He didn’t want that to happen, but he was convinced if he focused solely on his studies, he’d make his father proud.
They were still young, he wanted to prove he was worth of the Fischer company and he needed to work hard to achieve that.
Putting on an emotionless expression, he took a few shaky breaths to mask the fact that he was dealing with a broken heart.
Walking past the directors and board members of the company, he shook some hands, everybody was expecting a lot of things from him, he had a very important place to fill in…
“Darling, over here!” His grandmother’s voice caught his attention among the people. “Where’s Y/N?” She turned her face around, searching for her.
“She isn’t here grandma.”
His maternal grandmother gave him an expectant look.
“Why not? She was so excited yesterday.”
“I just broke up with her.” He explained uncomfortably, his jaw clenching.
His grandmother couldn’t believe his words, Y/N was the most charming girl she had ever met, she had Robert drooling over her, her family was respectable, she was well educated, smart, funny, beautiful, everything anyone would kill to be.
“I need to focus on my maste-”
But his grandma was already shaking her head and giving him a disapproving glance.
“This is the worst decision you’ve ever made. And you will regret it for the rest of your life.”
(End of flashback)
And his grandmother was right, he did regretted it every single day. He finished his master and started working for his father’s company, he had made his family’s wealth bigger than he ever imagined.
But none of that really mattered, because he let true love slip away from him that night.
And now she was standing a few steps away from him. And she was still the most beautiful girl in the room.
“Why is that man staring at you?”
Zoe whispered at her friend confused. Was he even blinking?
Y/N frowned and turning her face around, she found the man that broke her heart years ago.
The world stopped spinning for an instant and the air escaped her lungs. She could practically feel her blood running out of her body.
All the memories flashing back at her, as if it was a movie scene. His cold words playing over and over in her mind.
No, time doesn't heal anything. It’s just a way to disguise the pain people say to cover an uncomfortable silence.
And she knew it still hurt like the first day because even after all these years, she still cared about him.
Robert managed to leave his initial shock behind, and he finally started moving towards her.
What should he say? Should he greet her with a kiss on the cheek or keep his distance?
The heaviness in his heart grew as he saw Y/N blinking, looking from side to side as if trying to find a way to avoid him.
“Y/N.” Her name on his lips seemed to burn.
She could feel her friends whispering in shock, they must’ve realized by now who he was because they knew the story.
How are you supposed to react in moments like these? Say it’s lovely to see you! No, because it wasn’t.
Could this be their chance to talk about what happened? He wondered if she had someone in her life. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came up.
“Robert.” She raised her eyebrows, but other than that, he didn’t get much. Except she folded her arms in front of her chest, in a protective reaction. “All right, let’s go.” She stammered to the girls, wanting to go as fast as she could.
“There’s a problem with the car rental, they canceled.” Zoe announced and threw a subtle glance in Robert’s direction, he was still standing there, looking at Y/N.
He noticed Y/N wasn’t wearing a wedding band on her left hand, she was carrying a book in her bag.
“We’ll get an Uber then.” Y/N proposed trying to make her friends start walking.
“It’s extra expensive right now, it’s rush hour.”
“I’ve a driver waiting for me.” Offered Robert. “I could take you anywhere.”
A heavy silence fell upon them, you could hear a pin drop. Zoe and Lisa looked at each other, not fully believing what was happening. Then, they looked at Y/N.
“This isn’t a good idea.” She admitted in a low voice, avoiding his eyes.
“Hey c’omon we won’t be able to make it on time with this traffic.” Lisa pointed out.
Zoe gave Robert a suspicious look.
Whatever was crossing his mind, his ego dropped to the floor, he had been waiting for this moment all his life.
“I think a ride won’t hurt nobody, right?”
Before Y/N could protest, Lisa practically jumped on Robert, not wanting to give Y/N time to react. “I hope you’ve enough space in that vehicle because we overpacked.” And she grabbed him by the arm as if they were long time friends. “I’m Lisa.”
“I think I’m going to throw up.” Y/N grabbed Zoe’s hand for reassurance.
“Take a deep breath honey, this is not the right time to have a breakdown, you’re stronger than this.”
“Why him? Why now? After all this time…” Y/N’s eyes darted again towards Robert, who was walking several steps ahead with Lisa still hanging from his arm.
“I don’t know, but perhaps you were meant to run into each other, it was just a matter of time.” Zoe gave her friend a sympathetic look. “It still affects you.”
Her friend’s statement made Y/N stop walking.
It did. It still hurt her definitely. But it was only because Robert had been the love of life.
That was the truth, plain and simple, over time she of course started dating another man, but as soon as she realized things were about to get serious or that he would take the next step she decided to end the relationship not wanting to get married to the wrong man.
She wasn’t scared of marriage, she hated the idea of waking up one day and feel disappointed of the choices she made, it didn’t make sense probably for most of the people, but she rather choose to be alone.
Of course she never expected to see Robert again, there were a lot of things left unsaid between them. And all of those years apart didn’t prepare her to face him once more.
She remained quiet on their way towards his vehicle, the internal turmoil taking over with each step she took. And there he was holding the door open for her, giving her the sad and traumatized puppy eyes a pet would use after being scolded.
“I’ll go in the back.” Announced Zoe climbing in while the driver took their luggage.
Lisa gave her friend a curious look. “Can I go in the front? I get car-sick.”
That left Y/N sharing the second row of seats with Robert.
Y/N shook her head slightly while she tried to control her heart drumming like crazy, all their memories flashing her back in time to when they were happy, when they first kissed, when they first made love and of course, when he broke her heart.
A heavy and uncomfortable silence filled inside the vehicle.
Y/N tried to focus her gaze in the sighting they were passing through the busy streets, the man in the bicycle, the three women at the café, the elderly couple with their dog, anything but the man sitting next to her that was subtly looking at her and clearing his throat. She could feel his eyes on her, boring into her soul.
“Where am I driving to Sir?” The driver asked, waiting for instructions.
Lisa gave him Y/N address, she had a small loft in the city and they’d be staying there for the book signing event.
A million thoughts crossed Robert’s mind, he wanted to apologize first. But after all those years? Y/N could hardly stand to be in the same car with him clearly. What could he say? How could he even even begin to justify what he did to her back then? There wasn’t a single valid reason for leaving her the way he did.
And for what? To get his father’s approval? To show the old man that he was worth to be his son?
He lost the best damn thing that could ever happen to him. He lost her over nothing.
But now he was willing to give everything for her.
When they arrived, Y/N thanked the driver, took her bags and mumbled a very lowly thanks to Robert through gritted teeth, then she excused to rush to use the ladies room, leaving Robert standing there in the middle not knowing what to do with a million words to say and a sincere apology trapped in his lips.
Zoe approached him quietly, she had known Y/N for over ten years and given her reaction to the odd encounter, despite all, she knew Y/N still cared about him.
“Can I ask you a question before anything else?”
Robert crossed his arms and gave her a nod.
“Are you single?” That was the most important thing to know first.
“Yes.”
Then, onto the next question. “Call me a witch if you want, I don’t know you… but I know her. Do you still have feelings or something? I know it got messy the last time you talked but...”
Robert allowed himself to let his guard down, the one he had built after losing Y/N. He never let another woman into his heart. His bed? Yes. But not his heart.
“I don’t think it matters, she can hardly stand to look at me for two seconds.” He saw the pain was still there in her eyes.
“She’s going to hate me for doing this but if I can help in any way it’s worth the risk…” Zoe assured him. “I’ve a book signing today at four o’clock, this is the address.” Noticing the confusion in Robert’s eyes, she added; “this isn’t my business but I know the two of you’ve an unfinished business.”
Robert stared at the flyer, wondering what was the right thing to do.
“What if she doesn’t want to see me?”
“Oh it’s going to be hard, trust me.” Zoe then took her best friend side. “And if you hurt her again, I’m going to give you hell for ruining it twice.”
As the girls walked inside the apartment, Robert took his time to process everything, and taking his phone, he called his assistant to clear his schedule for the day, his mind couldn’t stop thinking of the series of events that just happened.
***
Robert took a look at his watch impatiently, then stared out the window of his vehicle and his eyes stopped at the women walking down the street. A grandma with what looked like her granddaughter, strolling with their arms linked, their eyes focused in the articles before their eyes and it made him think immediately of Y/N and her grandmother. How many times did he found them just like that, then they’d drive back into her grandmas house for lunch or dinner, the same with his grandmother.
When everything was simpler and happier. When they were together.
“Mr. Fischer, they are done signing the books.” His driver informed him.
Marcus didn’t ask him anything further, and without intention the man pressed him to make a choice. Walk in the book store and try to apologize to Y/N or drive away and leave behind a small possibility to get her back.
All damn day he kept thinking about her and what they had. How different his life would be if only he didn’t let her go that day.
But guilt was eating him alive, for the damage he caused her.
Did he deserve to be happy for once?
A bald man stepped out of the store, holding the door open and then he saw Zoe and Lisa walking out.
But when he saw Y/N hiding her beautiful eyes behind her sunglasses, he soon realized by just one look that he never stopped loving her.
“Y/N!” It was an impulsive move, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Wait…” he pleaded her, the three girls turned around to face him.
She gave him a confused look, not knowing what her was doing there or how he knew. Would the feeling of being incomplete without Robert would ever go away? Her heartbeat went crazy.
Knowing there was a possibility that Y/N could reject him, Robert cleared his throat and hid his hands inside his pockets. “I owe you a sincere apology, Y/N and I know it won’t take away what I did…” two pairs of curious eyes stared back at him. “I’m really sorry.”
Y/N stood there processing his words unsure of what to do or say. A million thoughts crossing her mind.
“If you want, we could talk? Privately.” He struggled to say the words, not because he didn’t mean it, because he was terrified of getting a negative answer. His next words came out as whisper whilst he looked down. “If you agree of course.”
Time slowed as Y/N took a deep breath, pondering on his words. Had she been waiting all her life for this moment? Was this the closure her heart needed?
She opened her mouth to explain him, she already had plans with her friends, but Zoe gave her a disapproving glance, reading her mind.
“I don’t know what will happen next,” Y/N said cautiously, “but I think a chat it’s a good start.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as she said those words, she felt free, relieved even for carrying the burden for so long. Whilst for Robert, this was the small light at the end of the tunnel.
They both knew it would take a lot of time to rebuild a relationship like they did. But at least this was the first step to try to get back the love they once had.
And without a doubt, he still loved Y/N.
Robert Master list
Tag list: @lyarr24 @ttzamara @gretelshelby @camilahpg03 @acillianproblem
@chishiyasan @allyly @fastfan @thomashelbyswife @lespendy
@onlydeadcells @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @cloudofdisney @blondie-22 @esposadomd
@stevie75 @justrainandcoffee @elenavampire21 @thenattitude @adaydreamaway08
@darleneslane @sloanexx @shaddixlife @forbidden-forest-witch @forgottenpeakywriter
@ange-thoughts @babaohhhriley @kmc1989 @allie131313 @everythingelseisextra
@nela-cutie @betty21rose @aphroditeslover11 @lau219
#that’s what Cill said#robert fischer x y/n#robert fischer x you#robert fischer fanfic#robert fischer imagine#robert fischer x reader#cillian murphy characters#robert fischer inception
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also what is wrong with me that when people try and be gentle-sympathetic when i'm in grumpy pain overwhelm shutdown mode i just want to hit something
"are you okay? ❤" no i'm filled with murderous rage, stop being soft-nice to me before i break something
#everything seems condescending when i am in this state of mind#i can cope with a matter-of-fact 'you okay?' in a normal tone of voice#but a Soft Concerned Voice? no now i'm right back into punching things mode again#tbh i am just sort of generally in punching things mode#i hate being around people when i'm like this because i hate letting people see me like this#i don't think most of them are used to seeing me angry in this way#(they've forgotten that i don't relate to cu chulainn because of his Sweet Gentle Temperament)#(they did not know me in my Feral Child Fighting Everyone stage of life)#and it's just humiliating to snap and yell and not be able to control myself in front of people who don't normally see me like that#because i never normally let ANYONE see me like that#personal#i also got stuck in a. fucking 2013 memory loop trauma cycle thing. emotional flashback. whatever it's called.#2013. god. it has quite literally been ten years and i thought this was over#repeatedly reliving july 2013 is NOT what i wanted in the year of our goddamn lord 2023
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I'm so stressed I need an off button
#rant#i abolutely wish i was one of the people who like dissassociated when stressed or vomited or something#instead i just get imminently closer to a panic attack#and once i GET the panic attack i get very self harmy and suicidal like actively grabbing objects suicidal#i tell ya what i FEEL tense and i do not want my hands grabbing pans to try and beat me with#i do not wanna go into a panic attack and feel my entire brain screaming to bash myself into walls at full strength#in an illogical attempt to pass out and no longer have to endure the goddamn panic attack#panic attacks feel like a demon actively torturing me and my brain is offline and i only have vague control of my arms and legs a little#and all i want at those points is to either fix Mundane Mistake which launched the pamic attack#(and is unfixable during a panic attack cause rational thought is offline AND i cant breathe anyway)#or to die immefiately cause if i was dead i wouldnt need to fix any Mistakes or endure the awful torture of a panic qttack#i think in a past life maybe i was a fucking warrior or wilderness bitch idk#but for all the logic in the world i have and calm in Actual emergencies#when a little life mistake happens with looming disaster my brain short circuits to panic attaxk and then i have 30% chqnce or#of killing myself#and im NOT happy about it!!!!#i hate panic attacks!!!!#i am my own biggest danger on earth man#nothing tries to kill me as much as my own brain and body
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Did I spend 20 minutes in the shower crying at Kashil about how upset I am with Dark Souls & how Solaris is doomed & the only way to fix it is restart the game but MAN do I not wanna restart the game I fucking hate it - but my BOY WAS DONE DIRTY & I'M just
I'm VERY UPSET.
#Dark Souls#Dark Souls Remastered#I am LIVID#HE WAS LOOKING FOR SOMETHING AND MAN DID I SEARCH#I SEARCHED MY LITTLE HEART OUT IN THOSE LAVA COVERED HILLS#I was waiting to find an item or something - ANYTHING TO BRING BACK TO HIM#and I found nothing but an empty spot where he was#until i defeated the stupid branch#and ran through the stupid abyss demon#AND TO THE STUPID BUG DOOR#TO FIND MY BOY#GONE & CONTROLLED BY A GODDAMN HALF-LIFE BUG#i hate this fucking game man
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Happy (fuck) Monday(s)
This is what I googled this morning...
#gonna rant in the tags for a sec...#im just so upset every goddamn day that i hate my job#because i genuinely thought my career path was exactly what i wanted#except due to circumstances out of my control i cannot physically handle the same pace of life anymore#so here i am with a degree in a job that i cant fucking stand (at the moment) because i need to pay the bills#can i just be a full time writer?#like... pipe dream yeah but the idea is there#god fucking damnit i did EVERYTHING right and i still ended up like this#its not even my fault people keep dying and i need to pick up the pieces#can i please be happy again thatd be nice#FUCK#im just... a little dramatic#but also... what am i even doing with my life#quarter life crisis hitting REAL HARD i quite dislike it here#alright i think i got my point across ill shut up now#delete later#happy monday#...ugh...
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...
#wonderin if i could play it smart somehow#make him lose interest in me before i try to make a run for it#i hate that i might need to weaponize doll for that but. it's the only motivation for him to not totally destroy me (physically)#there's plenty of pretty bad shit he can do w/o long-term damage but most of that i already survived once i can do it again (probably)#but there's the. other things. the shit he never did cause he doesn't want that to carry over to doll#but he's talked about it. he's threatened it. smth i'm still so fucking scared of after everythin he's already done#i don't rly even care if he kills me since it wouldn't stick anyway but. what comes before that#n i can't fucking stop thinkin about it#cause he's in my head he knows what i'm most scared of now so if he rly wants to hurt me he knows how to do that#tryin to calculate how much time he'd have b4 reaper can get there. not much#less than a minute. not enough for him to draw it out n rly make me beg for my fucking life (again) but.#enough to hurt me really really really bad if he plans it n gets me close enough before i know what's happening#n it's fucking stupid cause it'd all be solved by me just. not goin to him.#not even when he tells me to. not even when he brings on the charm n says all that sweet shit that really means nothing.#if i just knew how to not fucking listen it'd be ok but he tells me to come home n i lose control of my fucking body.#inside my head i'll be screaming to just fucking run but instead i just take the steps n let him pull me in#let him pick me up n take me wherever he wants to#how do i break this goddamn spell he's got me under. how do i stop him from pullin me back in.#how do i stop him makin my brain so damn confused i can't even remember to get scared before it's too late#i don't want this anymore. i don't wanna be scared anymore i don't want him to turn me against the people who actually care about me#i don't wanna be alone anymore#but he makes me build up all these walls n he's the only one w/ the key when it should be the other way around#he's the one i should be keepin out not everyone else#spdrvent#fuck!!!
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My dad sent me a letter about how much I need to remember Jesus so that we can be together in heaven one day. It’s just a big fucking joke at this point like come on dude
#he has such a savior complex goddamn#he does these things and gets mad when i dont thank him for ‘saving’ me#and hes not gonna stop until he can successfully convert me cuz if he doesnt then hes gonna burn in hell for failing his christian mission#just all this paranoia about hell is too much for me like im already so traumatized by that shit#and im paranoid to extreme degrees by so much fucking shit in my daily life like i have bad ocd dude#so stop trying to make me remember this shit that ive spent my whole life trying to recover from#youre just doing this cuz youre a selfish asshole who cant stand the idea of not being praised by everyone all the time#and it makes you insufferable so fucking insufferable#ugh sorry this is a big personal vent but i just hate this guy and im sick of him having control over me#its been a massive cause of stress for me lately cuz i have to rely on him financially since im really not able to work#and im having to risk shit like being cut off and disowned if i dont conform to his standards#i cant live this way anymore and im fucking. running out of reasons to stay alive at all
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guns & roses 🥀
ak!jason todd x f!reader
here's part 2
his skin slapped against yours, giving you rough thrusts every second. Your nails digged into his shirt while your legs were hooked around his waist. you held on tightly as the red hood fucked you up against the wall of one of his safe houses. "can't believe you're taking my cock like this, even after you've cum, how many times is it now?" you weren't sure how you ended up in this position but you weren't complaining especially when his cock felt so good. your bra was practically falling off and you had no clue where your underwear was. his pants were at his ankles and his holsters were on the floor. you couldn't deny sex with him was messy but it was so worth it. "oh fuck you, just shut up and keep fucking me, that's your job isn't it?"
you felt his thrusts pick a sloppy and desperate rhythm, one you'd felt many times. "you want me to shut up or you wanna get fucked like a slut? you only get one" his groans became louder and he looked up at you, practically locking eyes with you. if his helmet hadn't been on, you'd probably find this intimate but this was nothing like that. this was his way of reminding you, that you were his whore, nothing more. just fuckbuddies, for each other mutual release. work had taken a big toll on you and the red hood would never tell you was bothering him but you always saw the effect of it when he fucked you.
your moans became a mixture of begging for him to stop but also begging for more. "red can't take no more- oh fuck! harder harder harder! please red" he was big, if you didn't already know, and he barely fit in you the first few times. but once you started to take him more & more often, he made sure that he'd bottom out in you every time. if you could take all of him, why wouldn't he take advantage of it?
he let a couple of frustrated groans, swearing at you constantly but you loved it. you knew he was stressed and frustrated and had so much pent up inside him, you were goddamn release. so he'd fuck you any way he liked, as long he to make of you. out of everything, you were the one thing the red hood could control in his life and he needed that. "just fucking shut up and take it, baby, we play this little game every week and it always ends with you begging for more" his hands move towards your ass, gripping it tightly, pulling you even closer to him, so he could fuck you just the way you wanted. "ohhhh god! i'm gonna cum red, m'gonna make a mess" you slurred, being drunk on just his cock.
"good girl, cum f'me like my little whore, then i can paint your thighs for you," he said while pounding you into the wall. your face was stained with tears, you could barely catch your break and everything felt so good and bad at the same time. you weren't sure if it was his words or the way he grabbed his face and forced you to look at him but you practically came on the spot and the red hood followed as he quickly pulled out of you.
you whined at the empty feeling of a lack of warmth, while he spilled his poad onto your thighs, painting your thighs with his load. the red hood wasn't going to be risky with you especially when you didn't know him that well.
except you did. but he didn't want to remember those times.
he got you a towel to clean yourself up and you placed your hands on his shoulders trying to steady yourself. the red hood made a grunting sound in annoyance and that quickly made you let go of him. he pulled up his black jeans and grabbed his holsters along with them.
the grunt had snapped you back into reality. you quickly began to grab your clothing that had been flung around while also putting it back on. you searched everywhere for your underwear but couldn't manage to find it and accepted defeat. this wasn't the first time you'd lose clothing because of this man and you hated it. the two of you hated each other, whatever you had was just for sex, well it was supposed to be just for sex. you don't even know the man's identity or what he looked like, but that doesn't stop your desire for him.
the red hood made himself comfy on what seemed to be his bed. he took off his holster and removed the gun, unloading it before placing it in a locked drawer. you watched him contemplate taking off his helmet in from you but he quickly redacted his hands from his head. he needed you to pray soon, not just cause he wanted to take off his helmet but also because he didn't need you snooping around this place. you'd find a lot of things you weren't ready for. your eyes focused on the bed, something about how messy it was caught your eye. it was messy enough that maybe two people had been in it…
you knew you couldn't possibly be the only one he's fucking. but it didn't bother you any less, you'd think he'd have the decency to clean up when he invites you over but he doesn't. another annoyed grunt leaves his lips, as he looks up, with his helmet still on. "you plan on staring for the rest of the night or what?" his voice was deep and strained like it was trained to talk that way. he knew you had been staring at the bed, and he knew why but there was no point in teasing you now.
"don't be a fucking ass, i'm just about to and you were the one who dragged me here dickhead"
"yeah, for a fuck" he said followed by a laugh, "i think it's time for you to go home"
"next time how about you call one of your other whores, i've got an actual life unlike you who goes around this city playing pretend" you knew the moment those words left your mouth, that you were fucked and not in a good way. you planned to quickly get out the door but you weren't quick enough. he slammed the door shut and locked it, trapping you in the middle.
"you think what i do doll, is for fun? that's it's a game?" he asks grabbing your face and forcing you to face him again. once again he was in control of you, putting this barrier between the two of you by wearing his helmet yet forcing you to face him. he chuckled and for a moment you caught a small glimpse of who might be behind the mask but that was quickly shut down when he asked you another question "you think that i just bring home every girl on the street huh? that there are 'other whores'?"
"yeah i do, you're more than a whore than i am- "
"if you value your life i’d choose those next words carefully y/n"
your name came out of his lips like it was a sin. he wasn't supposed to know that, he wasn't supposed to know you at all.
"you don't know a fucking thing about me, you're just some faceless vigilante who has a thing for every girl he manages to pick on the street"
"i know more about you than you could possibly imagine," he says grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the door. the way he held your wrist wasn't even tight like he wasn't dragging you like he usually would. in other words, he gave you the opportunity to run away but you didn't because this relationship you had with him was addicting and you kind of wanted to see how you'd be punished. "you want to do it on the bed right?"
he's pushing you onto the bed and you know you're in trouble cause how tf did he know? he wasn't a mind reader because if he was he would've let you go home by now. you weren't even shocked that he suggested but more that he knew that that's what you wanted. the two of you rarely even spoke casually and even when you did you didn't expect to listen or pay attention but he did and on his own accord too. the red hood knew just what you wanted from him, but he had to hear it from you if you were going to get it. "but you gotta say it doll"
"say what red?"
"that you're a jealous doll and if you do, i might just fuck you in the bed if it's that special to you" he knew what he wanted from you and you wanted from him. you may hate each other but deep down there was always going to be something else mixed in with those feelings. and one day he'd have to tell you why but that day is very far away. you didn't want to answer him but he called you sweetheart and promised to fuck you in his bed, how could you say no to such a rare offer?
"…m jealous," you said quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. the red hood didn't know why you were jealous and he didn't really care why yet it still excited him. and before you knew it, he's fucking you into the bed. the bed creaked as he pushed your body deeper in the bed, holding onto your hips as if his life depended on it. he had you on your tummy, fucking you from behind like his personal fuck today. you don't even remember him taking off your clothes again or if he'd even let you go home tonight but that didn't matter because this was the routine.
fuck. fight. fuck again harder.
this relationship you had with the red hood was wrong on so many levels and it was toxic, you knew that but you were going to stay. yes, you hated how much he reminded you of him. because he was gone and he was never going to come back and you had finally come to terms with that only for the red hood to reopen that wound. as much as you hated the red hood and as toxic as this relationship was, you wanted to be special to him because of the past and maybe that's why you wouldn't leave and he wouldn't even let you if you wanted to.
#✩ kleo's sex tapes ✩#ak!jason todd#ak!jason todd x reader#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#jason todd smut#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x you#red hood x y/n#red hood smut#toxic relationship#dc comics#dc multiverse#dc universe#dc x reader#dc x you#dc x y/n
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HELL IS A (FUCKING) ROOMMATE. JORDAN LI.
synopsis ; your roommate has the libido of a goddamn animal and it's driving you insane. not to mention the fact they have an annoying habit of jerking off in your dorm. to you.
they want you? fine—they can have you. only on your terms, though.
✗ warnings ; dom!reader, sub!jordan. fem!reader, perv!roomate!jordan, dubcon, voyeurism, excessive masturbation (soz). wc ; 4.2k
YOU can do this. you can do this.
you grunt as you fumble for the key. cursing as, with an extreme lack of coordination—you begin to forcibly ram the bloody thing into the lock with the grace and precision of a sledgehammer. what you lack in motor control you make up for with inner beauty—or something.
the do not disturb sign rattles mockingly off the handle, meaning your roommate is definitely inside and definitely not helping out. you grit your teeth, entire body off kilter as you're preoccupied with balancing the boxes cramful of belongings in your arms; big and bulky and absolutely not helping your aim. you curse, loudly as they almost almost tumble out of your grasp the moment the key miraculously jams into place, jerking wildly to catch them. (note: super strength does not come with super-hand-eye-coordination.)
“fucking– stupid- key– fucking better– woah!”
without warning, the door swings open, inwards. a montage of your entire life flits before your eyes as you hurtle forward, boxes and all. you just about barely manage to catch yourself with an undignified stumble before drawing yourself up; coming face to face with—oh.
two figures. bodies very noticeably.. inside. each other. naked. on, what you realise after a bout of disbelief; your fucking bed.
"what the fuck?"
one of them growls, mop of black hair flopping as their head snaps up, even though you're pretty sure you should be the one slinging expletives around. with a frustrated scowl they pull out of the dude, sending a withering glare to the poor guy they were fucking into the bedspread—to which he.. disappears? glitches out? phases out of existence? because suddenly he’s not there anymore, and you’re stranded alone with a very attractive, very threatening looking college student.
who is also—uh, very, very naked.
“um, hi–”
“why do you have a key to my fucking dorm?”
oh, shit.
they are, frankly, gorgeous – like, one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen. their hair is black, mussed, and you can’t help the way your gaze follows its way down the threshold of an.. extremely muscled, slick torso before snapping upwards to find a mildly paralysing glare that reminds yourself that you are not in a very good position right now.
“i’m uh- your new.. roommate?'' you don't mean for it to come out like a question, but by the way they're staring down at you like you're a cockroach that just flew onto their windshield, you almost aren't so sure.
"i'm a fucking TA— i don't have roommates." their eyes narrow, which is like—alright, way to be real welcoming.
“i’m a.. last minute transfer..?” you offer, wincing as you meet their stare. their eyes are unflinching, yet still lidded in a post-sex haze. you can feel your body involuntarily holding its breath; though from the steel in their gaze or the way their biceps flex when they run a hand through their dishevelled locks, you can’t tell.
fuck, you hate hot people.
“oh, yeah. fuck, i forgot about that.” their shoulders slacken, mouth settling into an unimpressed line; which is only slightly more welcoming than the look of murderous intent of two seconds ago. “jordan. jordan li." they say, last name and all—which is how you know they're a prick. "make yourself at home, i guess.” they don’t sound all too enthused as they skirt away from the door, seemingly satisfied with the fact that you're not a home invader—dorm invader? whatever. you just pray that the sigh of relief you breathe isn’t audible.
“great! nice to meet you, i’m–”
“s’on the sheet." jordan cuts in with supreme disinterest as they move across the room, leaning down to pick their boxers from the floor. you’re struck once again with the realisation that they are still fucking naked, and you pointedly tear your eyes away.
“um, yeah.. hey, uh—what’s your-”
“third year, crime-fighting. don't touch my shit. no pets, obviously. if you have a dog, get rid of it. give it to the animal shelter, don’t care. don’t snoop, don't make a mess, and definitely don’t take off the goddamn do not disturb sign. got it?”
you've barely opened your mouth to reply; probably with something along the lines of what the fuck? or animal shelter? before jordan's already turned away, back muscles flexing as they sink back onto the end of their bed, scrunching their briefs up in one hand and—
“hey, uh,” jordan interjects, turning round with an unreadable expression as they glance down, and like a fucking idiot, you follow; giving you front row seat to the massive, throbbing boner that they’re still sporting—pulsing an angry, flushed red as the tip drools with precum.
“mind if i take care of this? couldn’t exactly finish, if you know what i—”
you slam the door after you, and you swear a snicker follows you down the corridor.
-
over the next week, it quickly becomes apparent that jordan either a): forgets you live in the same room as them, or b): simply does not care.
for starters, there’s their apparent aversion to doing laundry until their entire closet is out of commission, the coke stash underneath their mattress and also—oh. their need to get their dick wet at least four times a day. (irrespective of whether they have a dick or not).
“what?” jordan scoffs through a mouthful of cereal. “‘m not lettin’ some fuckin’ freshie cockblock me.”
“i’m a transfer, not a fucking freshman.” you scowl, and jordan’s lips curl to form a lazy little ‘o’. it twitches upwards into that infuriating little smirk, like they enjoy seeing you squirm.
“whatever. my libido stops for nobody, not even you. besides,” they set their bowl on the bedside table, wagging their fingers suggestively into a ‘V’ shape and licking the air between. "a bigender supe has needs too."
they’re slouching against their headboard, free arm stretching lazily above their head. your cheeks flush traitorously as their biceps flex—muscles visibly popping against their frame “you can just say 'a girl has needs'. i'm not an idiot, i know what you mean." is what you grumble back, if only to ignore the inane, stupid heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.
"but i have needs when i'm a dude, too." jordan grins, propping themselves up by their elbow, eyes gleaming impishly as they curl their hand into a fist and making a fucking wanking motion over their (currently) non-existent dick. which is—yeah. that pretty much sums up your roommate for you.
the thing is about jordan, is despite all their excessive lockerroom talk and relatively abrasive personality; they’re still rank two in all of godolkin. ergo, they’re a surprisingly busy person; being preoccupied with either studying, sparring or partying ninety of the time.
thus, like all horny, single college students, when you don’t have time to squeeze a good fuck in, you’re left with second-best option—yourself. this would otherwise be fine, except jordan’s compound v must have seeped through their bloodstream and into their libido because jesus fucking christ are they horny.
it’s not like they make an effort of hiding it, either. they seem to have zero qualms about rolling out of bed, morning wood popping out from their briefs like a fucking beacon.
“oh, shit,” jordan yawns when slide the covers off, giving way to the immense boner throbbing against their boxer-briefs. they don’t even have the decency to look sheepish when they walk past you, adjusting themselves lazily. you don’t miss the grunt of relief that escapes them as their hand palms their crotch before they disappear into the bathroom, either. or the little groans of relief that sound behind the door before they saunter out, towelling their hands with the stupidest grin on their face.
it shouldn’t piss you off as much as it does, except for the fact that even when jordan rouses without morning wood (or wood in general); they end up making their usual bathroom trip anyways. noises slipping from a half-ajar door and toilet lid left slippery, as always.
they have to be doing it on purpose. they have to be. like, they left their strap-on on your desk once. which, first of all, gross. second of all, why was it so fucking big?
“jordan!” you holler, aghast as you nudge the thing on your desk, conveniently placed right next to your laptop.
“oh! that’s where i left it. sick.” jordan grins as they saunter over, veined hands reaching over to wrap around the shiny, plastic length and fuck, since when were their palms so massive—
“thanks, roomie.” they ruffle your hair with an impish glint in their eyes, smile only growing when you jerk away with a scowl.
and that’s not even the worst of it.
“oh, shit—was that yours?” to their credit, jordan looks somewhat sheepish as they pinch a rock-hard pair of socks off the floor. your fucking socks, which have clearly been well-loved and cared for in places other than your shoes.
“those were my favourite!” they weren’t your favourites. they’re socks. however, it makes jordan wince, which almost makes it worth it.
hey, a little remorse is better than nothing.
“..i’ll buy you a new pair?” jordan offers, scratching the nape of their neck. you’re almost content to let the awkwardness linger just give them just a piece of the torture you’ve been subjected to for the past several weeks — except the sliver of satisfaction is completely negated by the way jordan’s lip twitches upwards, like they’re fighting back a smirk.
“you little fuck—“
anyways, the point is jordan wanks. a lot.
you can’t stop thinking about it. because it’s annoying. and disrespectful. and god, do they think you want to hear every pretty little moan that falls from their mouth? every grunt and groan that slips from their throat in that raspy, godforsaken timber—
long story short; if you have to find a wadded up sock or sticky residue at the bottom of the computer desk one more time, you’re going to lose it.
you think jordan knows it, too.
-
it’s midnight when you wake up to the sound of a bed creaking.
you’re an early sleeper, jordan isn’t. it works. you’re typically long knocked out before they even make it back in the dorm, out there doing god knows what. today, though, you’d far overestimated your ability to finish your latest assignment; so when jordan finally staggered through the door, slumping into bed with a little grunt, you thought nothing of it.
minutes pass, and the bed shifts. jordan groans. under the moonlight you can see the shadowed visage of their figure, splayed out on their bed with one hand underneath the covers; moving, repeatedly.
jordan grunts again, and you squint; bleary eyes adjusting to the darkness. the muffled, wet sound of slapping resounds, subdued by the weight of the blanket. if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were—
“mm, fuck—” jordan moans, blanket slipping down their hips and—oh my fucking god.
like pulling back a curtain, jordan’s cock springs enthusiastically to the surface; standing tall and proud as their fist pumps up and down the thick, veined girth of their length. it’s practically pulsating with need, bordering on desperate—they must be desperate, because jordan’s shameless, sure, but.. jacking off in the same room as you?
you didn’t think they were that much of a fucking perv.
but maybe you’re a perv too, because the moment jordan’s hips rock upwards and their tip glimmers in a thick sheen of pre-cum; you can feel the telltale surge of heat in your stomach, the fabric of your panties dampening and oh, this can’t seriously be happening right now.
“fuck—motherfucker..” jordan hisses, drawing your bleary-eyed gaze from the flushed, throbbing bob of their cock to their pink cheeks and fucked-out face, mouth lolling in pleasure. they twist their head, nosing into something tossed onto their pillow that makes you stop in their tracks.
that’s.. you thought you lost that!
“need ‘m—so—fucking bad..” jordan slurs stiltedly, nuzzling into your shirt like their life depends on it. “fuckin’—stupid fucking—”
your stomach tightens, and you can’t help it when your fingers dip down under your shorts, slipping into your cunt. you should be mad, should be disgusted, should be shoving open the door and ripping them out of their covers and.. wrapping your mouth around their adorably flushed tip? seizing their hips and yanking their cock into your tight, wet little—
"oh, fuck," jordan interrupts your thought process by growling through their teeth, precum spilling from the slit of their dick and glazing their palms. there’s so much of it, so wet that even in the dark you can see the stain pooling in their sweatpants, their bedsheets.
you’re so entranced you barely even register when it when their grip releases; length arcing and splattering thick ropes of cum against their abdomen. the sight is so mesmerising that you almost don’t pick up on the sound of your fucking name that tears out of their throat—husky and half gargled as jordan’s chest heaves. you don’t even realise you’ve been holding your breath until jordan’s figure simply lays there, pants echoing in the silent room.
they wrap your shirt around their dick and wipe it clean. it’s only when they murmur something unintelligible—burying their nose back into your jumper that you finally, finally turn away, fingers curling deep inside your cunt.
fucking hell.
-
the second time it happens, you are wide, wide awake. which unfortunately means you have no excuse for the minutes seared into your memory and sticky residue on your thighs.
granted, at first you didn’t know. as always, the bathroom door hangs carelessly agape. steam curls from the room, wafting up and dispersing in the stuffy dorm air. what lingers, however, is the fresh note of jordan’s shampoo, body wash, and something.. saltier, headier.
whatever. with nothing more than an arched brow, you pick over the discarded basketball shorts and tank tops that litter the floor, intending to kick the bathroom door shut and be on your way. it’s when your hand reaches out, closing around the cool metal that you see it.
jordan’s slumped against the slick shower wall, fingers buried knuckle-deep into their pussy.
oh, shit shit shit—
“shit..” jordan hisses, muscles working like well-oiled sprigs as they pump into their cunt, droplets of water trickling down their skin and pooling into the divots of their body.
your hand tightens around the doorknob. god, their moans.. if they think the sound of the showerhead can disguise the filthy nothings spilling out of their mouth, they are very, very wrong.
somewhere between the fuck’s and annoying’s and pretty fuckin’ prude’s their full-weight crumples against the shower wall, plush ass pressing up against steaming glass like some (high-quality) porn ad as they ram their fingers in one last time, free hand shooting out wildly to grasp at nothing before the shower wall splatters with something you only catch a glimpse of before you’re slamming the bathroom door, cheeks burning and fingers trembling. with a start, you realise you’ve almost wrenched the goddamn metal off.
the doorknob is always a little bit loose, after that.
-
you’re getting ready for a party.
well, you’re supposed to be getting ready for a party, hence the sultry eyeshadow, glossy press of your lips and sheer amount of skin laid bare. your crop-top is just a little bit too high, mini-skirt more than a little too short.
in reality? you’re enacting your fucking vegeance.
jordan likes you. it’s a fact that stares you right in the face. and if not a crush, it’s a massive, raging hard-on. for you—only you—citing a certain roommate’s post-nut ramblings you’ve heard one too many times.
as it turns out, jordan becomes considerably less insufferable when you know you’re the only thing that gets their dick wet.
“how do i look?” you call, doing a little twirl. it’s impossible to keep the smirk off your face, skirt flipping very purposely upwards as you spin, revealing a tad more than they ever (usually) get to see.
jordan glances up, and their breath fucking hitches.
bingo.
“what?” you cock your head, lashes batting innocuously as they stare. playing the oblivious role is just too sweet, especially when your eyes flicker down, just for a moment, and you can see the bulge in their sweatpants growing.
poor little jordan, hard because their roommate flashed a millisecond of ass.
“you look—good.” they grunt, tone carefully measured. their gaze lingers, only for another moment before they abruptly snap their vision back to their screen. an admirable effort, really. if only their cheeks were a little less red, cock a little less needy.
“well don’t flatter me too much,” you twist away, lips twitching upwards. feigning normalcy is easy, seeing as how you’ve been doing so ever since that first night. you're practically buzzing with anticipation when you make a big show of leaving the room, snarky comment and all.
and really, jordan could've waited for longer than two minutes before moaning that raspy, broken moan (you're so intimately familiar with) from behind the door.
your lips split into a grin, and when you slide the door back open, the look on jordan's face is so priceless you hope it'll be seared into your memory forever.
“shit!"
it’s undeniable, this time. you’re no longer a fly on the wall, and they’re no longer blanketed by the illusion of secrecy; caught red-handed with their cock in their fist and head on your pillow.
“wait—fuck—i can expl—!”
like clockwork, jordan's cock twitches as if in reaction, and a drop of fresh semen spurts from their tip before trickling down to join the messy puddle on their stomach.
“i thought—fuck! you said you were going!”
“that doesn’t sound like an apology to me.”
you delight in the way jordan flushes, their breath hitching. they take a ragged breath before they make a valiant attempt to cover up their falter with aggression. "doesn't mean anything," they retort through gritted teeth, mustering up as much conviction as they can.
it’s adorable, how much they pretend they don’t want you as if they don’t jack off to the smell of your sweatshirt every night.
“shut the fuck up.” you roll your eyes, novelty of the movement finally wearing thin. you have needs too—and with a fluid movement, you slide onto the bed and yank their hips against yours, pulling them into a straddle over your torso.
jordan can't help but hiss at the sudden contact, hips jerking instinctively. "fuck, you're cold," they mutter under their breath, though there's no denying the thrill running through them; hips bucking forward into the touch of your cool fingers as they wrap around their hard member. it feels euphoric—the contrast between your heat and coldness heightening every single nerve ending in their body. the tip of their cockhead brushing against your belly button, dripping a thin line of hot, sticky fluid after it.
“go on.” you coo, eyebrows raised.
jorda’s hands fly almost immediately to the hem of your skirt. so eager, like an impatient puppy.
before you curl your hand around their wrist, grip firm and punishing.
they freeze, head cocking like a confused puppy. “huh?” they say, biting back a noise of complaint. they want you so bad its goddamn gruelling; their fingers twitching around nothing, screaming in impatience, let me fuck you, let me ruin you already. don’t you know how long i’ve been waiting? how long you’ve kept me fucking waiting?
of course you know. they don’t know that, though.
“you’re not gonna do anything?” despite all their irritating, fratboy-esque bravado; jordan’s unable to prevent the whininess from seeping into their tone, hands tugging insistently at the hem of your skirt. their cock pulses, painful and needy.
“you have hands, don’t you?” your lips quirk at the way jordan’s expression drops and their mouth opens again, probably to protest until you yank their thighs open and press them forward, dick pressing flush against your torso.
"unnhnnngh.." jordan grunts, gasping for air while trying to maintain eye contact with you—an impossible task considering how goddamn desperate they are. their free hand grabs hold of your waist, grinding sloppily as precum spurts all over your chest. “f-fuck off," they hiss, lips crashing against yours, teeth knocking at their eagerness.
“goddamn tease—” they groan, rutting against your torso, to no avail. they bury their face into your collar, utterly miserable, fingers twisting into the hem of your shirt. “just get the fuck on with it—ahnnn.. f-fuck—”
“so mouthy,” you tease, delighted at the mewl that slips past jordan’s lips when your hand wraps around their tip. their chain necklace swings wildly, bucking their hips desperately into your fist.
“hands feel so fuckin’ good,” jordan sputters, drooling almost as much as their dick is. their fumbling grasp finds purchase in your shoulders as they pump themselves into your hand; you barely even have to move, with them doing most of the work.
“need to be— inside—“ jordan grunts; glassy eyes blinking down at you like it’ll change your mind just like that. it’s cute, how they look when they’re not scowling or fucking smirking at you. it’s even cuter, the way they inhale sharply when you shake your head and deliver a cool “no, baby,” their back arching when you cup one of their balls and squeeze, forced into dismal acceptance with a keening whine.
jordan’s movements are getting unsteady, now. eyes glazing over by the second. “y’gonna make me cum,” they slur, grip on your hips tightening. it only takes a moment before their movements stutter and they’re muttering “fuck fuck fuck oh, fuck!“ and a long, gargled moan rips from their throat and all of a sudden hands wrapped around cock are sinking in wet, sloppy heat; your fingers sliding knuckle-deep into their pussy with almost breath-taking ease.
“jesus christ!” jordan croons in sheer, unexpected pleasure as they feel you shove yourself inside them, cum spurting and squeezing out helplessly from between their walls and your fingers. they squirt so fucking messily, their leaking cock replaced by a cunt spilling out out all over your palm.
“i didn’t—didn’t mean to—” they slur, panic two steps behind their mouth. struggling to sling anything coherent together with you kneading your fingers into their pussy like its goddamn putty. “oh?” you arch a brow, and jordan visibly flushes, moaning openly when your digits curl.
“can’t–don’t really—”
“what? fuck yourself?” is your reply, because you both know they fucking do; it’s not like you don’t how their pussy sounds when it’s sliding slick against their pillow, how your name sounds cried out, thick through the muzzle of your jumper.
it’s a dual guilty pleasure—you watch, they do. at this point, you can’t tell who’s the more perverted out of the two of you.
jordan. definitely jordan.
“too busy humping my clothes, is that it?” you purr, and jordan honest to god whimpers, squirming away from your fingers both out of overstimulation and plaintive shame. “ah, ah,” you tut, nails digging into their hips as you hold them in place, finger thumbing harshly against their clit as they cry out a gargled moan.
“f-fuck off—” jordan hisses, practically an admission of guilt itself. they seem to know it, too, with the way they abandon all pretence and pound violently against your knuckles—their gaze burning into yours like they’re daring you to say another word. “don’t act like you didn’t—shit—fucking like it.” jordan gasps out between sputters, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.
“hm?” you pause, eyes meeting jordan’s heated, quivering stare. “jerk off to watching me?” they choke, eyes glossing over when you thrust “did you fuck yourself to my—mmhnn—!”
an easy, all-too-familiar eye roll graces your face before you shut them up with your fingers. their pussy clenches; hot, slippery walls gripping your digits as if afraid to let go. oh, this is too easy.
“don’t get cute with me, roomie.” the nickname tastes sweet on your tongue, and jordan’s face grows hotter. a well-timed thumb to their clit flickers their bravado out like a light. “fucking hell!” they gasp, mouth gaping into a moan and eyes rolling back into their skull.
“you wanted me to watch, didn’t you?” you coo, and jordan squirms; mouth open in protest—or at least attempts at them, what with the way they keep gasping out in pleasure as you roll your fingers against their clit.
“shut the fuck—i didn’t—”
“a pervert and a liar now, are we?”
jordan makes a noise somewhere between a hiss and a whine, crying out when you slide two more fingers into the slick canal of their core. their eyes screw shut, hands seizing so wildly into the mattress you almost think they’re about to tear a hole through the bedsheets.
“god! fuck—i can’t—”
they cry out your name when they cum, and even if its a sound you’ve heard countless times by now you don’t think it’ll ever get old. “that’s it, baby.” you coo, lips curling upwards at the way they bury their face into your collar.
they lie there, panting, for what feels like forever before a muffled, half-delusional groan leaves their lips.
“oh, fuuuckk..”
“what?”
“..i thought i would top.”
#(っ ‘o’)ﾉ⌒💥my works !#૮ smut🔞#inbox !#jordan li#jordan li x reader#jordan li fanfic#jordan li headcanons#jordan li smut#gen v#gen v smut#gen v x reader#gen v fanfic#gen v headcanons
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Piggybacking off the last anon, what is it you like about Jane so much? I find my feelings on her kind of mixed but I lean towards positive.
okay i haven’t read act six in probably like 5 years so bear with me here. *cracks knuckles*
jane is sooo so interesting and it’s really a shame people miss like everything fun about her.
pre-scratch she used her detective work to literally succeed at tearing down the crocker cooperation, to the point that HIC has to fucking abandon ship and head into another universe to have another shot at her evil empire. pre-scratch jane is also fucking hilarious! if you didnt enjoy her antics with john as nannasprite you must just have no heart
meanwhile HIC breaches a new universe, and her FIRST fucking order of business is to NEUTRALIZE JANE CROCKER because of how goddamn detrimental she was to HIC’s plans the first time around.
not ONLY does HIC pump subliminal messaging and brainwashing into nearly every aspect of jane’s life, she also tries to straight up mind control her basically whenever possible! she ALSO sends assassination attempts after jane 24/7! (people will seriously try to say that jane lived a safe normal life… as if she wasn’t almost killed by walking into her backyard.) this is because HIC is fucking scared of jane, as she very well should be!
jane is also NOT a boring weepy annoying crybaby like everyone and their mother complains about. jane is literally the most fucking supportive friend and emotion-repressing dumbass you could ever hope to meet. jane combines john’s emotional repression and jade’s intentional cheerfulness together into one of the most fucked up cases of emotional repression in the whole comic
act 6 suffers from a LOT of shitty writing choices, but it’s not jane’s fault the whole act turns into a soap opera— and she’s ALSO not the only one who acts all soap-opera-y either! literally all of the alpha kids suffer from this, people just like jane the least so they project it all onto her. despite the fact that she did her very fucking best to NEVER talk about her feelings, to the point where she ONLY started telling people about shit when she was mind-controlled or took mind altering substances to make her do so! and you can say “ohhh that’s stupid she shouldn’t repress things in the first place how dumb” but, one she’s sixteen, and two, everyone eats that shit up when it comes from like. literally any other character.
people (cough hs2 writers) act like she would actually be “pushy” with a relationship on jake— as if she wasn’t literally the one who helped him make the decision to explore dating dirk?? because she thought it was the right thing to do???
jane is incredibly thoughtful and mature and people really throw all of those traits out of the window with preference for a version of the story where she Comes Inbetween Their Fave Gay Pairing as if she wasn’t, again, the one who got them together. jane is also extremely interesting in terms of queerness; she’s got the makings of a really interesting arc, not to mention she’s the only human girl that dresses mainly masc! there’s a lot there that people just don’t care to explore.
people just have less patience for the prospit kids in general. not to mention homestuck fans love to be misogynistic and berate jane for stuff they love the men doing, or claim she’s coming between them when she’s not, etc etc. and then because no one was writing fun meta posts about her, nobody ever rereads the comic to grab little scenes or lines to expand the online discussion about her! and then because there’s no discussion about her, people assume she’s boring and don’t go looking for bits to start discussing, which cycles on and on forever until we have the ripple effects we see of that misogyny today. which mostly consists of, “oh i hate jane because she was a villain is hs2”, or, “i know hs2 isn’t canon but i still don’t care for jane because she doesn’t do anything that interests me.” (and she’s only not interesting because of the cycle i mentioned before causing NO ONE to have meta discussion about her).
idk, it’s been a while since ive read so i could be talking out my ass but that’s what i’ve got.
TL;DR: jane is fucking COOL, she just suffers from intentional fandom ignorance. and she’s also a canonically hot, fat, masc woman, so i don’t know what else you could possibly want.
#oh god i didn’t mean for this to get so long#lol i hope this helped????#jane crocker#homestuck#op#hsmeta#long post
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I'm reminded of that "antishipping isn't purity culture because it isn't conservative christianity" post... And I think I've done some unpacking on why it triggers me so much.
I was an intersex child shoved into the role of a female, in a rural & conservative Christian environment. I've had not just purity culture shoved down my throat, but also the shame of not being able to meet the expectations put on women in that environment.
It's not just cover up, slut. That implies I had something to show off, to begin with. And men still want to ogle you and imagine what your body is like beneath that modest dress. So here, literal child. Have this shapewear to make your figure conform to that of a developing middle school female's under your clothes.
It's contradictory that way. You have to try to be unappealing to not 'tempt' men, but you still need to be appealing in the sense of conventional female attractiveness. Moreover, you must not think about men or sex at all. But you cannot be asexual — your parents demand grandchildren.
Antis do the same with their queer representation. It's the same contradictory expectations... They champion the idea of breaking societal norms through queerness (i.e. the idea of 'queer as in fuck you'), then demand that every nuclear family norm be met. Queer characters must be disruptive without actually disrupting anything. And the contradictions apply to fans, too — you're homophobic if you don't like a canon queer ship, and you're fetishistic if you like queer ships too much. (There are more, but I'd be stuck here forever if I listed them all. 😅)
There's also the obvious — fictional sins being as bad as things done in real life. There's Matthew 5, which includes so many popular verses about thought control that Christians use, and equates bad thought to bad doing.
27 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ 28 But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. 29 If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. 30 And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.
And fuck if antis aren't cutting off their entire goddamn arm and gouging out both eyes.
It's not just purity culture they embody, though — it's the satanic panic, too. Good lord the amount of times my grandma wouldn't let me watch Ghost Hunters because she thought I was welcoming demons into the home, or her concern for me watching horror movies because I'd surely become more violent. It's the same shit, different horse.
On a more light-hearted note, they play the same game that Christian demoninations do, too. I was Baptist, and considered the Methodists okay. But the Catholics? No, keep that shit away from me. Why are you worshipping Mary? That's idolatry! How horrible, to openly spit in God's face. When I read antis' DNI lists rattling off forbidden, unredeemable fandoms, it feels the same way, haha.
But what really seals the deal for me is how they smile in your face and promise they're just looking out for you. Christians do that, too. "We want you to get better. We want to help you. You're on a dark path." While they break your bones to force you into their mold. You may not be hurting anyone on your dark path, but they'll convince you that you ARE. You're hurting yourself "spiritually," you're hurting the community, your family, by being an abomination to God. You're hurting everyone and yourself, you just need us to help you realize it. Antis feel the exact same. I block them pre-emptively because I cannot handle having that shit directed at me again.
Moreover, their insults feel the same. The childish "icky," the ad hominems. It's too reminiscent for me. Of my mom hating my icky facial hair and my classmates making fun of my masc traits when they thought I couldn't hear; you are a gross person!!1! Ew!!!
It's funny that antis are so often anti-kink, considering they're so fucking intent on giving me a golden shower and telling me it's rain. I hope they're careful not to choke on the homophobic, pedophilic pastor cock they're sucking.
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Leave It All Behind
『♡』 fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo
╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | aged to 24 | nasty break up ꒱
-`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist
summary: a heated argument, a slammed door, a thrown ring, and two broken hearts. everything changed in the blink of an eye when you decide to blow up your whole life over a change of scenery.
tags & warnings: violence against a partner, angst, no happy ending, bakugo cries a lot
a/n: this physically pained me to write because I don’t wanna make Katsuki cry like that but the angst just came flooding out of my brain 😭
꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 1,175 ꒱
“I quit.”
Katsuki drops the mug in his hand, ceramic pieces and lukewarm tea splattering all over the kitchen floor.
“What?!” His voice is amplified, preparing for the argument he knows is brewing.
“I said ‘I quit.’ I left the agency today.” Your tone is cold as you cross your arms and shift on your hip.
Katsuki blinked repeatedly and scrunched his brows together, wondering if he somehow jumped into a different reality.
“We fuckin’ talked about this! I thought-”
“What? You thought you could order me around like a goddamn dog?!” You snap, waving your hands around in defense.
“No! Where th’ fuck is this coming from?”
Katsuki is legitimately bewildered. You just had the conversation last night and came to the conclusion you were not going to quit being a hero - all of that just flew out the window at mach speed.
“I decided myself I didn’t need the number two hero ordering me around, acting like I’m gonna sneak up and take your fucking job!” The anger inside you is boiling hot, your voice raised to match Katsuki’s volume.
“Th’ fu…I don’t think that! I’ve been by your side since day fuckin’ one! Where the hell is this coming from, y/n?!”
You take a step toward him, purposefully invading his space to get under his skin. He hated when you’d do this during a fight.
“I’m tired of it all, Katsuki! What the hell is the point?! Heroes are used as punching bags! We’re fucking humans and we are treated like pawns in a goddamn game. I’m tired of being a symbol of something I don’t believe in anymore.”
Katsuki takes a step back, bumping into the countertop as his expression shifts from anger to concern.
“Baby, let’s take a step -,” he attempts to say to lower the level of tension in the room.
“Don’t fucking call me baby,” you snarl, pointing a finger in his face.
What the fuck is happening between you two?
“Fine. Y/N, let’s take a second-”
The sound of a slap echos in the kitchen, cutting through the conversation and stopping time itself. You’re breathing heavily, a fire burning in your heart as you glare at your finance. Katsuki’s stunned, his cheek reddening from your strike. He doesn’t turn back to meet your gaze, hopelessly refusing to accept what just happened.
“Shut the fuck up. I’ve made up my damn mind.”
“��did that make you feel better?” He mumbles, voice wavering as he swallows hard.
The final string inside you snaps - a cable becoming frayed, flailing wildly out of control with electric emotion.
You shove him against the counter and spin on your heel, stomping out of the kitchen. A piece of the broken mug in your path catches your bare foot - you don’t even acknowledge the pain of the pottery slicing through your skin.
Katsuki is frozen, he’s astonished and cannot even form words to say to you right now. Who the hell was this? Where did his beloved fiancé go?
“I’m done. I’m fucking done!” You scream, returning to the kitchen from the bedroom. You’re holding your engagement ring in your hand.
Katsuki’s heart turns to concrete and drops into the pit of his stomach.
“W-wait, y/n, please…just wait a s-second,” he begs with trembling hands. “Don’t do this.”
You chuck the ring straight into his chest, bouncing off his shirt and clattering onto the kitchen tile. He audibly gasps, watching as the ring rolls into a puddle of the spilled tea.
Katsuki’s blood runs cold. Is this real? This had to be a nightmare, a really fucking terrible nightmare. There’s no way his sweet hero of a partner was standing in front of him. You had to have been cloned and this is an imposter.
“I. Am. Fucking. Done. Fuck you, Katsuki Bakugo. Have a good fuckin’ life.”
Katsuki scrambles to grasp your hand as you turn your back to him.
“Please, stop this! I can’t lose you, y/n!” He blubbers, unable to stop the hot tears spilling from his eyes. His voice cracks as he’s calling after you. “I’m s-sorry! Whatever it is, I’m fuckin’ sorry. We can talk about it. Whatever is happening, we can fix it. We can forget this whole conversation happened!”
You smack his hand away from yours and the sting is sent straight to his bleeding heart.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve made up my mind.”
You don’t have time to pack anything, nor do you have time to explain yourself. There’s nothing you can do - no turning back now. The plan is in motion and there’s no putting on the brakes.
Reaching into your pocket, you take your phone out and smash it against the floor. Pieces of glass and small electronic parts scatter in all directions. The phone remains powered on as it bounces on the floor, a glimpse of your lock screen visible to Katsuki. It’s a picture from your engagement photo shoot - the phone screen split directly in between the two of you.
“Sell all my shit, I don’t want it. Never, ever, contact me again.”
He’s hysterical at this point, sobbing and a whimpering where he stands.
“Who th’fuck are you?! Where’s this 180 comin’ from?!”
Katsuki’s desperate for any answer, he doesn’t care if it gets you to stay.
“I’m tired of playing hero when my true allegiance lies with the villains.”
That’s the last thing you say before hastily making your way to the door. Hand on the doorknob, you take a final moment to say goodbye to everything you’re leaving behind - the love of your life, your career, friends and family. All of it is burning to the ground.
Katsuki bolts to the door, slamming his hand onto the wood to stop you from leaving. He’s panicking as his whole life is crumbling in front of his eyes.
“Please. Y/N. Y’don’t have to stay with me. But for fucks sake, is this worth throwing everything away? How could you do this!? What do I tell your parents, our friends?!”
You say nothing as you yank the door open, forcing his hand off the frame. You don’t make eye contact as you pull the door closed, jogging down the apartment hallway.
You know for a fact if you stayed for any amount of time longer, you would have crumbled. Taken it all back and refuse to leave, walk the path of a happy and healthy life.
“There you are. I was about to go knock on your door to get you, silly!” Toga says cheerfully, taking your arm in hers. “Ready to go?”
“Yep. Let’s go.”
The walk down the sidewalk is the hardest road you’ve traveled, not looking back at all the damage you’re leaving behind.
The new generation of the league of villains welcomes you with open arms and cannot wait for all of your inside intel on hero society.
It’s about time you make a change in this world - your way.
I have an extended idea to build off of this short where villain reader meets pro hero bakugo again in the future but we’ll see if it ever comes to fruition
#bakugo katsuki#bnha#mha#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki#my hero academia bakugo#bakugo x y/n#bakugo angst#katsuki bakugo#angst with no happy ending#☆.rei writes
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Drunken piggyback rides.
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader
Summary: Simon gives you a piggyback ride home :)
Wordcount: 4775| Rating: E (18+ only!)
Warnings: miscommunication, communication, friends to lovers, fluff, swearing, drinking.
A/N:I didn't proofread and English isn't my native tongue, so please let me know if there are mistakes.
This was supposed to be short, but it ended up longer than I planned. See this as a little make up gift for the last fic
“Next time you’re drunk of your tits, you call me, got it?” You can recall Ghost’s gruff words the last time you got drunk out of you mind. You’d thrown up in Price’s shoes, and it was fair to say that no one was really charmed of your drunken antics. Especially not when half of the taskforce was send out to look for you, since your drunken mind was unable to stumble back to base.
So here you were, waiting in the godforsaken cold, until Ghost came to pick you up. You didn’t hear him coming, his footsteps silent while he took long strides your way. How could a man so tall, so bulky be so quiet?
“Bloody hell.” He groans, as he sees your drunken state. A lazy grin on your face, unable to stand straight on your own feet. “The next time I see Soap I’ll kill him for challenging him to a drinking contest.”
“Thank you.” You giggle, unable to determine if his annoyance is real or a decoy. Ghost shakes his head. “You’re goddamn lucky that I came to pick you up and not some fucking pervert. Do you know what could’ve happened?” But his scoldings are for the deaf, you simply do not care. He is here now? So what is his problem. You can see him struggle on how to take you back, you’re too drunk to walk, and he isn’t one to pick you up bridal style. So he sighs and offers you a piggy back ride.
His hands are firmly under your thighs, his touch is warm and gentle, a nice contrast to the cold air. You notice his walk is slow and steady, almost as if he is afraid to drop you. You close your eyes, rolling your head back as you finally relax.
“Thank you again.”
The sound he makes is something between a growl and a chuckle. “It’s nothing.” He says in a dry voice. In truth, you’re probably the last person he expected to pick up tonight, he had hoped you had learned your lesson. But here you were, drunk out of your mind, and Simon is soft at heart, for you at least.
The last time you���ve had a piggy back ride must’ve been when you were a child, and right know it brings back some nice memories, his strong hands making you feel secure and safe.
You’ve already thanked him twice, and you want to thank him a million more times. But he is Ghost and you know you’ll get an earful if you do so.
You do open your eyes again, taking in every detail of the side of his face that you can see. “You have a little scare here.” You murmur as your fingertips trace it.
His steps falter. Simon knows the scar you’re talking about. It’s the one on his left cheek, a reminder of the lowest points of his life. He dislikes showing his face, but he is okay with his teammates seeing it.
Yet here you are, touching him softly.
“Yeah, just a scratch.” He growls, in an attempt to play it cool. But he has to admit, he doesn’t hate what you’re doing.
Of course you knew the scar, you were there when he got is, you knew how hard that mission had been, you knew how many the team had lost, how close you’d been to losing him too.
Your soft lips press against the scar, a sweet little kiss. “I’m glad you’re still here.” Your voice a soft murmur.
That unexpected kiss sends a wave of emotion through him, and before he can even respond, you give him a warm smile that makes his blood pump faster through his veins.
Simon tries to regain control of himself, and he fails miserably.
“I.. Damn it.” He growls, trying to hide the blush that creeps on his face. “You are.. a bloody.. troublemaker.” He manages.
But you’re too drunk to notice his inner turmoil and his comment is rewarded with a giggle.
You rest your chin on his shoulder, as he carries you back to base, and you feel content, happy even.
“Will you kick my ass if I thank you again for walking me home?”
It would’ve been the perfect moment for a funny comeback, but all the snark in the world fails him as he turns his head to the side and is met with you.
You’re a handful, and there’s a part of him that wants to strangle you for it. But there’s also a part of him that wishes he could…
He coughs to catch himself before his emotions get the better of his thoughts.
“No, uh, probably not.” He grumbles. “But don’t push your luck.”
You know your teammate, your friend, and you know he is annoyed that he is carrying you home instead of sleeping in a warm bed, but deep down you also know he cares too much to let anything harm you.
So you smile at him, your cheek resting on his shoulder as you look at him. The alcohol in combination with the attraction you’ve always felt towards him takes over as your hand makes its way to his hair, running your fingers through the short, dirty blonde hair. “So soft.” You whisper.
A low growl escapes him, a sign that he is slowly, but surely losing the battle to keep his cool. “I know you’re drunk, princess, but you should try to behave yourself.” He grits out. And no matter how many times he had seen you, you always looked gorgeous to him. Your hand in his a sure way to set him off, and this entire situation seem tailor made to drive him insane. Simon picks up his pace, desperate to avoid even more chaos.
Now being called princess by Ghost was a new thing for you, but you weren’t against it. Your fingernails caressing the back of his neck when you take your hand out of his hair. “I’m sorry.” You whisper softly, your breath tickling his ear.
Your hand rests at the back of his neck, it felt nice to touch someone, especially when it was someone you cared about.
His jaw tenses as he tries to distract himself from the sweet, warm feeling of your hand on his neck. You are not making this easy for him.
If this was any other woman, he’d be all over her in a second. Hell he’s done it before.
But when it comes to you, he feels.. different. A mix of emotions that he is not comfortable with. And the fact that it is you just makes it more confusing.
His clenched jaw doesn’t get unnoticed by you and you remove your hand from his neck, letting it rest on your own body. You knew he wasn’t interested in you, not like that. You had seen him be with other women. Just friends. That is all you’ll ever be.
You close your eyes again, and suddenly being back to base is the only thing you want.
Simon doesn’t say anything as he walks faster, desperate to put some distance between him and the situation. As if reading his mind, the entrance of the base appears out of the darkness.
“We’re back.” He growls.
As if he suddenly remembers your head is resting on his shoulder, he stops walking and tries to push you off.
“Get off.” He snaps, his tone more harsh that he intended.
You look up from his shoulder, bracing yourself when his hands stop holding your thighs as he lets go off you.
You know you have walk the last part yourself.
“Thank you.” You mumble after an awkward silence, and you watch him walk away, not saying a word to you as he disappeared into base.
And for that moment you hate yourself, but you suppress those feeling as you stumble back to your own quarters.
Simon doesn’t look back; it’s better that way. He walks to his own quarters, alone, and he sinks down to his bed.
Why does it have to be you that gets to his emotions? Why do you have to be the one to make him feel this way?
He doesn’t want to think about it.. he hates himself for it.
But the thoughts won’t go away. And now, all he can hear is your voice. The way it sounds when you whisper.
“So soft...”
You hate this, you hate how your feelings for him come out when you’re drunk, and that while you’re so good at hiding them when you’re sober.
A friend. A friend. A friend. You keep chanting it to yourself, a mantra stuck in your brain. Ghost just sees you as a friend, and you need to learn to accept it.
You drop yourself to your bed, your eyes falling shut as you think about the inevitable, facing him again tomorrow.
But Simon can’t get you out of his head. No matter how many times he tries, the thoughts refuse to leave.
Your voice.
Your face.
Damn it.
He watches the hours pass, the walk home replaying in his mind.
There’s no point in sleeping and he wants a cigarette and he wants it now.
“I still bloody hate you.” He murmurs to himself.
You’re tossing and turning the whole night. Short naps, short sessions to stare at the wall and the cycle repeats. The alcohol starts to wear off and you’re faced with what happened this night.
You curse yourself, you curse yourself for touching that scar, for kissing the scar, for touching his hair. God, you hated yourself.
You swing your legs over the edge of your bed, hoping that a quick shower and a change of clothes would make you feel better.
Of course they don’t. A pounding headache starts to form, a sign that your thoughts are finally sober. A glass of water and two painkillers enter your system as you slip on some shoes. God you need a cigarette and some fresh air.
Fuck. You stop in your tracks as you spot him, smoking all by himself. Why him? Why now.
Simon takes a long, slow drag from his cigarette and leans against a wall outside base. He closes his eyes, enjoying the peace of the empty morning.. and then he hears footsteps.
His head snaps up, his eyes narrowed and scanning the area.
But it’s just you. Of course it is.
A wave of unease washes over him as he watches you approach.
“Morning.” He mutters. He doesn’t want to talk to you, and yet there’s a small part of him that’s secretly glad you’ve come.
It is awkward. Oh dear God it is awkward, and you wish you had just stayed in bed, rotting away while you cringed at your drunken behaviour, but no, you just had to go outside.
“Simon.” You mutter back as a greeting, before you light your own cigarette, keeping the distance between the two of you.
God damn it, why couldn’t they just allow smoking everywhere on this base? Why did he have to be out here too, in the little smokers corner?
The uneasy silence stretches between you. You both know what happened last night but you’re both too embarrassed to speak about it.
Simon inhales and exhales, exhaling clouds of smoke as he struggles to look anywhere but at you.
“Look I.. what the hell were you thinking?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence. “Do you.. what.. what the hell?” he struggles to continue.
You close your eyes at his harsh words. Opening them again after you’ve taken a deep breath. What the hell had you been thinking? You don’t even know yourself.
“Look.” You start with a hoarse whisper. “I am sorry.” And you truly are. You’re sorry that he had to carry her home, you are sorry that she kissed his scar, you’re sorry that you ran your hand through his hair.
“I shouldn’t have done any of this.”
Simon takes a long drag and then exhales, his jaw clenched and his expression is one of irritation. “But you did.” He growls.
He’s annoyed, and yet.. even he is too embarrassed to admit that he enjoyed the way you were looking at him last night. But he pushes that thought aside. “Why?” He hisses. “Why did you do that?”
Yeah, why did you do it? Because you love him, because you have had the biggest crush on him the moment you met him.
But he doesn’t look at you the way he looks at the women he takes home from the bar. So you push it away again, like you had done plenty of times before.
“I was drunk.” You say meekly, and it’s the truth. “I was drunk and I want to let you know I’m glad you didn’t die on that mission.” You continued, the main reason why you kissed that scar.
“And now I’m sober and I’m embarrassed.” You shake your head. “I’m sorry for treating you like this, you’re my friend and I overstepped your boundaries.”
Simon stays silent as he drags on his cigarette. His mind races.
Don’t think it. Don’t think it. Don’t think it. You’re imaging it, that’s all.
His eyes flick to yours for a split second, and then fix on the ground again. He wants to be mad at you right now. He wants to be mad because it is easier than all these emotions he is not willing to explore.
Don’t think it. Don’t think it. Don’t think it.
Oh but this is even worse, the way this silence lingers between the two of them, how he doesn’t even look at you. God, you hate yourself for letting it go to this point.
Your cigarette is burning up by itself, you haven’t even taken a single drag yet. You bring the cigarette to your lips, taking a drag before she blows out the smoke, waiting for him to say anything.
But there is just silence, nothing more than silence. So you press your cigarette our against the wall.
“I’m sorry.” You repeat again.
Simon finishes his cigarette too and stubs it out against the wall. Then he does something he never thought he would. He closes the distance between the two of you and embraces you tightly. Burying his head in your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you. He doesn’t say or do anything else. He just stands there, for the longest time, enjoying the feeling of having you in his arms.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how much longer you can keep up this façade of just being friends. But you can’t lose him, anything but losing him.
So your hand rests on the back of his head while he buries his head into your shoulders, hiding in your hair. Your other hand resting on his back, your nails making soft circles on his shirt, while your heart feels like it is beating out of your chest.
Simon buries his head further into your shoulder, closing his eyes in the process. Your soft touch is making him feel things that he is not ready to acknowledge, let alone face them. His breathing matches yours, slow and steady. And he doesn’t want this moment to ever end.
Why does this, with you, feel more intimate than any of the other woman? Why does your touch feel different than everyone else’s?
You close your eyes too as you hold him close. You like this feeling more than you’ll ever let him know. But God, do you want to hold him longer, kiss him, touch him, taste him, be his. The hand on his head gets lifted and moves to his neck, making the same soft circles as on his shirt.
The sensation of your nails on his skin sends tingles throughout his body, the sensation becoming almost too much for him to bear. But he does bear it, refusing to give in to the feeling of your touch. The feeling of what he could have. Of what he could be with you.
He struggles to keep his mind clear, to ignore what the body wants to do. But it’s hard, it’s so very hard.
It's torture.
Torture that he wants to make last forever.
Your eyes lift up to the sky, the morning colour painting the sky as a canvas and for a brief moment it is all perfect.
But reality dawns on you again, you’re holding your friend, the man you’ve been crushing on since you met. But who will always be just a friend.
You place your cheek against his head, both hands, both set of nails softly caressing his skin.
Simon lets out a low murmur of approval as he feels your hands working their magic, a growl emerging from him as he turns his head slightly and buries it deeper into the crook of your neck.
This… this is torture.
He wants your hands everywhere on him. He wants this moment, this feeling, to never end.
God, how much longer can he take it?
“It’s.. it’s just too nice.” He murmurs. But he is not saying it to you, he is saying to himself.
You can barely make out the words that leave his lips, but they make your heart flutter. You can feel his lips move against the sensitive skin on your neck. The hand on his neck stays there, although your nails dance around the border of his hairline, before they go back to his neck again.
The hand on his back goes from making circles to making long strokes, up to the shoulder blades, all the way down to the small of his back.
Simon lets out a long sigh, feeling your hand stroke across his back. It feels good. Damn good. Good enough that the can only think about how he doesn’t want it to end. It brings him a sense of comfort he hasn’t felt in a long time.
Please stay here, right here, right now.
His arms squeeze your tighter as your nails send tingles of pleasure throughout his body.
Don’t let it end.
Standing here like this, with him in your arms makes you forget about it all, it made you forget about him carrying you back to base, about you being so drunk you kissed his scar, about the awkward silence you had while smoking. It doesn’t matter anymore, all that matters is this moment.
Your nails run all over his back, changing the pressure. Going from slow to fast, back to slow again. All so you can hold him a little longer.
Simon is basking in the sensation of your hand running all over his back. The change in pressure, the slow to fast, back to slow again, is heaven on earth.
You’re his heaven.
This moment is heaven.
He breathes a sigh of content as he keeps his head in the crook of your neck, wanting this bliss to last as long as possible.
A smile curls on your lips as you notice his reaction to the change of pressure and speed. Anything to make him happy.
In a moment of boldness you press a soft kiss on the top of his head. Begging that he will take the hint and takes the lead.
His breath catches in his throat as you kiss his head. This isn’t torture anymore.
It’s torment.
Goddamn torment.
But don’t you dare stop.
Simon isn’t the only one who finds this torment. You’re craving the feeling of slipping your hand under his shirt and letting your fingertips and nails caress the bare skin of his back.
But you can’t, you’re still outside, you’re still just friends. But how can you love another man after his?
Your continued touch is driving him absolutely insane. God do you even know what would happen if he did let you slip your hand under his shirt? And do you even know what he wants to do to you right now? God, his mind is filled with thought he never knew he had.
You just want to know what could be, what could happen if one of you was to cross that line of being friends. But you’re scared, scared of losing him as a friend.
But you’re just as brave as you are scared. Brave enough that when you reach the small of his back again, you let your hand slip under his shirt, your nails making soft circles on his bare skin, all while you hold your breath, anticipating his reaction.
Oh God. His breathing catches in his throat as he tries to ignore the sensation of your nails against his bare skin, but he can’t.
He wants.. He wants..
Simon turns quickly, his hands reaching for your waist before he pulls your body close to his. His free hand holds your head, his face inches away from yours. “Don’t you do this to me right now.” He hisses. “We’re friends. You’re my friend.”
You swallow the lump in your throat as you remove the hand from under his shirt, the hand on his neck stops moving before you remove that one too. Your hands falling limp next to your body. “Friends.” You whisper back.
Simon takes a deep, calming breath to settle his heart rate before he leans in closer, his lips mere centimetres away from yours.
“Friends.” He whispers. It’s a simple, yet charged word that hands in the air between the two of you. He know what he just did. He knows what he almost let happen between the two of you. But he knows that he can’t. He won’t let that barrier fall. A friendship is too precious to ruin. And friend don’t kiss each other.
Now it is his turn to torture you. His lips mere centimetres away from yours, and you want to kiss him, you want to be more than just his friend.
You want. You want. You want.
Your heart is pounding in your chest. Your mind is racing.
Friends don’t kiss each other, but rules are made to be broken, right? You don’t want to think, not of the consequences.
So you press your lips against his.
His lips are against yours, and he wants nothing more than to deepen these soft kisses as the two of you lose yourselves in each other’s bodies. His arm wraps around your back, his other hand stroking the locks of hair behind your ear as he caresses your cheek. For Simon there is nothing else here, nothing else is real, nothing else matters. Just you in his arms, and his lips on yours.
Oh God, you had expected him to push you away, to remind you that you were just friends. But instead, Simon broke the rules just like you did. You hand goes to his back again, holding him close again and it is making you feel alive again.
He continues to press his lips against yours, his tongue sliding against yours as he lets out a low groan of pleasure. His fingers run through your hair as if he is running through a field of golden wheat. His hand moves down to your lower back and brings you in tighter, as if he wants nothing more than to hold you closer than he’s ever held anyone.
Just a little longer.
You’re so close to him, to the point where you don’t know where he ends an you begin, but by God are you loving it. No matter how much you enjoy this, how much longer you want to this, you need to breath, a little strand of saliva between the two of them as you pull back.
Fuck.
The taste of your tongue lingers in his mouth, even when he pulls back with a reluctant groan.
His voice is husky, thick with desire. “Friends don’t kiss. Remember?” As much as he wants to continue, he knows that it can’t. At least not right now. His body yearns for yours, but this isn’t the time. He can’t risk losing you to a moment of passion. Because you’re more than just his friends.
You’re everything.
You hate those words, and you hate that he is the one saying them. But even if he is saying them. He is still holding you close, too close for just friends.
“Then be more than my friend.” You whisper.
And that one sentence cuts him like a blade through the heart. He looks at you.. really looks at you. Those words, if he were to say yes, if he were to tell you everything he wants to right now, would you do the same?
Would you be more than just his friend? Would you risk everything just to have him?
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” He asks quietly. He lets go off you, removing his hands from your body. God, this moment is killing him.
Your body feels empty, cold without his hands on it, and you’re craving his touch, more than you’ve ever craved something else in your life.
“Yes.” You whisper. “Yes I am.”
The weight of your reply hangs in the air, the tension between the two of you almost painful. He wants you. He wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything. He wants to sweep you off of your feet, to have you in his arms in a way he’s never wanted anyone. But more than that. He wants to keep you. “What if I lose you?”
This hurts, it crumbles up your heart, but it is a fair question and you need to answer it. “But what if you don’t?” you answer. “We’ve been friends since the beginning. I can’t pretend to be friends any longer.”
Your words catch him off guard. You wanted this all this time? And here he was thinking this was just happening. Suddenly, this little moment of passion isn’t as little as he thought. “This whole time you wanted more?”
You hoped it would have slipped past him, but of course it didn’t. It was Simon we’re talking about here.
All this motherfucking time. All this motherfucking time of you wanted this. He lets out a soft groan of pain, his chest tight with nerves and emotions. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Because you were terrified of losing him, because you were so used to putting others first it felt natural to forget about her own feelings.
“Because I thought it was a stupid crush at first, we were both young, filled to the brim with hormones.” You admit. “But now we’re no longer young and filled with hormones, and the feeling stayed..” You voice dies out as you sigh. “I’ve seen the way you look at the women you take home from the bar, I’ve seen the way you look at the women you date, and you never looked at me like that. So I kept it hidden.” You let out a deep breath. “I guess.. Bottomline I didn’t want to get hurt.”
“I didn’t look at you like that because I never saw you like that.” He says, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. “I always saw you as my best friend, my rock. So much more than just friends.” He closes his eyes tightly as he tries to find the words.
“You were never a stupid crush for me.” He continues. “You’re everything to me.”
Everything.
“Goddamn.. How am I going to look you in the eye after this?”
Yeah, how do you go from here? Can you even go from here? You’re not sure.
“With some love, I hope.” You say, with a sheepish smile.
His heart is in his throat as he takes a deep, calming breath and he opens his eyes again. “With some love.” He repeats. Then he wraps a hand around your waist and pulls you in close to him again, his lips inches away from you.
“And a lot of kisses.” He breaths.
He wants you, he wants to finally stop looking at you as just his best friend. He wants to look at you as his.
“And a lot of kisses.” You repeat, before your lips meet his again.
Sweet damn, it feels even better than before. He can feel the world disappear into nothing but two hearts beating in the darkness.
Two bodies pressed together.
Two souls intertwining.
Two people losing themselves in each other.
Two people, now more than friends, more than best friends, more.
He is lost in you.
This moment.
Right here, right now.
Is everything he’s ever wanted.
Everything.
#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod mw2#call of duty#cod mwii#cod x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#mw2#fanfic#fluff#friends to lovers#friends to more#no angst#fanfics#fan fiction#fanfiction#cod fanfic#cod#ao3fic#ao3 writer#ao3feed#ao3#ao3 fanfic
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Oh my god your ask box is open.
Ummm didja see how Viv liked fanart of Vox telling Val he's beautiful after his wings get clipped?
That author who wrote that fic of Angel being told he's beautiful paralleling with the goddamn creator liking and encouraging Val content to sympathize with him....
No hate to that artist but when you're the creator you need to have more fucking responsibility. She isn't condemning Val. She's woobifying and downplaying his actions to the point where she likes her *rapist character* being sympathetic and "beautiful" but has the gall to say Angel is a "loser".
And while I'm at it, she also like a comment about "people simp for horror characters like Patrick Bateman and Leatherface--"
Shut. Up.
Shut the fuck up.
The directors and actors condemn the actions of those killers. Christian Bale said he hates Patrick Bateman and thinks there's nothing good about him. That "sigmas" are missing the point and need to get a life.
LeatherFace is mentally challenged and doesn't understand what he's doing. He's surrounded by a psychopathic family who loves him and obviously doesn't teach him right from wrong.
Scott Cawthon punishes the fuck out of William Afton. Spring-locked painfully, tormented by the souls of the kids he's killed, crushed, burned.... his own son said that he'd burn in Hell.
I could go on and on. Also Jason Voorhees kills 2 rapists. Freddy Kruegar is burned for his crimes.
These people are so fucking stupid it hurts.
Viv coddles, woobifies, sympathizes, and downplays Valentino. The abusive rapist. Compared him to a *high school girl* for fucks sakes.
What Val does to Angel is also not over the top or goofy. It's *very real*. The abuse is very realistic and isn't unbelievable.
Alastor isn't a rapist. So stop bringing that up.
You can't control what people do with your content. But you can control what you encourage and how you view serious topics.
So much for her 3 day Threads meltdown where she screamed about caring about SA victims.
She's a rape fetishist just like Raph. Why else would she keep him around? I don't care that they have these fetishes, but stop pretending it's good SA rep.
Also Mimzy is meant to be Jewish. Rosie is a blood libel. Why are Jews in Hell? Fuck off with that "chicken" bullshit.
Fucking vile, Medrano.
And to be clear, I don't care if a portion of the fandom wants to expand on Valentino with headcanons, sit on him like a baby bird, and adopt him as their silly little rabbit. That's villains and fandom, that just is what it is.
The problem is when Viv does it, when she coddles Valentino and insists everyone else do likewise or else. Viv isn't a member of the fandom, she's the creator, and one who's made it her business to shout down and belittle every single fan who's uncomfortable with Valentino. That's a different, shameful thing, and it's absolutely disgusting.
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Sub spencer x rockstar reader ?? ( lmk if this is something you don’t write )
Spencer Reid x Fem!Rockstar!Reader
thanks for the request! hope you don’t mind i did fem/afab reader and i hope this is what you want! this was acc super fun to write hehe
cw 18+ minors dni. kissing, grinding, oral (fem receiving), coming in pants, all my favs basically, and a bit of swearing
your face shined in the colourful lights as you moved around, mesmerising spencer from the side of the stage. you knew how much he hated being in crowds so you had made sure he could be away from them and still see your show, and goddamn if it wasn’t the best seat in the house.
he could se the thin sheen of sweat on your brow, the way you lips curled in a smirk - exposing your sharp teeth. you looked fucking gorgeous. as you sang a particularly provocative lyric your eyes snapped to where he was standing, winking playfully before looking back into the crowd, so fast he almost missed it. the combination of how you looked and your teasing had him trying to adjust his pants to hide his bulge, the movement only adding friction which made him choke back a moan.
as you exited the stage when the show was over, you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him back to your dressing room. you immediately pushed him up against the closed door, and dove in, kissing him with a fiery passion, the adrenaline from the show still coursing through your veins. your hands travelled over his body, gripping his hips and pushing him further into the door and then pressing your leg between his thighs to put pressure on the tent in his pants.
lewd moans immediately started pouring out of his mouth at the pressure which you eagerly swallowed, capturing his lips in another fervent kiss, practically devouring him with your intensity. spencer couldn’t get enough. he loved how you treated him after your shows, all clashing teeth and grinding bodies, so desperate for him that you couldn’t control yourself. and he wanted you just as badly.
he dropped to his knees as you pulled back for air, and tugged at the zipper of your leather pants, pulling them down as quick as he possibly could. when he did, he eagerly pressed his face into your clothed count - licking a stripe over you lacy black underwear - before pulling them to the side and diving in, licking up your folds hungrily, sucking harshly on your clit.
the sight of him looking up at you with hooded lust-blown eyes almost made your knees buckle. he looked like a goddamn wet dream come to life, rumpled hair, plushy, kiss -bitten lips, on his knees for you. soon you were toppling into orgasm, grabbing his hair and pushing him into you as you legs shook and clenched, loud moans ripping out of your open mouth.
he slowly stood up, kissing along your stomach and chest before landing a kiss on your lips which you gladly reciprocated, tasting yourself on his tongue. you reached down to help him with his situation but when your reached his crotch he shuddered, his knees buckling and his head falling into your neck. you brushed your hand over his crotch and smirked as you felt the warm wet patch seeping through the material.
“someone got a bit exited..” you purred, ruffling his hair with your other hand. he whimpered into your shoulder as a response, nuzzling into you as he breathed in your heady scent, the scent invading his senses and sending blood directly down to his spent cock. you giggled sadistically as you felt him get hard again before gripping him lightly and pushing him off of you so you could capture his lips in another kiss.
———————
it’s so hard to like finsish these off in a non awkward way lmfao! let me know if you enjoyed, likes, reblogs etc are all loved and appreciated!
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid smut#sub!spencer#sub spencer reid#sub!spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#sub!spence#rockstar!reader
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Hello there new unlocked Chris lover friend 😍
Can I pwetty please have some smut headcanons for Chris McLean.
But Hol' up.
Smut Headcanons for Chris McLean with a dom reader.
Like, c'mon I need more dom reader x reader in my life bro 😭
(gender neutral or female reader is fine)
ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵐᵃˢᵒᶜʰⁱˢᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ
ˢᵐᵘᵗ ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ || ʳᵉᵠᵘᵉˢᵗˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ
-> hes one big fucking brat
-> he tries so hard to dom you but fails oh so miserably
-> tie him down and tease him for hours
-> hes begging and a blubbering mess
-> makes him look so pathetic and hes embarrased
-> record him for the love of god
-> record and take pictures of him
-> he loves knowing that you have pictures and videos of him that nayone can access if you give them your phone
-> unlcoked and in the camera app
-> not being able to move or touch you at all while you please him and jsut fuck him senseless makes him so fucking livid
-> but oh my god the look on your face as you do so
-> that cocky ass smirk and your words pierce him
-> he feels so goddamn weak
-> he hates it and loves it at the same time
-> hes jsut
-> he has no words
-> hes got that mommy/daddy kink as well
-> mostly calling you mommy despite your gender
-> hes jsuy gpijg to do it
-> call him a whore, slut, toy, anything and he glaring at you
-> he hates it
-> but the control you have over him makes him not bale to do anything
-> have a vibrater in him while he son tv
-> interview or show
-> put one in him and hes making a mess of himself
-> hes struggling to not drop to his knees
-> hes a whore for anything
-> make him get on his knees and beg for pleasure
-> or overstim him so much that he can only say your name over and over and thats it
-> hes jsut a whore
-> a fuckign slut
-> literally tho
-> dom reader would destroy this mans ego
-> build it back up and then break it into pieces again
#td chris#chris mclean#chris mclean x reader#dom reader#tdi x reader#tdroti hcs#total drama hcs#total drama island#total drama x reader#td chris mclean#total drama chris#chris mclean smut#x dom reader#total drama smut#td smut
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