#Can you see where the need for sleep has kicked in???

[anangelinthepit]

Without You…

Part 4

Warning ⚠️ - possessive behavior and break in. Uncomfortable topics

************************************************

Noah’s POV

“Oh Ruby, you forgot who you were married to didn’t you ?”

I pushed the guys off of me and let out a frustrated yell. Even though I’m pissed off, I couldn’t help but begin to laugh. One man with all my power doesn’t take losing control gently and welcomes the sweet insanity that follows.

“My wife,” I said looking up at the old broken down building she resided in.

“MY WIFE. The one who is carrying MY son threw me out of her house. This isn’t fucking happening. IM THE ONE WHO CALLS THE FUCKING SHOTS AROUND THIS BITCH.”

After punching the brick wall and kicking over trash cans, the voice of reason began to try and calm my anger.

“Dude, what the fuck was that?” Nick said in a demanding tone

“A conversation between me and the Mrs,” I said lighting a cigarette

“Noah she’s fucking six months pregnant, what were you planning on doing?”

“Oh please, I wasn’t gonna put my hands on her, but she needs to remember who fucking makes the rules around here. Nick, she shouldn’t be in this shady ass fucking apartment with some bitch she barely knows. I didn’t even have to get rid of her forcefully she was willing to run off and sleep with you. What does that tell you ?”

“It tells me that you’ve gone fucking insane and need to rethink what just happened. The woman you love fears you and doesn’t want anything to do with you. Do you have any idea what it takes to stand up to a person like you?”

“Person like me? I’m her fucking husband! She should obey and respect me!”

“You should be fucking thankful you had a woman like her Noah! Whatever happened to be calm or did that just fly out the fucking window?” Nick said crossing his arms

“I tried that Nick, but it seems like my wife forgot that I’m the only one in the relationship who is supposed to have a set of fucking balls!”

“Dude I may be your henchman but I’m also your best friend and I’m telling you this because I care about you. What you did in there just pushed her even further away. You are going to push her into the wrong fucking arms. She is to the point where the only way you’re going to get her back now is if you force her.”

I looked up at Nick and smiled at him. It’s almost like he read my mind.

“Force?” I said to myself

Feeling a sensation of happiness l and pure heat come over me, I gave myself a friendly and encouraging reminder.

I’m the strongest man in fucking California right now. Why didn’t I think of this before? I’ve got all the money, power, and men to control a fucking army. What is stopping me from bringing my wife home?

“No. NO. Noah don’t you fucking dare.” Nick said glaring at me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Call up Davis and tell him to meet us at the hotel. Ruby is coming home.” I said flicking my cigarette.

“I really gotta watch my fucking words from now on.”

We made our way back to the hotel with Davis and Matt waiting. The only thing I could think about was how my wife was gonna be begging for me to let her come home after all of this. She'll be at my feet, asking for my forgiveness. Of course, I'll have to play hard to get but the least I can do is give in a little.

“You got the blueprints of the building Davis?”

“No, but you’re not gonna need them. This building only has two exits and get this, Sapphire is 1 of 4 other tenants. The damn place is so old you could pull apart the bricks piece by piece.”

“That's it?”

“Yup”

“So what’s the plan here boss?” Matt asked

I took a deep breath and contemplated on if this was a good idea. As much as I hate causing her so much discomfort, this is my only option. I’ll change my ways but first, she needs to come back home to me. She doesn’t understand how much I truly need her, and if she could just stop being stubborn and open her fucking eyes she would see that.

If she won’t come home willing then I’m gonna show her how scary the world is without me there to protect her.

“In two days you guys are going to pay Y/N a visit.”

“What kind of visit?” Nick asked

“You’ll see.”

Nick got up and walked away in disgust. I don't know what his problem is lately but he's turning soft on me. I'm gonna need him to toughen up a bit if he wants to stick with this family.

“Davis go fucking talk to him. I don't have time to give the princess treatment right now.”

Davis grunted and went outside to catch up with Nick. I don't have time for his emotional bullshit. Right now I need to get my Ruby back home and make sure she stays there. Permanently

Nick's POV

“He doesn't fucking deserve her goddamit!”

I yelled throwing a trash can and kicking the remnants that fell. God if only he fucking knew. Does he not understand? He had a good woman next to him and he gave it up for all this bullshit. I lit a cigarette and tried to calm my nerves while Davis came out and asked me if I was okay.

“I'm fine dude I just need a minute.”

“Well, Noah told me to tell you to toughen up.

I laughed at what Davis said, it's so obvious that Noah is wrapped in his world and doesn't have time to be gentle in nurturing anyone. How is that man going to take care of a baby? Y/N was smart to run.

“He doesn't deserve her Davis. You know it and I know it.”

“It's not my business Nick. I work for the man.”

“This can't be happening,” I said dragging my fingers through my hair

“I do know one thing though, if you keep running your mouth and don't control that serpent that's in your pants, He's gonna make me cut it off and force you to watch..”

I couldn't help but scoff at him.

“You know don’t you?” I asked

“Seriously? Are you trying to get me killed too? If I admit what I know then we’re both in deep shit. I don’t like the way he treats her either but overstepping boundaries with him is not something I have the balls to do. I don’t think you realize you dug your own grave, Nick.”

I looked up at the sky for answers but as always received nothing. Did I make a mistake? What am I gonna do when he finds out and will I be able to handle him?

“I don’t know if I can pretend anymore.”

“Look dude, fake it till you make it. Fuck some other girl or smoke some weed. I don't care, just figure it out. Also, don't make me a fucking accomplice to whatever Lifetime movie bullshit you got going on. Got it?”

I flicked my cigarette and went back inside. I’m gonna have to keep this bullshit cover-up for a little while longer, and even though it kills me, I’m willing to do it.

I’m willing to do anything for her.

Noah and Matt were talking but stood abruptly and stared at me when I walked into the room. I’ll play my card right and keep the poker face that I’m so good at having on.

“I'm ready for whatever you need me for Boss.”

Noah shot me a smirk and waved me over. Hearing them talk over the plan made my gut turn, but having to agree with it was even worse.

Poison on my fucking tongue

Two days later

Y/N’s POV

I’m still feeling shaken up about what happened. I couldn't focus at work and Sapphire began to notice I was dwelling on how things needed between Noah and me. I’ve never seen him get so angry at me, now of course we had our fights but what I witnessed was what I can only consider as maximum rage. I used to think he would never lay his hands on me but him flipping that table the way he did now has me second-guessing. Six months pregnant and he almost put me in harm's way.

“You’re fucking mine!”

“I'm not his fucking wife, I'm his goddamn property,” I said to myself shaking my head. Why the hell did I ever agree to this?

The moonlight shined down on me after another shitty night at the bar. I waved goodbye to my boss and made the drive home. Still feeling on edge I got to the apartment and was met once again with silence. I began to get nervous as I called out for Sapphire, I heard nothing until I went towards her room and could hear her shower running. Having a wave of relief come over me, I went into my room and tried to wind down for the night. Sitting down on the bed trying to massage my swollen feet, I realized skipping out on a shared probably wasn’t in my best interest. I smelled like sweat and unwanted married men's hormones crawling all over me. I let out a huge sigh and made my way to the bathroom when I got a text.

It was from Sapphire

Sapphire

Hey, I met this really cute guy, so I'm gonna chill at his place 2night. Wish me luck ;)

Me

Oh so is that why you're in the shower? Lmfao gurll you do you. Just careful

I smiled and just shook my head at my bestie's promiscuous ways. I figured I should offer her a ride to this guy's house because I don't want her walking and it also gives me an excuse to go get Chinese food. As I made my way to her bedroom door, I received another text.

Sapphire

The shower? Girl I wish, my boss is making me close 2night so I still have another two hours left.

What…

Feeling my heart drop into my fucking stomach, I read over her message about 10 times. I frantically texted her back telling her that someone was in our apartment and what I should do.

Just like in a horror movie with an awful plot. The lights cut out in the fucking apartment, I wanted to scream but was too scared to do so. I slowly began to move away from her door and tried my hardest to make my way back to my bedroom to call the police. I began to back up, trying to not make myself noticeable to whoever was in her room. I could hear the shower water cut off, it was almost like the intruder was listening for my footsteps. I wasn't too far from my room when I heard frantic running in Sapphires. Whoever was in there heard me and was now making it their mission to get me. As my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, I swiftly turned around to flee, only to be met by a tall figure who was as tough as concrete. Being shoved to the ground I began screaming and crying for them not to hurt me.

“Please, I'm pregnant! Don't hurt me I'm begging you!”

I could hear the men laughing as I struggled to back away from them. Not realizing my surroundings I ended up being backed into the wall.

“MY HUSBAND IS NOAH SEBASTIAN DAVIS, IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME HE’LL FUCKING KILL ALL OF YOU!”

Even in pitch-black darkness, I could tell that one of the men was only a couple of inches away from my face. I could feel and smell his hot breath in which I almost began to vomit. He put his hand on my stomach and leaned in to whisper in my ear

“Oh, babydoll.”

Those words cut through me like a knife

“I need you to do me a favor okay?”

I could feel something cold and sharp press against my neck and slid down to expose the cleavage under my shirt

“You tell Noah I said Hello, and if he ever lets you go again, I'm just gonna have to keep you.”

They kissed my forehead which caused me to break out into a cold sweat. God his lips felt dirty and unpure.

“Let's go boys!”

I heard what sounded like 4-5 men walk away from me and go towards my front door. My theory was confirmed when the hallway light shined in illuminating 5 men.

Before closing it, the one masked man gave me the “hush” sign and a creepy smile.

I lay there on the dirty hard wooden floor sobbing and falling apart. Making myself have enough courage and energy to get up and grab the phone. I dialed frantically and prayed he would pick up.

“Ruby?”

“Noah? Oh, thank God. Please listen to me, you have to come get me.

“Ruby, what happened?

“These. These m-men broke into my apartment and shoved me down for the g-ground.”

“Ruby slow down I can't understand you.”

I was shaking uncontrollably but I needed to pull myself together. I took a deep breath brought the phone back up to my ear and explained what happened.

“Noah I think there's a Rival group because they told me to tell you, that they're watching and if you let me go again they're gonna kidnap me. Noah Im so fucking scared please come get me!”

I fell back into hysterics and just wanted my husband. He's a fucking psycho but at least no one messed with me when I was with him.

“Are you and the baby okay?”

“Yes yes, Theo and I are fine. They just shoved me, I was able to catch myself so it wasn't so hard. Just please come get us.”

I heard nothing but silence on the phone. What the fcuk did he hang up on me? God if I can’t rely on him anymore then please protect me and my baby.

“Noah?”

“Do you finally get it, Ruby?”

“What?”

“I said do you finally get it?”

“Baby please stop, just come get me. Please!”

God, why is he making me beg?

“I can't protect you if you run away and try to be “miss independent”. Your life was always good here. If I come and get you, you better not pull this stunt ever again. There will be security in you 24/7 got it?”

I wanted to protest but the sound of phantom footsteps kept psyching me out. I didn't care anymore I just wanted to go home.

“Okay, okay, baby I will never do this again I swear, just please come get us. Noah, I can't do this on my own.”

Noah let out a huge sigh and told me he would be in about 10 minutes. I hurried and gathered my things and waited. Every minute felt like centuries, praying that those monsters wouldn't come back. I got a text from Noah saying he was here and sending Nick up to help me to the car. Oh, why couldn't it have been someone else? I waited for what seemed like forever and started to feel a nervous feeling in the bottom of my gut. I haven't seen Nick in so long, I almost forgot what he looked like. Hearing a pounding on my door, I ran over, took a deep breath, and opened it. I was met with long black hair, beautiful green eyes, and a warm smile that was always so welcoming.

“Nick”

“Y/N”

I don't know what it was but something about his smile made me collapse into his arms and start sobbing. His tight hold on me already made me feel so safe that the thought of letting go hurt.

“I got you, Angel.”

My legs could no longer hold me up and we slid down to the floor together.

“Oh, Nick. Please don't let me go.” I said sobbing into his chest

“You know I have to Angel, he's down there waiting for us.“

Nick caressed my face and made me look at him.

“Be my strong girl for me one more time, okay?

“Okay.”

Nick helped me up and walked me down to the limo. Jolly was waiting for me outside the vehicle and opened the door for me when I closed enough. I got in and could feel the tension in the air once again. Noah sat across from me with an evil look on his face. I'm not sure what I was expecting but this wasn't it. We began to drive and were only 10 minutes away from the house. I couldn't wait to shower and sleep in my bed again. I knew I wouldn't be let off so easily with this, I looked away from the window and saw that Noah was glaring at me while Nick was still facing the other way. I broke the silence and spoke which I should have known was a mistake.

“Thank you.”

Noah leaned forward and said, in a low deep growl.

“Get on your knees”

“Pardon?”

Nick snapped out of his trance and tried to grasp the situation.

“Noah she's six months pregnant, don't do this right now,” Nick begged

“Stay the fuck out of this Nick.” Noah snapped

“I said on your knees, Ruby”

I did as I was told, and got on the limo floor gently going down in my knees.

Noah yanked my chin upward forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“This is how obedient you are going to be from now on. Understand?”

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“Yes”

“Get the hell up and sit there. We will talk more when we get back to the house.”

I got back up in the seat and wiped my tears. How is it that I trade one evil for another? I can't keep doing this anymore, I started to regret my decision but now it's too late. I looked over at Nick who was having a stare-down with Noah. I wish he would just look at me and not trouble the waters that we got ourselves into.

I need him right now and I don’t know how much longer I will be able to play pretend.

**********************************************

Hey guys, sorry it took so long. This story really had me wondering what I should do with. I hope you all enjoyed. Love you dearly

-Magenta 🌹

Taglist

@reyadawn @bloodylullaby @fadingintothegrey @aubrey-melinoe @supersquirrel1996 @thisbicc @amelia-acero @dreamstyles @ashdreamsalone @iluvmewwwww75 @lma1986 @concreteemo

[voxiiferous]

**| I’ve spent the last 30 hours or so speed reading through a novel I needed to have read for class tomorrow, but between that (when it doing other class work!) I’ve watched a few of those architecture in cyberpunk videos which are great, and now make me want to do up a whole hc about architecture in the Blue Light District, because logic and genre convention states brutalist, but each time I edge towards that the Vox muse gets touchy.

So clearly Vox can’t be your traditional cyberpunk dystopic corporate dictator because he fucking hates that style of building. Assigned weirdly helpful corporate overlord because of taste in building aesthetic. That’s how it works, right?

[lesbianpegbar]

What are your thoughts on season 2 so far??? I’m still a bit worried about lg… but idc about that BECAUSE QIAO LING!!!!! WITH THE STEEL POLE!!!

yeah <3

[nochepsicodelica]

Even more bear boyfriend Toji thoughts, because when is he not on the mind?

Naps, naps, naps, and more naps. He drags you into naps with him all the time. If he's going to nap, you best believe you're taking a nap too. He uses very little of his strength when it comes to holding you because he doesn't want to crush you or make you uncomfortable, but sometimes you try and fight your way out of his arms because you don't want to take a nap. You're not tired, but he is, and it's truly not his fault he grew accustomed to holding you whenever he's sleeping. It's become a habit now and he can't sleep at all without you around. Moments when you don't want to nap are when he does have to hold onto you a little tighter so that you tire yourself out as you try to free yourself from his arms. Eventually, you surrender and stop wasting your efforts on something impossible, and Toji lets out a satisfied sigh, before burying his face into the crook of your neck. You fall asleep at three in the afternoon and don't wake up until eight at night sometimes because when you start to stir awake, he hums and coos at you in his sleepy voice. It's always 'Not yet, mama. Still tired...' and 'Stop moving, pretty...' or 'aw, looks like you still need sleep, baby. I'll sleep with you, don't worry...' Supposed naps turn into hours of sleep with him :(

Will pull on your clothes for many reasons. You're on the phone, leaning against the kitchen counter and he's tugging on the back of your shirt to get you to turn around and look at him. You nod at him in question and he just grins before latching onto you from behind, burying his face into your back. If you're adventuring together, walking around and you start to wander off without him, he tugs on the hood of your sweater and brings you back to where he is, making you walk those same steps all over again, this time with him. Sometimes he'll pull down the neckline of your shirt to look at your boobs just because he's a total perv like that.

Size kink who? Size kink Toji. Loves knowing he's bigger and physically stronger than you. He loves when you shove him during a fit of anger, because he's grounded—he doesn't move at all and it pisses you off even more. When you refuse to talk to him after an argument that's gone on for too long (an hour </3) he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You can kick and yell for him to put you down all you want, but he won't put you down until the argument is resolved. He can't have you trying to run off every time you're in a room together. He cages you in with his arms sometimes, when he wants to be all you can see, hear, smell and feel. You should be just as obsessed with him as he is with you. He uses this proximity to steal as many kisses from you as he wants, really taking the opportunity to showcase how small you are compared to him when you can't move from the position he has you in.

He's a total bear even when it comes to his bouts of jealousy. Someone stares at you for more than three seconds and he's quick to block their view of you. He stands beside you, covering you so that the stranger gets a view of his back, instead. If you're standing in line at a restaurant or coffee shop, waiting to order something and someone keeps chatting you up after you've continuously let the conversation die, he steps in. Especially, if he notices that their eyes wander away from yours, to your lips or your chest, wherever. He's not loud about it verbally, but the way he'll just pull you back a few steps into him so he can wrap himself around you screams possession. You laugh off the gesture and finish off your response to the stranger. They don't try to talk to you anymore afterwards because the way Toji stared daggers at them was scary.

Toji constantly reminds you that you're more than enough for him. When you cook for him, when you spoil him in return with things you think he may like. He always loves them because you bought them for him. There are moments when he turns from this ferocious, obsessive, enormous bear, to the smallest, most adorable cub. He's a little more quiet, but his eyes are just as expressive. He stays in one spot for a while even if you're not there. He doesn't go looking for you, he can hear you whistling as you wash dishes, but it's not like he doesn't want you around. He just thinks sometimes. Thinks about how good things are with you—thinks about what he has and he feels like he could be crushed by it all. These are the moments where you step in and make him feel extra loved. You tell him that he's good to you and that he makes you feel safe. You tell him that you love him more than you've ever loved anyone. Up until one of those moments, there was always the dilemma of whether he was a sunrise or a sunset. You finally made your decision. "You're my sunset, baby." You always know just what to say to bring him back. Toji laughed because it made absolutely no sense, but you loved on him after saying it, like it was something real— like it's normal to categorize someone as a sunrise or sunset. Regardless of how dumb it sounds out loud, if he's your sunset, you're his sunrise.

(NSFW Below)

His hands are enormous. His fingers are long and thick and he loves being able to hold you down with just one of his hands while he works his fingers in and out of you. While you squirm and whimper in his lap, embarrassed at the mess you're making on his pants, he simply coos at you, finding the whole thing endearing. You can't control the mess you're making on him. He can, and he doesn't want it to stop. Sometimes, during moments like this where you're all teary eyed in his arms, your body trembling and trying to shrink against him as he pulls orgasm after orgasm from you, he wants to hold you so tightly in his arms that you genuinely struggle to breathe or maybe crack a rib. The kisses he presses into the side of your face actually sting at some point because of the way he's so harsh and he's nipping at your skin. He wants to bite your shoulder so hard that he draws blood, he wants to pinch your tummy until his fingers leave marks on it. His bouts of cuteness aggression are no joke.

Loves when you try to take control, always so confident that you can do it, that you can ride him until you both cum. He's not gonna say anything, but he knows how you are, so he just lets it happen. His hands are on your hips, your hands on his chest as you bounce on his dick for as long as you can. You can feel yourself growing tired. Your chest is heaving and your thighs burn from the exertion. Your moans are released into the air through heavy breaths, your eyes twinkling as you realize you're right there. "C-Can't, I can't... so tired..." and Toji just looks up at you with the most lovestruck expression, a tint of pink dusted on his cheeks. You're adorable. "That's okay, mama. Let me." And he lays you onto your back, before finishing you off and finishing himself off. He cradles you afterward like you're something temporary that he doesn't want to let go of and you both end up falling asleep.

Sighhh Toji is a total bear boyfriend </3

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 7

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“I’m having a child.”

Danny stared at Batman.

“…Uh, congrats?”

Batman whips out a stack of paper and a pen. “It’s you. Sign here and initial the highlighted spots.”

Danny instinctively, from years of dealing with Vlad, whacked the stack right out of Batman’s hands and into the bay. He doesn’t even feel bad about littering this time because, “Begone, fruitloop!”

Wait, no, that’s not what he meant.

“I mean- I have parents!”

“Not for long.” Batman muttered and then did a double take. “You have parents? How?”

Danny gasped, placing a hand on his chest to clutch his metaphorical pearls. He ignored Batman’s mutters. Everyone knows the vigilante has an adoption problem. At least, everyone who lived in Gotham did, as everyone who didn’t was somehow convinced that he “worked alone” or some bullshit like that. “Are you naturally this insensitive or were you dropped on your head as a baby? Obviously I had to come from somewhere.”

“They’re still… alive?”

“And kicking,” Danny said, inching away from yet another rich weird guy trying to adopt him. “Mostly the kicking part, though.” He said, remembering the sparring sessions. His mom could kick his as six ways to Sunday with nothing but jiu-jitsu and still have time to work in the lab.

“I see.”

“I’m charging you extra for the emotional upheaval. I have trauma regarding rich people trying to adopt me.”

Batman sullenly handed over a thousand.

“Sweet. There’s a group of shades down here asking if you could find their murderer. Apparently the serial killer is still at large.” Danny pointed.

“Of course. Tell me everything.”

The adoption papers disappeared as Batman went into detective mode.

Danny shoved the cash into his glowing chest and breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to make rent this month so it was a windfall running into Batman.

——

“Hey, Tim?”

Tim woke up from his Power Nap. “Huh?”

“Phantom’s complaining that Batman kept trying to adopt him.”

Tim blinked. “Uh.. what does that have to do with me?”

Danny stared at him, a patiently amused smile on his face. “Just in case the rumor about the Wayne’s sugar-daddy-into the Bats was a thing. Other than that, we might have to confront Batman to get him off of Phantom’s back. ”

“You… want to confront Batman.”

“Hey, man, Phantom’s a friend and it’s ride or die.” Danny snickered. It was literally die, with his Phantom side of things. He held two fists up, and wound them, like Popeye right after eating spinach or something. “And if Batman bothers Phantom, we ride at dawn.”

“Batman doesn’t come out unless it’s dark, though? Or for the Justice League.” Tim grinned. He mentally classified Danny under his “to go to” list. That’s where Bart, Bernard, Cassie, Kon, and Garfield were. If he starts shit, he could count on them to have his back and cause even more shit. Danny, wanting to fistfight Bruce over the man making Phantom uncomfortable? He absolutely is making that list.

“Then we ride at, like, dusk. Or uh, like 10PM. I gotta get my beauty sleep.”

“You’ll definitely need it,” Tim inconspicuously texted the group chat, which quickly blew up.

“Shut up,” Danny playfully shoved Tim. “Wait, can Batman even legally adopt? Isn’t being a vigilante illegal? And how can he adopt someone dead?”

Tim dramatically flailed and splayed over Danny’s carpeted living room. “Dunno about his identity,” he lied to Danny, like a liar. “But Gotham has a bunch of laws for the undead/restored to life people so there’s probably enough gray space there.”

Danny spluttered. “You guys have undead friendly laws?”

“Yeah, geht do you think Grundy just chills out? Plus, we have like a minor resurrection event every few years. It usually doesn’t stick but sometimes it does. Bruce pushed for those laws when Jason came back to life, except he doesn’t actually want people to know he’s like, alive.”

“Jason died?” Danny blinked. Well, that would explain the vibes. “Huh. So what’s up with his rank vibes then?”

“Rank vibes?” Tim pressed record on his phone.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, you know how Phantom’s got like a really chill green vibe?” Inwardly, Danny snickered at his pun. Chill. Yeah, he meant that very literally. “Jason’s got kind of a rank green vibe. He’s kind of stinky? Definitely never introduce him to Phantom.” Danny’s senses got worse in his ghost form.

“Jason regularly showers, though?!”

“Not smell! Like, a spiritual smell?”

“You can smell souls?!” Tim sat up. “Bro, you’re a meta?!”

“Uh.” Danny hesitated. “Yeah. I can smell souls. It’s a thing. Everyone from my town can do it.”

“What?!” Tim paused. “Wait, can Phantom smell souls?”

“Yeah. We’re, uh, from the same town.”

“Danny, what the fuck?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, you’re the one with a soul-sick brother! Not to mention, you’re kinda stinky too!”

“Hey!”

“Soul-stinky nerd man!”

——

“I stink?!” Jason spluttered out, extremely offended.

“The Lazarus pits. He’s most likely smelling traces of Lazarus pit on you, you imbecile.”

“We need to speak to Phantom. This instant.”

“I dunno, B. Danny sounded like he was gonna break your face if you bothered Phantom anymore.” Dick snickered.

“Yeah,” Tim chimed in, from his seat in front of the Bat-computer. “He was pretty serious.”

“Are we just gonna glaze over the fact that they’re from the same town?!” Stephanie exclaimed, practicing her moves on a training dummy.

“How does that even work? What does that mean? I thought Phantom was an immortal?” Duke asked.

“We also can’t rule out time-travel.” Barbara slammed her baton into a training dummy, twisting her wheelchair in an agile maneuver that left the dummy on the floor.

“No bothering Phantom.” Cass proclaimed.

“That’s quite right. You all have a warm dinner sitting above your cave and should it remain uneaten, I assure you that sherbet Sunday and crêpe Tuesday shall be canceled.” Alfred stepped in. The Bats, threatened, scrambled to ditch their gear and go upstairs.

[streetlamp-amber]

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time. 

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned. 

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground. 

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati. 

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing. 

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face. 

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy. 

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep. 

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes. 

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment. 

“But we made such good plans,” he laments. 

You kiss his cheek. 

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win. 

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy. 

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them. 

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all. 

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets. 

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table. 

His eyebrows raise. 

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly. 

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly. 

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face. 

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably. 

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor. 

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly. 

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s a ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips. 

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him. 

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again. 

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything? 

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands. 

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against. 

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment. 

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention. 

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think. 

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have. 

“Do you want to?”

Woah. 

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.  

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how? 

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea. 

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try. 

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do. 

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch. 

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches. 

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him. 

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is. 

The size sinks in a quick second later. 

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving. 

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response. 

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening. 

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch. 

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.  

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath. 

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed. 

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously. 

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre. 

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation. 

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh. 

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong. 

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head. 

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away. 

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him. 

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it. 

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out. 

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours. 

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs. 

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his  lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident. 

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you. 

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped. 

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is. 

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought. 

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?” 

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers. 

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his. 

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind. 

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower. 

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears. 

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate. 

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again. 

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away. 

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile. 

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers. 

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible. 

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him. 

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence. 

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets. 

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can. 

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips. 

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing. 

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt. 

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer. 

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance. 

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom. 

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?” 

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls. 

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck. 

He really wants to tell you right now. 

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest. 

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated. 

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him. 

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going. 

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face. 

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now. 

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw. 

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again. 

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him. 

“Stand up.”

You frown. 

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy. 

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him. 

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing. 

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no. 

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh. 

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply. 

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again. 

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and  his grip tightens ever so slightly. 

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening. 

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there. 

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him. 

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit. 

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all. 

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath. 

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty. 

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh. 

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it. 

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words. 

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

-

part 3.5

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, violence/abuse, threat of bodily harm

gn reader

Thinking about poly yanderes again…

They’re both so patronizing – suffocatingly so. 

But where one is a brute, the other is sweet – or sweeter than the former, in any case...

He has a certain calm about him – gentle with you – considerate when showing his affection, and patient with you when he’s intimate. He doesn’t growl at you to shut up and lie still the way the other one does – instead, he asks you if you can be good for him – if you can let him love you – lipping at your throat without the touch of teeth as he all but begs for your consent.

The brute doesn't bother with such foreplay...

Your will doesn’t seem to interest him in any other aspect than ripping it from you and strangling it in his fist with a big grin, laughing while watching those pitiful tears start slipping down your cheeks.

He'll just shrug off the kinder one when he chides, telling him to stop being so rough with you. He just squeezes you a little tighter, sucks your neck a little harder, and kneads his cock a little deeper – saying that he can do whatever he wants with that which belongs to him.

When you struggle against him, he’s not shy of punishing you accordingly – in fact, he jumps at the opportunity – bending you over his lap with his fist riddled in your hair – landing strike after strike until you’re screaming in surrender, all cute pleas for his mercy, words he’s told you to say. 

He likes fucking you like that – when you’re a broken mess who only clings to him for comfort, crying into his neck while he pumps you full of cock and cum.

The kinder one scolds him afterward. Tells him he’s a fiend while petting your head and hair, carrying you away from the scene and into the bathroom. He draws you a tub of bubbles and holds a glass of water to your lips. But for all his niceties – he still gets in the hot water with you – cock in your sore hole while he washes your hair.

Still, he’s more reasonable.

When he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost like every night of you sleeping stuck in between them, you ask him if it’s really necessary – promising him you’re not going to run away – telling him that you’re going to stay right there, peacefully asleep.

The brute says that it isn’t something that’s up for discussion, that if you push your luck, he’s gonna tie every inch of you up like a floppy fish caught in a net ready to be gutted. But you don’t heed the warning – looking to your kinder warden with puppy eyes and a pout on your lips, saying please, it hurts your wrists – again, promising him you’ll be good and stay sound asleep between them the entire night.

You just needed to get to the door. 

You just needed to get to the door – through the door – out into the street, screaming while at it, and surely someone, anyone, would come to your rescue. 

Why wouldn't your feet move quicker? Why weren’t you faster? Why were you clumsier now? Tripping over rugs, missing steps when scrambling down the stairs, slipping when turning corners – trying to navigate the house when you’d barely ever seen anything but the bedroom.

You just needed to get to the door – but you could hear one of them coming after you – just behind you – big monstrous thundering steps shaking you to the core, strangling your heart, shattering your bones – and it’s getting hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to feel anything other than the numbing fear and the awful way it cripples you – throwing your mind into a tailspin while choking your lungs free of all air, clawing up your throat into a scream. 

You just needed to get to the fucking door –

You hadn't known you could make a sound like that – like something out of a horror movie – high-pitched and desperate – ripped from somewhere raw and primal.

There’s a hand in your hair, yanking you backward where you’re received by a hard chest and an arm snaking around your waist, hoisting you off the ground, kicking and yelling.

It’s the brute. He looks almost happy you’d tried running away – a manic look of delight on his face when he finally drops you down on the floor – pinning you beneath him – shadowing you with teeth seemingly dripping with venom and all the ugly punishments he’s no doubt cooking up inside his sick mind.

“Your ass is gettin’ it extra fuckin’ hard tonight – my handprint won’t heal for a month – won’t even be able to sit down without cryin’.” He growls, his teeth on your cheek as he grips your jaw tight – starting off your punishment with a harsh lovebite.

You look at the more merciful of the two. 

He’s standing off to the side, looking down at the two of you. 

You expect he’d come to the rescue like he’d done all those other times.

But to your utter horror… he isn’t lifting a single finger to stop it. 

His face is blank – cold – as cold as the words that roll dryly off his tongue, “I think we’ve established that spanking isn’t enough…” 

The one holding you down halts in his advances and seems to get just as frigid as you by the cold-blooded tone of his partner – who takes slow steps toward the two of you, so close he’s got your hair pinned beneath his toes before crouching down until he as well looms over you like a darkening storm.

He reaches a stiff hand to soothe the ring of teeth left on your cheek by the other – seemingly kindly, but his eyes are so jaded your breath catches in your throat – soulless as they stare into your teary ones.

“Maybe we ought to get ahead of the issue and break your legs.” He suggests nonchalantly, making both your and your other captor’s faces bleach.

Then he smiles – that kind smile, only now you can’t help but flinch at the sight of it. 

“That way, everyone’s happy,” He states, explaining, “You won't have to be tied up, and we can trust you to keep your word and stay put when you promise us you will.”

Then he stands up and straightens himself, looking at his partner with that same eerie smile.

“Where’d you put the bat again?”

The brute stiffens. His crazed expression had melted in light of the other into a look you’d never seen on him before. He swallows thickly as though he’s just as worried as you are. His voice is hesitant, “I think rope is enough…” 

The other throws his brows up. “Oh?” Then he snaps his focus back to you. “What do you think, baby? You think that’s enough?” He walks back to the two of you, and you feel the intense urge to hide behind the one you’d initially been caught running from.

He looks down at you expectantly, watching your lip quiver as you struggle to form an answer without choking on it.

“Hm? What was that? Rope or bat, what do you prefer?” His voice is sharp, licking at you like a knife.

You stutter, “Ro-rope.”

“Yeah? Okay, then – that’s settled.” He confirms, then looks back at the other. “Go get the rope.”

It doesn’t seem like he wants to leave – almost like he’s afraid of what might happen if he does. “Now?” He asks.

“Yes, now.” The smile tightens – sharpens into something truly lethal if you were to test it. “Our pet thinks they can run wild, so we’ll have to reintroduce them to the leash.”

Then he sets his sights back on you, robbing you of all air.

“Unless you’d prefer the bat after all?”

You whimper, shaking your head with a sniffle, “No-no – rope…”

He looks back to the other. “You heard 'em. Get going.”

He’s reluctant about it – looking from you to him, then back to you again, almost apologetically – before he gets up off you, leaving you on the floor – alone.

Your hair is then grabbed harshly, and you’re pulled up to your feet before you’re dragged off them – pulled along until you’re tugged from the floor up onto his lap as he plopped down, comfortably seated on the couch.

He sighs, letting go of your hair and placing both hands on the fat of your haunches, making you straddle him – mirroring your breathless, tear-streaked face with an expressionless one.

A hand ascends, and you’re convinced he’s going to slap you – but as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut in wait for it, his hand finds your cheek, only to ever-so-gently pet the wet away.

Cupping your face, he places a light peck on the corner of your mouth, followed by his voice, “Apologize, and I’ll forgive you.”

Your eyes peel open, looking back into his. You regret it instantly. Still eclipsed, it’s a cold and blank stare that seems to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never- never ever do it again.” You whisper pitifully – as if you’re afraid to be too loud.

“Hm…” He hums, looking unimpressed. “I don’t think that’s good enough…” 

His hand slips from your face down your neck, circling it lightly before squeezing it firmly with whitening knuckles. “You hurt my feelings, y’know? I trusted you, and you lied to me – right to my fucking face.”

You cack, wrapping your smaller hands around his wrist as he strangles the words out of you. “I’m sorry- I’m really- really sorry-”

His breathing is thick, as though something’s bubbling underneath the surface – a beast within whose bloodthirst hasn’t yet been sated. “I want more than empty words.” He states flatly, unforgivingly.

Still, he lets go of your throat, letting you drop to his chest, panting sore breaths with his words ringing hot in your head. You start kissing between sipping for air – desperately, up his neck and jaw, then his lips, even though he doesn’t kiss back – pleading, “Please forgive me- I’m sorry, I-”

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He mocks, stroking the back of your head, down your back as though soothing you – voice dripping with fake empathy. “Sorry for what exactly? Hm? For being a dumb little bitch, thinking you could run when you haven’t even so much as walked on your own two feet for months.”

A laugh inches into his words like a sickness. The eerie smile returns, small and curling in the corner of his mouth.

“You were fuckin’ hilarious, you know that?” He breathes lightly – eyes wide, staring at you like cornered prey. “Trippin’ over yer own two feet, barely even making it to the door.”

The grip around your throat returns, and you squeak out a whimper.

“Say it.” He seethes, “Say you’re a dumb little bitch who didn’t know what you were doing.” His lips ghost yours with the command, forcing you to echo the words back into his mouth.

“I’m- I’m a dumb little bitch- I’m- I didn’t know what I was doing-” 

He hums at your shivering but doesn’t ease his grip – molding his lips against yours, he kisses you deeply until parting with your lips between his teeth – letting go slowly.

“I- I’ll be good from now on, I promise-” You add – in the hope it would thaw the ice of his stare.

It doesn’t. He keeps them just as jaded – half-masted now as he runs his fingers up and down your spine, brushing your chin and cheek with his lips until blowing on your ear. “You better be.”

You shudder, wincing.

“‘Cause if you ever try anything like that again, I’m gonna go get that bat – and nothing and no one is gonna keep me from bashing away at you until I’ve made certain you can’t lift a single fucking finger without my help.”

You’re a broken mess of sniveling apologies and prayers on his lap by the time the brute comes back with the rope. 

But the one who’d reduced you to it doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. 

“There you are!” He beams with a bright smile.

Acting as though you weren’t falling apart in his arms, gripping his shirt for purchase while sobbing hard and ugly into his chest. 

“Let’s tie every square inch of 'em up like you suggested.” He muses while picking your tear-stained face up in both hands, nose-kissing you with his words dripping fondly off his tongue. “Just like a floppy fish ready to be gutted.”

BNHA – BakuDeku, DabiHawks, EndMight, ShinKami, TodoDeku, KiriBaku, Shiggy x villain!Deku

JJK – SatoSugu, YujiKuna, YujiGumi

HQ – Miya twins, IwaOi,

BLLK – NagiReo, KuniGiri

AOT - EreMin

DS - InoTan, DouAka

HxH – HisoIllu

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Logan always runs hot. He's a walking heater, but he's used to it. However, he gets even hotter when he sleeps, and whenever he's lying next to you, he has to be cuddling you in some way. You are in his arms, on top of him, something, God, anything he doesn't care, he just needs you to be close.

Now, there are some benefits to this. Like this is great in the winter. Who needs the heater on when you have this man next to you and a giant blanket wrapped around the two of you? You have saved so much money on your energy bills since the start of your relationship. And it's also great when you have cramps or muscle aches. He hates seeing you in pain, so he won't mind massaging the area of pain for you and if it is cramps then you have full permission to just grab one of his arms and lay it on your stomach whenever you need.

But this is a problem during the summer. It's already so hot during the day, and it doesn't cool down at night. You run hot 24/7 during the summer, too, so you always have the ac on as far as it can go, and some nights that aren't enough. Logan doesn't have an issue with it. He's always hot anyway, and he sleeps practically naked already, so he doesn't even notice a difference. You do, though.

"Logan," you groan and try to push him away. You woke up sweating and groggy. You looked over to see a glowing 3:45 from the alarm clock, and you groan even louder. "Logan move." You tried to lift his arm from you, but he just grumbled and clings to you tighter. You sigh and kick the blanket off of the two of you before admitting defeat of waking him tonight.

In the morning, he wakes up confused as to where the blanket went and why you seem so grumpy. "Didn't sleep well, darling?" He asks innocently because he truly doesn't know the struggle you face some nights.

Taglist: @mahi-tamashi @100percentlazybonez @lanassmarty

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Logan getting really worried when Wade's (metaphorical) mask comes off and he's not the guy dancing on the bar, making boob jokes and kicking people in the face but rather the one with his face in the toilet at the club, promising he's okay while still struggling with the side effects that come with cancer.

"No no, really its fine! Go on, go have fun ill be out in a second!"

And being the emotionally closed off manly man that Logan is, doesn't press about it but still waits outside by the door, not letting people in the bathroom, ending up causing a bar fight because hed rather get punched in the jaw then let someone see Wade like that and embaress him.

Thinking about him coming home with groceries and finding him dead asleep on the couch, but the kind of sleep that looks like it was taken by force rather than comfy. The kind where you pass out because your body has had enough and just coming to check on him every couple of minutes before eventually sitting next to him and just waits until he wakes up.

Al can't see. But she's had a smug look on her face ever since Logan has walked in the door because she can hear him walking back and forth to go check on her room mate.

"You're really worried about him, ain't you?"

"What?"

"He's fine, you know. He does that. Go on. Go do what ever it was you angry men do."

But he doesn't go. He stays put. Like a loyal dog at his owners death bed, hoping if he stares enough, he'll get better. Eventually, he falls asleep too And Al is going to tease them both about this for the next month. She took photos to prove it.

Soon enough, it evolves into him picking up tasks so that Wade can rest but refuses to tell him why. He doesn't want to embarrass him and make it feel like a big deal.

"Alright. Well, I'm gonna go walk mary puppins. You want anything from the bodega?"

"No.. actually.. could I walk her? I can take her. Being in this apartment is killing me."

"What need to get your steps in or something?"

"Something like that."

"Ah I get it. Wild cat needs to prowl. Well alright. But dont be taking our baby to any skanks house! Shes too innocent!"

[moonstruckme]

hi!!! wanted to req a poly! marauders x reader where the reader has never had anything inside before so like first time fingering if that’s okay 🫣 totally okay if not, love your work!!!! <3

Hi my sweetheart I’m so sorry I held onto this for sooooooo long but thank you for requesting I love you ! And thanks to @mareagirls for helping me out when I was struggling with the choreography haha <33

cw: smut mdni, fingering, inexperienced reader

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 837 words

Sirius, you think, is treating this all very casually. He’s lying on his stomach between your bent knees, legs kicking idly behind him while he circles your entrance with a finger. 

“Baby.” He looks up at you. “Could you stop being so nervous? I cut my nails for you.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, a bit affronted. 

Remus chuckles. His two fingers move over your clit in rhythmic, dedicated passes. 

“You’re all tensed up, sweetheart,” James clues you in. He’s lying on your other side with one arm cushioning your head. It’s almost like you could be going to sleep, except one of your boyfriends is tormenting your clit while the other attempts the breaking and entering of your cunt. 

“Not breaking,” Sirius had said when you made that joke earlier, looking at you in horror. “It’s going to be fun, not torture, you freak.” 

James’ other hand goes to your side. He gives you a little squeeze, and you gasp, ticklish. “See?” he asks. 

“Jamie,” Remus scolds, but he’s smiling. With his free hand he rubs the underside of your thigh, trying to calm you back down. “You don’t need to worry, dove. We’ll start slow, and we can stop anytime you want, yeah?” 

“I just don’t know how it’s going to feel,” you fret, shifting on the mattress to get comfortable again. 

“The point’s to find out, isn’t it?” Sirius is looking at you like he really wants to know. He holds up his index finger as though to exhibit it. “I’m only going in with the one at first, and slow like Rem said,” he vows. “It shouldn’t hurt.” 

“Definitely say if it hurts,” James agrees. 

You chew your lip, nodding. Sirius’ expression softens. 

“Just tell me if you don’t like it,” he says earnestly. “Say stop and I’ll stop, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say. 

“Good girl,” Remus praises, leaning sideways to kiss the top of your knee. His skillful fingers never stutter.

Sirius makes a soft sound of agreement, and then he slips one finger into your entrance. 

You’re prepared to be shocked, but he’s right; it’s not a substantial intrusion. You almost don’t know it’s there at first, until he swirls it around experimentally and a little “oh” stumbles out of you. Your hips shift. 

“Yeah?” James noses at your cheek, smile audible in his voice. “Not so bad, huh?”

“No,” you agree breathily. 

Sirius grins below you, planting a big kiss on the inside of your thigh. “That’s my girl. You’re so tight, sweetheart, fuck,” he groans, wriggling his finger against your gummy walls. “And your little cunt is so pretty. Next time we should do this with a mirror.” 

“One step at a time,” Remus tells him mildly. But when you push your hips upwards, he obliges you, increasing his pressure on your clit. 

“S’that good, honey?” James’ lips are warm and soft against the column of your throat, teeth barely there as he suckles at your skin. “Do you like having Pads inside you?” 

“Yeah,” you answer him again, voice pitching slightly when Sirius slips another finger inside you. Your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Shh.” James presses a gentle kiss over the mark he’s left. “You’re okay, sweet girl.” His murmurings, sweet and lovely and too quiet for you to understand, trail down your chest until he finds something he likes. His arm slides from beneath your head, hand finding your shoulder and resting there with a soothing weight. 

You know patience isn’t in Sirius’ nature, so you appreciate the restraint he’s using with you now. His fingers sponge in and out of you at an easy pace, shallow and careful. When you find it in yourself to open your eyes, he’s watching you from beneath his lashes, using your expression as his guide while he works you open. 

You moan when James sucks hard at a spot on the underside of your tit. 

“Don’t bruise her,” says Remus, still sour from the mark that’s yet to fade on his left pectoral. 

“Sorry.” James pulls his mouth from your tit, smiling at you sheepishly. “Is it okay if I leave you a pretty little mark, my angel?” 

“No kissing up to get what you want, either,” Remus grumbles, but you nod, and James goes back to what he was doing, albeit more gently. 

“You’re doing so good.” Sirius is leaning his cheek against your thigh now, seemingly lost in his own sort of trance. The weight tips your leg outward so that Remus has to grab your knee to keep him propped up. “So good for me, baby. Now,” his eyes gleam, and you know the look of it well enough to be both excited and a little bit nervous, “how would you like to try the feel of something else inside?” 

“Oh,” you say, caught offguard. “Um, I don’t think I’m ready for��” 

“I meant my tongue, sweetness.” 

“Hey!” James pulls his lips from you with a wet suctioning sound. “No fair, you’ve had your turn already! I want to go.”

[krilati]

Tim, who is not Robin, but still feral

Okay, let's say Tim's parents decide that even if their child doesn't need a nanny, they want someone to check on their son's well-being. So Tim is required to go to the doctor once a week. And after he tried to bribe his first one to just tell his parents everything was fine. Janette decided it would be someone else each time.

Tim gets a car once a week that picks him up to see a doctor he doesn't know.

That way he doesn't have time to search for dirt, and he can't bribe anyone, since everyone drinks his mother more than him.

So after Nightwing turned Tim down (Dick later claimed the boy was black-haired and blue-eyed, but since he was often hallucinating Jason at the time, even he wasn't sure). The guy realized he couldn't go to Batman and insist on being Robin. The first fracture (which is 100% likely to happen in the early days of jumping on roofs and kicking angry adults) and the doctor would hand him over to his parents.

So Tim came up with a Plan.

Batman was angry, for a month now someone, every patrol, has been standing up for criminals. If he's lucky, he manages to land 5 hits (dude, your 1 hit can put a person in the hospital, Tim just has short legs, he still needs to run to the edge of the necessary roof) when someone distracts him.

Last time, they poured a bucket of paint on his head, it became almost impossible to see through the mask. Another time, they shot paintballs at his head until he left.

There was another memorable incident when something small landed on his head, and the next moment he was attacked by bats.

But today he finally cornered the attacker, it was a child whose face was hidden behind a mask that completely covered his face, and his hair was hidden behind a hood. He slowly approached the boy, he needed to find out who he worked for. Who decided that they had the right to interfere with him punishing criminals.

Only when Batman grabbed the attacker by the shoulder he felt dizzy and then everything around him went dark. Tim quietly patted himself on the head for the backup plan of the backup plan.

After waking up, Batman did not feel calmer, on the contrary, this meeting ignited even more rage in him.

How dare this child run around Gotham so carefree when his son was killed, how dare he protect criminals when one of them killed his son, how dare he..

That day, a file on a new criminal with high priority appeared on the Batcomputer, Alfred only reproachfully pursed his lips.

By the time Red Hood escaped from Talia (Yes, he escaped here, I don't know for sure, but I think Talia was pitting Jason against Tim to ensure her son had direct access to Bruce's legacy). Batman and Tim's confrontations became legendary.

Tim even had his own name and merchandise! Several names, actually, he was called Gotham's Whisperer, the Soul of Shadow, or Little Shadow. And in various Gotham stores you could find little figurines of him with various weapons that he demonstrated during this time.

Nightwing adored the little guy, although he had never met him in person. In fact, no one except Bruce had ever encountered the kid. And although Oracle never officially supported the boy, she never warned Batman if she saw a small dark silhouette through the cameras. Although Dick really wanted to know where the kid got the sniper rifle with tranquilizers, or how he hacked the Batmobile to put a sleeping Bruce in it and send him to the Cave, or how he got so many incriminating photos of Batman that he scattered all over the city when Batman didn't take one of his threats seriously.

Simply put, Nightwing was a fan, and had wanted the kid's autograph ever since the kid evacuated an entire alley, including Bruce, by playing the sound of a pack of rabid dogs approaching.

Batman, though he had passed the peak of his rage, still made Gotham afraid if he was spotted trolling alone.

Red Hood was furious, not only did his father not have the courage to avenge him, but he also dared to splash out his aggression on anyone who was not breathing smoothly on HIS Alley of Crime.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive, a pinch of angst / word count: 5k

content/warnings: tried sumn different so this is mainly from jungkook’s pov :D !! drummer!oc ur so cool & i’m stealing u from ur bf 🏃— mention of a 10 yr age gap between jk & a guy who likes oc (he’s hella pissed off) ; mentions of (car) s^x ; allusion to a bl^wj^b ; jk just got home from tour & oc is tipsy, needy, & dramatic as hell T_T ; oc /briefly/ touches jk while he’s driving & he /nearly/ loses his shit & crashes the car (he doesn’t) (i’m kidding) + to the anon who wanted to jk’s cheek scar to get a kissy here u go 🥺

> in which masterlist!

note: oc is so shot glass of tears coded especially in this… i’m glad i’m posting this after golden came out just so i could say it 🥰 this takes place after this drabble sooo the end of oct 2018 <3 if u’ve read the prev drabble too, this was when jk said those exact words in the past 🥺 wrote this in the middle of hell week so i was half out of my mind :'] as always feedback & reblogs rrr always appreciated !! 🥺

—

jungkook loves the sound of rain— the gentle knocks on every surface of the earth has always been a lullaby even during daylight.

tonight is a different story, however. it is defeaning, terrifying even. he can barely see what is infront of him, spare the occasional headlights blazing across the slippery roads. his umbrella is being stolen away by the harsh gusts of wind and the mud stains on his sneakers are well-hidden by the plain black.

and yes, he is tired; and yes, this is hard, but that is the end of it.

you’re exactly where you told him you’d wait, far behind the edge of the roof where the rainwater falls from and splashes on the ground. you stand out in his blue oversized shirt, one that he purposely left behind in your closet so he could have something else to wear when he sleeps over.

you’re too busy typing on your phone to see him crossing the parking lot; he feels his very own vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. however, his giddy smile fades when a man exits through the entrance door and approaches you with a red umbrella. his strides become slightly hurried then, as he watches you politely decline it with that heart-fluttering smile of yours everybody adores.

“oh no, really, i’m fine. you might need it later! my boyfriend is already coming to pick me up anyway.”

jungkook acts cool. he tucks his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, tries to make himself appear bigger because he realizes that he would be inches shorter than the man if not for the platforms of his shoes.

“____, baby!”

upon hearing your name coming from the lips of your lover, your face lights up even brighter.

“jungkook!”

you greet him with an embrace, jumping into his arms before he can properly set down his umbrella on the ground.

“yah, yah-yah! be careful!” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you, peering down to check how high your boots are for you to be running and jumping around freely.

“hey, i’m going back inside- there’s more customers coming in. make it home safe, alright?”

the stranger tries to catch your attention, and jungkook’s protectiveness swiftly kicks in when he lays a hand on you and slides it down to your lower back. your boyfriend turns you away from the unprompted touch by pulling your body closer to his side, and he is unable to control how his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

he wasn’t planning on giving much thought to the presence of a man around you. he knows better than that. but he has never heard about this one, which raises the question of who the fuck is he to freely touch you like that?

“oh- alright! thank you, jun!”

“you better take care of ____, man. it’s dangerous around here during this time.”

he receives a rather heavy and condescending pat on the shoulder, and so, with his annoyance bubbling worse, he wears a passive aggressive smile on his face.

“yeah, of course i am,”

jun’s nostrils flare as he witnesses you sneakily slide your hands underneath jungkook’s hoodie in search of warmth.

“i’m here now, so there’s no need to worry about my girlfriend anymore.”

he nods, then forces himself to smile. “that’s good, then.”

“yeah, thanks. we’re leaving.”

“oh, okay. have a nice night!”

“you too,”

he turns on his heel and returns inside the busy establishment— but not before jungkook made sure that he saw the bruises on his knuckles that he got from his boxing sessions.

his jaw clenches as he glares at the door.

is he being petty? sure, to hell with that. he doesn’t care. he’s always been one to trust his gut, and he has a bad feeling.

he is met by a love-drunk smile when his undivided attention is at last given to you, in the form of fond eyes and affectionate strokes of your hair.

“who was that?”

“eh, new bartender,” you shrug with disinterest. “hm, i think he’s 31…? he’s nice but he keeps talking about wrestling.”

he raises an eyebrow at the mention of his age, while your lips form a sad pout.

what the hell? he thought he would be 25 at most.

“the tv has been in the same channel for the past two weeks because of him. it’s all i’ve been seeing! i don’t like it-” you whine in distress, quite frankly, a little traumatized.

an endeared smile is coaxed out of him at your adorableness, how your speech is a little slurred and how you’re looking at him like you’re begging him to do something about it.

“makes me nervous,”

his dominant hand closes into a fist.

if he only he had known. should’ve fucking punched the guy, give him a taste of what he seems to be a huge fan of.

“let’s watch something calming when we get home, how about that?”

you nod your head, eyes that twinkle with eagerness fluttering shut when he leans in for a much awaited kiss. how sweet, he feels a little more alive than before. he can smell it, even taste it— the peach margarita you started sipping on before the band’s first set. concocted by jun, he presumes. he pulls away with a small smile, licking his lips for the traces of you that clung to him.

out of the blue, you burst into a fit of giggles, weak knees buckling as your weight crashes on him.

“i missed you!”

“babe, are you seriously drunk?” he chuckles, holding you with a secure grip around your torso.

“maaaybe tipsy…? i was pretending not to be.” you stand on your tip-toes to nuzzle your face against his neck, mumbling sheepishly. “only trust you.”

—

“i should’ve accepted the umbrella.” you grunt childishly, body going limp on jungkook’s back, except for the arm holding up the umbrella that shields the both of you from the pouring rain.

“yah!” he scolds you, clearly not pleased with the words that just came from your mouth. “what does that mean?”

“i’m embarrassed! they’re probably feeling bad for you.”

the last sentence comes out as a whisper, pertaining to the side glances you’ve been attracting from strangers as you make your way to your boyfriend’s car.

unfortunately, he had to park somewhere far because the restobar’s parking lot was already full.

you jokingly complained about staining your white boots with dirt and mud, but you instantly regretted it when he bent down, signalling you to ride on his back without an ounce of hesitation.

“our shoulders always get wet when we share an umbrella,” he said. “if i carry you, wouldn’t it be better?”

“embarrassing? some would even say romantic!”

something peculiar happens then— when your lips ghost over his left cheek, planting an affectionate kiss there that lasts for seconds. you pull away with a smacking sound, giggly and bubbly, might be his favorite version of you.

“i love you,” you hum, grasping the umbrella upright before it could tip over.

he doesn’t know if you did it on purpose or not, kissing him precisely where his scar is, but his heart jumps in his chest when he feels it begin to throb.

as if the wound from his childhood has come alive. as if, once again, he is bleeding as he glares at his older brother, and he still wants to play games on the computer oblivious to the fact that it would leave a permanent scar, a brand new landmark on his body.

you mistake his silence for something else.

you frown, warm breath tickling his neck as you quietly ask. “are you still mad at me?”

he sighs, vision landing on the ground as his walking pace slows down. “no? i was wrong. i shouldn’t have questioned your decision in the first place… why would i be mad?”

you started playing the drums for your friend’s band two months ago, just as soon as he left for tour. you volunteered after witnessing how distraught they were when their drummer vanished without a trace. he learned that it used to be a hobby of yours from childhood until early teenage years, playing the drums, but it was robbed from you when your father took his instruments with him when he abandoned your home for another.

he was pleasantly surprised when he learned about it, recounted all the times your hands and fingers were drumming on any sort of surface and his head naturally bopped to the beat, but then again, you never brought it up.

isn’t ____ so cool? he would proudly say when he flaunts you to his friends, even the protocol team, who have never seen him so happy.

three times a week, from nine in the evening until midnight, your phone was propped up on an empty table infront of the stage, and him, on the other side of the globe, excitedly watched you from backstage while he was getting ready for their own show. some other times, he was in his hotel room, or the private jet. his patience has been tested by crappy wifi, nosy and noisy people, and his earphones that stopped working while you looked insanely attractive grooving to ‘why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ as you effortlessly played the drums. he showered you with compliments as you did for him. you’re working hard so he must do the same.

he arrived home from tour the other day, spent the rest of its hours sleeping. yesterday, he waited for you at school and then at work like a lost puppy, slept on your bed (if he’s being honest, the two of you didn’t do much sleeping) then woke up at 9am for work.

and he tried his best, he really did, to get out of the company early enough to catch you playing a song or two. after all, it was your last day at the job.

much as you enjoyed reconnecting with an old flame— loved the overflowing tips that came from those who were amazed by your talent (well, there were also those who were just trying to get into your pants), the moment that the old drummer got down on his knees begging to be taken back by his best friends, just like how you became a part of the band, you voluntarily stepped down.

jungkook didn’t agree with this decision. he didn’t understand why you’d sacrifice something that makes you happy for a person who fucked up and wasted what they had. you went back and forth over it on the phone until you cried, told him that it wasn’t easy for you, and he couldn’t hold you in his arms or kiss your face. he could only apologize, and it even felt insincere doing it through a screen.

maybe he’s only relieved that you no longer need to be around a man an entire decade older than he is, who is obviously interested in you and serves you alcohol drinks. no, that doesn’t sit right with him. he needs jun, or whatever the fuck his true name is, to stay very far away from his baby.

“i’m just sad that i never got to watch you perform in person.”

you rest your cheek on his shoulder, heavy eyelids slowly blinking as the headlights of a black van blindsides you.

what the fuck. too bright.

“me too…”

—

“i’m bored,” you release a dramatic sigh, stealing a glimpse of jungkook at the driver’s seat, just to see if you caught his attention like you intended.

his eyes are trained on the dashboard, however, focused on the navigation guide displayed on his phone. he isn’t very familiar with this part of the city. it took him more than an hour to arrive at the address you sent him, including the time he spent in the middle of traffic.

“forty-eight minutes, then we can do whatever you want.”

“whatever i want?”

he slows down the car, briefly turning his head to find you expectantly looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“of course,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to squish your cheeks together. “just tell me what it is, baby.”

he doesn’t catch the sad look that flashes across your face after you lose his touch.

“then i’ll tell you when i figure out what i want,” you say quietly.

“i thought you already had something in mind?”

“nope,” you answer with yet another sigh.

you choose to stare out the window in silence, body completely slumping into your seat in defeat.

jungkook’s senses are sharp, or he likes to believe so. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay,”

“you sure?”

“hmm,” you hum curtly, and then you close your eyes, so he decides not to press further despite wanting to.

he meets a red traffic light not long after that. and so, he hurriedly grabs the black fleece blanket in the backseat. he envelopes you in it, crossing the distance between you to softly press his lips onto yours for a goodnight kiss. he feels you respond, albeit lazily, and he smirks cockily when you lift yourself up to chase him for one more, please— desperately, to get your fill of goodnight kisses from the many nights that you missed it.

the time seems to tick excruciatingly slow now that you’re quiet. a minute is multiplied by a hundred. the steady rhythm of your breathing keeps him sane throughout dark avenues and encounters with reckless drivers of the midnight scene.

he missed you. he missed you so much, and he knows that you’re tired from university, and tutoring high school students in english, and playing the drums for more than two hours… but he selfishly wishes that you’re awake right now so he can make up for the two months that you were apart.

be careful of what you wish for, they said.

jungkook should know better by now.

“i can’t sleep,” he hears you whisper in a dulcet tone that indirectly tells him you’re in need of some love… but he isn’t given the chance to act upon that request because you’re already all over what it is that you need.

he swallows thickly, glancing down at your hand that has somehow found its way to his inner thigh— zeroing in on your red nails, can feel them faintly grazing his skin.

you’re so pretty. everywhere.

even when naked and bare.

no, especially. it’s all he can think about.

he can draw you from memory.

“____,” he utters your name through gritted teeth, heart beginning to race a thousand miles per second in his chest.

the effect of your teasing touch is instantaneous, slowly inching closer and closer to where his growing erection is. his eyes remain focused on the road, but he fears that he’ll start thinking with his dick soon if you carry on with this act a few seconds longer.

“shit, not now, baby- please- not while i’m driving.”

your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, poorly concealing a self-satisfied smirk, and you pretend not to hear a single word from his plea.

a minx, that’s what you are, always causing trouble and blurring lines in his eyes.

“____, i’m not joking around. don’t make me mad-”

his warning is cut short by-

“fuck… fuck,” he curses, filter flying out the window once he feels you tracing the outline of his hard-on, the feather-light touch of your fingers smoothly gliding across the fabric of his sweatpants, and he completely loses it when your soft palm caresses his cock, so gentle that it feels almost innocent.

okay, so he couldn’t feel it because you weren’t skin-to-skin, but he knows that your hands are soft, can feel his imagination running wilder because he has memorized the way they feel on most parts of his body.

you’re so incredibly nasty and evil for this— squeezing him lightly, taking advantage of how sensitive he’s gotten, making him tremble as pleasure shoots up his spine. his breath stutters in his lungs and he unconsciously pushes harder on the gas.

and although it means fighting every fiber of his being that painfully yearns for more, he seizes your wrist in an iron grip, placing your hand over the gearstick while his sits heavy on top of yours.

“____! behave! you’re going to get us killed!”

he watches you jut out your bottom lip through the rearview mirror, eyes hazy with lust staring down at where your hand used to be, and then his handsome face. he is evidently flushed, honey skin dusted with a rosy pink. all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his neck.

while he’s driving? really?

doesn’t this only happen in wet dreams?

you are not real.

“then pull over,” you plead. “please?”

he releases a shaky breath. you’re always so needy with alcohol in your system, drove him into total insanity while he couldn’t be here to give you what you wanted.

“no, you need to learn how to be patient… told you we can do whatever you want when we get home, right?”

wrong move.

the silence returns, and just when he thought that you went back to your journey to slumber, the sound of your sniffles fill the car.

jungkook’s heart breaks into a million pieces.

also, he wants to slam his head against the steering wheel.

you make it so fucking hard to resist you; you always get what you want. it becomes much harder when he is the subject of your desire and he loves being loved.

“haven’t i been patient enough…? i missed you so much.”

“and i missed you too!” he brings your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing them on your skin. “fuck, you have no idea how much… please, don’t cry.”

“then pull over,” you stubbornly insist, and he is so close to driving this car into a lamp post. “fuck me at the backseat.”

“can’t,” he mumbles, sounding almost pained, and he is. he wants you so bad, it hurts. “we’re going to have to do it without protection.”

“what do you mean?” you exclaim.

you rip your hand away from his, not wasting time in unlocking the glove compartment, and a sound of sheer disappointment escapes from your mouth as you collapse back on your seat.

“jungkook, i hate you!”

“well right now i hate myself too!” he cries out in frustration. “i didn’t have the time to buy more, okay?”

“and there’s not one in your wallet?”

“babe, are you serious?!”

“what?!”

somehow, his hands still expertly swivels the steering wheel as the car meets a curve.

but he feels dizzy. the ghost of your touch is still there, a promise of carnal pleasure unfulfilled.

“stop the car,” you say out of the blue, rather calmly, and that terrifies the shit out of him.

he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes switching between you and the road in panic. “huh?”

“i said stop the car, i’m stepping out.”

“babe, come on,” he moans, ruined and tormented. he reaches for your hand but you scoot further away from him, and he ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach as he kneads your exposed thigh instead. “please, don’t be like this. i just got home.”

“jungkook! if you don’t let me get off this car right now, i swear!”

the urgency embedded in your threatening voice leaves your boyfriend with no choice but to pull over to the side of the street as soon as he gets the chance.

he carries on to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“baby, stop being stu-”

he tries to reach for you, but he is rudely ignored as you hop off the car and slam the door shut on his face.

“…bborn…”

he blinks.

he inhales. he exhales.

and then he buries his face in his hands to scream… as quietly as possible.

“what the fuck was in that margarita?!”

—

jungkook steps out of the car worried sick about you. now wearing a black bucket hat, his head whips in different directions in search for the familiar shape of your body, your hair, your shirt that is his, anything.

his arm rests on top of the car door, the other on the roof, fingers drumming on it anxiously as he chews on his bottom lip.

there are mostly restaurants here, it seems. some are already closed, some are still lights on. not far away, he hears a karaoke place bursting with music and laughter. he looks up and he finds that the night sky remains barren of stars; there’s no guidance from the heavens that will lead him to you.

except for the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name.

he turns around, and he knows it’s going to sound extremely silly, but damn, you make his life feel like a movie— because you’re jogging towards him, and the universe begins moving in slow motion. perhaps it is to prevent him from falling on his knees in relief, because he genuinely thought that you already went home on your own like the stubborn brat that you are.

“____, where did you go?! you can’t just run off like that! seriously, that was not nice!”

“i forgot my wallet!” you squeal as you halt infront of him, slapping your forehead as a way to scold yourself. “i found a hotteok cart!”

his anger quickly dissipitates. he scans your face, mouth agape in bewilderment.

you, screaming at him to stop the car because there was a sighting of your favorite snack? makes sense.

he dishes out the wallet from his pocket. “wha- i thought you… you didn’t have money?”

you shake your head to answer his question.

“then how are you already eating?”

you take another bite from the hot hotteok you’re holding in a paper cup, and then you shrug.

“i was already eating when i realized it,” you point at yourself, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “so he let me run back here. does it look like this face would steal?”

“you’re impossible!” he bursts out laughing, the unique sound of his joy harmonizing with the mundane noises of the city.

he is thoroughly amused and in awe of your undeniable charm never failing to work its magic. if you just gave it a shot, you might be even better at him at his job.

you’re pliant as he captures your wrist, tugging you away with him so he can lock the car.

“i bought three, by the way.” you note as the two of you start walking, with you clinging to his side. “the last three then mister can go home.”

you put the hotteok near his mouth, and he pauses to take a big bite. “have you even had dinner?”

“just the four margaritas- they were yummy! or was it five?”

he clicks his tongue in disappointment, but he doesn’t get to say anything more about it because you’ve reached the hotteok cart, and he’s already handing the vendor the money.

“thank you!” he bows his head politely as he accepts the remaining two you mentioned earlier, handing them over to you.

“no, this is yours.” you speak with tenderness, giving back one of the cups to him. “then we’ll split the third one. it’s really good!”

the vendor secretly watches the interaction with a fond smile as he packs up to finally, finally end his long day working at the busy streets of seoul.

—

you’re sat together on the hood of jungkook’s car as you share a midnight snack. with caring hands, you rip the hotteok apart in perfect halves, offering the other to your lover. he accepts it in between his teeth.

“do you want drums as your christmas gift?”

“love,” you search for the words to say as you chew the food in your mouth. “i can barely fit in my apartment. where am i going to put a drum set…? not to mention that i can’t even cry without my neighbor hearing it.”

his shoulders drop in dejection, and you rub your boyfriend’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“you must really want to see me play, don’t you?”

“i’m dying to,” he says in pure jungkook fashion, tone dramatic and thick with an accent that is entirely his. “i can’t believe there were regulars who saw you every night, while i, your boyfriend, didn’t even see you once…! even that fucking bartender… this- this can’t be right! do you think this makes sense? no, right?”

“aw, my baby,” you coo at him, jutting out your bottom lip as you tenderly cup his face.

“i don’t trust him, by the way,” he scoffs. “as much as possible, stay away from him when you visit, alright…? if i see him touching you one more time, i don’t know what i’ll end up doing to him.”

“i don’t like him either,” you giggle. “so that’s easy.”

he stares at your bloodshot eyes. damn it, you haven’t sobered up.

“____, i’m serious. he’s weird. i’m worried about you but i can’t always be here to protect you.”

you blink at him innocently. “i am too! serious!”

“you promise me?”

“i promise!”

he nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he gets lost in the sea of his own thoughts. “i should talk to your friends about this, too. is that okay?”

“if that will ease your mind,” you half-smile, heart fluttering in your chest because you feel so cherished.

comfortable silence follows suit.

the hotteok is still soft and warm and sweet. if your love had to be delivered to his doorstep, it would in the form of your favorite food.

he sighs to gain more of your sympathy, basking in the attention he’s receiving from you. he missed this. he missed you. he sounds like a broken record, but it’s true.

“come ooon, don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you! but it’s a surprise!”

“surprise?” he eyes you with suspicion. “what surprise?”

“just trust me, alright?”

you poke his cheek where his dimples are, and you witness them pop out as he copies your contagious smile.

“can i make a guess?”

“nope!”

you fit the remaining piece of your hotteok in your mouth, jumping off the hood of the car. you stand before him as you wipe your hands clean with a small paper napkin.

“don’t you dare. if you guess it right then my plans will be ruined!”

—

you’re back on the passenger seat to travel the remaining twenty-seven minutes to your apartment.

jungkook melts into the tenderness of your touch as he drives. you’re tracing the toned muscles of his arms; stroking his hair, his face, and the smell of the sticky brown sugar from the hotteok still lingers on your skin.

“when are you going to start getting tattoos?” you wonder out loud as he intertwines your fingers together on top of his thigh. “i think you’d look so pretty.”

“i’m planning on it.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of you remembering that he wants his skin artfully inked as you absentmindedly distracted yourself with it.

he licks his lips, smiling as he looks over at you. “you really think so? pretty?”

“hm, hot, too,” you stick your tongue out playfully, and he snorts out a laugh. “but as long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.”

“of course- wait, yah! you still need to eat dinner.” he reminds you once he recognizes the path you’re taking.

a grocery store is not more than a kilometer away, if his memory serves him right.

“what do you want? i don’t mind cooking.”

“for you to fuck me, that’s what i want. you won’t mind that, too?”

oh my fucking god.

he wishes you were passed out drunk instead so he wouldn’t have to suffer this battle between self-control and his insatiable appetite for you.

“baby, aren’t you still sore from this morning?”

“a little,” he notices you squeezing your thighs together from his peripheral, and along with it, the bruises on your knees from when you worshipped his body last night. “but i want you.”

your giggles in reaction to him frustratedly running his fingers through his hair seems to only fuel the dirty thoughts in his head. he uncomfortably shifts in his seat to adjust himself.

“can you just bring it up when we get near your house? you’re killing me over here!”

“but why? i’m having fun.” you bring your tangled hands over to your side, peppering the back of his hand with innocent kisses. “i love you. you’re so cute.”

“are you… are you seriously calling me cute after what you just asked me to fuck you?”

his disbelief is challenged by your amusement.

“why not? being one dimensional? boring. being different things all at once? sexy.”

jungkook doesn’t need to see you play the drums to know that you are the only one capable of making his heart beat like this. to feel it pounding, it turns out there’s another way besides performing, he can just be alone with you. a different type of addictive exhilaration. he isn’t at the top of the world; he free falls as it revolves around you.

you always know the right words to say, because right now, he is preening. he’s wearing a big smile, the kind that looks like he’s laughing, but he’s not— almost. the kind that reaches his eyes, shapes them into little crescent moons.

how did he get so lucky?

rehearsals in the morning be damned, he will be fucking you good all night.

you make a noise of confusion when the car swerves into the trees at the side of the road.

“what are we doing here?”

jungkook only spares you a glance. “get in the backseat, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aegon bathing and asking his wife to join him

It's been so long since I posted anything about HotD. Have you seen the trailers? I'm so excited for the new season!! This one has been in my wips for a long time, but I kicked myself to finish it today to celebrate the upcoming season

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You entered the ensuite of your and Aegon’s shared bedchamber, hair unpinned and cascading down your back. Outside your quarters, they were always pinned into a braided hairstyle, concealing their true length to the court’s eyes. It’s good to have a distinction between the way a lady presents herself to the people and what is only for her husband’s eyes. Your day dress was replaced by an emerald green silk robe with dainty broderies along the lapels, a gift from the queen, given to you on your and Aegon’s wedding day. It was beautiful. 

‘’There you are,’’ you said, seeing Aegon in the tub, steam rising from the scalding hot water. 

His eyes shifted to you, the corner of his mouth curling when they fell on your attire. He poured more wine into his cup, splashing some water over the side of the tub due to the movements. ‘’My wife is a sight for sore eyes.’’ 

His speech wasn’t slurred, but it would soon be if he continued drinking.

You offered him a soft smile in response to his compliment. ‘’And my husband is about to be drunk.’’ 

Aegon grinned. ‘’I’m perfectly sober.’’

You shook your head as you approached, then sat on the stool by the tub as he bathed. ‘’If you’re sober, why is this pitcher almost empty?’’ 

Aegon laughed. He was caught. 

‘’Will you be joining me in the bath?’’

He wished he could spend every night of his life just like this — just you and him, alone with one another. No more worrying about his duties as first son of the king and heir of the throne. No more worried about needing to produce heirs. Neither of you were ready to raise children, but his mother kept making subtle hints that a babe was needed soon. 

‘’It depends.’’ 

Aegon leaned back in the tub and took another sip of wine, enjoying the warmth enveloping his body. ‘’I wouldn't mind some company,’’ he said with a playful glint in his eyes. 

You chuckled, standing up and untying the sash of your robe. Under, you had on a nightgown made of the same material, but in a lighter shade. It had delicate thin straps and almost touched the floor. You until the ties of the straps and stepped out of the nightgown, which made Aegon’s mouth curl into a smirk. 

Carefully, you stepped into the tub and lowered yourself to sit opposite him. 

Aegon's gaze lingered on you, grateful that you were his. To his eyes, there was no woman more beautiful than you. Without a word, he reached out and gently took hold of your ankles, pulling your feet closer to him until they rested against his thighs.

Before getting wed, you had heard the whispers at court about how Aegon wouldn’t make a great husband. How he could never be faithful to his wife as he was always frequenting brothels and sleeping around. How cold he was emotionally. 

He wasn’t like that with you. Everything that had been said turned out to be wrong. 

‘’How long can we stay here?’’ he asked, his fingers tracing patterns along your calves. 

You smiled at his touch, allowing yourself to relax. Despite the rumors and whispers that had surrounded him, you knew the truth — Aegon was kind, caring, and fiercely devoted to you. No one could compete with your beauty. He also had a dirty mind and a slight drinking problem, but you knew how to deal with him.

‘’As long as we want,’’ you replied, running your fingers through the water. ‘’We are not expected anywhere until the morrow.’’

Aegon sighed. He hated duty. ‘’Sometimes, I dream of a life where we can be together like this, without the weight of our titles pressing down on us. A life where we can choose our own path, without the expectations of others. I…I don’t want to be king. Unfortunately, my whole future has been planned before I knew how to speak.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes  @thirsty4nonlivingmen  @naty-1001  @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl  @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester

[buckyalpine]

18+ minors dni, that is your warning. Idk how we ended up with this. Some subby vs dom Bucky having wet dreams has such a choke hold on me right now. Apologies in advance, it gets quite feral.

Imagine subby Bucky whining and whimpering into his pillow with his aching cock throbbing against the mattress, cum dribbling from his tip, his hips pressing against the bed to relieve how full his dick feels. He shivers in his sleep as he wets his boxer briefs' and the bed with his load, cuddling into the pillow more because how he feels all sensitive, floating in a hazy bliss. At some point when he does wake up, he feels the warm sticky mess he made and his cheeks are dusted pink thinking about what caused all this in the first place. He should change the sheets and he should hop into the shower but that dream-

He can't help but shove his hand into his briefs, biting his lip to keep his voice down while he tugs at his cock in the privacy of his room, thankful you had no idea how desperate he was for you.

He needs your breasts in his face, something for him to suckle on to keep his voice down when he's balls deep in you. The thought makes him harder and he pulls the waistband of his brief's down to free his cock, stroking faster. Poor baby so badly wants to stop, you're too sweet and here he is acting like such a little pervert but a thick drop of precum drips out and he can't stop now, he needs to get it all out. He wonders if you'd put it in your mouth, fuck if you'd try and take both balls, telling him how good he tastes, how he's such a good boy for holding it, how big and good his dick feels, how you'd touch him so softly and-

"A-angel-y/n-mmph"- his voice melts into a whine as he throws his head back, chest heaving between sweet breathy moans, cum shooting and dripping onto his abs. He's made an even bigger mess than before and he's not sure how he's going to face you after what he's just done but he can't help it, not when it's you.

But then imagine dom Bucky who lets out a muffled groan, his metal arm whirring, fingers tearing the sheets when pleasure out of his control makes his balls full and heavy, his cock growing rock hard. His muscles tense and he ruts into the bed to chase the intense feeling between his legs. "Mmph-fuck" His voice is laced with sleep as his hips stutter, pink lips parted when he moans, cumming all over himself and the bed. Ropes of his spend seem to pour endlessly from his cockhead, his body producing more than enough cum for days. His eyes crack open when the sun pours into his room and he stretches, feeling relaxed and satisfied. He smirks when he remembers that dream, lazily kicking off the sheets and tossing his boxers off so he can think about it again, this time with more control. He's hard in no time, keeping his legs spread while his metal hand cups and rolls his balls, his other working his length up and down.

He thinks about the way you'd suckle on his tip, hissing when he lets his thumb toy with his slit, imaging it being your tongue lapping up the milk he's ready to give you.

"Mm, that's it angel" He groans, giving his balls a tug and rutting his hips up to fuck his fist thinking about how perfect you'd be if you swallowed every single drop, sticking your tongue out after to show him you drank it all.

His mind continues to wonder thinking about what his filthy imagination cooked up last night in his dreams. Your body would look so pretty on full display for him with your legs spread apart so he can put his cock in exactly where it belongs. His eyes roll back at the thought of you whining and whimpering over how his fat dick is stretching you. Bucky really isn't the type to put a lot of thought into his dick size but when it comes to you it makes him feral. He wants to hear those whimpers when you feel his erection press against you if you sat on his lap, to see your eyes widen when he pulls it out, for you tell him it's not gonna fit.

At this point, Bucky doesn't give a fuck that he's moaning shamelessly on his bed with both hands playing and working at his cock and balls. The walls are soundproof anyway. He alternates between closing his eyes and thinking of you and looking at his leaky length, he fucking knows its perfect and so pink and pretty. He just knows you'd want to play with it and kiss it and suck it. God, he wants you to suck it. So bad.

"Suck it angel, c'mon, suck daddy's cock"

He almost wishes you were able to hear him next door. You have him so worked up, his seconds away from shoving his pillow between his legs and humping it till his balls are empty.

"God damn angel, fuck are you doing to me" He murmurs when he gets closer to cumming, thinking about his dream ended up with your legs around his waist, his cum painting the inside of your cunt. His moans grow louder, brows furrowed and jaw slack when the first stream blows from the tip smearing onto his lips. "Holy fuck-fuck-hng-

He's never cum that hard before, moaning loudly again when he lets his hand massage his sensitive and swollen head making sure he drains his balls, getting out every drop.

He's not even mad at the musky salty tastes of himself as he starts to come down from his high, continuing to give himself a few more lazy strokes as he strides over to take a shower. He has training with you later today and he can't wait to make those dreams a reality.

[evilminji]

Okay, so maybe it's just me? Projecting my new Tea Phase?

Cause for med reasons, no more energy drinks, only Teeeeeeaaaaa~☆

But honestly? Now that I am an adult and ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT? Really digging it! Am enjoying the Teas. Mmmmmmm~ leaf broth. I like the fruity ones.

So! IMAGINE~☆ If you will:

Danny. 14 and his parents are LOUD AS FUCK (CRASH BANG SMASH BANG WHIIII-) dispite it being, once again, a school night. This has been going one For Years. That STUPID fucking machine. All God damned hours. Crashes and bangs and powertools. Explosions.

When will it ever end!

He's... he's honestly used it.

Unknowingly? This is is a skill that will come in handy later. Living and functioning while sleep deprived. Healthy? Fuck no. But it's USEFUL. He IS the ten year old downing Monster drinks in the parking lot before school.

It makes him a jittery weirdo. Twitchy. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, his parents either blew up or TOOK APART the washing machine AGAIN. He... he never stood a chance. It's a miracle the indoor plumbing hasn't been compromised yet... AGAIN.

His blood is more sugar, caffeine, and guarana or whatever those other things in the can are, then actual human blood. He doesn't CARE. He just needs too get decent grades, graduate, and become an astronaut. It's... it's FINE. This is normal. They're FINE.

(If they weren't... someone would have noticed, right? Would have DONE something. Cared. So it HAS to be fine. His family's just weird. It's FINE.)

But THEN...

The Accident.

And his biology CHANGES. Green goo, wrapped vicious and loving, around his very DNA. Like Kintsugi of the body and soul. In green, Green, GREEN. It... it's a lot. Everything changing all at once. Maybe that's why it takes him so long to notice.

Why he thinks "oh, I'm just tired cause I'm running more then usual. Fighting and flying. Doing ghost stuff."

When... when honestly? Some part of him always kinda KNEW. From the very moment he stumbled out of the portal. The aftershocks. The pain. Sam and Tucker crying, scrambling to help him up the stairs. Sam tearing her bag apart looking for her cramps medicine. Because... because pain medication is pain medication.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. Please. Please god, just take it! I promise it's gonna be okay!"

How do you look your panicked, crying, strongest-person-you-know best friend in the eyes and tell her... you can FEEL it dissolving in your throat. Like the pills were dumped in a human shaped pot of acid. That... that the pain isn't changing... and you... you don't think it's going too.

When you're scared. Might be dying. And you can already tell they think it's their fault. W... when you're all just KIDS. And all you can think is... you can let them know how bad... how bad it hurts...

They'd never be able to live with that knowledge.

Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Thanks. T... The pills helped a lot. He feels better. You really saved the day. He lo... loves you guys so much.

...

.....

He thinks about that moment A LOT. About how much he realized and knew, before the denial kicked in. Before he got so... Tired. Fresh of all that energy. And? You'd think he realize. The mood swings. The irritability. The headaches that disappear the SECOND he goes ghost. That he's in caffeine withdrawal. But? Nope.

He kinda blames the constant ghost attacks for distracting him.

But see... Sam? Doesn't drink tea. Goes against her diet. Tucker was where he GOT his illicit borderline illegal energy drinks. And his sister? Big on flavored sparkling waters. Which are gross to him.

His PARENTS drink a thick tar they insist is coffee. It might be liquid fudge. Zone knows its nearly the same consistency. It's horrifying. No thanks, he wants to LIVE.

It's? Ironically? Mr. Lancer and his constant detentions, that help Danny realize somethings up. Because Mr. Lancer shares. If he makes a cup for himself, he'll make one for you. It's how he was raised. And, yeah, the after school detentions? Those were herbal blends. No caffeine.

But...

But they tasted nice. Were warm. The classroom was quiet and as frustrating as it was? The tea itself? Was always... the one exception to how shit the situation was. So Danny finally broke down and asked about it. Learned Mr. Lancer knew a? Surprisingly LOT about tea. Huh.

Then one day he gets SATURDAY detention. Oh joy!

Bright and early. One of the few times he could be trying, desperately, to be sleeping through his parents cacophony. Catching up on his desperately needed Zzz's. Here he is... getting a handed a new cup of different tea?

Breakfast blend? And a bagel..

N...none hostile breakfast? A quiet space to catch up on his homework? No Dash? Just... just a quiet classroom, some tea, and the sounds on a peaceful morning outside?

......oh.

It's the best time he's had in school in... God, in YEARS. He gets so MUCH done. For once can concentrate. And? Actually, now that he thinks about it? Feels... awake? Or at the very least, not as sleepy. And being a Fenton, whom to the LAST are a genius if eccentric family, it's pretty damn easy to put two and two together.

Tea.

He felt more awake after having Lancer's breakfast blend tea.

He obviously asks about it. Then, after detention is done. Calm packs up. Goes home. Drops his back in his room. Goes ghost. And SHOOTS for the Far Frozen with his phone and an energy drink. Because clearly he's missing something and it's time to ask.

The good doctors of the Frozen are... gently horrified. Clawed hands steeples infront of their mouths as they try to tactfully figure out how to word "Great One, WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Why would you DO THIS TO YOURSELF!?" Because that... is not professional. Breathe. In, out, in, out. We can do this.

They get the most patient and restrained of their elders to... CALMLY, very VERY Calmly, ask some medical questions. Listen. Without judgements! Because they are medical professionals. Who do NOT want to scream, forever, into the void. Certainly not. So Calm! (They are going to BURN THAT CAN IN-)

Which! Huh. Yeah, that explains the constant exhaustion. He was poisoning himself. Kinda. Not so much the GHOST but the human half. Putting to much strain and too much trace chemicals, minerals, and buckets of sugar. General "mmmm :/ Don't Like THAT ™" energy from the Goo causing it too try and constantly burning it all out of existence. Endlessly.

The more he put in, the more there was to burn. The more there was to burn, the more tired he became. The more tired he became... well, the more he put in. It was a slowly lethal starvation cycle. Big Yikes.

The TEA on the other hand? Those are leaves. The good recognizes leaves and water. Other various plants, dried or otherwise. It ignores them as "fine" until they reach a "problematic" threshold, apparently? So... *blank look at the doctor*

*sighs in medical professional*

Tea? Good. Satan Can of Halfa Poison? Bad. Please drink tea.

👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

And it's like MAGIC. He's suddenly BACK, baby! Ha ha ha! Skulker you fuckin THOUGHT?! Oh it's 2am? Well SUPRISE bitch! He's bright eyed and bushy tailed! His grades are up AND he's beating you like a drum! He has ice breakers for old people discussions now!! The local Tea Shops have NEVER been so well protected.

He actually manages to graduate with not just decent grades? But GOOD ones.

And the second. The INSTANT. He is legally his own man? Has his important paperwork squirrelled away and the go bags safely WELL outside of Amity. It's time. He meets OUTSIDE the house, because he's not an idiot. He's been practicing his Clones and has them ready to grab his parents so he can get out of there alive. Jazz is on video call from Star city.

His parents... suspected. Not at first, but as goofy as they are? They aren't ACTUALLY idiots. They've been watching, going over old research. Trying, failing, to get in touch with the League to have THEIR team test their research. Peer review is critical after all. They... they had been so certain. Are still somewhat certain.

But their research doesn't exactly ACCOUNT for this "halfa" phenomenon. So, there is a very real chance they are missing something. The one thing the DO know? Danny is their son. Stuck in some eternal mortally wounded state or not, he is a hero. And they weren't there for him.

They can't change their beliefs on a dime. But they've clearly missed a great deal. And refuse to fall to academic bias. The very thing that got them LAUGHED AT for decades. Mocked and belittled. This is their life's work. By God they WILL find out the truth.

It's? Better then he could have hoped. Not perfect. But better.

He helps set up safeties and a security check point at the portal. Both sides. He's kinda a big deal these days, mom, dad. Ghost scientists eager to work with them. A whole TEAM under their command. It certain endears ghosts to them a whole lot more. Then?

Copy of the blue prints, go bag turned into normal bags, Danny's off to college.

Bounces from major to major. Nothing really capturing his interest. As he aged, he's need less sleep. Gotten stronger. Grown into his father's height and grandfathers build. Tucker keeps calling him a dorito. Danny retaliates with Ancient Egyptian Cyber/Pharoah Twink allegations. According to SAM they are both dumbasses.

She's not WRONG... but hey D:<

Eventually? A really niche botany seminar run by Pamela Isely catches the attention of Tucker, who forwards it to him n Sam. Nice ™. It's being held in her Murder Park! Cool! Obviously they have to go. So off to Gotham they go. And? When they get there? Sam is APPALLED.

She may HATE landlords as much as the next activist.... but LOOK at all these run down, foreclosed, rotting buildings! Beautiful gothic infrastructure! Those could be businesses or homes! Danny, busy with signing them up, makes the mistake of tuning her out as she rants in fury. She does this some times. Needs to vent. Uh huh, you're very right. You should contact somebody. I agree. Mmmhmmm.

Hey, Sam, Ms. Isely needs your-....

Sam?

Oh FUCK ™.

By the time the Seminar come around? Sam has violently kicked in the door of more then a feel reality offices. Owns QUITE a few buildings. Danny is sweating. She... she's doing the THING again. The "gimme your Ghost Crew, I KNOW you have a highly specific Ghost Crew, don't you DARE lie to me or I take your knee caps, Danny" stare.

>.> Sam you can't keep doin- *stare intensifies* Yes Ma'am. *Pulls out Fenton phone* and so? Here come the renovation crew. The ONLY honest building Crew in all of Gotham. They cut no corners. Can't be threatened. Gangs, villians, and even local government office try to arrange... accidents on the build sites.

Nothing. Nada. In fact, it turns out more dangerous for THEM then this crew of outsiders!

Wtf!

Then? After these two College age weirdos finish Poison Fuckin Ivys HIGHLY SUSPECT biology seminar? Manson fucks off to who knows where! Leaving what HAS to be "the muscle" behind. Cause I mean? Look, at the guy! He's huge! And what does he do?

Goes building to building. Rents them out to low income families. Honest, hard working shop keepers. And? Eventually decides to settle smack dab in the middle of Gotham, in the shadow of Wayne fuckin tower, spitting distance from the Space museum..... and open? A tea shop? The FUCK?

"The Zone".

In a weird shade of green. With little ghosts, wearing crowns, because and I quote "it's funny"? Certainly crazy enough for Gotham. But like, it's loud as FUCK here. Crowded. There are gas attacks and shit. It'll never las-....

It stays untouched for MONTHS.

Sometimes being the ONLY building near it to be untouched. Gas NEVER getting in. The damn place a BUNKER. And? Despite looking like it's two floors? It's three. You enter and your actually on the second floor. No one's even sure where the fuck the guy LIVES, since he never seems to leave.

Not only THAT. But it... it's like one of those old school apothecaries. Big ol bank of drawers. Guy'll mix up your blend for you right as you watch. Tea nuts are actually risking COMING to Gotham to try his stuff. Writing articles. Apparently he has some pretty rare shit in those drawers.

Some UNKNOWN shit, according to one guy on ViewTube.

There's this whole debate on if it's Ultra Super Rare or that means it's just super cheap knock off crap. Some of them he won't make for people, even if they ask. There's a rumor it's for Meta's with specific diets. Or alien blends. But no one can verify that. Cause like?

Anyone who tries to cause trouble?

Can't fucking FIND the place. And if you're already inside? You just... drop. Stone cold unconscious. It's definitely magic but no one knows if it's HIS or Manson's? You know? He won't talk. Gets annoyed when harrased.

Which off course!

Leaves Only ONE gentleman for the job. An elite special forces trained expert. Polite, dignified, enjoyer of fine Teas. Alfred "Why do you chucklefucks keep forgetting I was in the Queens Service and a Registered Badass" Pennyworth.

After all! He DOES have the days shopping to do.

@babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes