hero is going to a movie alone. they're having a good time until villain sits down right next to them. medium to low horny (here have food and also pls drink water 🥞🥞)
Mmmm thank you anon!! This one also reminds me of my girl sooooo @save-the-villainous-cat here you are babes!
Cw: a little smutty
(No reposts but reblogs appreciated <3)
Hero let their eyes flicker across the screen mindlessly, barely paying attention. The movie was mediocre at best, they just needed something to do to get their team off their back, besides they weren’t really looking forward to another lonely night in their apartment anyways. The nights we’re getting cold and watching people double up and enjoy the holiday season was getting on Hero’s nerves. They weren’t a jealous person, but watching everyone strive in a domain they could hardly play in, it bubbled up inside them. They just wanted to live that cute romantic stuff.
The seat next to them moved, catching their eye, someone choosing to sit themselves directly to the right of Hero in a movie theatre that was practically empty. So much for any good time to themselves, now they had find a new row or convince the other to move.
Hero turned to face the newcomer, bracing for an argument and still debating whether or not they should just take their things and leave. “Hey-”
Villain. Villain was here. Sitting next to them. In this dark and almost empty theatre. They were grinning at Hero, a bag of popcorn in hand and a drink in the other as they shuffled their butt in their seat.
“Mind if I join you, pretty?” The nickname wasn’t what somehow compelled Hero to nod, but they were sure that it helped. They would’ve never agreed to let their nemesis sit by them casually and watch a movie, but in a sense it calmed the raging loneliness in Hero’s heart.
“What? You want to keep staring at me, or do you want to watch this movie?” Villain never faltered, throwing Hero their sultry gaze as they munched on their snacks. Hardly giving Hero the time of day, staying focused on the movie but splayed out enough in their seat to have their arm rest against Hero’s.
The other quickly corrected themselves, eyes immediately turning back to the film playing on the big screen and a small blush creeping to their cheeks. Villains arm pressed delicately against their own and as much as they wanted to deny it and ignore the sensations it provoked inside their frozen heart; they wanted so much more.
Hero wanted to feel the villain, touch them, toy with them, tease them, whatever. As long as their hands could be on Villains body and Villains could be on theirs. They craved that feeling of mutuality. They practically wanted to flip themselves around and press their bodies together in this exact moment. They were falling apart and they needed the warmth of Villains lips on theirs.
“Enjoying the movie, hm?” Villain joked, watching Hero startle from their zoned out state. They were only teasing, but in reality they hadn’t been very focused on the screenplay either. Villain shrugged, feeling Hero’s eyes on them once more. “I give it… four out of ten.”
Hero scoffed, rolling their eyes at the other. “You’ve been here for like five minutes. You can’t make a judgement on a movie not having seen the whole thing!”
Villain smirked, listening to Hero ramble on about how film is an art and must be taken seriously, blah blah blah. It was adorable. And even throughout their mindless blabbering about cinema and the messages behind it, they kept their voice low as not to bother any of the other watchers. God, if Villain didn’t have their hands full right now they would’ve probably grabbed the hero and kissed them. But they decided on a softer approach.
Propping their popcorn bag on the floor and sliding their hand over to Hero’s inner thigh, Villain squeezed gently which seemed to stop the other in the tracks of their speech. Halting completely and blinking up at the villain with eyes like saucers.
“Hero, why don’t you tell me all about cinema back at my place?” When the crime-stopper shied away from a response, Villain continued. “Don’t worry, we can do it with my head between your thighs and your hands in my hair if that makes it any better.”
Now, how could Hero decline such an offer?
Omg I saw the obscure friends-to-lovers prompts and #3 is absolutely meant for Steve. He’s always getting hurt and you’re always the worrier and then suddenly you’re sick and he has no idea what to do because his parents never took care of him
yesss omg I am always here for anything that taps into Steve's childhood issues ahfkhsh <33333
First, it was chicken pox at eleven. Despite having it as a kid, his mom wanted nothing to do with a scratching, whining boy, and his dad used work as an easy excuse. So, it fell to you, the next door neighbor who wasn’t much older than Steve, but had already gotten sick years ago and couldn't get sick again.
Then, strep throat at twelve, which you didn’t catch from him, either. The flu at thirteen, and a nasty cold at fourteen, and so on and so forth. Always Steve in the sickbed and always you tending to him with an ease he was jealous of.
For someone who walked around the world like a burden, to Steve’s surprise, he didn’t feel that way when you force fed him chicken noodle soup and laid damp cloths on his forehead.
And also to his surprise, you never faltered. Never seemed scared or overwhelmed, even when you were too young to be playing nurse.
One would think that after years of being taken care of, some of that caretaking would have rubbed off on Steve.
It didn’t. And now, you’re the one in bed, with a scarily high fever, your skin gleaming with sweat and your limbs trembling.
Give him a monster to kill, and he’s good to go. But this isn’t his territory. This isn’t his territory, and he’s trying very hard not to lose his shit, and he’s not doing that well.
“Maybe we should go to the hospital,” he says. He’s going to wear a hole through the carpet after so long pacing over the same spot, but he can’t stop. “Make sure this isn’t something more serious than the flu.”
“It’s the flu,” you say. “I just have to ride it out.”
“Ride it out? Really? That’s your medical opinion? Cuz, I gotta say, I doubt an actual doctor would agree with you on that one—”
“Steve,” you say, voice low and raspy. He pauses in his pacing, frowning. “You’re freaking out. You need to sit down.”
Steve’s frown deepens as he sits on the edge of your bed and immediately pops back up. He’s all nervous energy and twitchy limbs.
“You made it look so easy,” he says. “When we were kids, you handled it like it was nothing. You never looked scared. Never got pissed at me when I puked on your shoes.”
“I wasn’t exactly thrilled about that,” you murmur, eyes half lidded, a tiny smile on your lips. You reach out a hand, and Steve takes it, letting you pull him back down onto the bed.
Your skin is warm and clammy, but Steve just holds on tighter. Your eyes flutter shut.
“Our whole lives, you’ve taken care of me," Steve says. "And you did a damn good job of it. But now, the one time you actually need my help, and I’m—”
Your eyes are all the way open, now. Your brows furrow, and you push yourself half into a seated position against the pillows.
“Stop,” you say. “Just because I didn’t always need you to… I don’t know, fight my battles, for me, doesn’t mean I didn’t need you.” You swallow thickly. “Doesn’t mean I don’t need you now.”
Steve wilts, and he draws your hand against his chest, pressing it to his heart. He’s crossing a dozen invisible lines he’s set for himself over the years, but you’re not stopping him.
“Besides,” you murmur, “I don’t love you for your bedside manner. Which gets a B- at best.”
And it’s hardly the first time you’ve said those words, but in the last few years, love came less and less on either side. For Steve, because it meant more than it used to, and saying it like he would to a friend felt like some kind of betrayal.
This is different. The hesitance in your tone and the quick aversion of your gaze.
“You—” Steve starts.
“Don’t make me repeat it,” you say. “I know you heard me.”
Steve inhales. Holds his breath for a long moment and gathers his courage.
“I did,” he says. “And I love you too.”
You smile, and your eyes flutter shut, but not before you say, “I know.”
A laugh slips out of Steve’s mouth, and he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles, your skin warm. And even though your eyes are shut, he smiles back.
Okay we've talked a lot about Eddie secretly being in love with reader, having a crush on them for years. What about Eddie dramatic ass Munson simping for you, loudly publicly and openly being very much in love with you. He has been since middle school. You were so pretty and he was so awkward and felt so weird and you were always nice to him, discouraging kids from picking on him and his friends and other kids that were different. He was a tween that was head over heels in an instant, so what did anyone expect besides him going absolutely ham, declaring his love for you whenever he could, shouting it from the rooftops. Even when it embarrassed you, it still got your attention. And even when it embarrassed you, you still defended him. You told your friends to leave him alone, he's not doing anything wrong. You expected it to fizzle out, especially since it was so intense, but he just kept going and going and going for years, always glancing over at you when you caught his eye in the cafeteria. He knows he doesn't stand a chance with someone like you, he's not doing this to woo you or to get anything out of it, he's just expressing how he feels, like he always does. On his cafeteria table tangents, there will always be a monolog dedicated to you, his angel, his muse, his one true love. Now instead of hiding your face, he's met with an only slightly embarrassed wave. He's so genuine, so sincere that you really couldn't be mad at him even if you wanted to. You've come to expect it now. There's a line he toes, and you've never noticed how fond you've grown of his presence, his consistency over the years. He waits for you after school, even when he doesn't have detention or hellfire club, even when your stuff is running late, just so he can walk you to your car and send you off with a flourishing bow that would be awkward on anyone else, but he somehow pulls it off. Once in a while, on rare occasions, he'll tell you that you'll end up together someday. The way he says it, you know he has nothing to go on, just pure belief, pure trust and faith in what he feels. It's impressive if you're being honest. You've never met anyone as sincere as Eddie, never met anyone with such pure intentions, with no selfish ulterior motives. You haven't yet, but very soon it will hit you like a truck how much you've really grown to care for him, how attached you've become to him, how much you want him to finally kiss you on the back of your hand when you get in your car to drive home at the end of the day instead of gently stroking your knuckles, gazing at your hand, the exact spot he'd press a kiss to, before letting go. Very soon, you'll realize you really don't want him to let go anymore.
Genie in a Throttle
Will was fixing an engine when he rubbed grime off the throttle body and blue smoke poured out.
A genie appeared.
“I’ll grant you one wish,” the genie said.
“Not three?” Will asked.
“World peace would probably bring ironic consequences,” Will mused.
“I could make Hannibal the same but not a cannibal,” the genie said. “Then you could love him without guilt.”
“You know about that?” Will asked.
“Oh everyone knows,” the genie said.
Will sighed. “I’m used to the cannibalism and we get all the free meat we need.”
“Is that important?” asked the genie.
Will shrugged. “Inflation.”
For @schittscreekdrabbleblog word of the week:
David gets home and is startled to find his husband in the kitchen. "Patrick?"
Patrick turns and smiles. "Hey, baby. How was your day?"
"Awful, until about 30 seconds ago. I thought you weren't supposed to be back until tomorrow?"
Patrick shrugs. "I missed you. And I felt bad for leaving you alone at the store for three whole days."
David hums in agreement. "Today was a lot, and I'm very exhausted."
"What if I told you there is a hot bath upstairs and a wine and cheese tray to go with it?"
"I would say you're my favorite husband."
Holy shit I’m going insane rn…
Also this is in the silver mask era with the cutouts for their mouths
Okay, Swiss makes dew hard before a ritual then helps him get dressed and doing up his belt for him (for the sake of this idea they wear belts) but the problem with being hard in the suit is that the pants are pretty much skintight which means if he tucks it into his pants it’s gonna be very uncomfortable and obvious which means he’s forced to let his dick stand straight in his pants which also means that his tip will be stuck between his belt and his stomach which is why his eyes rolled to the back of his head as Swiss tightened the leather around his waist.
The ritual is torture for dew, he can feel himself leaking precum all over his stomach under the shirt and he’s secretly thanking Satan that their ritual clothes are black. He’s also trying his best to hold his guitar away from his body because as much as he loves the fact that it’s hiding everything, he can still feel the vibrations from it every time he plucks the strings.
He doesn’t jump around or stomp to the beat as much as he usually does but the rest of the ghouls have chalked it up to him being tired which isn’t a total lie but also isn’t the entire truth, Swiss knows tho, he knows just by dew’s heavy breathing and the fact that he looks like he’s trying not to curl in on himself.
By the end of the ritual dew is shaking, his breathing is heavy and Swiss is standing beside him holding his waist instead of his hand for the bow because he already knows the smaller ghoul is gonna collapse the second he lets go of him.
Once they’re off stage, everyone starts going around hugging and high-fiving each other, making jokes and laughing about things that they did on stage, and dew, poor dew is leaning against Swiss, head spinning while he waits for the taller man to take him to one of the dressing rooms and help him fix his problem.
Swiss stays there laughing and talking for a good 20 minutes before he even notices the death grip dew has on the arm wrapped around his stomach, and it’s then that he decides to say goodnight to the rest of the group. He drags dew to one of the dressing rooms and finally notices dews puffy red eyes and the tears streaming down his face under the mask, he grabs dews wrists and pins him against the wall, kissing him and pushing his knee between the smaller boys legs and pushes up till he’s standing on his toes which causes him to whimper as a set of fresh tears stream down his face, he’s so hard it hurts but he also knows Swiss isn’t gonna let him cum any time soon…
I’ll just leave this here…
two in one special! (the emojis look fucked up on my laptop lmao)
OR, if i may turn this around. because every now and then i have to let dewdrop take control otherwise just torturing him forever isn’t fun. so hear me out.
he knows swiss is not gonna let him cum any time soon. he knows. and he is ready to take the matters into his own hands. fed up with all this bullshit, all the teasing, torturing, dewdrop finally seeks a moment where he can take the reigns in his own hands.
so when they are finally alone in one of the dressing rooms (dew would have fucked swiss in the middle of everyone’s hangouts but he decided to allow swiss to feel in control for a little bit more before fighting back) and swiss is teasing him even more, knee between his legs, raising him high, his cock still between his pants and belly, the hem of his shirt is soaked, his face is puffy and red, eyes stinging, nose runny. swiss doesn’t care for his desperation, he just wants to torture him more and more. a twisted joy comes with putting the most unruly of them in his place.
so when swiss places the ghost of a touch on his cock through his pants, dewdrop sees red. dark, blood red.
he lets out a guttural sound, one that would be heard by his bandmates several rooms over. he removed his mask with inhuman speed and bares his teeth at swiss’s face, hissing like a venomous snake warning a predator, and lets out his claws.
he brings a clawed hand on swiss’s shoulder, digging into his neck and shoulder, blood pooling at the base of his nails almost immediately and a freeze takes over swiss’s body, leaving him even unable to make a sound. his legs practically stop working, forcing him to fall to his knees.
dewdrop now almost completely gone feral, rips the belt from his pants and unzips them, cock springing out immediately, covered in precum.
he uses his free hand to force swiss’s mouth open by squeezing both sides of his cheeks and once he has his mouth open, he jams his cock down swiss’ throat without any warning. swiss chokes on it for a second before he can relax his mouth and get comfortable around it, only for dew to grab his hair and hold his head still and start fucking his mouth with all the pent-up energy.
swiss now completely taken over by the feral ghoul just lets his mouth be used for dewdrop’s pleasure. he raises a hand to balance himself on dewdrop’s thigh, trying to stabilize himself a little more as dewdrop both pulls him closer by his hair and fucks back into his mouth.
“you drive me fucking crazy,” dew hisses in between thrusts, “all fucking week,” he punctuates with each thrust. “do it again and next time i won't just fuck your mouth,” he brings swiss’s face to his crotch, burying his cock deep in his throat. he can feel swiss choking and gagging around the tip of it - just feels fucking wonderful. swiss’s nose touches the short blond hairs on his crotch and spit drools from his mouth - dew still tries to push even deeper down in his throat.
once he feels like swiss cant hold there longer, he yanks his head back, releasing his cock from his mouth, only to give him a pitying smile decorated with vitriol. swiss willingly opens his mouth, slightly scared of the wild ghoul standing above him, but equally excited too.
satisfied with how obedient swiss is being, dew once again brings his cock back to his mouth, slower this time, and lets swiss actually suck his cock. swiss brings his other hand at the base of his cock, holding what he can’t fit into his mouth, and starts licking the sensitive underside of dewdrop’s cock, earning him a grunt and a thrown-back head. dew starts thrusting his hips once again, this time slower and gentler. swiss tightens the grip he has at the base of his cock and starts bobbing his head up and down with the rhythm of dewdrop’s hips. he removes the hand that was holding dewdrop’s thigh for balance and brings it to his balls, gently massaging the. he can feel dewdrop slowly trembling, and his chest rising heavily, and gets to work faster. he allows his teeth to scrape so so lightly.
“fuck you and your mouth, fuck,” dewdrop moans, followed by unintelligible words. he straightens his head and brings his hand to swiss’s hair again, tight but still lighter than before, and goes back to fucking his mouth, hitting his throat with every thrust.
“gonna cum down in your fucking throat,” he threatens, only for swiss to moan what sounds like yes around his cock.
swiss squeezes the base of his cock before releasing it and pushing his head back to his crotch, deepthroating him one last time. his cock buried deep in swiss’s throat, dewdrop moans loudly and comes violently, shaking and swearing high hell and heavens. he pushes as deep as he can, fully intending on making swiss swallow every bit of his cum. with a sudden gag reflex, swiss removes his mouth from his cock, catching the last of dew’s cum on his face.
dewdrop starts jerking the last of his orgasm out of his cock, and places a hand on swiss’s face, smearing his cum all over his face and bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth for him to clean up, not giving him a chance to say a word.
“good. don’t mess with me again like that,” he says as he removed his hands, satisfied with the cleanup swiss he did and the mess he left on his face.
he quickly pulls his pants back up and he walks up to his mask, putting it on and leaving the room; leaving swiss to conjure up even more ways to mess with him.
Prompt-Faunus Weiss was sent to Beacon by Her father because he didn’t want a illegitimate Faunus child ruining the schnee name
Weiss wiped the blood from her eyes as she lowered her weapon as the arma gigas in front of her started to dissipate. She slowly lowered her rapier and ran her fingers through her hair-like spines that she kept pulled back and out of the way. “I’m… going to be a huntress.”
Jacques frowned and looked between the armor that laid on the ground and his daughter. “Then you can go to Beacon, not Atlas.”
“But you said-”
“I told you that if you were to pass my trail, then I’ll allow you to be a huntress. However, I will not allow you to sully the Schnee name in Atlas.”
Weiss frowned and sheathed her blade as she stared down her father. “And you think I’m going to be the one to sully our name? You’re the one who married into this family and started to ruin it!”
“That’s enough Weiss. If you want to continue being a huntress, you’ll accept that you're going to Beacon, not Atlas.”
“Fine,” Weiss growled out as she started to make her way back to the halls of the manor. Her eyes made their way to the pictures on the wall of her family, her own face missing from all the portraits. She clenched her fist and looked away as she felt her face start to heat up in anger. Once she made it back to her room, she slowly began to pack and paused as she picked up a small White Fang mask. With a quick look to her scroll and then to the outside, a smirk crossed her lips. One more meeting wouldnt hurt.
With a deep breath, Weiss looked out the window of the airship as Beacon appeared in the distance. Her hand clutched the mask she kept close to her, trying to comfort herself as she came closer to the school. All she had to do was keep her head down for the first few days, make sure she was on a good team, and then she could glide through classes without problem.
She looked away from the window as the airship started to make its way to the cliffside outside of Beacon. Her eyes caught a girl with a bow and her heart stopped as she recognized her. Of all the people that were here, she did not expect anyone from the White Fang to be here too.
“All you have to do is make a friend. Like her.”
Weiss looked over to the voices she heard as she watched a blonde practically drag another student with her. She took a breath to calm herself as her fingers tapped the seat, her heel dug into the floor as she started looking for an out in case these humans started to cause her problems.
Yang smiled as she walked over to Weiss. “You look like you could use a friend and I’d like you to meet my sister, Ruby.”
“Yang, I can make friends on my own!” Ruby sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry my sister is bothering you.”
“Its… fine.” Weiss stood up and grabbed her bag to start looking for another place to sit. “But I’d rather be alone right now.”
“You cant leave just yet,” Yang said. “You havent told us your name yet.”
“Weiss, but again, I want to be alone.” Weiss started to make her way to another empty seat on the airship, keeping watch on the girl with the bow. Her hand went back to her own mask, keeping it hidden in the pocket of her skirt. If the White Fang had plans for Beacon, she wanted to be ready to help.
So here’s a comparison to maybe help newer fans understand why a lot of LJ-and-older fans are so defensive about drabbles being 100 words exactly.
It’s like haiku.
Drabbles are writing challenges. It’s a specific writing challenge to create a story or scene in 100 words exactly. Not 99, not 101.
It’s just like you can’t have a haiku in a 6-7-5-syllable format: it might well be a haiku-inspired piece of poetry, but it isn’t a haiku because it doesn’t Rise To The Challenge of the format, and you definitely couldn’t call Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” a haiku just because it’s also a poem.
I mean, I guess you could? Language is malleable. But folks will look at you strangely and think you have perhaps missed the point.
Hello can I very kindly ask Jason Todd smut where reader asks Jason to put a baby in them and Jason very consensually yet disrespectfully did just that? It would be a dream thank you
Pairing - Jason Todd X (F)Reader
Words - 2.6K
Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Graphic Sexual Content - Breeding!Kink - Size!Kink (he’s a big boy and I am here for it) - Praise!Kink - Hair Pulling - Jason is a bit of a meanie - Wall Sex - Swearing - No plot, just porn - Unprotected sex - So much Dirty Talk - Fluff.
Notes - Babbbyyyy, yes of course!! Jason Todd is a disrespectful little shit but good fucking god I would let this man ruin me. Just fuck me up okay?? Fuck me uuupppppp. Hope you enjoy!! If you’ve got any other requests for either Jason or Dick, send em my way!!
He wrecks you from the inside out–twists your chest half open to shove himself between the tiny space of your ribs. He’s got a smart fucking mouth–tugs you straight into blinding tailspin with nothing more than a quick quirk of his lips and a bright flash of perfect teeth. Rough and mean but so incredibly kind and protective–a paradox wrapped in kevlar and littered with bruises.
Jason Todd can be something wicked when he wants to be–something calculating and devastating. He uses all that intellect and training and knowledge to take you apart piece by piece–he’s clever and quick witted and gets you wet with nothing more than a look.
He’s perfect and you love him but sometimes–good fucking god–
Sometimes you hate him.
“C’mon sweetheart, open up for me.” Jason grunts, there’s a feral gleam in his eyes, pupils blown wide and highlighting the thin ring of blue left behind. His teeth clash together with a snarl as he clenches his jaw and when he looks down at you–all pressed up against him like a goddamn gift–the sound that rips up his throat makes you tremble. “Baby–c’mon...please. Open up for me huh? Be a good girl.”
A heaving gasp shudders out from between your kiss swollen lips, head thunking backwards against the wall. The fat leaking head of his cock presses against your weeping hole, thick and blunt and too fucking big. A choked off gasp reverberates around the room when he dips his head and mouths at your jaw, teeth nipping over your pulse point.
“Y’wanted this darlin’,” He reminds you, words vibrating against your throat. “Y’asked me didn’t you? Asked so nicely for me to fuck a baby into you.” Jason holds you up with nothing more than the strength of his hips pinning you to the wall, fingers clamping around your knees–shoving your shaking thighs apart so he can press his heavy cock into you–but it just won’t fit. “Why won’t you let me in, sweetheart? I thought this was what you wanted–don’t you want me to cum in you? Don’t you wanna be full?”
Your body lights up like a solar flare, bright and burning and alive. You’ve always had a smart mouth–or maybe just no verbal filter–always thrown your opinion towards someone who’s stupid enough to listen. It’s gotten you into more trouble than it’s worth–rubs certain people the wrong way and you don’t exactly blame them…you’re a lot to handle.
Except Jason Todd took one look at you and decided that you’re it–smart mouth and all. Caught your eye and swept you straight up into his gravity without a second thought. Sometimes you think he might regret it a little–especially when you manage to piss off the wrong people–but he never fails to surprise you.
And when you jokingly asked him to put a baby in you, he surprised you yet again–made you eat your own words. Out of all his qualities, you think you like this one the best–love the fact he challenges you–puts you straight back in your place.
“Jay…” You plead, fingers scrambling for purchase over his broad shoulders. “Jay–please! M’tryin, I swear I am. You–you’re too fuckin–hng–” Tears bubble up along your lower lashes, eyes wide and pleading. Your thighs flex against Jason’s firm grip and you feel him smirk over the hollow of your throat. “You’re too big…oh–please!”
“I just don’t think you’re trying hard enough baby. I mean, look how wet you are–your pussy is dripping for me, and you mean to tell me I won’t fit?” The horrible mocking tone of his voice makes you whine–makes your cunt clench up tight like a fist. Jason keeps you spread open, thighs split wide around his hips so he can rub the length of his cock through your slit–he drags the fat head from your clenching hole to your clit–the sensation sparking like electricity through your veins. “M’gonna make it fit sweetheart, gonna stretch your little pussy open and fill you up.”
Catching his leaking tip at the weeping entrance of your cunt he groans something feral in your ear and shoves forwards–hips flexing and thick muscular thighs straining. He sinks halfway into your tight little hole before stopping, breath catching hard in his lungs when you clamp down around his length and stop him in his tracks.
Jason glances down your body, sharp eyes fixating on the sight of your puffy cunt swallowing his cock inch by inch. Pulling back he surges forwards and rocks into you, dragging a low moan from your mouth as he grinds against the swollen mess of your clit.
“Jay–” You keen, eyes rolling backwards into your skull. “Oh…please, please put a baby in me–please!”
He chuckles, throat thick with lust, “Y’have to let me in first baby–gotta let me into your sweet cunt. C’mon, it’s not that hard. Why won’t you open up, huh?”
“S’too big!” You wail, blinking back tears. “Y’too big, Jay. It won’t fit.”
Jason snarls, tugging you forwards and slamming you back against the wall, eyes wild. Sweat dots along his hairline, teeth gritted into a mean little growl. The tension in his arms makes the muscles bulge, thick veins puffing up along his biceps–you feel almost drunk on him, on his scent, on the dangerous look in his eyes.
“It’s not too big, you’ve taken it before baby–haven’t you? Fucked yourself on my cock until you’ve cried and creamed all over it like a little slut. It’s not too big–” He thrusts forwards, finally getting your walls to open up–to yield to him. “There you go–see, it wasn’t that hard.” He purrs.
You both moan as he sinks into you with a satisfying stretch, voices catching together and reverberating off the walls. Pressing your forehead to Jason's, you sob at the wet sound of your pussy squelching around him–slick leaking around the sides of his cock and smearing over his navel.
It’s almost too much, “Please Jay–shit, fuuck–please. I-I can’t, oh god–I can’t.”
Drawing back then surging forwards he fucks into you hard enough to make your whole body jolt, “I don’t care. You can take it–you will. I’m gonna make you take it. Y’asked me for this sweetheart, begged me to put a baby in you and that’s exactly what i’m gonna do.”
You hate him–hate how he stuffs your own words back down your throat, makes you choke on each stupid vowel. But good fucking god if it doesn’t make you wet–makes you want to clamp down around him and come and come and come.
Rocking your hips up against his harsh grip you try to get him deeper–try to get the fat head of his cock pressed as far inside your soaking cunt as possible. Jason groans low and thick in your ear, his breath fanning down your neck and dragging a shudder up your spine. His fingers flex around your knees and he hoists you higher up the wall–spreads your thighs even wider.
“Touch yourself for me sweetheart, wanna feel your pretty pussy squeezin’ me.”
Clamping one hand on his shoulder you use the other to snake between your bodies. Brushing down your stomach you press the pad of your finger to your clit–it twitches hard at the contact and you moan, pleasure sparking white hot all over. Dipping down to where Jason stuffs his cock into your weeping hole you gather your wetness and smear it over your cunt.
Circling your clit you rub over it with tight circles, pressure firm and unwavering. Opening your mouth on a heaving gasp you moan when Jason presses his mouth to your own, teeth sinking into your bottom lip and firing that perfect hint of pain through your veins. Licking into your mouth he slides his tongue against your own and you drool at the taste of him–find yourself chasing his mouth when he pulls back with a cocky grin.
“C’mon baby, don’t you want to come for me?” He teases, fucking into you at a steady pace, cock hitting all the most perfect parts inside you. He mouths along your jawline, nipping at your pounding pulse before sucking a mark there–just because he can, because he wants you to look at it and think of him. “M’not filling you up until you come sweetheart ‘nd I’m real fuckin’ close so you better hurry up.”
“Ah–shit. Okay, okay…just–please don’t–” Clamping around his length hard, your pussy convulses—almost like you’re trying to push him out—clit swelling against your fingers. Throwing your head back you moan, voice high and breathy. Your head feels fuzzy, eyes unfocused.
“Don’t what?” Jason urges, lips quirking up at the edges at the pretty fucked out look on your face. “Don’t what baby?”
Teetering on the edge of oblivion you feel tears burn at the backs of your eyes. The pleasure feels alive inside you–feels like it’s going to make you burst at the seams.
“Oh god, Jason! Don’t stop–please don’t stop!” Your body shakes in his grasp, muscles trembling as you reach out and touch the edge of orgasm. You trail off into a heaving babble, words sticking against the inside of your mouth. “Please–please! M’so close.”
“M’not gonna stop baby. Not for anythin’” He assures you, doubling his efforts and slamming his cock into you at a pace that borders pain–strong hips knocking against your own and sending you directly into the goddamn stratosphere. “Come on, y’want to be a good girl for me don’t you? Come for me sweet girl, wanna feel you.”
You’ve never been one to deny him–Jason Todd deserves everything good in the world, the least you can give him is this.
You clamp down like a vice, pussy pulsing around his thick girth. Every twitch of your puffy clit makes you cry out, voice hoarse and pleading. Your cunt gushes, slick seeping around his cock and smearing over his navel and upper thighs. The sensation makes heat scathe up your neck, embarrassment skittering over your skin—you’re making such a mess.
“That’s it pretty girl–so good for me.” Jason coos, soft mouth slanting over your own and swallowing the desperate noises ripping up your throat. His pace refuses to falter and the overstimulation makes you want to flinch away, but you’re trapped between his unyielding body and the wall. Wetness coats the length of his cock enabling him to rock into your cunt without resistance–the slick slide of him rubbing over that sensitive spot inside you.
Your orgasm starts to fade, but Jason doesn’t stop, just keeps going, pounding into your pussy without restraint. Copper coats your tongue when your teeth sink into his lower lip, skin splitting under the strain and smearing over your mouth. He pulls back and stares you down, mouth twitching into a feral grin–blood coats his teeth, you think he gets off on the taste of it–you do too.
“Jay,” You gasp, “I-I can’t–fuck.”
“Shut up.” He grunts, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. “I’ll make you take it.” Your vision whites out at the edges and Jason’s furious rhythm begins to falter, thrusts turning sloppy and uncoordinated. Tangling your fingers into the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck you pull–hard. “Shit! Fuck–do that again, baby, please d’that again!”
Tightening your fist you wrench his head back–expose his throat–and he moans, all low and pretty, eyes rolling back into his skull. His cock twitches in your cunt–getting impossibly harder. You know he’s close–can feel him tremble against you.
“You’re so pretty, Jay.” You grin, dragging your teeth over his throat and sucking a dark mark there. He preens under your words, chest heaving. “C’mon pretty boy, can you come for me? Want you to fill me up, Jay. Want you to put a baby in me.”
His voice cracks when he calls your name in warning, jamming his cock as far into your cunt as it’ll go, thighs shaking–full balls pulling up tight. Rocking your hips up against him you press soft little kisses over his neck, fingers still fisted in his hair as he comes.
He absolutely floods your pussy, come spilling out around the edges of his cock–you feel it dripping warm and sticky down the inside of your thighs. Clamping your squishy walls around his length Jason whines, grinding his pulsing cock into you as he pumps rope after rope of come into you.
“You’re so good for me, Jason. Such a good boy.”
Carding your fingers through his hair he sags under your touch as he comes down, harsh breaths evening out. Wrapping your legs over his hips, Jason hooks his hands under your thighs to hold you against him, cock still trapped in your pussy–preventing his release from spilling out of you.
“You’re such a little shit. Y’know that?” Jason grumbles, pressing his forehead to your own.
“Me?” You croak, mildly outraged. “I haven’t done a single thing wrong in my life.” Pulling back and pinning you with a deadpan stare Jason raises an eyebrow. “Alright, fine! I may have done a few stupid things–but no more than like…five.”
“Shh.” You say, smothering a yawn. “Unless the next word out of your mouth is pizza, m’not listening.”
He’s silent for a beat, eyes softening as he drinks you in–flushed and sweaty and beautiful. There’s a quick skip of your heart, a surge of warmth flowing through your veins. Sometimes, when you look at him, you can’t believe he chose you–looked at you and decided that out of everyone, you deserve his time and attention. If you think about it too much, you know that you’ll cry–his love doesn’t come easy and you know that for the rest of your life, you’ll prove to him that it’s worth it.
“I love you.” Jason smiles, all crooked and perfect and yours.
“What was that? I wasn’t listening.”
Biting back a smile he leans in and kisses you–all slow and tender. The gentle push and pull of his mouth makes your eyes flutter shut, hand cupping the nape of his neck to hold him there. Licking into his mouth you sigh at the taste of him, tongues sliding together. Your lungs start to burn and you lean back, breaking the kiss to suck in a full breath.
Jason looks at you–sharp eyes flickering over your face. Having his full, undivided attention sometimes makes you uneasy. He’s a calculating son-of-a-bitch when he wants to be, and he’s managed to catch you off guard more than once. You wonder for a brief moment what’s going through his head.
Sweeping your fingers over the back of his neck you feel him shudder.
“I love you.”
No matter how many times you tell him, Jason still gets a whisper soft look of awe on his face–almost like he can’t believe that you’re real, like he can’t comprehend the fact that you love him. It breaks your heart each time, the fact that someone as precious as him doubts that any ounce of love towards him could be real.
Cupping his flushed cheeks you brush your thumbs over his cheekbones and tip his head down. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead you linger for a beat before releasing him from your hold and allowing him to raise his head to look at you.
Waiting for his eyes to meet your own you smile, mouth lifting up at the edges.
“I love you.” You repeat, firmer, more insistent.
His watery smile breaks over you like the dawn and you know that Jason Todd holds your heart in the palm of his hands.
Oo oo oooh number 7?
Drunk! Reader x DCA (Moon Centric) Set Post-Fire / DCA is living with Reader. May contain slight spoilers for Solar Lunacy ARC 3.
AO3 Link (preferred if you want to comment!)
NOTE: This one was HIGHLY requested by several people omg. This one-shot is leaning more romantic, contains drinking and suggestive humor. Moon is caring for a drunken reader. Wordcount: 3,700+
It started out as a friendly invite from a couple of classmates, a few who's names you remember and some others that you'd hardly recall their faces, but you all faced the same hellish finals together, neck deep in studying and deadlines that the lack of aqqauintance with them didn't so much as matter as the mutual understanding that college was hell, and final exams were the metaphorical boss battle you all had to face against.
You pass by the skin of your teeth. Between what was happening outside of classes and your own habit of procastinating, you were close to calling it quits for the semester. But Sun was helpful going over the material for you, and Moon kept you from being distracted, so you pass. Barely, and you're already stressed to the nines, but it's enough.
So when your classmate messages the class's group chat (much to the proffessor's charigin) about a group outing at a local bar to celebrate, you agree. You haven't been able to be social lately, and some reprieve was needed. You didn't really drink, and the bar wasn't really your style, but a change of pace was in order. Gramps promises to answer the door for the Attendants if something came up, but they liked to bother him reguardless when you weren't home, so you leave with a quick goodbye to do a little celebratory socializing.
And that's how you're....here. Drunk and alone.
Turns out after the first hour, everyone scampered off to go get hitched or call it for the night. It was nice, but a majority of them are dispersed by now or in pockets, save for one classmate (Brittney? Becky? You don't remember) who's actaully chatting it up with the robot bartender.
She's twirling her hair around her finger and blantently flirting with the robot in plain view, probably as tipsy as you are. It's a scene you glance over at occasioanlly in amusement while you nurse your own drink. The robot doesn't seem bothered, but then again, you can't tell if it's able to even display emotion like that.
Though, you did notice it never shooed her away, never charged for her second drink and was currently pouring flavored water into her shot glass while she laughs at some sort of joke it makes that you don't hear.
Kinda funny how far along human and robot relations have come, hasn't it?
You sip at your own drink again, finishing it off, and stand up from your chair-
-and that's a bad idea. The world spins, tilts far left to the side until you grip the side of the counter to pull yourself back down to the chair and wait for the disortion to subside.
Out of the corner of your eye, the bartender's mechanical eyes flit to you for a split second, then return back to Brenda. (Or Bethany. Who knows.)
Pulling out your phone, you check the time. It's late at night, almost the early hours of the morning. The bar is open for now, but will close soon enough by the time you wait for the tipsy to pass and sobering to start, and to be fair, it just doesn't dawn on you to ask for water when you're a bit too preoccupied trying to not be dizzy.
Walking home alone like this is...probably not a good idea.
Gramps is in your speedial, along with another number you've put in here fairly recently.
(You did teach them how to use the phone properly, right? Oh, you'll feel so terrible if you have to wake Gramps up at this hour, the poor old guy.)
(You can probably make it home by yourself. It's just a ten minute walk.)
(Maybe you can ask someone here for a ride home. Nevermind. The last remaining of your known classmates are either arguing in the corner, leaving as you watch and Brooklyn's flirts with the robot bartender is becoming more and more riskay by the minute.)
You blink. In your hand, your phone screen says you're in a call. You're finger is still pressing over the spot where you selected the contact. Oops. Did you mean to do that? "Uh.-"
A sound from the speaker thats soft spoken and slow. You press it up against your ear to hear it better amongst the bar's chatter, and a low voice repeats itself. "You should be sleeping."
You can't pick up the meaning in his tone. You're too muffled in your own brain to make out the ends of his sentences that you just rock back in your chair and hum in your throat. "Heya...Hi." You start, voice slurring. "Hi Moon."
There's a pause on the other end of the call. "Where are you?"
"Uh, same place. You know." You wave your hand off and don't feel stupid that he couldn't see your gesture. "The uh, bar down the road. The one with the big neon sign in the front. Looks like kinda like ah, a...banana. The thing, curved thing on the front."
"Okay." Moon sounds tired, except robots don't get tired, and that's just what he usually sounds like whenever he's dealing with your shenanigans, or something particularly difficult. Sometimes he says you're difficult, but not in the way that feels mean. "Stay there."
"Well, I can't, dumbass I gotta get home at some point. Bar closes soon." You huff into the phone. "Was gonna leave here in a bit, anyways. Just need to sit for a minute."
"A minute." Moon repeats. His voice echoes like he's talking to you from a stairwell.
"Yeah-huh. Like, a minute." You lean back in your chair confidently, then immediatly lean back towards the counter as the legs started to tip the other direction and forgoe any movement to just lean against the bartop. "Didn't mean to call you. My finger slipped."
He hums, and it sounds less than convinced. "Hmm. How much?"
"How much...what?" The end of your question is drawled out with your lack of sobriety.
"Nevermind." Footsteps, air against the phone speaker. Moon speaks plainly. "Did you have fun?"
"Man, whats with you and the questions?" You blow air out of your nose, your free hand thumbing minelessly for your shot glass and looking up from the wooden counterop when you feel something different.
A glass of ice water was set next to you, replacing what little alcohol you had left in your cup. The bartender is on the other side of the room, still talking to your classmate, but you've already seen how it's been replacing her drink with water, and frown at your own. "Aw, damn."
"Shut uuuup." You groan into the mic, and your head plops down onto the counter, resting. "I had fun. It was...alright."
Moon makes a noise of aknowledgment, a quiet sound to continue.
"I got the lowest score in the class." You confess, almost mummbling. There's no one paying attention to you, and the bar was sparspy populated so it's not like you had anything to be embarressed over. Still, your breath comes back up to your face as you rest your head and it smells like vodka. "I mean, nothing's wrong with that. Still passed though."
He hmms through the phone. "We know. You told us."
"Got ditched." A slurred sentence, quickly continued after a moment. "Not like, ditched ditched. Like....everyone's gettin' ready to leave soon. They've got their own bubbles, m'not in them." You slow to a stop, looking around the room. There's even less people now, and with the slow music playing on the speakers, it's a nice vibe. Smelled like cigaratte smoke and alchol though.
It's relaxing. You're relaxed. That drink is really settling in, and your legs are feeling like heavy weights and your tongue easy to move when you talk. In fact, you could sit here for a few more hours under the low-lights, listening to soft music, rambling about how college is stupid and how you regret being such a lightweight. Maybe skip out on the drinks, next time. You were starting to feel tired.
"Don't tell me that yet."
You blink, blearily, head shifting to look back down at your phone. "Hmm?"
There's a small pause on the other end, a silence punctuated only by soft background noises that you can't make out through the call. "...You've been talking outloud for the past few minutes."
Minutes? It's been seconds, no way. You squint at the phone screen, ignoring the numbers in the corner for the numbers that state how long you've been on call. It's too bright for you, so you put the phone back to your ear. "S'fine. I mean't to do that."
"Sure." Moon says. "Anything else?"
"...It's uh, dark enough in here for you."
"Kinda stinks, though."
"We wouldn't be able to tell."
"I think my classmate likes robots." You speak quieter, which only makes half of your sentence coherent but you continue off the drunken assumption that your rambles were making sense anyway, free hand cupped around your mouth and facing away from the flirting scene like a kindergardener giggling at juicy gossip. Luckly, your classmate is too far to hear you, and if the robot did, then it doesn't show it. "Like, likes-likes robots. She totally wants to bang it. Her. I think. I think the robots a girl."
"Uh-huh." Moon speaks dully, but you can hear faint amusement. "Good for her."
"Can robots do that? Wait, don't answer that." You bring down your phone away from your ear to glance back up towards said classmate like you were scared of getting caught gossipping. You were, in a sense, not the best at being subtle, but both the bartender robot and your classmate are now seated at a booth away from the counter, holding their own conversation.
You stiffle a small gasp. "Holy shit, I think they're hitting it off."
Moon does the robot equivlanet of a sigh. "Don't stare."
"Right. Rightrightrightright-" You turn away quickly, curling back into yourself like some child caught in the act. "I'm not-I'm not staring-Wait, how didja even know I was looking?"
The sound of a car driving past, a door softly opening. "We know you. You're nosy."
"You're mean." You huff, phone pushed into the space between your ear and neck, using the countertop to rest your head. "I want to go home."
"Can robots make out?" The question is so out-of-the-blue you can almost feel the whiplash you send through the phone. "Because I think they're about to. Becky, uh. Brianna. I don't know her name. They're like, really getting along. M'not staring by the way. I'm glancing."
"Is it like, all robots can do it or just some of them? I don't know if, it's like-uh, like..is that insensitive? Am I offensive?"
"If I google it do I get weird pictures or do I get an answer?"
"Can I ask you a question?" You continue. "A totally...not weird question. Maybe kinda weird. Not the weirdest thing I've asked you. Anyway, can you-?"
You raise your head, looking down at the phone as it flashes the 'call ended' words before going back to your home screen. In a tipsy gasp, your mouth drops open. He hung up on you! Why that little-
"Ask again when you're sober."
A low voice startles you, and you spin around and almost falll off your chair in the motion.
Moon stands behind you, phone still in hand but lowering to pocket it in his hoodie. (Plain, simple, the biggest one you could find to fit them. He still wears his star pants and ribbons but at least he took the bells off his slippers.) and glowers down at you with a quiet look. He has the hood pulled up, even with the hat on, and it just makes his eyes glow a little more in the low-lights.
His hand raises to the glass of water, now with most of it's ice melted, and slides it across the counter towards you. "Drink."
You blink blearily at him, and it's out of synch. "When did you get here-"
"Drink." He repeats, hoisting the glass up to your face until you grumble something innapropriate and snag it from him. You chug it down rather quickly while he waits, and the room never quietens in the few seconds that it takes, but you listen to the conversations out of habit.
Bailey and the bartender robot were definatley gonna start dating or something, and your classmate didn't even look drunk anymore, just a bad flirter. Most of the people in the bar were humans (why would robots come here? They can't drink, and they'd be outnumbered 10 to 1 anyways) save for the other two automations you think are quietly hanging out outside, but it's mostly flesh and blood.
A quiet 'where did that one come from? the circus?' reaches your ears as soon as you finish the water, dropping the glass down on the table and turning your head to whatever human spoke but Moon inturrupts you. A sleeved arm holds out in front of you. "Stand up. Here."
"Don't tell me what to do." Comes out slurred and stuffed up, but the world tilts when you lift yourself off the chair, so your hands find his arm and your balance steadies. "I want to go home."
"Mmm." Moon turns, slowly so you don't get stick, and leads you to the door. "It's past your bedtime."
"Dun't have a bedtime."
"You will tonight." You are lead past the remaining patrons, who don't really care about your departure save for the one or two off-hand glances. Moon opens the door with one hand, holding it open, and guides you through. "Come on."
Your classmate turns your way, and you register her throwing up two thumbs up in your direction with a wide, encouraging smile just as the door shuts behind you. Whoops.
The bar's neon light is bannaa shaped because of some island-theme they had back before redesign that never got taken down, but in your shifting vision and the night's dim lights, it kinda looks like a cresent moon. This is something you voice outloud without meaning to, and Moon spares your thoughts with a glance to the sign, and a chuckle before he leads you down the sidewalk.
Walking is...well, it's taking some bit of effort. Everything felt kinda heavy, your stomach was starting to churn and you needed to use the restroom soon. Maybe you could get home faster if you speed-walked or something, or took a shortcut. You pull away from the guiding arm out for you. "I can walk."
"Okay." And so Moon lets you pull away, standing straight and watching as you take a few tentive steps. You fumble on your fifth step, but the ground never has a chace to rush towards you. A hand around your shoulders, tight but never lower, presses you back towards the Attendant until your own grip finds his upper arm and dig your fingernails into the sleeve.
He's walking before he even asks again. "Want to try again."
Your nose wrinkles up, and whatever word you had formlated in your mind comes out garbled and incoherent. "Heuh."
It's peaceful walking at night. Sometimes cars would pass by on this road, and the bright headlights would make your eyes sting but you never ran into anything. Fireflies start to appear in scarcity as you approuch your apartment, rambling about your classmates and the exam and how the vodka didn't taste at all how the bar marketed to be while your animatronic guide is quiet with the occasional noise of aknowledgement, and very focused on making sure you don't trip on every pebble you see.
"This is kinda like...when you escorted me to the doors, back at the pizzaplex." You talk outloud again, and there's no sting in your voice when you're drunk. "You know, ya escorting me."
Moon doesn't look up from the keypad to your apartments, jotting in the number (because just hacking it served you a few complaints from maintenence) and hums. "It is."
You are lead through the opened door, and into the stairwell. "But like, this time you get to come home with me."
"Every night." Moon adds, and finds the door to your apartment without so much as turning on the light in the hallway. It's nearly pitchblack, but you're not scared or bothered by the lack of sight in the slightest. The perks of having a robot friend with night vision means free avoidance of bumping into walls. You hear the clacking of keys, and the door opens. "Inside-"
You go in before he can finish, using the wall and the kitchen counter to steady you until you make it to the living room and the adjacent hallway. The lights are off for obvious reasons, but the living room lamp is on, so it's just enough light for you to make out your path. The world still tilts, although it's weakening, you barely manage to make it to the bathroom door, yelling out some incoherent 'illbeouutinasecond' before you swing the door shut.
When you come back out, Moon is in the kitchen, and he turns to see you almost plank on the sofa cushions for a rest. You miss, bounce off the edge of the seats and faceplant on the floor instead. "...oww."
Soft padded footsteps approuch you, and you are unceramounsly yanked up by the back of your shirt until you're placed on the cushions (he lifted you effortlessly and carefully, but you still groan like an elephant at the movement) and turned over until you're facing upwards, sitting back against the cushion on the back arm rest.
Something wrapped in a napkin is shoved in front of your face. "Eat."
You smell it before you can process seeing it. A plain, peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which you take into your hands, pull away the napkin and take a huge bite before you can say your appreciation properly without a mouthful "Thhansk."
There's no response, but a hand comes up to your forehead, brushing back against your scalp and gentle running through your hair. His hand lingers there as Moon crouches besides the couch. The hoodie is gone now, so it's just his hat and t-shirt. You can see his soft smile more clearly. "You need to go to bed when you're done."
You talk inbetween bites. "M'not moving."
"Then stay here." He rises, knuckles brushing across your ear as his hand moves and disappears down the hallway. You're on the last bites of your sandwhich when he reappears with a blanket and pillow in hand, along with a folder you recognize with stars and moons in it's printed pattern.
The blanket is tossed over your legs and feet, and the folder is set to the coffee table besides you along with a pen. In your approuching bare-sobreity, you recognize the papers peeking out from the edge. Moon sits down besides the couch, back facing you, and opens up to where he left off presummably before he came and retrieved you.
He grades papers while you finish your sandwich and peek nosely over his shoulder. "You never answered my question."
Moon does not look up from grading his student's papers. "I haven't."
"Silly." He starts, marking an answer wrong and setting that finished paper to the side. His voice never breaks from the calm tone. "Asking personal questions, gossiping in public like that. Intoxicated."
"I wasn't the only one." You defend, and realize that's not exactly a factor that can play in your favor, so you search your clouded tipsy brain for another answer. "Look, listen. I was dared to do shots. I don't..., uh, drink. Like ever. M'lightweight. But I'm not a coward."
The animatronic's head turns towards you on his swivel. "Bad decision. Probably already tipsy."
"Hey-" You warn, pointing a finger in his face. "The amuont of drunk I was has no corrolations-" That last word comes out fumbled. You ignore how Moon's smile twitches upwards. "-no corrolations to the bad decisions I've made."
"Sure." Moon chuckles, onto the next batch of ungraded papers in his folder. "You make plenty of those."
You make a notable effort to brush off any of the crumbs on your shirt in his direction. "You weren't a bad decision."
The monotonous sound of pen scratching pauses for a moment. Then continues. "Debatable."
"Booo." You groan, your disagreement echoing in the living room and silence settling between you two only broken by pages turning and pen scratching.
Sinking into the sofa and watching him work becomes a lullaby, and you feel sleep teter at the edge of your mind as the animatronic finishes up the current page, closing the folder and setting it to the side. Moon pushes the folder to the center of the coffee table, left out to finish the rest later, and you puff up your cheeks to blow air at his face when he turns back to you.
He doesn't even squint, just stares dully at you until you've finish. "Thanks for getting me."
His head tilts. "Mhmm."
Your cheek presses further into the pillow. Nausea is there, something in the pit of your stomach, but it is long buried by the promise of sleep. "But for the record, I didn't ask for you to take care of me."
A blurred movement in the corner of your eye. His hand has returned, settled against your head with his thumb gently running over your skin. "We didn't ask for your permission."
"....M'gonna be hungover in the morning."
"Yes." Moon grin in a way that's both soft and amused. You wonder if his sunny counterpart would be this teasing too, considering that's who's most likely going to be rubbing your back when you're kneeled over the toilet in the morning. "You will be very hungover. Go to sleep."
You mummble something in protest, but your eyes close nonetheless. "M'sleeping already. Geeze."
Your response is a quiet hum, and the hand brushing against your forehead in slow motions until you start to drift away. That hand lingers, softley, and doesn't return to the pen until the world fades and you are well into slumber.
hi hello can i please request a drabble where villain and hero flirt with each other as a joke (not really) and then villain kisses heroes cheek and then flees and hero is completely shocked cause like. i like villain?? and they like me back??? anyways i love your writing and you dont have to do this request only if you want to!!! <333
Damn good stuff.
“Why are you here?”
Hero thought the answer was obvious, during their last so-called “fight” Villain had kissed them on the cheek before they fled. Causing a turmoil of long-suppressed emotions to resurge in Hero’s heart and they hardly wasted a second before tracking down the other.
“Why do you think?” Hero shifted their feet against the well groomed carpet beneath them, it felt wrong to have their shoes on such a lovely flooring, but they hadn’t exactly thought of that when they burst through Villains front door.
Villain wasn’t a trusting person, they had been betrayed far too many times to ever hold faith in another person ever again. They didn’t fall for the open bait Hero placed, they weren’t going to answer to the intruder. After all, this could be some ploy for their heart instead of a true confession.
“Look, Hero, if you’re here to humiliate me or degrade me or use me for information, it’s not going to work.” Villain paused, waiting for Hero to try some big speech and interrupt them, but they stayed perfectly still, panting a little from their obvious run to Villains base. “I like you, but I’m not that desperate, okay?”
It was true, Villain had been crushing on the hero for weeks if not months at a time. There was something in the hero’s kind demeanour and their carefree spirit that provoked a constant throbbing on Villains heart.
Hero took a deep breath, trying to steady their breathing as if their heart wasn’t beating out of their chest and into their eardrums. They needed to play their cards right and they couldn’t mess this up.
“I’m… I’m not going to do that.” Hero straightened themselves before continuing. “I’m not going to hurt you or use you or betray you in any way. I-I want you, Villain. I don’t want anyone else…”
Villain only raised their eyebrow, unconvinced with Hero’s statement.
“A-And I know, that there’s nothing I can do to make you believe that. There’s no words that can come out of my mouth that will automatically restore your faith in humanity and make you trust me to the utmost level.”
If the criminal wasn’t trying to play themselves cool they probably would’ve giggled at the ridiculousness of Hero’s speech. They were ultimately correct and it was funny how well Hero knew the villain.
“However! I would like you to trust me a-and I would like you to trust me as more than just a partner or a coworker, no, no, no…” If Hero didn’t know any better they’d believe that Villain was almost curious at this point.
“I would like you to trust me as a you would a lover.”
“I wouldn’t trust my lover.”
“Then a close friend?”
Villain finally laughed, “Worse.” and Hero seemed to relax a little at sensing the playful change in the atmosphere.
“Then I guess I’m shit out of luck, huh?” And the laughter came from both of them this time. Dying down to an anxious silence as the villain stepped forwards.
One hand outstretched towards the Hero’s, delicately taking Hero’s hand in there’s as Villain focused with a certain intensity to their eyes.
“Maybe we could work on that… together?”
The hero couldn’t have been happier.
omg from the prompts you just reblogged, 7 and 8 would fit so well with Steve being kicked out and reader coming for him 😭
ok this was written primarily on my lunch break so its even less edited than normal but i have a Lot of Feelings about it ajdj
The phonebooth’s walls press in around Steve’s sides, and the rain smacking the glass is like a stampede, falling so hard it shakes the booth.
Steve’s fingers tremble as he dials the only number he knows will pick up.
One ring. Two. Three—
“Hello?” Your voice comes through the speaker a little garbled, and your tone is thick with sleep.
“Hey,” Steve says, palming the back of his neck. “I know it’s late, and I’m sorry if I woke you up, but I—“
“Steve,” you say. “What’s going on?”
A sob claws up his throat and he barely strangles it back down in time to say, “I had no one else to call.”
You go quiet for a second. Then, he hears muffled noises, like you’re moving on the other side of the line.
“Where are you?” You ask. “I’m coming to get you.”
Steve lets out a shaky breath. Tips his head back against the photobooth glass.
“Phonebooth. Main street,” he whispers.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
You hang up before Steve can tell you he doesn’t have anywhere to go, anyway.
The sleet makes the drive take twice as long, and when you pull up, the phonebooth is the only light on the street. You can see the silhouette inside, arms wrapped around his torso, head tipped back against the glass. On the floor near his feet is a duffel bag.
Your heart sinks. You park the car a few yards from the phonebooth and climb out into the rain. Steve unbolts the phonebooth door and slips outside, slinging his duffel over his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “My dad and I got in this big fight, and next thing I know he’s throwing me out the front door—“
“It’s okay,” you say, crossing the asphalt to meet him. “It’s okay.”
“It’s definitely not okay. I have no place to stay, and who knows if he’ll even let me take my car—“
“You’re coming home with me,” you say.
Steve frowns. His gaze falls and darts back up to your face, a sly grin tugging on his lips.
He gestures to your pajama pants, pastel blue with a bunch of cartoon ducks printed over it. You scrunch your nose.
“You are not talking shit about my outfit right now,” you say.
Steve’s smile widens—becomes more genuine. “Oh, I’m not talking shit. I think you look adorable.”
You’re grateful for the dark and its ability to hide your blush.
“Do those lines really work on girls?” you ask.
“I mean, more of less,” he says, shrugging a shoulder, “but I don’t really care about other girls. Does it work on you?”
You peer up at him, through the rain and the dark, and can’t help the smile that lifts your lips. Shaking your head, you stretch up to press a kiss to his wet cheek, and say, “Get in the damn car, Harrington.”
And with a smug smile, he does.
Just saw a headcanon about how frequently bakugo washes his clothes even if he just wore them for like an hour and I'm obsessed. It's probably subconscious but he 100% washes his clothes a million times a day and has those plastic mattress protectors under his sheets because if something gets sweaty and someone lights a cigarette a block away this whole place is blowing up. Very paranoid boyfriend. He won't let you wear his hoodies unless they're fresh out of the wash. When you complain he's like "yeah sure wear one that smells like me and blow yourself up dumbass. Not happening." When he moved into the dorms and had to start doing his own laundry his mom told him that his dad (a certified house husband) said to wash his clothes with some bleach to get rid of the nitroglycerin esque sweat and reduce the risk for explosions. All bakugo retained was bleach = safe. He starts drowning his clothes in a big bucket of bleach stirring it with a broom handle and rubber gloves like a witch's brew. After a week when all his clothes have cycled through bleach hell everything is blindingly white. Head to toe solid white. He looks like a backstreet boy. You're the only person who can ask him what the fuck is up without getting barked at. He finally fesses up, "it's from all the bleach, I just didn't have time to dye them back." You're flabbergasted.
"You... you didn't use color safe bleach??"
"Color safe what-"
You spend the next three days following him from store to store and buying them out of rit dye. All his jeans are still acid washed. You never let him live it down.
Sin Sunday Drabble #23
Stranger Things: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader
Warnings: Cock Warming, Semi public, shotgunning
Eddie was seated on the porch of the trailer, enjoying a cigarette as you got out of the car, exhausted from your shift at the diner.
“Hey baby doll,” he grinned when he saw you and patted his legs.
You dropped into his lap and titled his chin up, parting your lips as he blew in a soft puff of smoke. Before you knew it, your lips were hungry against his neck as your fingers fumbled with the zipper of his jeans.
“Hey, what’s gotten into you?” he whispered as one hand reached under your shirt to squeeze your breast.
“Just need you, baby,” you begged.
“Your wish is my command,” he smirked as he slipped your panties down from under the dress you wore at the dinner before he helped you sink onto his cock.
“Is that better?” he grinned.
"Are you eating Father's chocolate?"
Dick glances up from his laptop for a half a second, catalogues Damian's actual mood, then fixes his gaze back down at his archaic-looking messaging window. Criminals are weird, but it had been significantly harder to hack into than Facebook messenger would be, so Dick supposes it has it's charms.
Damian scoffs. "I did not take you for a thief. Timothy bought that for him last week."
Dick just smiles, mind giddy in the way it always becomes when he is about to divulge valuable Wayne Family Secrets. "Damian, does Bruce like dark chocolate?"
"Of course, it is his sweet of choice."
"Have you ever seen Bruce eating chocolate dark enough to warrant a cacao percentage?"
"I—" Damian stops, blinking twice in a blatant display of unsurety that Dick is proud to be witness of. "No. I never have. Are you telling me—"
Dick cuts him off. "He doesn't like it. Nothing above seventy percent, and this right here?" He waves the bar around for emphasis. "This is eighty-five."
Damian raises an eyebrow. "Why does he not inform Tim?"
"Ah, therein lies the catch. He's afraid that if he tells Tim that, Tim will take it the wrong way. So, he eats a square all cheerfully once, in Tim's line of sight, and gives the rest to me, because while he may not enjoy the taste of dirt, I do."
"So why don't you tell Timothy?"
Dick shrugs. "Free chocolate."
"Buy your own."
"Dami, dami," Dick sighs, "let me teach you something." He breaks off another piece of chocolate with a snap, then halves it and hands one half to his brother. "Free chocolate trumps all other chocolate."
Damian rolls his eyes and sniffs at the candy before popping it in his mouth. His face lights up. "This is delicious. Father is missing out."
Dick nods. "That's the 'free' you're tasting. So, here's my offer. You keep quiet about the fact that B doesn't like super dark chocolate, and I give you half of his unwanted stash."
Damian nods, reaching a hand out to shake, and when he retreats, there are little chocolate fingerprints on the side of Dick's palm. "Deal."
Dick grins. "Nice doing business with you."
ON MY KNEES FOR THEM. (This art belongs to @bambocarbon-ver-2-0!)
What my girl wants, my girl gets - Draco smut
Draco knew you loved having him barred inside you. you were the type to get drunk off him and he loved it. It fueled his ego. so you often came to him, desperate for him and how could you not. His hair is perfectly ready to be pulled. smirking like he did when you would cum for him but that wasn't to say Draco wasn't desperate for you to. he smirked on purpose because as much as he liked that you begged if you didn't he'd go mad.
you were fucking gorgeous and he would get hard in class seeing you perfect thighs as you stood or your breast when you bent forward so yes you both were addicted and it was almost unhealth how much you wanted to fuck or touch each other and you knew one of your classroom sessions would get you suspended but you didn't care. which is how you ended up fucking in blaise's room on his bed on all fours as draco went balls deep in you groaning when he hit your hips and pulling back and slamming in and you swore he was shaking.
"Draco-i-please" you whined out but not sure what you wanted your were babbling and cock drunk. "yeah you like that" he asked, smirking as you rocked your hips back against his. "so desperate i can't even fuck you, your fucking yourself" he says meeting your thrust and you shudder. "yes Draco, your slut all yours" you cry as you began to feel yourself go completely dumb and desperate for release.
"did i call you a slut, no i didn't cockdumb baby" he groans. the door comes open blaise holding snacks that hit the floor and his mouth agape. Draco comes to a stop. "no Draco, please please don't fucking stop" you beg rocking back and Draco hissed before moving again. Blaise made a disgusted face and ran out. "so desperate for me good fucking girl"