#Finally took the time to finish it this year

[jelloapocalypse]

Finally, it is finished!

For the last two years my girlfriend Amy and I have been working on this project: "The Search for the Best Anime Opening". After watching thousands of OPs and editing for nearly ten times as many hours, the video is done.

This is our longest video to date. It's a full-lengthed video essay about the motion graphic design present in anime openings.

Unfortunately, the video took a bit of work to get uploaded and we had to replace a few songs and mess with some of the footage to get it on YouTube. A mirror version of the video can be found on Patreon, absolutely free if you'd like to hear all the songs.

...I did do terrible a capella covers of the ones we had to replace, though, so maybe you'll want to hear those anyways.

[bunny-jpeg]

but i'm so proud

lance stroll

tags: smut & fluff, gentle sex, uni student!reader, established relationship (dating), loving!lance, pull out method, missionary, praise

a/n: i wish every lance fan a happy and successful exam season!

two more exams. that was all that it took to finish your degree. this had been going on for too long, but after covid school got harder for you. it was hard to get back into the headspace of academia even after all these years later. but you were hopeful for this final semester of school.

you'd finally be done and you could hang-up that lovely (expensive) degree and finally work towards forging a career for yourself. but you weren't quite there yet, and as you stared at your notes so hard your vision began to blur. you needed a little help, and you knew the one person who could.

lance.

his arm draped over the back of the couch, still enough reach to rub your shoulder as you looked at him with tired eyes. the bags under your eyes had been darkening for the past week and your caffeine consumption was at all time high.

"you need sleep." your boyfriend said.

"i need to pass." you whined as you rested up against his chest and puffed out your cheeks, "i don't need another semester here. i want to finally be done. so i can visit you at more races and actually make a name for myself." you looked up at him. there was a tiredness to your gaze and lance rubbed his thumb across your cheekbone lovingly.

"can't very well do that when you're next exhausted, eh?" he asked as he rubbed your back, "how about you call it quits tonight and tomorrow morning before i go out i'll quiz you." he pulled you away a little to look you in the eyes.

you nodded softly, "sounds good." then let lance kiss you deeply on the lips. you melted into the kiss a little, finding every ounce of comfort in his lips. you were exhausted and beyond burnt out. you let him touch you, give you that affection you desired. to feel close and loved.

he led you to your bedroom and laid out across the mattress with you. he rubbed your back with your face pressed against his chest. it felt right, it felt good. it felt the kind of right that made you rub your thighs together.

"i'm so proud of you." he said lowly, "do you have any idea how proud i am of you." he rubbed your behind and your upper thigh, "trying so hard every day to be the best. i'm proud of you and i can't wait for you to hang up that degree."

you went in for a heated kiss, you melted into him and curled yourself closer to him. it felt good, it was the kind of amazing feeling that left butterflies in your stomach.

the kiss deepened, you wanted more than just his words of affirmation. you wanted him all over, you wanted to feel the closeness to him. as much as you could. he held onto you tightly and placed you on your back.

you reached out and cupped his face. he smiled at you. he was really good looking, you've seen the comments online. but you didn't believe them, what did they know? they didn't get to see him the way you did. you pulled him in for another heated kiss and you rubbed your legs together.

he moaned into the kiss and planted his hands on either side of you. he relaxed as the kiss further in intensity. felt amazing to him. when it eventually broke, he looked into your eyes for a brief moment before he grinned to himself.

clothes came off soon after. his hands trailed across your body with such heated want as you struggled to get your t-shirt off. he eventually helped you then kissed your breasts as he got your bra off. he rubbed himself up against you and gave you one last look before he said, "you're beautiful too. brains, beauty, you got it all, baby." then took off your panties.

soon you were both left naked in bed together. he continued to feel up your body and you giggled into his kisses before you ended up on your back once more. another glance was shared and then another kiss before lance got between your legs.

"ready for me?" he asked softly.

you nodded, "for you? always." then tensed up as he inched his cock inside of you. you swore under your breath and his breath hitched at the feeling. every time felt like the first time in the best way.

"how's that?" he asked softly.

you looked up at him and nodded, "good, yeah. great." you said already a little out of breath. you reached out and held onto his shoulders for a moment before you wrapped your arms around him.

it allowed him to lean in closer to kiss you on the lips. the two of you kissed as his thrusts started off slow but with force. it felt good, a steady pace that made your toes curl.

"you feel great, babe." he said lowly, "you know that right? that i think everything about is perfect." he groaned as his pace gained speed and the two of you started to move together. held on tightly to each other while the kisses continued.

you could feel your ears burn from his compliments, they made you only grow hotter with each strong stroke of his thrusts. you felt a flutter in your chest. you knew that he loved you, he loved you deeply. you were everything to him. you cheered him on and he matched that energy.

"you feel great too." you replied but lance shushed you.

"accept the compliments, honey." he said, "this is about you tonight. you need all the support you can get before your exam. all the relaxation i can provide you." he held onto the covers once more for a bit more leverage as he moved against you.

"flirt."

"only for you." he said lowly.

you could feel the tingle in your body. your held on tighter and curled yourself a little to give him a better angle to thrust up inside of you. the new angle made everything feel more intense.

"fuck, lance."

he chuckled and moved faster. he eyed your expressions, how they changed a little with each thrust. he licked his lips, "i can't wait to see that degree. you better send me a hundred photos of it. i want to see it in all of its glory." his voice was seductive and the way he spoke with such pride about you made your cunt clench around him.

"i love you."

he licked his lips and before he went in for another kiss, he replied, "and i love you more than you know." you used to say that he was an idiot for standing by you even after so many failures in school. and he replied that you stood by him through every bad race - every dnf, every 20th place. everything. he kissed you once more and gripped onto the white covers tightly.

you felt the excitement rush through you. the feeling of being under him while he made you feel good. you whined a little bit and held onto his shoulders a little tighter.

he pressed his forehead against yours, and the two of you moved together in sync. you were both sweaty, but neither care. you just yearned to feel the intense closeness.

you swore under your breath as the pleasure continued to climb through you. it was an amazing feeling. your toes curled and you felt the pick up in your pulse. "lance."

"i've got you, baby. fuck, you feel so good under me. i love how you look, how you feel. you're beautiful, baby. all mine. you're gonna kill it on that exam."

you felt flushed at the words, which only fueled the pleasure in your core. the kisses continued, they got more heated as you felt yourself close to climax. your nails dug into his shoulders when you finally came around his cock.

"fuck, baby." he purred.

you held on tightly still as he worked himself against you. the pleasure bloomed all over and made you feel flushed with heat. it felt good, so good. you couldn't deny the feeling.

"my everything." he purred.

"back atcha." you said in a heightened euphoric state.

lance quickly pulled out and stroked his cock, slick with your wetness until he came all over your stomach with a heavy groan. he squeezed his eyes shut and swore under his breath. that felt really good. he slowed his strokes to a stop and looked you in the eyes.

you chuckled lightly, still out of breath and sweaty, "now that's stress relief." and before he could grab you for a kiss you said, "clean me up first, lance!" and then laughed loudly.

-

"doesn't look too bad." lance said as he stood beside you as you pulled away from the wall. he wrapped his arm around you and looked down at you, "going to try for your master's next?"

"ugh, let me think about it." you chuckled before you leaned in to kiss him on the lips. he held you close as you both looked at the diploma on the wall. you then said, "just need a wdc on the shelf next to it to really tie it together."

"i'll work on that." lance said with a small smirk. <3

[alaia777]

BLLK GUYS AS YOUR PETTY EX

you thought the breakup was civil, but your ex? not so much. turns out, he’s got a petty side that you never knew existed.

when you and bachira broke up, you thought it ended on good terms. so when you told him to come pick up his things, you didn’t think much of it—until the next morning, when you went to grab a pair of socks and realized not a single one had a matching pair. you searched everywhere, convinced you had just misplaced them, until it finally hit you—he took every single match just to mess with you.

you ended things with sendou because you wanted to focus on yourself, and he was surprisingly understanding, claiming he needed to focus on his career too. he didn’t unfollow you on social media, liking your stories occasionally, but every now and then he’d post something like, “some people really fumble blessings 😴,” and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was aimed at you.

nagi never bothered to remove you from his streaming accounts, but he’d definitely mess with your watchlist. he’d delete whatever you were watching, leaving you to start over, and change your profile name to something like “not your personal account” or “who’s watching this?”— petty, but it was hard not to laugh.

after the breakup, sae would randomly venmo you $0.01 with the memo “for the emotional damage,” like it was the most casual thing in the world. you’d get a notification, and it was always the same—just one cent, but the audacity behind it had you questioning whether he was trolling you or genuinely trying to make a point.

you knew chigiri was petty, you saw that throughout the course of your relationship, but the difference was it was never aimed at you. until now. your friend had sent you a screenshot of chigiri’s instagram post — he was at your favorite hidden cafe, the one you’d always kept to yourself. the caption read, “new favorite spot.” you stared at the post, your heart sinking, knowing full well that with his big following, the cafe would be swarming with people now. seriously, chigiri?

you always knew why your relationship with oliver didn’t last—you deserved better. so, when you found someone who made you feel like you were their only one, you went public with it, sharing it proudly on instagram. as for oliver? he reacted to your post with a 😂.

when shidou saw your new boyfriend signed up for a marathon, he didn’t hesitate. he signed up too, made sure to get the best time, and posted a picture of himself crossing the finish line with the caption, ‘beat that’ — just to make sure you knew who really came out on top.

you’ve been getting really into rock climbing lately, feeling proud of your progress, and next thing you know, rin shows up at the climbing gym, acting like he’s been climbing for years. he casually scales the hardest wall with ease, while you’re still trying to figure out how to not fall on your face. he doesn’t smile, just watches you struggle with that intense stare of his, making it clear he’s here to outdo you at your own hobby. now, every time you go, he’s there, silently trying to one-up your climbs.

you always begged barou to stop styling his hair the same way and just let it fall naturally, but he’d never listen. after the breakup, you scrolled through his stories, and there it was—a picture of him with his hair exactly how you always wanted it. no caption, just him casually showing off the thing you’d asked for all along.

isagi keeps liking every single post you make, even the ones about your new relationship, but he’s always the last to do it. he’ll wait just long enough for you to see it, but not so long that it seems like he forgot—just enough to make sure you know he’s still watching.

[littelovelunette]

Certain Site

Roommate!Sevika x College Student!Reader

Characters are in college and 21 years old

Contains suggestive themes, oral, clit stimulation

When the dorm management board had told you that they finally found a roommate for you, you were ecstatic. She was South Asian as far as you knew, and that wasn't a problem since you knew Hindi more or less because you had a friend before who was Indian, which just so happened to be her native language as well. "Sevika," you repeated the name after the warden.

"Yeah, that's her name," the warden, an elderly woman with a strict face but a sweet attitude, spoke.

"Okay, so when will she move in?" You asked, shifting on one foot to another, arms crossed.

"Just around Friday evening, you're probably gonna have class during that time so don't worry too much about. I already had a spare key sent to her," Janine said.

"Oh, okay."

"Let me know if there are any problems at all," She left. You sighed softly, this would be a long week. You had to clean up the dorm room. You couldn't afford leaving your lacy bras all over the place anymore. And forget about hooking up with a woman every now and then.

Classes were as exhausting as ever, and you were walking back from the campus, your feet dragging again the ground slowly and softly. You felt like you'd pass out from exhaustion any moment. You walked up the staircase and reached your dorm room, twisting the doorknob. It was unlocked.

That meant Sevika was probably already in the dorm. You took a deep breath and pushed the door open. You slowly walked to the other room in the dorm where Sevika should've been settling in, you paused. You could hear rustling and shuffling. She was probably moving some things around. You knocked. "Hey, it's me, your roomie."

The shuffling stopped and you heard heavy footsteps before the door was swung open. At the doorway stood a tall, easily 6'1, woman with a muscular build and dark skin. "Hey," she said, dressed in a wife pleaser and cargo pants, "'M Sevika."

Your jaw dropped. She was hot. Her muscles were shining with sweat and her hair was in a half updo. Your cheeks flushed red at the sight of the hot mess she was. You told your name, but it felt incoherent on your tongue, your raised a hand to meet hers.

"Ha, I would, but," Sevika showed her grime covered hands.

"O-Oh, right, yeah," you awkwardly pocketed your hands, taking a look around in her room, "You've settled in already, I see," you commented.

"Yeah," Sevika looked at her room, then back at you.

"Science major, I'm guessing," you crossed your arms and leaned into the doorframe. Oh, gosh, was Sevika so hot. Why did no one tell you you were getting a hot butch woman for a roomie?

"Not even close, engineering," Sevika smirked, "Lemme guess, desi parents stereotype?"

"Yeah, sorry," you giggled, and sighed. "You want something to eat?" You asked, you wanted to get to know her as much as possible now since she was moving in with you anyway.

Sevika nodded, "Yeah, food sounds good about now. I'll finish up and come downstairs."

As you walked out of her room, you couldn't help feel the heat decrease from your face. Great, you just met her and she was already starting to have an effect on you. Nevertheless, you headed downstairs and looked through the cabinets for food. You were excited to get to know her.

It had been a few days since Sevika moved in and today was a Saturday night. The apartment was strangely silent and you were in your room. You scrolled through your phone mindlessly, thumb scrolling through Tiktoks without really paying heed to whatever you saw on your feed. You could be studying at this moment but you chose to chill, it had been a long week and you were mentally drained and exhausted.

Just then, you heard borderline aggresive rustling of sheets from the other room. What in the hell was Sevika doing inside there? Wrestling the bedsheets ghost? You rolled your eyes and got up, feet adorned with some plush slipper as you waddled your way to her room.

You stopped in front of the door, listening to the soft gasp and moans. Did she sneak a girl inside? Because those moans were almost too high for Sevika's voice. Her rough, deep voice. With your eyebrows furrowed, you turned the knob and stepped inside.

You were met with a very flustered Sevika standing there with her grey eyes wide as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "You should knock." Sevika said in a tight voice, almost slamming her laptop shut as she stared at you with her wide eyes and red cheeks.

"Have you been watching porn or something?" You laughed and walked upto her with quick, long strides. You stopped in front of her bed and Sevika shook her head.

"No." She said almost too soon. You rolled your eyes at the obvious lie. Sevika shifted almost uncomfortably and you could tell she was naked under the blanket so you grabbed the corner of the sheet and yanked it off. Sevika yelped a little, almost jumping. "Hey!—"

Your jaw almost set open seeing her pussy, slick with arousal and just... It was crowned with dark hair, her happy trail starting right below her belly button, continuing down to her vagina. And her clit was big and swollen. Just like you preferred them on women you hooked up with. You silently eyefucked her for the first few seconds before mumbling.

"If you have such a hot roommate like me, why do you bother touching yourself? You're only tiring yourself out you know." You giggled. Sevika flushed more and looked away. You knelt down between her legs, bringing her close by the knees, taking in the musky scent of her pussy.

That's how Sevika found herself moaning and rutting her hips at you desperately, her pussy was so soaked and so needy in front of your face. You forced her legs down. "Behave for me, now. Will you?" You grinned. You were enjoying this far too much.

Your fingers were manicured so there was no way you were putting them inside her, instead you let your long nails drag across the skin of her thigh causing her to moan breathily. Her muscular thighs flexed around you, making you giggle and you pressed your index against her clit, the pad of your finger on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Sevika moaned loudly. "Stop teasing me already, dammit." She whimpered and shook her hips in your grasp.

You sighed. "You're so impatient." Your finger lifted off her clit just to land back on it and press harder. "I guess it can't be helped then." You smirked up at Sevika, her lower back pressing hard against the mattress in response to the pleasure.

"You fuckin' tease." Sevika's mouth then opened but no words came out, only a very loud moan of your name. You kitten licked her clit, slowly wrapping your lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your eyes met hers, and you held the stare. Sevika tried to hold it too, but then her hips bucked and eyes squeezed shut feeling you start to suckle her clit.

You giggled at her reaction, tongue flattening against her clit before you pulled away to attack her slit. Her slit dripped with arousal and you could taste her sweetness as you ate her out slowly. You weren't in any rush but it was clear that Sevika was. She was bucking her hips needily, trying to get more friction to her needy pussy.

You swatted her pussy to remind her who's in charge making Sevika groan and sink her hips back down on the mattress, "You're enjoying this way too damn much." Sevika muttered.

"Maybe." You pushed your tongue inside her pussy, tongue fucking her with practiced ease. Sevika moaned loudly again, hands coming to hover over your head as if silently contemplating whether to grab your face and fuck it silly or not. But she knew better than to do it to the mouth that ate her out.

You smirked at the power play she was under. "Somethin' on your mind, pretty?" You asked, your voice taking a cocky undertone. "Fuck you." Sevika cussed her legs shaking as if threatening to clamp shut around your head.

Your hands held the underside of her thighs, guiding them up to do exactly that. Sevika hesitated, afraid she'd hurt you by mistake because of how smaller your body was compared to hers. But you urged her on.

"Do it." Sevika clutched the sheets tightly, "Fuck, I'm close. Please." She whined. You pressed your face further into her pussy, almost losing all sense of breathing but you didn't care. Her pleasure was your top priority now. Your brain felt all mushy and no coherent thought formed at that moment.

Sevika's mouth, still agape, made a soft moan you thought was beyond her. Her body tensed up again and she released in your mouth. You smiled against her heat making Sevika blush. You'd just made her cum so effortlessly.

Or so you made it seem.

[invincibledc]

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐌𝚰𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐒𝐏𝚰𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

Summary!: when patrolling, you can’t help but meet another from your dimension.

Genre!: crack fic(?) this is for my own amusement.

Note!: reader is a male. An oc of mine for spider!reader appears. Every Spider-Man has to have their Deadpool. Also this is not proof read

Word count!: 806

Info!: Protege of Peter Parker, in their dimension/universe, Peter Parker use to babysit them. But due to the curious mind of a fourteen year old, they followed Peter when he left them. Thinking that they were asleep but really was following him. Looking over a cornered they didn’t notice a spider crawling its way to them in weird colors. It bites them, making them yelp. Short story, they finished tying a mugger up and running into a dimension of dc. And now they live with the batfamily.

Relaxing, in your spider suit, being a Spiderman in this dimension, universe, or whatever it is, fuckin` blows!

I mean, you can't even go outside and get a simple piece of air of freshness! You can't even try and take a shower before Damian as he hates your guts despite the other men here telling you he doesn't.

But does throwing a ninja star at you tell you otherwise??

No, it doesn't!!?

It almost reminds you of Lori. He’s always thrown sharp objects at you, it almost makes your skin crawl. Despite you crawling on a building as of now.

Patrolling the beautiful streets of Gotham City. If you can hear the sarcasm.

Neither less, you finally reached the top of the building. Pressing the comms, you alerted Bruce that you made it to your position. And then there's the little twelve-year-old brat yapping off in your ear. “Spiderman, make sure to focus thoroughly through this patrol this time. I will not save you and watch how you owe me your life.” you can hear that smug smirk on his face. Gritting your teeth, you hung up on him.

“Little brat, always on my damn case. Can't he just give a guy a break?!” you don't know what's up with the little shrimp, but either less. You have to stick with it. You started to web up goons, but that was only the beginning.

You were dealing with a huge thug, a grown-ass man versus a fourteen-year-old who is agile like a spider. You shoot your webs at the big man’s hands before swinging under his legs, turning your body with your webs, you pull your arms. Forcing the male to get slammed hard and knocked out.

“Phew… that wasn't bad at all. Wasn't it guys?” you said looking at the reader reading this story. with a grin, your expressive mask showing a happy expression. But soon that moment was ruined by you trying to break the fourth wall.

Hearing a girlish scream, you turn around to see the same-looking portal that had sucked you up into this world. You felt excitement, hope, and happiness. As much as you loved the whole family here, you had your own back to your universe.

But, of course, you had forgotten about the girlish scream as a kid with strawberry blonde short hair, tied into a small ponytail, a freckled face, and hazel eyes, hit you hard. At your body.

“Lori?!” you exclaimed, looking at the slightly tanned boy who straddled against you. Meet Lori, aka, the deadpool of your spiderverse. He had a katana holder strapped across his body. But never mind that, Lori’s eyes widened as he saw that he was on top of you.

“Spidey!!!” he squealed, pulling you into a hug despite the awkward position. He then lifted your mask, peppering your face with kisses.

“L-lori! Lori! Stop man!” Lori finally stopped and hopped off you so cartoonishly. Magically he pulled out his Deadpool mask and put it on.

“Bro! It took so long for me to force a wizard to open some wacky portal so I could find you! When Peter told me you were missing, I had the biggest hunch that you went to another comic world!”

You raised a brow as Lori hopped in front of your face, wagging his finger in front of you. “Like bro, how could your best friend be behind like that man!” Lori couldn't help but comically sob into your chest. The thirteen-year-old boy then perks up, his also expressive mask showing him narrowing his eyes.

“Someone's coming.” Lori pulled out a Glock 19, aiming it above as the mask’s eyes went into silts.

“When did you get a Glock?!” You exclaimed, pulling the gun from him. Lori looks at you before shrugging.

“Why not? Always carry something heavy yo!” Lori could be visibly seen pouting behind his mask, reaching to go grab the gun from you, you threw it up, webbing it to a wall.

“OH CMON!” Lori said In disbelief at how you could do this to him.

“Are you done with this reunion Spiderman.” a voice called out, Lori and you turned to face the voice. You pulled your mask down, Lori got into position, pulling his katana out. There stood Damian with his katana in hand. His eyes narrowed.

“What the—” Lori interrupted by the said Robin, “I don't know who you are, but I'm guessing you’re from Parker’s world.”

“I mean, no shit pipsqueak.” you could’ve sworn you saw Damian clench his jaw before he released it.

“Then I’ll have to take you to where you will stay.” Damian didn't know why, but having another person who showed the same interest made him a little irritated. This is a comrade of yours, so he must treat him with respect.

Even though he ‘hates’ you.

[thinkingotherwise]

Hello, a request, Bofurin's group (those from 1, ume baby and Mr. Shark), Sakura's older sister, reader, how do these cute boys fall in love at first sight with their friend's older sister (the reader is ume's age )

I merged those two requests together ;)

And in some of them, the 'brother-in-law' is exchanged for 'future brother'.

Bofurin's first years, Hiiragi and Ume x Haruka Sakura's older sister! reader - love at first sight & future brother-in-law

I love this panel so much <3

Taiga Tsugeura

- he saw you for the first time during a sparing session that first years had - you caught his gaze the moment you stepped on the school grounds and because of that he took a punch to his face - his gaze followed you as you moved between the other pairs that were training - his hopeful smile fell as he saw you stopping near Haruka, the two of you were talking as you smacked his chest playfully and laughed - immediately he thought you and Haruka were together, somehow he could see it, especially if you got along so well with the grumpy captain of their class - seeing Taiga's longing gaze stuck on you the whole time instead of fighting, Suo switched their partners and came closer - Suo smirked after asking Taiga if he knew who you were and the starstruck boy shook his head - Taiga's head then quickly turned to Suo asking if you were Sakura's girlfriend - when Suo snorted, hiding the smile behind his hand, Nirei stepped beside them curious about what they were doing - when Nirei finally explained that you were Haruka's older sister, Taiga felt a smile bloom on his face - in seconds he became cheerful and quickly jogged to introduce himself, forgetting about his two friends - making you laugh with his introduction Taiga felt like he achieved something great - your talk together was cut short as you had to get going - as you were leaving, Taiga still followed you with his gaze, sighing to himself when you disappeared from his sight - "I think I'm in love." Taiga muttered, his voice soft before a confident smile grew on his face. - "Huh?" Haruka turned to him in disbelief. - "(y/n) and I are gonna be together." He decided to look at your younger brother making him open his mouth in shock. - "I'm gonna be your brother after we finish school." He continued placing his hand on Haruka's shoulder and nodding his head in confirmation of his words. - "You what-" Your brother asked before he cut himself off smacking Taiga's hand away. - for the rest of the sparring session Haruka was running after Taiga trying to fight him after what he said and yelling about his disapproval, while Taiga countered each one with words of confirmation

Mitsuki Kiryuu

- he saw you buying game merch, from a series he was also interested in, making him interested in you as well - even more so when you got the same blindbox as he and when you didn't get the character you wanted, your face fell - he took that as a perfect opportunity and stopped by you saying he also got a blindbox and a character he didn't really want proposing an exchange - you easily agreed seeing he offered you one of your favourite characters you actually wanted to pull - seeing you smile so widely and thanking him only assured him that he was falling, he really was - after that, you talked while walking through the street and he was ready to ask you out only to be stopped by Haruka - his smile fell as he watched you and Haruka talking so animatedly, you looked really close and he started getting jealous - Kiryu wondered if he had to steal you away from Haruka, he actually almost started planning but then Haruka's voice calling you big sister touched his ears - he was so happy to hear that he quickly asked for your number cutting into the conversation you had with your brother - he was really glad to get to know you're not together and just siblings - after a short conversation, you told Haruka you would go to the supermarket before going back home and waved to Kiryu - the two boys stood beside each other watching you go - "What was that? Are you trying to flirt with my sister?" Haruka asked his voice loud but not enough to let you hear. - "You're such an idiot she's older than you." The first-year captain added. - "Hey be nice to me, I might be your new brother. Besides she's not that much older." Kiryu said and sent him a wink before running up to you and asking if he could walk by your side because he also wanted to go shopping for some snacks. - Haruka was flabbergasted but quickly yelled after Kiryuu and ran up to the two of you to watch over him, making sure he wasn't making any moves on you.

Akihiko Nirei

- Haruka didn't really introduce you to his friend, just mentioned your first name before they went away - Nirei looked back at you trying to catch one more glimpse - he almost walked into the sign in front of a stall if it wasn't for your brother who pulled him to the side - next time he saw you he felt a little shy while speaking with you and envied Haruka seeing how different and confident he was next to such a pretty person - it was surprising that while keeping his notes and knowing almost everything about a lot of people he knew, he was clueless about you being Haruka's older sister - a little sad and jealous at first thinking Haruka had an older girlfriend, more so that it was you - but when he finally did get to know that you were actually siblings he felt relieved and started admiring you a little more openly - "Do you think y/n likes younger guys?" Nirei asked trying to be subtle but the question instantly caught Haruka's attention. - "Why do you want to know?" - "No, nothing, nevermind." Nirei tried to deny and change the subject but then Haruka was reminded of something. - "Wait... Is that why I caught you writing my name in your book last time? You were writing her name!" Your brother said accusingly pointing a finger at his friend. - "Umm maybe.." Nirei hummed to himself nervously, his fingers fidgeting with his little notebook. - "I mean she is really nice, and pretty, and I would like for someone like her to give me some attention." He added in a mutter. - "Stop right there." Haruka put his hand up before taking a deep breath in. trying to keep calm. "I don't want to be your brother-in-law in the future." - "Huh, that would mean me and her-" Nirei blushed furiously just at the thought. He felt dizzy and flustered enough that he didn't hear his friend talking. - "I mean, it's better it's you rather than Suo or Sugishita, but still I think I need a minute to process this."

Toma Hiiragi

- he was walking with Haruka during their patrol and then you came by and greeted both of the Bofurin students - he was quickly enchanted by you, how nice your voice sounded, and how appreciative you were of them keeping the town safe - Hiiragi was known to take care of a lot of his friends and students but it was a first for him to be so protective of you, in such a short time - he put you over himself without a second thought even when he thought you were Haruka's girlfriend - one day you were walking back from school all alone, and he quickly joined to accompany you back home - you spent the whole walk talking and Hiiragi listened to your every word carefully but a specific sentence made his thoughts stop - "I'm actually grateful that you and Umemiya take such good care of my little brother." You said and he had turned to you with a questioning look. - he wasn't aware you had a brother in Bofurin, he was quite sure he would know of that - "Younger brother?" He questioned his gaze confused. - "Huh? Haruka, who else?" - that explained so much and so little at the same time, he wasn't sure - what he actually knew was that he was overjoyed, a soft chuckle escaped him - after asking you out, he would use the card of you being together as a last resort to keep Haruka in check - "Stop it, already. You'll do well to listen to your future brother." - such words never failed to make your brother agitated, yet he could do nothing but glare at the older boy whenever he said them

Hayato Suo

- you were the first person to make his stoic facade break - just a glimpse of you made his heart beat rapidly in his chest, a sight for sore eyes for real - you didn't really want to introduce yourself with your full name knowing that he was from Bofurin and your younger brother didn't want you to take part in any of their fights - so for the few meetings you found yourself in with Suo, mostly by coincidence he wasn't aware you were siblings - he quickly found your every hobby, and even opinion interesting and wanted to get to know you more and more - time came when Haruka couldn't keep you a secret so he asked you to meet with him and his friends - seeing as you were walking with Haruka towards the rest of their group of friends, Suo got jealous - he was silently judging how someone as perfect as you could be with someone like Sakura - a small smirk appeared on his face when the first-year captain introduced you as his older sister - now nothing stood between him, his adoration, and making you fall in love with him - teasing Haruka about him and you getting together became his favourite past time - "I'll be your future brother-in-law." Was one of his most frequent comments and it always managed to make Haruka's blood boil. - "The heck you will, ain't no way I'm letting that happen." - when you would actually end up with Suo - "You should've picked someone else, even Nirei would be a better pick." Your brother commented straightforwardly, making sure his friend standing right beside you heard him clearly. - when you glared at him unimpressed he added reluctantly - "At least he can protect you."

Kyotaro Sugishita

- seeing you just for a few minutes was enough to make his emotions go haywire - he was confused as to why he couldn't get you out of his head and only when his older friends from school, meaning Umemiya and Tsubakino, explained to him did he understand that he was enchanted by you - and how lucky he seemed when he could see you frequently near the Bofurin school - he would take great care of you even before he got to know you were Haruka's sister - making sure you were safe during your walks around the city - but seeing you so frequently he was meant to see how close you were with his rival - whenever Haruka and you were together he felt something clench in his heart, he hated seeing the two of you so close - Sugishita really was jealous that the first-year captain seemed to steal the time you should be spending with him, he really didn't want to believe you were dating - when you teased Haruka by calling him lil bro, Sugishita froze, his brain processing your words - and then he snorted receiving a glare from Haruka - his disgust at getting to know you were related to Haruka was very visible - he'd surprisingly be very direct in making his rival realize he was head over heels for you - "I'll even become your brother-in-law if it means I can meet up with her." - the words made Haruka's face red with irritation - "Oh, no, no, no. Over my dead body." Your brother replied sternly getting ready to fight Suishita. - "It'd be my pleasure, but I think (Y/n) would be sad." - your brother was shocked by the consideration of his statement, his irritation dimming a little but the fire still roared inside him and he would have a usual fight with Sugishita to make sure the boy was worthy of you

Hajime Umemiya

- he saw you walking with Hakura through the streets, all while he was shopping for Kotoha - he froze while talking with one of the sellers as his eyes got bigger and his shoulders dropped - his heart skipped a beat and he knew, you were perfect and he fell for you - he didn't know you at all but he had a feeling you two were just meant together - seeing you so close to the first-year captain brought a wave of jealousy - and so the next day Haruka found himself called by Umemiya to the rooftop - the younger boy thought it was something serious, especially when he saw the focused eyes of the Bofurin leader - so imagine when Umemiya suddenly asked about you and if Haruka was serious about you - conflicted about the sudden question and even more so when it was about his older sister Haruka stumbled over his words saying that he was serious - "how could I not be serious when she is my sister?" the first year thought to himself - Umemiya felt his heart break at the reply, his hopeful and focused eyes losing their shine - he only asked that because he really wanted to know if he had a chance of winning you over - but no matter how much he adored you he couldn't break you and his younger friend apart, what kind of leader would he be if he did that - realizing the sudden change in air between them Haruka questioned the older boy asking why he wanted to know about his older sister - as if struck by a love arrow, Umemiya's face brightened, his pupils almost turning into hearts as he realized the miscommunication - "I see, that's good." Umemiya commented not really answering the question before he added. - "Come on Sakura, we're going to eat." - "What? Why? Weren't we talking about y/n? Why even-" Haruka shot up his hands moving chaotically as he didn't know what to think anymore. - "We can talk about (Y/n) while eating." - "Heeeeeh?" - "Well, I want to know more about her and you're going because I need to take care of my future brother-in-law." Umemiya let out joyfully smacking his hand against Haruka's back. - "Your what!?" The younger student yelled loudly. - "Yeah, when (Y/n) and I are gonna marry one day you'll be my little bro." The Bofurin's leader said proudly as he could already imagine the whole life between you and him together. - 'sakura.exe has stopped working' while Umemiya cheerfully pushed him towards one of the restaurants near school

[vinnyvamppp]

HEAR ME OUTTT

You should write for Nolan Grayson, the drought for fics w/him are very much real 😭

The Replacement PT 1

NOTE: I'VE BEEN WANTING TO BUT THE AMOUNT OF MARK GRAYSON OR INVINCIVLE VARIANT REQUESTS I HAVE ARE MAKING MY FINGERS CRAMP. With that being said, I present to you:

Synopsis: Earth has made him comfortable. Weak, even. His half-human son may never be strong enough to carry the Viltrumite legacy, and his pet or wife is a distraction he can no longer afford. But you offer him a solution: a true heir.

Warnings: Considerations of Cheating, Drama, Childhood Friends, Changes to Plot For Convenience, Pre-Invincible Timeline, Nolan's Beginnings To Conquering Earth, AND DW HE STILL HAS HIS LOVING FAMILY. Word Count: 1,493

Omni-Man/Nolan Grayson x Viltrumite!Reader

The air was thin at this altitude, but it was nothing to you. Standing on the snow-dusted peak, your loincloth barely moved in the wind, a contrast to the thoughts swirling around you. Below, the world stretched in all directions, so vulnerable, so fragile.

"You've been here for too long, Nolan." Your voice was measured, but sharp enough to carve through the silence. Across from you, Nolan Grayson stood with his arms crossed, his expression impassive, but you knew better. He had always been good at masking his thoughts, but you had centuries of experience reading him. His stance, the way his fingers subtly tensed, told you everything.

"I don’t need a reminder," he replied, his voice laced with something close to amusement. "I assume you didn’t travel across the galaxy just to lecture me?" You took a step forward, tilting your head. "No. I came because your absence has been noted."

His brow twitched, just slightly. Even after all these years, Viltrumites hated the idea of being monitored. "They sent you?" You scoffed. "They don't know I'm here." Now, that got his attention. His eyes, those sharp, calculating things, narrowed as he studied you. “And why would you withhold that information?”

"Because I know you, Nolan. Better than they do." You folded your arms, mirroring his stance. "I know why you’re hesitating." For a moment, he said nothing. You let the silence stretch between you, let him wrestle with the implications. It wasn't hesitation from weakness. No, that wasn’t Nolan. But sentimentality? Attachment? Those were cracks in his foundation, and cracks were dangerous.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose. "You think I’ve gone soft?" He asked, your lips pursing momentarily in thought. "I think you’ve gone comfortable," you corrected, your gaze flicking toward the horizon where a city pulsed with artificial lights. "This planet is changing you. The longer you stay, the harder it will be to finish what you started."

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You sound like Thragg." That name sent a flicker of irritation crawling down your skin. "Thragg wouldn't have given you the courtesy of a conversation." His amusement faded. He knew that was true.

You took another step, closing the distance between you. "You need an anchor, Nolan. A reason to return to Viltrum when this mission is complete. And her—" your lip curled slightly as you referenced the human woman, Debbie, "—is not it." His eyes narrowed. "Careful."

"Don’t pretend you care," you retorted, undeterred. "A convenience? What is she to you, Nolan?" Silence. “She’s nothing compared to us—compared to what we are.” He began his admission, “But I allowed myself to pretend otherwise. A weakness. She is nothing more than that, and she never was.” His fingers twitched at his side, mulling over the betrayal in his words.

"You may think you've bought yourself time, but Earth won't make you stronger, and neither will playing house with a human," you continued. "But if you were to have a child with me—one who could be raised with the strength of our people, not poisoned by human frailty, you wouldn’t have to do this alone." Nolan’s jaw tensed. “Mark is already half-Viltrumite.” "Mark is half of something weak," you countered. "Would he ever be allowed to stand among our kind? Would you? You know the truth, Nolan, when the time comes, he will be an obstacle. She will be an obstacle." His silence was damning.

You let the weight of your words settle. Then, more softly, you added, "You’re too valuable to be cast aside, Nolan. But without proof of your commitment, they will find someone else to finish what you couldn’t." His eyes met yours again, and for the first time in years, you saw something shift behind them.

"You can still have what you came here for," you pressed, voice just above a whisper. "A family. A legacy. But one that ensures your survival when all of this—," you gestured to the planet below, "burns." For the first time that night, Nolan didn’t have an immediate response.

And that was the first sign that you were winning. The wind howled between you. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then— "I need time to think," Nolan said finally, his voice low, rough as he remained perturbed. "You need time to think," you echoed, tilting your head slightly. "Very well. But let me give you something worth thinking about, Nolan."

His eyes flicked to you, wary. He had always disliked being cornered, and yet, here he was, trapped by words instead of fists. You turned away from him slightly, eyes tracing the horizon, as if lost in thought. Then, your voice softened. Not weak. Never weak. But calculated. Controlled. "He needed time too," you murmured. Nolan’s brow furrowed. "Who?"

"My husband."

The words alone felt like steel being drawn across a whetstone—sharp, deliberate, preparing for something deeper. "You never spoke of him," Nolan said after a pause. "Because there was nothing to speak of," you replied. "Not anymore." You let the silence stretch, allowing the weight of your words to settle before continuing.

"He was strong, Nolan. Stronger than most. He had earned his place in the Empire a thousand times over. Conquered dozens of planets before we were even paired." Your voice remained even, but there was a restrained edge beneath it. "And yet, for all his strength, for all his victories, he died." Nolan's eyes darkened, watching you carefully. "How?"

You exhaled sharply through your nose, gaze still locked on the distant city below. "An inferior race." The words dripped with disgust, as if merely saying them left a foul taste in your mouth. "A species that should have never been a threat. But they were desperate. And desperation, as you know, makes lesser beings reckless."

Your fists clenched at your sides, but your voice remained steady. "They used weapons he hadn't accounted for. They didn't fight—they ambushed. A tactic born from fear, not strength. A coward's strategy. And he paid the price for underestimating them."

You turned back to Nolan now, expression tense. "I watched as they burned his body. As the remains of a Viltrumite were reduced to nothing by hands that should have never been capable of harming him." His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

And so, you pressed further.

"You understand now, don’t you?" you asked, voice low. "It doesn't matter how strong we are if we allow weakness to fester. If we allow ourselves to hesitate." A pause. "You think I’m hesitating?" Nolan’s voice was quieter this time, as if testing the words himself.

You gave him a pointed look. "I know you are. We have been friends for centuries."

For the first time since your arrival, he didn’t deny it.

A victorious chill crawled up your spine.

"I thought of you after he died," you admitted, stepping closer. "Among all the warriors of our kind, there are few I would have ever considered worthy. But you, Nolan... you have always been different." Something flickered in his eyes. It wasn’t pride, not yet, but it was something dangerously close.

"You are one of the strongest among us," you continued, voice soothing. "You were sent here because of that strength. But even the strong can fall, Nolan." Your words took a sharp turn, more insidious. "Do you think our kind will mourn you if that happens? Do you think they will even blink if you are slaughtered by an inferior race? You know what they will say?"

He didn’t answer. But you did.

"They will say you were not strong enough." The words hung between you, suffocating. Nolan’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides. You could feel the trepidation building within him, the conflict. Then, you leaned in just slightly, gaze unwavering. "But you are strong enough, aren’t you? Strong enough to ensure your legacy does not die on a planet of insects."

Silence.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "If we do this," Nolan said finally, voice low, measured. "It is not because I need your help. It is because it is logical." A slow grin tugged at the corner of your combined lips. "Of course."

He exhaled, running a hand down his chin, and for the first time, he looked… unsure. "I’ll contact you soon." The words left his mouth slow, deliberate. But even as he spoke, his gaze lingered on you for longer than it should have. There was no hesitation in his stance now, no rejection in his posture. Only consideration and calculation. He was already deciding. Already choosing, even if he refused to say it outright. And that was enough for now. "Take all the time you need." Then, with one final glance toward the city below, you added, "But not too much. We wouldn’t want you getting too... comfortable again."

And with that, you disappeared into the night, leaving Nolan alone in the skies with the weight of his thoughts.

Should I do a part 2? I just like being messy on here.

[slytherinn-xo]

Ring Doorbell Love ~ Kerstin Casparij

Kerstin Casparij X Arsenal Player! Saka! Reader 

Synopsis: In which your Ring Doorbell is your favourite way to talk to Kerstin. 

You knew that when you started dating Kerstin two years ago that this long distance thing would not be long term, you would want to be with her at some point. But sadly being a football player was hard. 

You rarely had any days off together, and when it was the international break you were still in different countries, with Kerstin going back to The Netherlands, and you staying in England. 

But meeting through Viv and Jill who were two of your best friends was a thrill, they set you up, thinking that you would be cute together, and ever since you’ve been stuck with the cat loving Dutchie. You’ve obviously been through ups and downs and you want to move to be with her. 

But being a childhood Arsenal player, it ran through your blood, and being the Stargirl of the club, and your older brother being the Starboy, it would be a scandal if either of you left the club. 

But you had one thing that kept your distance going was the ring doorbell you both had in your separate houses. You both obviously had access to each other’s house’s ring, but the was one thing that kept your distance going with the separation. 

You would leave little notes for each other on the ring. 

It all started in 2023 when you were walking into training, feeling your phone buzz in your hoodie pocket, as you took your phone out, Kerstin had someone at her apartment. So you obviously opened the phone, seeing only Kerstin there, holding your phone up to your ear as you heard her speak into the ring. 

“Hiya! Hiya! I love you darling” And you just wanted to laugh seeing and hearing Kerstin’s voice through your ring, as she held Kiwi up, your baby cat looking like he wanted death to swallow him as he rarely tolerated being picked up as pampered as he was. 

But before you turned your phone off you quickly shot Kerstin a text as you knew she would be in training too. ‘Have a nice day love and Hiya! too. Sure Kiwi loved being picked up love xx’ 

Then the next time you were up in Manchester, and waiting for Kerstin to finish her home game against Crystal Palace. You strolled into her house, in your hoodie and hair typed up in a messy bun as you muttered into the ring. “Good luck babe, I love you!” And you blew a kiss towards the camera with a smile on your face as you waved before finally getting your front door open. 

Then another funny moment was walking into your London house, after a date you kissed Kerstin’s cheek before she leaned back for another and you both just head butted, and knocked teeth, before laughing as you shook your head pushing Kerstin into your home with a laugh. 

Since these messages had started it had been almost a year and a half of messages through the ring doorbells, and nearing the end of the 2025 season you knew your contract with Arsenal was up. And you struggled to resign with them. What was keeping you in London other than being the ‘Stargirl’ of Arsenal. 

Nothing really. 

Your life was up in Manchester. Where you wanted to be with Kerstin. 

So when the idea of a contract extension was brought to you, you struggled to say yes. You wanted to stay home, but you wanted to be with your home person more. 

So when the contract was in front of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to sign it. 

You wanted to be with Kerstin. So you looked elsewhere. 

But keeping it secret, not even the fans could know you were leaving or the girls. They had to wait. 

So you signed a fresh contract. And what other way to tell the love of your life then through the Ring Doorbell. 

 So you went home, pressing the button on your ring doorbell, with this recording you. 

“Hi love, I love you so much pookie bear.” Rolling you eyes at the nickname she tried to call me a few times. “Move some things over in the wardrobe for me will you?” I asked my love as I held up the Manchester City shirt in my hands as I looked at the ring, Saka on the back with number 79, my lucky number. Well only because of me spending 79 days in the NICU after I was born. 

And as I walked into my house, my phone was already blowing up from her. And I felt so much love, and excitement to continue my journey with her, and to share a ring doorbell now, as we live together. 

[am1mi]

“Casual?”

Ronin x reader

You were sitting in your car simply staring outside, thinking about the countless fun things you did with Ronin. Well, you were supposed to be thinking about the fun things you two did, but your thoughts have drifted to thinking about if he feels the same way you do. Being friends with Ronin made  you experience a lot of events, may it be trouble, chaos, and many more. There has been nothing but great experiences with him, but as time passed by, you gradually fell for him. You didn’t care how twisted he was. You didn’t care about the difference between you two. You loved him, truly, not caring about his flaws as a person. To you, he is the most beautiful experience you had. That is probably why you’re here right now, thinking about him and the years you two have been through together. He’s been there at your lowest moments and he’s been there in your happiest times, it’s impossible to not catch feelings for him.

“Hey darlin’, what’re you thinking about?”  asked Ronin as he got in your car, sitting on the passenger seat and handing you your favorite snack along with your favorite drink. “Got somethin’ for ya, you better enjoy eating that.” He told you with his signature sickening grin as he looked proud of himself. How could you not fall for him? You gave him a small smile, chuckling at his proud self. “Yes, yes, Thank you Ro.” You told him, your small smile widening which made him stare at you intensely. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked, staring back at him with your head tilted a little to the side. “You okay darlin’? Something botherin’ you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You were acting differently today, as far as he remembers you were the brightest thing ever when you smile. But right now, there was something wrong with you, and he knows it.

“There’s nothing wrong Ro, just tired.” You replied as you started to eat the snacks that he had bought you. He’s a thoughtful friend, so thoughtful that it’s got you thinking if his actions are casual or something else. You were afraid to confess your feelings, afraid that your friendship might get affected by those silly little feelings. You love him, you do, but the thought of his actions being causal just erases all the possibilities of him liking you the same way you like him.

“Hey, you’re dozing off.” Ronin pointed out as he just sighed and got out of the car. He walked over to your side and opened the door, leaning down with his forearm resting on top of your car door. “Let’s switch seats. You enjoy your snacks and i’ll drive.” He told you, looking like he’d eat you alive if you even try to say no to him right now. You had no choice, so you gave up your seat and moved to the passenger seat instead. 

There was a long silence since Ronin started driving you home, with your own car nonetheless. You didn’t mind though, what’s bothering you now is the silence between you and him, which felt pretty suffocating if you were to be honest. 

“You know you’re free to tell me anything, right darlin’?” He knows, He knows that there’s something bothering you, which makes you wonder if he knows that you like him romantically. Seeing you stay silent, he just sighed and continued focusing on the road. It’s okay if you didn’t tell him, he understands that you have your own things going on, and he wouldn’t do something to force you to tell him what was bothering you.

Once you arrived at your house, Ronin parked your car just as you were finishing up your drink, contemplating if you should risk it all right now or stick with your feelings untold. As Ronin was about to walk away, you unconsciously called out to him which got him to stop in his tracks and turn to look at you. “What is it?” He asked, he looked so gorgeous with the moonlight hitting his figure. Your breath hitched as you took a deep breath and finally uttered the words you have been wanting to tell him. 

“I like you, Ronin. Not in a platonic type of way!” You finally exclaimed as he then chuckled at your cute expression. 

“I know.” He told you simply as he stared at you, his all-knowing smug smile on his face. “You haven’t really been doing a great job hiding it, darlin’” he chuckled out as he started walking towards you. 

“You’re such an oblivious kitten you know? I’d carve an aorta out for ya if you asked me to.” He whispered. He then chuckled and pinned you to the wall, face close to yours. 

“Would you want me to carve someone’s aorta out for you, Darlin’?”

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XLVIII. “Bliss”

read on AO3 🦇

parts: previous / next

plot: everyone knows about you and Bruce… except you, and Bruce—though this, among other things, heats up.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, angst, giggling kicking feet

words: 14.2k

a/n: hiiiiiii this is the longest chapter yet!! Luminol, my beloved, you’ve been upstaged (just a lil bit). this was a (fun) beast to write, and thought it needed to be allll one chapter. have fun, lovelies!! also… I definitely didn’t stay up all night finishing this with an ear infection bc I love them and y’all <3 lmaooo

The first half of the meeting went by without a hitch; you figured you’d be snubbed more by the press, but it was quite the opposite—faces that had pinned to the back of your thoughts by the shove of their cold shoulder faced you with smiles and handshakes. Some even pretended they hadn’t seen you before, and if you were of sound mind, you might’ve challenged their niceties. Oz had grabbed you by the neck and rattled your confidence to the bone. 

Why had Bruce known that comment would set him off, and why had it in the first place? Making a comment at Bruce’s expense, the resident billionaire, didn’t make sense for Oz having the bad reaction. Was it based in something traditional, like a distaste for women talking back? Embarrassing their man? Obsessing over it only worked you in circles, teeth tearing at your cheek as you struggled to pay Mr. Convoy any mind.

The budget looked no different than last year’s, though this was in spite of the population actually growing for the first time in a decade. You had no reserves to call out the discrepancy, to stick your neck out for the little guy, too busy worrying about yours getting severed. Every thought was a downward spiral from Oz’s glass in the trash to Bruce’s supposed imagination, making your head spin whenever you lingered there. It was the only thing that pulled you out of your anxious reverie. 

Notions of a universe where Bruce pictured you in the same frame capsized everything you thought you knew about boundaries and guilt. That single taste of him made you want him more, and more, and more, on an endless loop. And, shit, if you didn’t bite back a tremble reminiscing on how his lips felt on your neck… 

Convoy’s voice was grating, at least against the velvet memory of your lips. He knew why you’d done it; if it had been Oz coming in, it would’ve been suspicious to just be talking. Two lovebirds finding the closest private room to make out was smart, quick thinking. Hopefully you thought he was trying to sell it, too; hopefully, you weren’t reading into that imagine, but if roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have a single deviating thought. 

Concentrating on the meeting wasn’t an option. Your skin… it was soft, supple and warm beneath his lips, an absolute dream. He absently traced his lips with his tongue, biting down when he felt himself begin to breathe deeper, harder, faster. Fake or not, it was enough to undo every knot he’d so carefully tied. Bruce gripped his thighs under the table. 

“Mr. Wayne.” 

He blinked to the meeting’s intermission. “Seth.” A gnarly purple bruise glared at him from his temple. 

“Watch out.” Gavenstein pointed to his forehead, face deadset. “See what that bitch d—”

Bruce stood from his chair with a loud scrape, shoving it back into place. “Lucky she didn’t do worse.” He didn’t concern himself with awaiting a reaction, the man’s string of words dulling as he turned to notice you were no longer in the conference room, and nothing else mattered but finding you. 

His breath caught when Oz walked up to you from the front doors, and it took supreme restraint not to sprint across the foyer at lightning speed. It was like slipping a hand into glove when Bruce finally wrapped an arm around your waist. It hadn’t been subtle, and surely, Oz would read it as possessive. He didn’t much care.

“Oz.” He monitored his expression, keeping it neutral to pleasant. Penguin glanced between him and you, wearing a laugh and a brutalized leather jacket; it hadn’t looked that wrinkled at entry. If he didn’t know any better—and how could innocent Bruce Wayne?—he would’ve wrung his neck and checked him for blood splatters. He tightened his abdomen as he fought not to hold his breath. 

“Thought I’d leave over some shit wine?”

Yes. “Surprised not to see you in there.” Bruce hoped you’d stay quiet, not by any fault of your own. One slightly misplaced word, a sideways glance, and you’d be on his hit list. It was too unbearable to think about you being targeted, and what he might do to anyone who hurt you. The flexing of his moral code was almost as disturbing as the black eyes in front of him. He dug his fingers tighter to your waist. 

“Had to take care of some business. You know how it gets.” Penguin put his hands in his greedy pockets, Bruce analyzing his every move like prime prey, every sense heightened by your presence; everything too high stakes. 

Bruce couldn’t manage to get a word out, only a watery grin and nod. Why’d you have to come to Gotham? And why, god why, had he let you get involved in the research? Though he was grateful to meet you, to hold you, you walked a tightrope every second you remained. You were too precious, your mortality as visible to him as a throbbing carotid. 

“Man of few words, huh?” Penguin gestured to you, eyebrow raised, and you tightened against him. You were scared. As you should be with him, as he wished you would’ve understood before getting your hands dirty. He would spiral if he lingered much longer. 

“Trust me, I’ve talked to him about it.” He felt you slap his chest, feigning a laugh that was convincing enough, benign enough, but no—nothing was benign enough with Penguin. Probably spinning a narrative in his head about if you’d talked to Bruce about him, signifying that he didn’t want to talk to him in particular, and this was going to snowball, and his throat went dry, tight, and this was excruciating. 

What once had been anger had melted into pure fear. Penguin had something valuable now, could tell by how he pulled you into him, by how he pulled into the corner of your waist with his fingers, how he tracked every pull of every ligament in Penguin’s face for danger, any inkling he needed to jump in front of you to deflect a bullet. 

“Guy doesn’t need to talk, right? Money does.” He dared nudge your arm, and it felt like a bullet to his chest. He gripped you too tightly already, resisting the impossible urge to pull you closer, tighter, merge your body into his; signal that if Penguin ever touched you, ever even looked at you… his thoughts drew increasingly violent. He glanced at you to melt them away, like sun to snow. 

You laughed, and said something he couldn’t track, too invested in how Penguin sized you up with just a glance, eyes squinting and widening, seeming too interested. Oh, this made him absolutely ill. Fuck. You deserved more than he could give you. Staying here, with his beady eyes on you, was the beginning of a death sentence. 

You jammed your elbow into his rib, and Bruce attended to the words falling out of Penguin’s mouth, only catching the tail-end. Something about just joking, about never too busy for a Wayne, something about it being an honor. He forced himself to agree, play along, because it would make you safer, only for your safekeeping. Fuck. Fuck! This was visceral, tangible fear, capable of snuffing him out. He barely registered when Oz walked away, except that the air was less suffocating. 

“I need to pee.” You pulled him by the wrist down the hallway, and he was so out of it that he really thought you were going to the restroom, and startled when you got close, so close your perfume whacked him, making him dizzy; everything was getting too much, and his hands were clammy, and his lips parted and he wanted to hug you, and hold you, and never let you go, and never see you again. 

“So we’re going to the club tomorrow night?”

“We?” He hadn’t known he was agreeing to we, and the only thing filling his thoughts were expletives. “No, I’m going alone.” 

“You said we were going together.”

“I didn’t say it.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. 

“But you agreed to it.”

“I didn’t catch that.” He jammed his tongue into his cheek, looking anywhere but at you. He must not have worn his spiral well, because your hands came to his cheeks and straightened him to face you. The mist broke when he met your eyes. 

“We’ll be fine, it would be weird if we didn’t go together. It’ll solidify things.”

Convoy called the meeting to resume, and Bruce very nearly took you back home, but acquiesced to Penguin’s pull. He’d think it strange if he disappeared, give him something to read into, a reason to be more suspicious…

He didn’t have to pull you into his chest this time, you went there. Your hand knocked into his pocket, and you jumped at the small, rectangular box. “What’s that?”

“Benadryl.” He muttered, keeping an eye out for where penguins loitered. 

“I told you, you shouldn’t have it again.” 

He shook his head, responding without thought. “It’s for you. Keep it on me, just in case.”

Bruce was too busy scanning the foyer to notice the way you looked at him. No one had been that thoughtful with you; you’d even forgotten to bring your goddamn epipen back with you after the last visit home. A surge of warmth replaced the chill Oz had left. 

His gaze darted frantically across the room, and even a yank at his wrist—not gentle—wasn’t enough to tug him out of his hyperfocus. You grabbed his forearm and led him back around the corner, just out of view, and put your hands on his shoulders. He carried the weight of the world on them. 

Ocean blue eyes pored over your face with the weight of a truck. You rubbed his shoulders, down his bicep, all the way to his wrists, repeating the motion until his breathing evened. While his stare wasn’t a shred less frantic, it became increasingly focused, almost pinning you to the wall with its intensity. Mr. Convoy announced the closing of the doors, Bruce took a breath, and you both slipped into the conference room as he pulled the door shut behind you. 

Every second of the meeting was pulled teeth, every minute agony. You sat behind him, which was partially ideal with Penguin flush to his shoulder—but that meant Bruce couldn’t see you, either. He tore at his nail beds under the table, something he’d never done before. Scraping nail tips and cuticles distracted him from the intrusive worry that if Penguin looked at him just the right way, like you had, maybe he would deduce the same damn thing, and everything would be gone: forever. 

Bruce felt chained at the meeting’s end as he refused his instinct to make a quick getaway. He bid goodbye with a plastic grin and empty words of how thrilled he was to see the lounge, and what time was it again? Got it, great, awesome, excited to see you, and wrapped his arm around your shoulder as his thoughts flew him. Pulling you down the wet stairs past the paparazzi caused a slip, but he caught you, and you smiled, and he laughed, and it was hollow, but also not, and the paps got lots of photos of that, and he let you into the front seat, and you were in the car now, it was okay, but was the car fucked with, had Penguin cut the brakes? 

“What was that about a storm?”

His grip clenched around the wheel. Rain spattered the windshield, side streets already struggling to drain the excess water as the car zipped past. “There’s a bad storm that runs through every fall. Expected to hit tomorrow night, forgot about it.” 

“How bad does it get?”

He glanced at you before refocusing on the glittering road. Your tentativeness sat like an untrained animal, its gentleness cruel. 

“A few days of staying in.” 

You tapped his shoulder, then gestured down a random alleyway. Confused, but desperate as ever to please, he followed. Your face was stern as he switched off the car, and his chest thrummed with variations of what you might say, about the kiss, or his imagination, or anything else. But all you said was: “I’m okay.”

He rolled his shoulders back. “I know you are.”

“No, you don’t.”

He slumped back into the seat, his head knocking against the leather headrest. His eyes fluttered shut, deep breaths accompanying the affirmative sound you made from the passenger, somewhere close to ‘I told you so’. “Oz. Freaks me out.” 

“Freaks you out?” An edge crept into your voice. 

“I don’t want him hurting you.” 

“So obsessed with me getting hurt.”

Bruce was almost offended. You said it like it was stupid, dismissed it like it wasn’t the most natural thing in the world; like he wasn’t born to worry about you. You didn’t return his stare, instead watching a raindrop drip down the glass. 

Silence stretched the length of the cabin, seeming to inflate with every blink. He startled—a rarity—when you severed it. 

“We could go shopping tomorrow.” 

He side-eyed you. 

“For club outfits. Another outing for people to photograph.” 

Bruce couldn’t say he wasn’t interested in doing another activity with you, or that he wasn’t pleased at you taking Penguin more seriously. However, he ping-ponged this interest against the fear of your heightened visibility. Going to meetings together was one thing, but making a habit of public outings elsewhere? 

He followed your lead, concentrating his nervous energy into raindrops on the glass. Showing up without you would do more harm than showing up with you; this was simply the best course of action for supporting his and your public personas. His gut cinched at your needing one, but there wasn’t much he could do about that at present; it didn’t help his tension knowing the only time he’d get to act like this with you was when things were public, and fake. Penguin had certainly dampened things, but it was still peaceful having you close. 

He nodded at you, and put the car in gear. The remainder of the drive was quiet; it didn’t exactly make you uncomfortable, but you were cued into his anxiety like it was your own body. You knew he didn’t like this arrangement, and wrestled with new guilt about taking him away from his patrols, his research, to do mindless little things in an effort to protect you. Though, you reminded yourself, it was protecting him, too. 

Bruce paused before the final turn to his house. Strange that one of the most notable skyscrapers in the city you’d walked past time and time again with Mar was now a ‘house’. “Can you do something for me?”

The hair that’d been swept behind his ear fell into his eyes with his sigh, and your stomach somersaulted. “Stay at my place. Through the storm.”

“Sure.” 

He was struck by your resolute acceptance, but he wouldn’t push his luck. If you were finally seeing how risky things were, he wasn’t about to change your tune. 

“Can I get some of my stuff, then?”

A pile of chairs stuffed to the side of your apartment door made you cringe as you flicked on the lights, and you hoped he wouldn’t read into it. In your periphery, you noticed him glance over it, and clenched your hands. 

“For future reference,” he picked up one of the chairs after shutting the door, pushing it at a certain angle against the doorknob. “This is most effective.” 

You nodded and walked to your bedroom, Bruce keeping his list of hypotheses to himself. Nightmares, probably. Hell, he still had them twenty years later. He’d ask you about them soon, but not now. Dresser drawers shifted and closed as he roamed the open plan living-dining, analytical gaze inspecting for sign of intruders. His circling landed him at the freezer, where an opened pint of Ben and Jerry’s sat alone in the corner. 

The gentle, cool breeze of it closing locked him to his mind. Sentimental over ice cream? He distracted by looking out the kitchen window. When he took in the skyline—you had a stellar view from here—it was difficult to justify the inevitable time that he would spend talking with you, looking at you, and thinking about you that could be given to the city. You tied him down like an anchor. 

“How many days will it last?” You shouted, and the sound of your voice was an immediate balm. 

“Sunday evening.” 

A selfish smile snuck up on him as he stared at the kitchen tile; true, he wasn’t helping the city, but he was with you. No matter how illogical it was, his feelings remained unshakeable, and refused not to be indulged. 

Sweats and baggy tees sat in the bottom of your backpack, slowly being crushed by the toiletries you stuffed on top. You doubled-back to your dresser to find something worth being papped in, but nothing was sufficient. You drew increasingly worried as you faced the reality of one dress, one pair of trousers, and a couple fine-knit sweaters. Maybe that would work, but…

You stopped yourself with a fistful of sweater, bringing yourself back to your body. There was no use starting this cycle; you were okay showing up exactly as you were. You grabbed a sweater, an extra tee and jeans, and avoided the lingerie you meant to throw away—and extra avoided how your mind connected them to the condoms in your nightstand. 

You moved to leave the bedroom, but stalled. Really, no? Wasn’t it best practice to have them regardless? What if… you felt a bit dizzied. Surely there was no world where that would occur, and… but… every day you spent with him brought you closer to that fantasy, at least in your thoughts. Locked in over the weekend through a storm would provide ample opportunity, and maybe you’d get cabin fever and he would too, and maybe you both would try it out since you were faking things in public anyway…

Through sheer force of will, you blocked the thought, turned off the light, and stepped into the kitchen, letting Bruce know you were ready to head back out. 

You were both stiff and silent as you walked down the hall toward the elevator. Bruce interrupted it once to ask if he could carry your bag, but tightening your hands on the straps was the only thing keeping intrusive thoughts from spilling out, so you refused. The ding! of its arrival exposed a cluster of friends who gasped as they looked behind you. They pressed themselves to the corners of the elevator to make room, their faces varying shades of pink. 

Bruce grabbed your hand, softly, every touch from him was like a whisper; almost like he was afraid to touch you. You’d thought you were better than the people who fell all over him, but here you were, fighting goosebumps at a choreographed touch of his fingers. A giggle erupted behind you, but neither you nor Bruce brought attention to it. Your focus was entirely taken by the heat of his skin on yours. 

Cameras flashed through the lobby windows, the paparazzi’s shouting echoing coolly off the walls. His grip tightened, nearly too much. They knew where you lived, now. Would they camp out indefinitely? Bruce had done a good job of losing the cars that followed from the meeting, tucking into the parking garage seamlessly, but it was as if he’d posted his location. 

He tucked you closer to his chest as you walked, the backpack bumping against his side with each step. Men shouted, fawned for attention, peppered questions you couldn’t quite make out through the glass, though you swore the word ‘scandal’ and ‘relationship’ popped through a handful of times. If it already spread this much throughout Gotham, why hadn’t Dr. Crane mentioned it? Did he not pay attention to that sort of thing? 

“Sorry.” Bruce spoke quietly into your ear as you descended the second elevator, and thankfully, the parking garage was empty. You hadn’t realized until he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze that your breathing had become dysregulated, or that spots had entered your vision. He made efficient work of leaving the garage, and you pulled a grin as the doors lifted. Am I smiling too much? Not enough? What are people going to say about this? Intrusive images of your face plastered across tabloids in checkout aisles made you shiver. 

Paparazzi didn’t lessen when you arrived at Wayne Tower; hiding in the back had been necessary before. They snapped photos on the sidewalk, waved, yelled, and some even moved so close to the car you jumped, worried that Bruce might accidentally run someone over. When his garage doors slid shut you felt your body deflate. Holy shit. That single interaction had made this whole thing real. 

Bruce sensed how much it affected you; you weren’t exactly keeping your nerves hidden. And how could you on your first run-in with these vultures? He unbuckled, hesitating before stepping out. “I…” his head shook, just a little, words failing him. Your eyes cast down and away, and his gut cinched. “I’m sorry.” 

You played with your fingernails again and, though he knew how ridiculous it was, he wanted to die. He shifted toward you, caring less how the words came out and more just that they did. “Don’t worry about catering to them.” 

Rage tensed his muscles as you gnawed at your lip with your teeth. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do for either of you but stay trapped; the options were to waste his family’s legacy for all the public knew, or be poked, prodded, and analyzed by them until the day he died. “You look fine.” 

You shoved your hands into your pockets when a hangnail began to bleed and sting, following his lead to yet another elevator. Bruce pressed for the top floors, and everything became routine. You walked up the stairs first, after saying a drive-by hello to Alfred, found your way to your room, and shut the door behind you. 

The room felt bigger and emptier than it had last night. Would he talk to you about that new apartment now that you did find a lead? Would he ask you to move in here? You admired the high ceilings and thought of the echoey halls in the night. Would you want to? 

Marble flooring was cool beneath you, the short length of the dress dropping the temperature a few degrees. You peeled it off, kicked your heels across the room, and threw on pajamas. You sat in a huff at the edge of the bed, lost in vague, blurry thoughts, letting emotion wash through you as you rocked back and forth. 

Eventually, you rattled yourself out of it by remembering your purpose: you were doing a good thing. For Gotham, and for Bruce. You wiped under your eyes to make sure no wetness remained, and smoothed your fingers over your hair to catch any flyaways that might’ve cropped up from changing. There was a reason you were doing this, and you needed to take advantage of it. 

You padded down to the kitchen, finding Bruce and Alfred speaking in hushed tones by the sink. Alfred smiled when you entered, and all conversation ceased. “What’s going on?”

“Wanted to know if you were okay after the ordeal on the way, Miss.” Alfred wrung his hands on a dish towel, a ray of comfort breaking through his evident fretting. Could be the accent.

“I’m okay. Thanks.” You clasped your hands together and followed Bruce as he walked to another elevator. Your head spun. 

“If you need anything, let me know. Our house is yours.” 

You nodded over your shoulder gratefully, settling in flush to Bruce’s shoulder. He didn’t say a word until it had descended, you’d both stepped out, and he’d logged into his computers. Your stool was still in its place, and you wondered if he’d made any headway on the research since Monday night. 

He hadn’t. The monitor opened to the same screen you’d left it on before he clicked away. It only took a short glance to see that something ate at him. He pulled up the camera software and cursed under his breath, making some command and stepping back from the desk. You squinted at the monitor, noting a name you barely recognized as the Times reporter, with his headshot.

Approx. ten minutes remaining.

You felt slow, foggy. Fighting with things to break the silence, you questioned the giant tunnel leading to the basement before broaching the elephant of research, which you hadn’t a clue how to approach.

“Has anyone found you down here?” It was just… open. 

He spoke with curious conviction. “People don’t think about what’s underground.” 

You drummed your fingers on the edge of the stool, and bit the bullet. “Did you find anything else about Morrison?”

Bruce shook his head, running his fingers through his hair with an air of delicious frustration. Oh, how a movement like that used to set you on edge; now you wanted to soothe it out of him, barely restraining yourself from thinking up ways to. 

He ripped off a sticky note and began writing bullet points. You steeled yourself and scooted until you could read it. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, pausing with his pen above a scrawled M. 

Gary Morrison, GU head of journalism. ‘Deceased’, ‘river accident’ in March 2014. 

Wife reported she ‘wanted body to rest’

Last seen via cam August 7, 2024

Rimmel building

Clifford Marks, Times interviewer. ‘Retired’. Age 35.

Interviewed Morrison’s wife

‘Retired’ from Times month later

Approx. eight minutes remaining.

“So Morrison was only there? Didn’t come or go from anywhere?”

“Nowhere the cameras caught.” Bruce set his pen down and stuck the note to the side of the monitor. The stool creaked beneath him. “By his stride pattern, he approached from the west. All we have.” 

“Can you confirm if he was that victim?”

“Caught on too late.” He leaned over the desk, pinching his nose bridge. This was where the frustration came from. 

“So… where do we go from here? If he could be the dead guy, or,” you snapped your fingers, feeling excited. “or maybe he was the killer!”

Bruce cast a blank sort of look your direction. Your shoulders dropped. “Your evidence for that?” 

Your eyes narrowed. “And your evidence against it?” 

“He never left the building.” 

“At least not in a way the cameras recognized him.” 

He rolled his eyes, and your stomach curdled. “This isn’t ‘true crime’.”

You pressed on, despite how much that hurt. “Was he that mutilated you couldn’t tell it was him?” 

“Look, I’ve got it covered.” He pulled off the note from the monitor and grabbed his pen, fixing his stare pointedly at the screen, which had jumped to one minute left. 

“I’m trying.” You cleared your throat when it came out whiny, fiddling with a hole in the side of the seat’s leather. “I want to help.”

He tapped the pen’s tip on the corner of the note, placing small dots at random. “You being here helps.” 

“Don’t placate me.”

“I get distracted when you’re a–way.” His pen dropped as his sentence fizzled out. There had been two sightings: one at Arkham a month post-the interview, then the airport that same day. 

Two blurry videos loaded from each; Bruce played the Arkham footage first, where Marks was seen shouting, pointing his finger at the security guard who shoved him out. He shouted from the ground, but there was no audio, and there was no way to make out the words on a lipread from such low quality footage. 

“Wait,” you squinted, squishing closer. You pointed to the ground by his foot. He rewound the footage, and a shimmer crossed the camera’s lens by his leg. 

“A knife.” Bruce scrawled something else on the note, then pulled up another software you’d never seen him use before. GCA. Airport records. 

“How the hell do you have access to all this?”

He clicked to another tab, writing something else down. 

“What? Tell me what you’re finding.”

“He was headed to LA.” Keystrokes. “Stopped in Denver.”

“And?”

You waited what felt like an hour for him to respond, watching him pull up that camera software, other programs, notate more, moving at such rapid speed you wondered how he even caught what was on the first screen before moving to the next. 

“He left the Denver airport, never came back.” 

“Why would he do that?”

“Didn’t want to be tracked. Most flights are direct.”

“So we look into Arkham.” You swallowed hard, knowing this would end terribly, but knowing too many signs pointed there to ignore any longer. Maybe you could keep him specifically to that time frame, and he wouldn’t have to find out about things happening now. Namely, you.

“We find out where he went in Denver, and talk to him.” 

“For all you know he paid cash for a random car and could be anywhere in the country.” 

“It’s a lead.” 

“There’s so much shit that points to Arkham.” 

“Thought you said I shouldn’t look there yet.” He’d paused his incessant typing and scrolling, eyes dipped to the screen’s bezel. 

“I think we won’t get anywhere until we look into it. Too much to avoid now.” If he hated you, at least people would be safer for it. At least you were trying to do something good for him and them, even if he might not see it that way when he got there.

“We need to talk to Marks.”

“Arkham is right here. You said yourself he hasn’t been spotted elsewhere.” 

Bruce was well aware why he worked alone, but he became more certain he’d continue with every ‘helpful’ comment by you.  

“What, are you going to tap into every security camera in the US and hope it caught the right angle?”

“I’m following the lead.”

“Arkham is also a lead.”

“We don’t even know what to look for there.” His shoulders turned toward each other, feeling squeezed. Anger sat at the tip of his tongue, snide comments creeping along the walls of his skull. “I’m used to doing this alone.”

“I can tell.”

“I’m sorry. I’m getting frustrated.”

He said it so plainly it was almost funny, if you weren’t so insecure about your incompetence. You shifted in your seat as you looked around the basement, noting his giant Batcar jacked up to get serviced, and put a pin in it, wanting to redirect. 

“We’re meeting Oz tomorrow. What do we want to look for down there?”

His brow furrowed. “We’re going there to be allied.”

“We can’t double-task?”

Guilt warming his conscience, he gave you an inch of the reigns. “Have anything in mind?”

“You said he’s a dealer, right?”

“Drops. Already know everything about that.”

You sat in thought for a moment while he organized his desk space. The click of his pen brought Arkham to the front of your thoughts again. “The mayor, Bella. She had that task force thing. The journalist talked about it.”

“Yeah?” Bruce looked increasingly interested, his shoulders shifting square to yours. 

“We don’t know why she was put in there. Maybe they found a new drug or something.”

He mused on that, and by the very second you internalized being a complete idiot, he grabbed another note and scribbled things down. He was always in a hurry, and you kind of understood it now. He had competence and power to make an impact, and he was caring and kind, wanting to help as many people as possible. It was valiant, almost like he was some sort of hero.

You blinked away the thought; idolizing him would do no good, especially with the inevitable end you hurtled towards with this research. If you kept adorning him with a halo, you’d never recover. 

Could you recover at this point? When just packing your bags had you wondering about condoms and lingerie and perfume? You hadn’t needed to pack things like body wash, you knew he had that here, but you wanted him to know you, to smell you, like how you smelled him every time he got close; in case he memorized you like you did him. Juicy papaya, guava, surely that would make an impression… 

Suddenly the air between you popped like it held a charge. Being alone with him threatened the firmest of your resolve against the backdrop of the kiss. You bit the inside of your lip and abruptly stood, refusing that rabbit hole. The car caught your eye for the second time, and you followed it, asking him to show you what needed fixing.

A few hours later, you tucked a towel into the rack as the shower warmed; your hands and arms were covered in grease because apparently, giant cars had millions of parts that needed constant tweaking. You shut the glass door as you stepped inside, feeling sleepy and full to bursting. The shower was pleasant. Everything was. 

You tugged clothes onto damp skin and wrapped the towel atop your shoulders so as to not leave a trail to your room. Bruce waited at the top of the stairs, his hair only slightly drier than your own. You wondered why he stood there, he’d already thanked you on the elevator up, but didn’t complain. He was a vision in his quintessential black, emphasizing the softness of his eyes. 

“What do you like for breakfast?”

“I don’t wanna interrupt Alfred’s plan.”

“Thought I’d make it tomorrow.” 

“Those burnt pancakes were pretty good.” You grinned. “Lot of personality.” 

The timbre of his laugh made your face heat. “Will-do.” 

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” 

You paused before turning to the door. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.” 

He nodded, putting a hand on the railing. “Good.” 

Breakfast had been nice; the food was noticeably less charred, and there was an actually full jug of orange juice. You’d been so excited when he woke you up in the morning that you hadn’t checked your phone until you were finding parking at Saks. 

Bruce looked concerned when you groaned, skimming the curb of the parking garage before correcting. “What?”

“I was supposed to go home this weekend.” You’d missed a call from your mom, received a text updating about the shot. Everything went well, and she commented on how delightfully busy you must be. 

Let me know you’re safe, honey. 

The garage had no signal, so you put it in your trouser pocket. You could practically feel how close she was to assuming you were busy with Bruce; last night before you’d gone to sleep, you’d decided to scroll through your unread messages. Aunts, uncles, and cousins just ‘checking in’, acquaintances from high school coming out of the woodwork. It was beginning to feel impossible not to reckon with what this meant, bleeding past what you could mute notifications on.

Walking into a luxury store made your gaze heavy, focusing on the floor. Bruce let go of you to shake a worker’s hand as they welcomed him in, and you startled when he introduced you. He didn’t give you a title, no girlfriend or partner, but he didn’t need to. Your hand was cold on the shake, ears booming with the shouting and cameras banging on the windows behind you. 

First was the men’s section, and you didn’t expect otherwise. You coming along was an afterthought to them, starry-eyed by the presence of Bruce Wayne. They walked him right past brands like Eton, Canali, and Ralph Lauren, motioning towards names like Garavani, Prada, Saint Laurent, and Givenchy. You nearly felt bad for even breathing on any of the items. 

Bruce was overtaken by the man who was apparently his personal shopper for the day, and you thought the staff had completely forgotten your existence until you pulled out an enticing black dress shirt, and he plucked it from you with a pearly smile. “Impeccable taste, ma’am.” He left you to your own devices with an armful of items already taken to the back. You stifled a laugh at how overwhelmed Bruce looked the next rack over. 

Taking advantage of the shopper’s absence, you moved to the pants, and gasped at the prices. 

“Find anything?”

You shook your head, thumbing through strange cuts, textures, and colors. “Only the ugliest shit I’ve ever seen.” 

He chuckled. “Don’t want me in…” he held up tan, ribbed joggers that looked like long johns. “Four thousand dollar sweats at the club?”

Sometimes you forgot he wasn’t as old as Alfred, and knew terms like ‘ghosting’ and basic club etiquette. You averted your eyes to the rack, swooning over this dynamic. It felt effortless. “Your closet’s probably full of them, just in black.” 

You moved to a rack of black dress pants, shivering to think someone would willingly wear the others in public. Flipping through hangers ran your pinky across smooth, silky fabric, and you paused, pulling out pleated Saint Laurent with a thin, flat waistband. Saint Laurent. You’d only heard the name in songs. 

“Will that be all for now, Mr. Wayne?” The shopper had arrived, holding out his arm to take the trousers. 

Bruce looked at you as you handed it over. “Up to you.” 

You’d picked one shirt and one pair of pants, but followed Eric (his nametag was small), and Bruce to his dressing room; it was enormous. Full-length couch plus loveseat, plush throw carpets, and rows of shoes, handbags, and jewelry in addition to the racks of clothing already chosen. He said he’d be back in a few minutes, leaving you and Bruce standing in the hallway. 

He gestured for you to come in. You crossed your arms tight to your chest and sat yourself on the couch. He grabbed the outfit you chose, and hesitated long enough you noticed. You covered your face with your palms and heard buttons and zippers, clenching your teeth when his pants plopped softly on the ground. 

“This?” 

“You sound confused.”

“I’ve just… never worn anything like it.”

You peeked, seeing the back of him as he faced the mirror. The fabric was a thin silk—no, satin; which was more matte?—looking like a normal dress shirt at first glance. At the points where the light hit, the sheer was especially obvious, highlighting the curve of his shoulderblades. The pants hugged his frame like they’d been crafted with him in mind, tight and flowy in a way that elevated the simple silhouettes. He looked over his shoulder, and you snagged on the turn of his waist. Shit. 

He caught your sharp inhale, and quickly turned away. He fiddled with the cuffs, then undid an extra button at the top of the shirt when he began to sweat. “I, uh, think he picked things for you.” 

And Eric had. Bruce faced the opposite wall while you shimmied on a silver mini dress, trying on shoes and watches. 

Metallic mesh with thin straps connected by hardware accents. You grabbed a pair of silver heels he’d left, and checked yourself in the floor mirror, then stopped, half your foot in the heel. 

It looked… gorgeous. You never figured silver would complement you so well. If Mar were here, she might’ve started squealing.

“Like anything?”

“Um, mhm,” you stammered as you shoved your feet in the heels and smoothed out your hair. In an instant you felt vulnerable, consumed by the fact Bruce would see you like this. Why’d it feel so fucking intimate?

“Can I see?”

“Yeah,” you said, weakly. 

Bruce took a step back, his breathing taking a hit. “Whoa.” You fussed with the dress’s edge in the mirror, and he was grateful for the extra seconds to pull his expression together, hoping he’d said it so quietly you hadn’t heard. 

Your eyes narrowed as you took yourself in, and he couldn’t fathom why. “What do you think?”

He needed a cold glass of water, that’s what he thought. He felt himself turn red. “Looks like it was made for you.” 

Has all the air been removed in here? Can Eric show up? Please? Your heart raced, and you were certain he could see goosebumps with this much exposed skin. Your gaze betrayed you and you checked his outfit in the mirror to your left, heartbeat rushing to your throat seeing both of you together. 

Your phone buzzed, twice. An email had never been such a saving grace. Thankfully, Bruce went back to whatever he was doing in the corner, and you read the message from Dr. Vry. 

“Can we stop at GU on the way? Since I’m not leaving, Dr. Vry says she has something for me.” 

“Sure.” He kicked off the shoes he just tried on, reaching down to grab them. They looked nice, and shiny. 

You both changed facing opposite walls, heads buzzing. 

Eric checked you both out, and you winced at the five-thousand dollar price tag on just your dress. Bruce carried the bags out, and you actually felt happy seeing the paparazzi, knowing that… his hand slipped into yours, and you grinned. 

Bridgit met you at Dr. Vry’s office, holding a spiffy black handbag. The hallways seemed smaller now. “Hey, she told me to—”

She beamed, handing the purse to you. “Janay told me.” Janay? Since when? “She wants you to bring this to events from now on. Represents the prestige of the university.”

Prestige of a public university? In Gotham? You took it, confused. It felt sturdy, like thick, unyielding leather, with gold accents. You thanked her, and left. 

Bruce’s eyes flashed when you entered with it, and he informed you on the short drive to his house that it was a Birkin bag. “If you thought the dress was expensive…”

Thirty-two thousand dollars was the price that came up on Google, and you carried it gingerly up to your room to change, petrified of leaving a fingerprint. You set it on the spare dresser, just enough out of reach it couldn’t be bothered if you tried. What the fuck was Dr. Vry thinking? You pulled on your dress and strapped on your heels, threw on some makeup from the bottom of your purse, and headed downstairs.

You struggled to avoid looking at Bruce as you headed to the elevator. Alfred appeared, the clip of this cane comforting you. You thought it might be easier to look at him than Bruce, but he was positively beaming; did he know this was fake, or was he leading him on, too?  

“Have fun.”

Bruce handed you a pair of contacts when you got to the garage. He said he had three pairs to be able to rotate through, in case they tore. He grabbed a contact case and plopped his in no problem, and you struggled until you swore your mascara would bleed. 

Bruce’s hand was warm and reassuring as you walked into the Iceberg Lounge. Mar had visited a few times, and you recognized some booths and light fixtures from half-drunk selfies she’d sent over the years. 

If you thought eyes had been on you at City Hall, you were the goddamn Mona Lisa here. Bruce tucked you under his arm as the hallway narrowed, and you swallowed spoonfuls of saliva at the contact. Possibility electrified your limbs, rendering them half-numb and hypersensitive. To think that anything went here… that getting handsy, or a kiss, or stuffing him into a corner booth to have your way with him would only help the cause. Tasting his tongue against yours, running fingers down his thighs—playing the part. It left such wonderful deniability; for all he knew, you were a dedicated actress. 

The man in front waved a keycard to security, but Bruce made it through without a hitch. He held you tighter as a drunk group of men swaggered past, bumping you against his dense, muscled body. 

It was a perfectly normal club; downstairs was noticeably less noisy, but it still boomed, tickling your eardrums. A quick scan of the room didn’t show Oz anywhere, which was upsetting and relieving; Bruce’s brief on the way about what set the guy off had been unsettling—anything that could be read as pandering, insulting, or condescending would get you clipped. 

The bartender nodded as you both settled into seats at the counter. They quickly saddled you with a water glass, and you ran your fingers on the lip, trying to calm your nerves. Red and blue reflections of the club lights glinted through it, projecting a kaleidoscope on the countertop. The low lighting also illuminated the curves and valleys of Bruce’s muscles.

Every night pounding the pavement in that heavy suit had formed his build into a fucking menace; so different than how you might’ve imagined Batman would look, bringing butterflies to your stomach. You took a swig of water, avoiding further analyzing. You kept forgetting he was fucking Batman, even that he was a Wayne, but you felt the presence of both now. It dizzied you. 

But could you blame yourself? Was there anyone who wouldn’t want him? Anyone who would sit in your position looking into those ocean blue eyes with those long lashes, feel the comfort and strength in his touch, the sultry invitation of his breath wafting across your cheeks, and not fall head over heels? 

“What do you want to do?”

You wanted to take him to the back rooms you kept seeing the dancers take men to, that’s what you really wanted. Unbutton his pants and pull his shirt over his head, trail kisses everywhere usually hidden, hear whatever sounds that pulled from him, damn. You toyed with the glass again, the only thing you could.

You rushed to fill the space with something other than erotic thoughts, and landed on what you and Mar always pulled out once it passed eleven, and all catch-up conversations had been positively exhausted. “Truth or dare?”

Pulling up questions on your phone from some random generator sites, you placed it between you. One red button for DARE and a blue button for TRUTH sat there, ready to roll the dice. “You first.”

Bruce hit truth, and you mused the politics of his decision. Too shy to pick dare? Also, having him touching your things? Exhilarating. Having his undivided attention? Fucking addicting.

What’s your favorite curse word?

“Damn, starting tame.”

Bruce rested his chin in his hand, thinking way too hard about this. A crease appeared between his brows, and after about thirty seconds, you had to nudge him. Maybe he wanted that closer contact. Seeming like you were in the grips of intense, loving conversation, making eyes. He knew what moves to make, he knew how to manipulate. His eyes flicked to yours. “Fuck.”

That felt intimate. Too intimate, and your body rattled. You managed to a nod, clicking on your request.

“Ooh.” Bruce hummed when you clicked dare, and the screen spun. When had he started that humming thing? Since when did he make small little comments like this?

Eat a teaspoon of hot sauce.

You thought Bruce was moving toward letting you off the hook, so you waved down the bartender and requested a shot of it. You felt a strange desire to impress him, like a kid at recess trying to impress a crush. They asked how spicy, and you said medium. The bartender brought back a half-filled shot glass, and you slammed it back without a wasted second.

“Shit.”

A swell of pride speared through you at making an impression. The heat hadn’t hit in full yet, percolating on the roof of your mouth. His eyes widened, and he sat up from his slump.

“Not spicy?”

As if on cue, it attacked your tastebuds, screaming to be heard. Your face contorted, and you chugged the rest of your water; Bruce passed you his, and in a second that was finished, too. Your eyes watered, your stomach turned into a knot. 

“What the fuck sauce do they have here?!” You flapped your hands at your sides as if that would make a single dent—and noticed how happy he seemed. You wanted to tease, how dare he like when you were in pain, but the crinkle by his eyes always felled you. The bartender must’ve been watching, because they brought you a jug of water, and you drank it like you never would again. Bruce smiled, and you fought to join him.

“Since you were so brave.” He clicked dare, and you tried not to feel ecstatic at being called brave by Batman himself. Somehow, it wasn’t at all condescending. You hoped you could get a few more rounds in, seeing as your phone was at a measly five percent.

Show your most recent Google search.

Bruce’s lashes fluttered, and your face scrunched. “Such an easy one, this game’s rigged.”

Pink spread across his cheeks, and his voice became softer. “There’s no ‘skip’?” He laughed, halfheartedly, and you cocked your head at him. He eyed you. “Since you got such a big one,”

“No, no.” You were curious now. “Show me.”

Bruce gingerly pulled out his cell, and when he opened it, you saw he didn’t have a password. Surely he knew better than that, right? Or did he have a hack for that too, some sort of bomb that would go off in the battery if he ever had an inkling it was lost?

He opened Safari, and your eyes flit between his increasingly red face and the loading screen. He shifted in his seat and glanced at the table underneath. You could tell when it loaded, because his face flushed the darkest you’d seen it.

An article, titled: Romantic Conversation Starters (+ Tips to Set the Mood).

You chanced a look at him as you tucked your lip under your teeth, barely abating a laugh. You felt yourself turning warmer, and tempted the increasingly tense silence; you could feel he was about to combust. You called it out before your anticipation got the better of you and you zeroed in on things you shouldn’t. “You’re blushing.”

“Wanted to make it believable.”

Your laugh escaped you, unable to be contained. “By going on WikiHow?”

It was so endearing; he navigated these rooms so seamlessly, had people falling all over him, desperate for his attention, practically on their hands and knees to whatever the hell he had to say, including yourself, but he was just… awkward. Unsure. It was written all over his face. And fuck, it only made him more attractive.

“You got a better idea?” His defensiveness was creeping in, as expected. You might’ve fallen into the floor in his position. You mirrored his earlier posture, resting your chin in your hand.

“Be yourself.”

He clicked the phone off, slipping the evidence back in his pocket. The movement pulled at the fabric across his bicep deliciously. “‘Myself’ doesn’t want to be here.”

“What would make it more tolerable, Mr. Wayne?” You sipped at the remainder of the water from the jug like it was a delicate glass. His blush flushed deeper, which you didn’t think possible. Teasing him was fucking adorable; how could you not?

“Thought I was baby.”

You struggled not to show how that affected you, because it affected you. “Thought you were shy.”

“Sometimes.”

Another imperceptible cock of his brow and that deep, penetrating eye contact. The rise and fall of your shoulders was tighter, higher. You thought of pushing it further, teasing more, being a bit more forward, but your tongue tied, and he wasn’t breaking eye contact, and your hand was going numb under the weight of your body pressing toward the counter for balance, and—

Out of the corner of your vision, you watched Oz enter, pulling some pills out of a bin to his side. When he distributed them to the table, they stuck their tongues out at each other, showing a bright red bloom from the drug. They laughed and handed over cash. So bright and bloody… Mar did something like that once. She’d told you about it. Showed you the tongue stain a year ago. 

Oz pulled out two more pills, then locked eyes with you. You smiled, but it felt like ice water thrown down your neck. Bruce tensed as he approached. 

“Welcome, welcome! Got a coupla drinks, yeah? How ‘bout we keep the good vibes going? On the house.” he held out the pills, and you hesitated; Bruce began a deflection, but you grabbed one. His attention shot to your mouth, and he started stuttering something out, eyes wide, but you swallowed.

Oz chuckled, pushing his hand closer. “C’mon, don’t let your lady outdo ya.” 

“He’s the designated driver, I’ll have my fun tonight.” You winked at the man, and he grinned, but it faltered for a second before he righted it. Bruce needed to be careful, shooting daggers at you with Oz right there. 

“Hey baby, yeah yeah.” Oz apologized, saying he’d bring you both back to ‘his section’ soon. The second he was out of earshot, Bruce leaned in, whispering heatedly. 

“What the hell was that?”

“You want to know what this does, right? This isn’t Drops, this is newer.”

Bruce glared at your red tongue. “We could’ve asked any druggie here.” He slammed his palm just hard enough against the table to make you stiffen. “For all you know he could’ve laced it.” 

“He pulled it out of the same thing he gave everyone else, I watched him.”

He softened when you jumped, moving his hand down to his pocket. There were better ways to get his point across than scaring you. He faced you with apologetic, worried eyes. His chest felt heavy, breathing more labored. “I’m scared it’s dangerous.”

“Well then,” you scrambled not to look like a total airhead, knowing you had your reasons, but struggling to articulate them. “I’m the perfect control either way. We know I haven’t drank anything, I’m not on other drugs,”

He sighed. “Wish you would’ve consulted me.” 

“He was about to get suspicious. Now you have an out.” You sipped some water to try to abate the rising anxiety; it didn’t work. “Rich guy who doesn’t want to total his favorite car, I don’t know. Get his ditzy girlfriend all wasted.”

He turned to you, waiting for you to look at him. You didn’t. He brought his hand to your chin, and you thought it would be harsh and rough, but it was gentle as he tilted you to face him—always gentle. He looked a bit like he had at City Hall the day before. Frazzled, concerned. “You can’t leave my side, okay?” 

You swallowed hard, immobilized by the pull of him. “Didn’t plan on it.” 

His hand left you, but his stare didn’t. “How are you feeling now? We need a baseline.”

You remembered at this point that he was wearing the contacts, and you were, too, when he didn’t take out his phone to notate. Oz’s big hand gestures from a table across the way signified it wouldn’t be long. “Uh,”

“Fatigue? One to ten.”

“Uh, two.”

He pressured his speech, likely feeling Oz’s inevitability as much as you. “Brain fog?”

“I don’t know, one? Zero?”

“How does your body feel?”

“I don’t know, my feet hurt from the heels,”

“Hot? Cold?”

“Flushed, warm, I don’t know, a tiny bit warm? The hot sauce?” And conversation.

“What’s your mood?”

“Uh,”

“Apathetic? Euthymic?”

He was moving at lightning speed. “I don’t, a little anxious? Kinda sad, I don’t, I can’t quantify it right now,”

“Sad, scale of one to ten.”

You picked at your nails. “Four?”

“Anxiety?”

“Like a five?”

“Do you feel weak at all?”

“No.”

“Unsteady?”

You only had time to shake your head before him.

“Hey, VIPs!” Oz shouted from the corner, waving you and Bruce toward the back of the bar. “Follow me.”

It only took a few steps for things to shift. The world blurred out, and you were suddenly gone; all worries about what Oz was doing, all anxiety about the night: disappeared. The lights went increasingly hazy, and then it snapped into a mist; you couldn’t help but laugh. 

You leaned harder into Bruce, your knees weakened. Every brush against his arm was so electric, sensual, like foreplay. It was blissful. 

Oz said something about the party finally starting, and you thought he looked at you, but you were lost in the strength of Bruce’s hand and how much of his skin you could touch. A bright smile peaked the apples of your cheeks as you felt genuinely, stunningly happy. The music settled into the background in a dull pulse. Your thoughts rolled into a mess of ferns and twigs and pine needles that amounted to one singular need: Bruce.

Bruce tightened his grip on you, feeling you begin to drag; he wanted to make sure you were okay, but Penguin was showing him towards a back room, refusing him space to avoid eye contact. 

Stepping behind the bar revealed a moderately large lounge, close enough to 44 Below’s main stage to be involved, far enough to be private. The space was moderately large, with a glowing green EXIT sign to the left, and a long hallway to the right. No one else was back here. 

“When I’m not upstairs, you know, doing business? This is my zone, my asilo. Make yourselves at home, go on.” He moved for him to take a booth, and you clomped down next to him with a delighted huff. Bruce looked at your half-lidded eyes and enormous grin when you rustled the table, desperate to know what was going through your head. 

Penguin pointed at you, and launched into a speech about how business shifted since the flood. Bruce couldn’t make sense of why he started shifting to talking about drugs with him; was he this confident now of not catching consequences? 

“Needed to find something to help the people here. Lost lives, families, homes. Who wants to go to the club when their lives are falling apart, huh?” Penguin held his arms like he was bragging, like he was selling something. Did he want him to go in? 

You shifted and giggled beside him. God, he needed to talk to you. 

“Those eye things,” Bruce pretended not to recall, snapping his fingers in thought. 

“Ah, Drops.” He made a disappointed, dismissive sound and waved his hand, as if one of the most dangerous and widespread drugs in all of Gotham was nothing more than a passing project. “Nah, nah. That brings people down, makes ‘em nostalgic. You’ve tried it, right?”

“Makes things slower, yeah.” Was Penguin observant enough to catch the non-answer? Bold enough to call it out?

“Right, right. So this, this is something beautiful. Brings people up, keeps them excited, partying.” He straightened, gesturing every which way with his hands, his tone moving in and out as it only did with him. “And the best part is, thing’s all natural. Straight from the soil.”

Mushrooms. Why was he saying all this?

“Sure you don’t want any, boss man?”

Bruce barely contained a disgust response. With no other way to see out of it besides throwing the relationship under the bus, that’s exactly what he did. 

“Paps have been fucking ruthless since they got those photos.” He shook out his arms and set his face to look annoyed. “If they catch me with anything for a while, whew.” A tight shake of his head would finish it, and a pursed lip. “Gonna have to stay sober tonight.” 

“Prince of Gotham, alright.” The man held his hands up like he was being accused, though his demeanor remained agreeable. “Ain’t wanna be responsible for corrupting that.” 

Bruce played along, deepening this faux rapport. “People already try to discredit,” he recycled your earlier attacks on him. “Nepotism, all that bullshit.”

“Right, right. Lotta rumors.”

“Exactly, Oz.” Bruce blew a heavy breath from the bottom of his chest, making himself look as frazzled as possible. He performed musing on something, then moved like he might get up to the bar. “You know, I might get a whiskey,”

“Nah, not in this section.” Penguin, almost angry, motioned for him to sit back down with a shoo. Bruce stifled a grin; like hell he would leave you. “I’ll send one of the girls to get something for you.” 

You slumped against him as Penguin turned the corner. He didn’t waste a second. “How are you feeling?”

Your hands crawled up his arm and shoulder, and your grin got louder, and louder, which he didn’t know a grin could do. He reflexively smiled at your supposed euphoria, never seeing you so content. Your smirk went straight to his chest. 

Bruce measured his breathing when you moved your hands to his hair, twirling it between fingers. He bit his cheek when your hand slid lower; down his neck, past his abs… he gulped and moved your hand away, his body lighting up. You pouted, making a pitiful noise that went straight through him. 

“Please.” You slid nearer, whining, closing the space; your pupils were so wide your eyes were almost entirely black, your shoulders squeezed inward, like every muscle in your body was tense, needy. Your fingers moved to his thighs, rubbing the top in smooth, languid strokes. 

That please echoed through him like a fucking gong. He shook it from his thoughts the second it ricocheted. Shallow and quick, his breathing hitched, and he shifted away with another swallow. 

Heat spread across his face as he darted a look at yours. You bit your lip, and he averted his eyes to under the table. No chance you would’ve taken it if you knew it would increase your libido this sharply. With his awareness cast down, he noticed you press your thighs together, crossing your ankles. 

“I want you.”

He caught your hand as it traveled to his waistband. His fingertips were freezing, head turning staticky at your touch. You pouted again, and he looked at you with increased resolve. 

“No. You’re not sober.” Gentle, yet firm. Your eyes went glossy, almost with tears. He took your hand to bridge the distance, rubbing what he hoped was a relaxing circle along your palm. 

Your eyes pleaded with him. “It’d be so fun like this.” 

“We can talk.” 

“Can we talk about it?” You rested your head in your hands, fluttering your lashes to frame your doe eyes. 

He didn’t hesitate shaking his head. You thought long and hard, and he theorized you were mining for a loophole. “Can I look at you?”

His expression eased. “You can look.” 

You were so thrilled it was like the past conversation hadn’t happened. You analyzed every pore of his face, admiring it like some great statue or famous painting. When he felt himself start to wonder what you were imagining, he pivoted. “Tell me. How are you feeling?”

“Could be better.”

He paid the insinuation no mind. “One to ten?”

“You’re funny.”

Huh? “How am I funny?”

“Soo serious.” You pressed your finger between his brows, uncreasing them. He let his shoulders relax. “There you go.” 

You sat back, gazing dreamily. “You should talk more. I love hearing you talk.” 

Should he… stop talking? Was it making it worse for you? Were you lucid? “Do you know why we’re here?”

“Talk, baby. Come on.” 

Like he was zigzagging his car through Gotham, but unable to lose them. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I just wanna watch you.” 

He regretted the question as it passed his lips, loathed how he couldn’t help but blush under your focused attention, but he’d endure it. If he needed to dodge your advances for the next ten hours, the whole weekend, so be it. 

“You’re so cute!”

You looked pained, a growl edging out your sentence. “Is that a bad thing?”

“UGH.” You slammed back into the chair, giving him barely enough time to place his hand behind your head; his knuckles knocked into the wood, and he winced. 

Was this because he wouldn’t let you touch him? Tentatively, he removed his hand. “If you still feel this way when you’re sober, we can talk about—”

“Whiskey for Mr. Wayne?”

“Thanks.” His fingers wrapped around the drink, leaving visible prints against the smooth siding. You still faced forward, looking upset. 

He worried his hands along the lip of the glass, needing to make himself perfectly clear. “I don’t want you feeling rejected,” he took a deep breath. “but there’s no way anything is happening while you’re like this.” 

“Not that.” You scoffed, like you hadn’t just begged him to let you. 

“What then?”

“The storm.” Your expression twisted, and you really looked like you might cry. “All the animals, and birds,”

“What about them?” 

“They hate getting wet.” Tears slipped down your cheeks. Mood swings. “Walter hates getting wet. What if he was here?” 

He pressed his lips into a thin line to keep a laugh at bay, reminding himself you were obviously wrecked over it. It was no small feat evicting humor from his tone. “I’m sure animals here are used to rain.”

You sat in thought. The booming sounds from the dance hall upstairs filled the silence, and the sharp click of a dancer’s heels as they pulled a customer to the back went along with the beat. “Can we go dance?”

“I don’t dance.”

He’d tried to convince you on the stairs to ditch this idea, but you’d quite literally yanked him to the dance floor. Admittedly, he liked this possessiveness, but under different circumstances. 

The crowd was tight, and only got tighter as word spread. Anxious thoughts circled like a shark, threatening to drown, but not you. Fully invested in whatever song was blasting through the speakers, you held your hands high, swaying side to side, grabbing his hips at every switch in the beat. You mouthed the words—you knew this one, had you gone clubbing with your friend much?—and he tried to mirror your movements, though subtly, feeling embarrassed. 

He shut his eyes for just a second at the overstimulation; he needed to be firmly rooted here to keep you safe. He wanted to help you have fun, too, and he wanted to enjoy this, or at the very least tolerate it. What kind of person would he be if he interrupted your joy, no matter what caused it? 

When he opened his eyes, a flurry of people were pressed against him, fighting to claim his attention, touching him in ways that made him want to jump out of his skin. He only panicked for a moment at your disappearance, easily looking over shoulders to find you just behind. You stared at the back of their heads with amusement; somehow, he thought you’d be angry. 

You laughed, so loud he could hear it over the bass, and jammed your way through them limb by limb, shoving your body flush to his. He caught you, feeling a profound sense of home when you pressed into him, your perfume and shampoo and whatever else made up you filling his senses in a way that shot him straight to heaven. He felt you rumble against him, hearing your laugh even closer now. He moved his mouth to your ear as you tightened around him. “What’s so funny?”

“They think you’re not mine.” You rolled your eyes so casually, like he hadn’t burned to tell you so for weeks. 

His lips curled into a small grin. “You think I’m yours?” 

Those half-lidded eyes met him again, spearing him. “Of course you are.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond, and that was good, because he was full of nothing but looping thoughts of yes, yes he was, he was yours. 

You brought his hands to your waist and he held you carefully, the room shifting to a closed concept as he absently moved in tandem with you, following your lead as his nerves fell away. He wouldn’t ask you how you meant it, not now, possibly never, but he could pretend. Pretend you could feel how much he cared; that somehow, despite his best efforts, you knew with unwavering confidence that he was entirely, deeply yours without ever having to say it. 

As you both danced, he kept a shield around you. When someone got too close, he’d shift you away or pull you in without you even noticing. He caught you the rare times you stumbled, and every time you laughed, he placed the memory in a locket. Your face lit up when he’d dip his shoulders to the beat, rolling his body just enough to feel the rhythm deep in his core. Eventually his movements became smoother, more evocative, encouraged by your enjoyment. When you got too dizzy, he let you catch a breath in his arms. You’d lean in, whispering that you knew he would get into it, that you knew he could let loose. 

You pressed your foreheads together, panting. He realized he’d been working up a sweat, moving more than he had outside of patrol in years. “You don’t dance, huh?”

He laughed, and it didn’t feel strained or hollow. “Didn’t think so.” This wasn’t scary, not at all. 

He guided you off the floor when your eyes shut, rubbing your shoulders to keep you awake. He whispered to you. “Let’s say goodbye to Oz,” and brought you downstairs, already anticipating… Penguin laughed, giving him a wink and a nudge.

“Have fun, kid.” 

Disgusting. 

He snuck you out of a side door, wanting to limit photography, when he felt a punch on his right shoulder. He pushed you against the brick wall as gently as he could, but not as gently as he would’ve liked, as he caught sight of a knife. 

Disarming the assailant was easy; it didn’t take three steps and a few uppercuts for the weapon to clatter to the ground, and him to fall to his ass. Usually, if he were in the suit, the criminal would scoot back wildly, scrambling to escape further punishment; but this guy thought he was dealing with prissy Bruce Wayne.

The man lunged for his ankle—elementary. He had his wrist in one hand, wrenching his elbow until he screamed. Desperate not to escape but to hurt, the stranger lunged forward, teeth bared. Bruce yanked hard on his arm, hearing a crack, and slammed the heel of his shoe against the man’s jaw. He fell on his back, dazed, blood trickling down his nose. 

From the ground, he eyed you with a glare in the second it took Bruce to decide to scuff his shoes. Against thigh, then stomach, then chest. The last hit had the man yelping, dragging himself down the alleyway in as much a limping hurry he could manage. Bruce huffed, feeling the impact on unprotected knuckles. 

“What the fuck…” 

You were disoriented, blinking slowly, out of it. He wrapped you in a hug, shielding you from the rain he hadn’t felt until now, rushing you out front to the valet. He helped you into the passenger seat, buckling you himself so he didn’t worry, and slipped beside you, hurrying past the crowd. 

The weather worsened by the second. Umbrellas swayed and flew out of hands on the sidewalk, and rain pelted the car like bullets. If you’d left any later, he might’ve had to carry you home. After what felt like an eternity, he pulled into the drive. The piss-poor weather had deterred most of the paparazzi. 

Not even six in the evening, Alfred startled at the state of you, eyes struggling to open, slumped into Bruce’s side. “What happened?” 

“She’s fine.” 

“Bruce,”

“Went to meet Penguin, she took some drugs,”

“Drugs?”

“I told you, it’s fine,”

In his haste to get the old man off his back, you tripped on the first stair. Bruce barely caught you before you nose-dived. He helped you upright, whispering for you to jump; it was halfhearted, feet barely an inch off the ground in your exhaustion, but it was enough. He carried you the rest of the way, tenderly setting you in the middle of your bed. 

You grumbled, shifting to your side. Your heel grazed him. Right. He knelt to pull them off, setting them under the bed. He massaged the back of your heel until your grumbles turned to sighs, then hums. When your mouth slacked open against the pillow, he knew you’d passed out. 

Silently, he rose and snuck to the door, careful not to rouse you. He’d keep the door open, check on you every half hour. He grimaced, spiraling on how much could go wrong in that time. Maybe every quarter hour. 

“Don’t leave.” 

His heart cracked when he heard tears. He stepped back into the room, your scrunched, tired face staring at him like he’d committed a cardinal sin. “Okay.” He let go of the doorknob. “I won’t.” 

You patted the bed next to you, and scooted to make room. He laid on the bed’s furthest edge, arms tight to his torso. You shook your head. “Closer.”

He scooted toward you, and you dragged yourself into the crook of his arm. Your body softened and the sniffling stopped. Bruce kept deadly still, scared he’d interrupt your sleepiness with full breaths. 

It was impossible not to follow suit; just as he thought he might nap, you rustled in your sleep. His body jerked in response when you sat up, mumbling about feeling hot, and promptly yanked off your dress. Half awake by that point, he only realized you’d undressed when you threw it to the end of the bed. You thudded into him like nothing happened.

He almost fell asleep again, but you started pawing at his chest, muttering. “Too scratchy, take it off.”

He hesitated, instead pulling the blanket higher to cover it. You fell asleep quickly, and he did the same. 

You heard a thump. 

More thumps. 

You opened your eyes and saw a quilt, and felt a weight draped over your hips. You blinked a few times, groggy, and realized it was a heartbeat that you heard. 

Bruce rustled, and what was apparently his arm moved off your hip to rub at his eyes. You sat up and felt a breeze, becoming aware of your discarded dress, and your stomach shot to the back of your throat. 

You tried to remember what happened. Everything was blank, outside of entering the club and playing some truth or dare. Had you dared to hook up with him? Had he dared you? 

“How are you feeling?” His voice was slightly hoarse, from fatigue or something else. 

Your mouth went dry, posing the question even seeming too intimate. “Did we, uh,” you pulsed with embarrassment, forcing yourself to meet his eyes, “have sex?” 

Suddenly you were quite breathless. A ghost of an ache pulsed between your thighs. Ah, fuck, you’d fucked him for the first time and you couldn’t even relive it. 

“No.” His eyes narrowed. “What do you remember?”

You tried to, but it was like the time hadn't passed. He swung his legs off the bed, moving to stand. His shirt was half-tucked, his hair undone just enough to be sexy. You wished you’d fucked him; but your body, it… it felt like it had. It was needy, and spent. “Nothing.”

“You can watch the recording, then.” Bruce held out his hand, and you stared at it. You placed your hand in his, and a small noise fell from him. You ripped it away, and his brow quirked. You burned. “Contacts.” 

Timid, you peeled the contacts off your dry eyes and handed them over. As he put them in a case, you patted the bed for your phone. He pulled it out of his pocket, apologizing for the oversight as he plugged it in. “It died at the bar, sorry.”

“Why were we in bed together?” You figured you’d find out soon on the tape, but the anticipation was ruining you. Maybe you hadn’t fucked, but you’d made out, or touched him, or he touched you, because your pussy ached like it’d been made sore, and you couldn’t fucking place why or how. You clenched. 

“You cried when I tried to leave.” 

Cried?

“Wanted me to stay while you slept.” 

You believed him, but that felt humiliating to admit. “Then why was I half naked?”

“Said you were too hot.” He shrugged, moving toward the exit. “Glad you’re alright.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You took Oz’s drug.” 

Your face fell, a crumb of memory resurfacing. His worry, his questions, and how bitter the pill was on your tongue. 

“Meet me in the kitchen and we’ll go down together.” 

Bruce pretended to work on his car while you watched the video; he thought you couldn’t tell, but you were excruciatingly aware of his presence and knew you’d be doing the same thing if he’d been behaving this way. It was mortifying.

Every time you gasped or looked away from the monitor—he definitely wasn’t watching you, no—he would attempt to soothe, telling you that ‘everything worked out’, and ‘seemed like you had fun, that’s good’. You did not agree. 

Watching your hands glide over his body, getting dangerously close to his zipper, fuck. The beg in your voice, saying that you wanted him, saying please, oh, you could’ve died. Creeping on him like that… Why hadn’t he let Oz take you out back with a shotgun?

“If you still feel this way when you’re sober, we can talk about—”

You jumped. The basement went quiet, the worn concrete walls choosing now to absorb all sound. You skipped forward, gulping back a scream, as your head pounded at the implication. 

It killed you to type ‘marked increase in libido’ and ‘risky behavior’ into his computer, but externalizing it walked you back from the cliff. A third word: ‘euphoria’. That feeling had been the loudest. You didn’t want to keep watching, but you had to. 

The fucking dancing. This couldn’t be too bad, right? No talking could happen under these circumstances. You unwound watching Bruce blush under the lights, moving stiffly like the concept of rhythm was entirely foreign. 

Bruce took a peek at you as he bolted the last tire on, watching you grin and tuck your lower lip under your teeth. He grabbed the bottled water at his side and swigged it, wishing just a little bit that it was whiskey.

You got pushed aside by a group practically clawing at him. You boiled inside, bruised, but heard yourself laugh. You pushed your way through them, easier than you thought, especially for someone drugged, and suddenly your vision was dark, clouded against his chest. His voice was right in your ear. “What’s so funny?”

“They think you’re not mine.” 

Jesus, how did he react? Just when you thought you might actually die, you watched him grin. Cold flashed through you. 

“You think I’m yours?” and it sounded really rhetorical, really delicate, and what the hell did you say to that? 

“Of course you are.”

Oh, shit.

You paused the footage, feeling caught between worlds. Technically, you’d already told him all the things you were so scared of. A side-eye in Bruce’s direction showed that he wasn’t working on his car anymore, and his empty hands looked inviting. That neediness was back, and you nearly stepped toward him, but stalled. Your heart could’ve beat out of your chest. 

When your breathing caught, you took it and rushed to the elevator, fully aware how fast you were moving, and how suspicious it was. But Mar would want to know what happened, you’d told her you’d gone clubbing, and she did need to know you were safe, and you wanted to know if she’d escaped the storm. But all you told him was you wanted water. 

“Can I go with you?”

You nodded, knocking the hair out of your face with shaky fingers. Every stride between his car to the elevator ratcheted your heart rate up a notch, and you swore it was as visible as the clothes you wanted him to tear off. Your hands clenched into fists as he stepped inside. “Sorry for acting like that.”

“No need.” 

“I overstepped, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t.” He pressed UP, and you began the ascent.

“Do you mean that?”

You watched his Adam’s apple bob, and started feeling like the question you asked was more intimate than you thought. “We can’t do this right now.”

“Do what?”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“What do you mean?”

His back pressed against the elevator wall, like he wanted to create distance. “Do you just want water, o-or want me to make you something?”

“Why are you stuttering?”

“Why are you asking?”

The doors opened, and he practically lunged toward the kitchen sink. You watched, breathless. He didn’t think you were fully sober. Maybe you weren’t. 

You cut upstairs, head pounding. ‘Right now’. ‘Imagined’. That grin of his, and how sure you sounded. You struggled to grip the doorknob, palms slick. It wouldn’t turn, and you smacked the wood, spirit weary. You wished you’d never found out about Batman, that you’d never gotten tangled up in this shit so you didn’t have to wonder, and worry, about what was placation and what was real; so that you could break the ice and ask him yourself, or tell him, and not silently read into every glance, holding memories with white knuckles.

The door popped open, and you stumbled inside. Your phone glowed on the nightstand. Thinking nothing of it, you fell into bed and unlocked it.

The glass shattered in the sink as Bruce heard you scream. No thoughts came, only fear, and he traveled the steps four at a time. You flung the door open and slammed into him. He’d never felt someone shake so much, and held you so tight he thought he might break you, but you were squeezing him harder than anyone ever had, and shrieking. His teeth went cold. 

Your limbs tingled, weightless, and you moved and breathed on instinct alone. Bruce’s arms were around you, but you didn’t quite feel them. Presence and dissociation carved out your stomach. 

You pulled away, a dead, empty feeling bloated with adrenaline to keep you moving. A brightness filled your chest, but like a glowing hot poker. Explanation spilled out of you like you couldn’t breathe, like you were hyperventilating, but you weren’t there. 

Bruce cupped your face, but you saw him through gray mist. Alfred popped out and said something, but the waves of shock drowned him out. 

“I should’ve fucking gone, I was supposed, I planned to fucking go,”

Bruce guided you to the edge of the bed through your bursts of anger. He crouched in front of you as you listened to the other voicemails. His hands warmed your knees, his attention unwavering. 

‘Tried to call, but I’m on the way to the hospital now…’

You barely registered what you agreed to until you were halfway down the road; you didn’t react when Bruce fought the car against endless hydroplaning, but jolted back to a portion of the moment with the splatter of hail on the passenger window.

Tears flooded your lap like the monsoon outside. The buildings changing to greenery on the side of the highway choked reality down a bargaining throat. A realization that this was a moment you had to be there for, present for. You sniffed up a wall of tears. You could disappear after, if she didn’t wake up.

His hand moved to your knee. You blinked at how calmly the conversation went. Shaking hands finding delayed flights, and the complete lack of fight when he told Alfred to find the nearest operational jet. A prickle of it found you now in the form of guilt, weighing on you like the weekend bag in your lap. In a blip of lucidity, you’d asked him why he was packing a duffel. He said you were in no state to be alone right now. That if he could help, he would. That he’d leave whenever you asked, but not until you were at the hospital. 

‘fell’, ‘unconscious’, ‘waiting game’. You leaned your head to rest on his shoulder. You squeezed your puffy eyes shut, body wracking with choppy, sobbing gasps. Bruce laced his fingers between yours, giving you a gentle squeeze. He didn’t say it would be okay, or that everything happened for a reason. He let you be sad. He just let you cry.

[lesmiix]

HIIII! I LOVE YOUR FICS AND HEADCANONS! I WANNA REQUEST- HEADCANONS OR FIC (up to you) ABOUT HYUN-JU AND HER HABIT OF PRESSING HANDS TOGETHER WHEN SHE FEEL NERVOUS! Like reader could massage her hands if they are home and just doing something, like calling or writing mail bcs my headcanon is that Hyun-ju is a little nervous whenever she needs to write an email somewhere 😭😭

ONE-SHOT: Meerkat.

Cho Hyun-ju x fem!reader.

Summary: Hyun-ju gets really nervous whenever she has to send an email somewhere and she gets these meerkat hands Warnings: None. a/n: I enjoyed so much making this!!! She's so cute whenever she does the t-rex hands I love her,

🤎HYUN-JU REQUESTS ARE OPEN!🤎

"Ju-ju, it's not that bad. You just have to send an email, the world is not gonna end." You said as you followed your girlfriend, as she was walking non-stop around the house.

"You don't undesrtand, what am I supposed to write? I really need that job, but what if I write it in a way they don't like and they think I'm not good enough for the place?"

"My love, sit down and relax, I'm gonna help you." You triet to comfort her, making her sit down on the living room's table.

"Maybe I should take an online job where I don't have to see anybody's face." She sat down, resting her head on her hands, hiding her face.

"It doesn't work like that. Now, start writing."

You walked to the kitchen to make both of you something for lunch, maybe some pesto pasta.

You had been cooking for about 30 minutes. But everything was too quiet.

"Finally, she's focused" You thought for yourself. You finished making the meal and plated it, pouring the pesto sauce over it. You took the two plates to the living room, where you saw how Hyun-ju was looking at the computer totally focused.

"Lunch's ready my love, have you already finished?" You asked her, glancing at the computer screen.

Blank.

The computer screen was a blank. white. screen.

You stopped your steps in their tracks. Moving your gaze towards your girlfriend, who was playing with her fingers, clearly nervous.

"Ju-"

"I don't know how to do it." She cut you off, resting her head on the table.

She was really anxious right now, it was not the first time you saw her like this, you have seen her in a worse estate.

You put both plates on the table and you sat on the chair besides her, slowly rubbing her back.

"Come on, beautiful, let's do it while we eat, mhm?" You offered as you placed the comuter in front of the two of you. "And stop scratching your hands, you'll get a wound eventually." You took her hands on yours, giving them a soft massage as you rubbed circles with your thumbs on her palms.

"Let's start with an: 'Dear Mr.Johansson, I am writing to express my interest in the Project Manager position at Lockhed Martin as advertised on your website. With 7 years of experience in the ROK's special forces, blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff is the special" Was all Hyun-ju heard.

"Are you even putting attention?"

"Of course I'm paying attention to the hottie in front of me."

"Hyun-ju, please, I'm helping you getting a job." You scolded her.

"You looking so hot with those glasses is not helping me out."

You just sighed, returning your concentration to the food and leaving the computer aside.

"Whatever, it's already finished, just send it and that's it, dumbass."

"You're the best." She said, giving you a peck on your lips.

"I know." You answered, returning the kiss.

[boba-at-323]

Evil Pebble

Note: Hi guys I'm still alive <333 I finally finished this fic based on a dream I had but not completely! I hope you guys enjoy <333

The heat got worse as the day progressed to noon. The air was still, the sky soundless, as even the birds, who usually chirped merrily around this hour, had given in to the heat. Not a single ant was sighted on the ground and those creatures are known for their hard work during the season.

Mother Nature had issued desperate warnings about the extreme weather all week. Despite this, the school faculty kindly decided to arrange their annual sports festival for that exact week.

Crowds of students in a mix of white and navy blue uniforms were seen scattered around in different parts of the school grounds. Some were stretching and warming up, preparing themselves for whatever sport they had signed up for, and others in groups sat on the burning grass complaining about the scorching heat and gossiping to kill time.

You stood with your opponents on the track field. The white paint on the ground glistened underneath the sunlight, but not in an appealing way. You could see the surroundings crowd up with more and more students by the minute as they hurried to get the best spot before anyone else. The coach was heard screaming at a boy who was probably late for the last sports match, while the other teachers were rounding up the remaining few rebellious students. Everything was nauseating.

You just wanted to go home and lie in bed with the air conditioning on and possibly a popsicle. Yeah, that sounded nice.

A tap on your shoulder made you return from your heavenly daydream.

“Everything alright Y/n? You seem out of it.” A quiet yet kind voice.

It was Han Taesan, a friend you made in the first year of high school just because your seat had been right next to his. At first, he seemed very intimidating. Not much of a talker, Taesan was always quiet usually seen with his headphones on every chance he could get. You had not ever seen him with people other than a boy called Kim Donghyun, who you later found out had been with him since elementary. He was seemingly a reserved person, keeping himself detached from his surroundings, or so you had thought.

Right before spring break, you got sick and missed an entire week of school. You were greatly worried about the mountain of work you'd have to catch up on and the exams you needed to prepare for. However when you came back to school, you were speechless to find Taesan approaching you first thing in the morning, handing out to you a handwritten copy of his notes from when you were absent.

You couldn’t thank him enough but he just smiled shyly telling you it wouldn’t have been nice if he didn’t. From that day onwards, Taesan gained a new friend.

"Oh no, I'm fine" you waved your hand, shaking away the daze "You know how I am with the heat."

 "Ah, right. Want me to get you a water bottle?" His tone showed concern greater than the matter.

"No thank you," you smiled at his offer, "Don't you have your baseball match to warm up for?"

He shook his head, "That isn't till an hour I think. We have girls' volleyball first."

Your conversation was interrupted by a high-pitched whistle coming from the coach's direction, signalling everyone to get into position.

Taesan let out what seemed like a sigh, and patted your shoulder.

"Good luck then, I'll be cheering for you!" He smiled encouragingly, making his way to where your other friends had been sitting and cheering.

Let's get this over with, you thought to yourself setting yourself into position.

"Students, on your mark..."

You took a look at the other girls around you.

"Get set..."

This should be easy.

"...GO!"

A loud bang was heard followed by deafening screams filling the air from the other students supporting their classmates and friends.

Like always, you took the lead. It wasn't that you had trained extensively, or anything. Running was the only sport you excelled at and years of participation in the same field had polished your skills, having achieved the gold medal every year. You wouldn't call it your arrogance, it was more or less the confidence you had in yourself. So, this year couldn't be any different.

Within moments, the finish line was in your sight. Giving yourself a last boost, you ran with the maximum of your limit. However, little did you know that right there on the track stood a small evil pebble meddling with your victory. Unknowingly, you stepped on the pebble during your sprint, causing your ankle to twist painfully.

You winced at the sudden, sharp pain but you couldn’t risk stopping, not when the red ribbon was almost there. With a slight limp, you pushed yourself just enough to make it to the end.

Another loud bang was heard, this time signalling the end of the race. Girls from the stands ran hurriedly with water bottles and other supplies for their teammates, giving group hugs to congratulate while a few consoled their disheartened companions.

You had finished in second place, but you didn't mind at all. Relief washed over you as your part concluded, but as you stood on the silver podium, the throbbing in your joint went unnoticed by everyone.

After the ceremony concluded, your friends invited you to watch the upcoming volleyball game

"I'll be there in a while," you confirmed and they nodded, asking you to make it on time.

You located a quiet space behind the building, away from the bustle. Exhaling heavily, you leaned back into the bench to take a deep breath. With a towel around your neck, you wiped off what remained of the sweat. Now that you were alone, you could take a better look at your injured ankle.

Lost while studying your sore foot, you didn’t notice someone approach.

“That doesn’t look too good.” It was Taesan again.

“Taesan! You scared me.” You whipped your head up to look at him, dramatically clutching your chest.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to,” he said with a tone of slight embarrassment, “I saw you step on that pebble, are you hurt badly?”

He saw?

“Oh, uh… no, it’s not that bad” You bit your lip hoping he wouldn’t be able to see through your lie.

“Let me have a look,” he said and before you could stop him, he was on the ground inspecting your ankle, pressing his fingers against the purplish skin.

As he did, the sudden pain caused an involuntary whine to escape your lips.

“Sorry…” He mumbled softly getting back to your injury, “I knew you got hurt so I brought first aid just in case.”

You had not noticed the small white box sitting next to him until he had mentioned it.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Something felt different about him today. Maybe it was the strands of sweaty hair sticking messily to his forehead, maybe it was the way his pale skin gleamed beautifully underneath the noon sun, or maybe it was just his navy blue uniform that suddenly made you aware of how attractive he had always been.

He carefully dressed your sprained ankle, making sure he was as gentle as he could be not wanting to cause you any discomfort. Unbeknownst to him, you were watching him with an unfamiliar feeling, a newfound emotion or was it only just realised?

 “There, all done.” He finished bandaging, “Do you think you can walk alright?”

“Y-yeah…”  A blush crept into your cheeks when you realised you had been staring at him for way too long, “thank you, Taesan.”

“Not at all. I’m just glad you’re okay. You had me worried there.” He admitted sheepishly. It was his turn to shy away as his ears tinted a shade of red, but you wouldn’t notice.

“Y/n, do you want to go out for ice cream after school?" Taesan proposed out of the blue and you swore you choked on the air for a split second.

Seeing your confused look, he realized his question had surprised you and quickly continued

“Since you won second place, and you know…” he pointed at your ankle.

You looked down at your bandaged foot. How did he make you forget the pain you were in?

Oh right…

“Of course, I don’t mind yeah.” You stutter as you answer, a feeling of embarrassment taking over you because why were you acting like this? It was just Taesan.

“I think we should get going, the volleyball match probably started,” He looked at the direction of the court then back at you again, “Let me help you.”

He extended his hand and you took it for support. It wasn’t the first time he had held your hand, but the contact sent a swarm of butterflies fluttering like crazy in your stomach. You felt light-headed as he led to to where you were headed.

For some reason, the heat wasn’t bothersome anymore. Of course, now you had a bigger problem to deal with.

Title : Evil pebble || Word count: 1.509k || Genre: fluff, mutual pinning || Pairing: Classmate/friend Taesan x fem!Reader

[alekthefox]

Aventurine/Ratio fic idea~

ohhhh i've got PLOT. ave goes to film a second music video (right after his canon? debut White Night) where he's dancing and Ratio tells him "break a leg" because "good luck" is actually a curse to performers. Aventurine indeed breaks a leg. "I DID NOT MEAN LITERALLY!" Sort of sick fic vibe? Ratio makes the excuse that he's to blame for it, jinxing him, just so he can take care of him. carry him around and pamper him and spoil him. ave at first is like 'i dont need it, doctor. come on, this is nothing, im still capable plenty.' sort of feeling insecure like he's incompetent or something. but then he feels the affection, sees ratio just cares a lot about him. and lets it happen, and lets himself be spoiled. and its so very sweet. especially when ratio lays beside him in the same bed, being a gentleman and not trying anything funny. --so ave can wake him up if he needs something during the night. so ave hesitantly lays his head on his shoulder, the half asleep ratio wrapping him in his arms and moving him lower so his jaw doesnt hurt in the morning (his chest is much softer than his shoulder yknow). and aventurine feels a sense of comfort, safety, and affection and cries in joy. GHGREHGJHREGJHRGEHRGEYHGR and then. morning sex. morning sex.

now in ratio's pov he ADORES that he's allowed to finally properly take care of him, as he is someone who takes great pride in being helpful and caring (doctor+professor). and he seems a lot more cheery whenever aventurine says 'thank you' quietly, as if embarrassed/shy. because its different to his persona of the gambler. he's seeing the walls lower, the door open. he's being let inside his heart. and he might be doing a bit too much, things unnecessary to help him. and the moment aventurine lays his head on him his auto-pilot of half asleep is to hold him, make sure he's comfortable, then sigh deeply satisfied. lol kinda like socializing a feral cat XD And in the morning he's all smiles and sparkles when ave kisses his cheek and morning voice quietly says "thank you". veri proceeds to pepper him with kisses while laughing.

just moments later he realizes ave gave him another kink. Next to saying his work title "doctor~" in such lilts he always does giving him that kink, he now gets turned on by ave saying "thank you" breathlessly for finishing in his mouth. --ratio extremely enthusiastically eats him out in return.

i would absolutely adore a scene where ave's sitting on the carpet playing with the catcakes and one of them lays on his leg in a cast and starts purring while another tries to lick it and makes a weird face cuz it tastes awful. cuz the cats know hes injured and they too care about him. a love so deep they influence the other's kinks --is an amazing fucking thing i swear

Ave: "i can't believe it took me breaking a bone for you to finally--" Ratio: "ME? It took that for ME? Dear Gambler, I have shown you I care for YEARS. You are OBLIVIOUS." "WH-- I FLIRT WITH YOU ALL THE TIME!" "in jest! as jokes!" "NO!" "…..you were serious about all of those??" "YESSS!!!!" ……………. "We're both so incredibly dumb..." --I MIGHT write this idfk

[sober-stupid-shithead]

Had this idea on the mind that Ratchet has to eat a mini!Optimus to warm him up :3 kinda like that time he almost died of cold in the TFP show. So, willing pred, unwilling prey :3c

I hope this inspires you some!!!

👍

WOO! FINALLY FINISHED THIS ONE! I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm preparing to be VERY busy this year. Tysm for the ask though, its a super cute idea :3

I went a little bit emotional with this? Ratchet and Optimus just make me wanna throw up sobbing because I love them so much and their relationship is so complex. I apologize if it's a little out of character for that reason, but I think I did pretty good. Also the prompt behind what got him nommed makes NO sense but just pretend ok 💔 (also healing stomach trope how I love you)

(CW: vore, mild description of robotic injury, unwilling prey, safe/soft)

Ratchet just knew this mission had been a mistake. Too many risks, not enough information. But of course Optimus had insisted, and now look where they were.

They hadn't had enough time to decipher the coordinates of the next relic Megatron was after before it was already too late. In a mad dash to destroy the massive cannon that had been uncovered, Optimus decided to go alone in fear of needlessly endangering his teammates. He had of course instead needlessly endangered himself in the process. He had mass displaced himself to be able to sneak onto the Nemesis and dismantle the weapon from the inside.

Fortunately, despite how stupid the plan sounded it had worked. Unfortunately, Optimus had been found by the Decepticons and only managed to escape via jumping off the ship and down into the tundra plains below. His smaller size had made him much more susceptible to the cold, and his injuries only added to that. He was in near critical condition.

"Bulkhead, out of my way!" Ratchet yelled as he barreled through the base, a tiny Optimus cradled in his arms. He hadn't wasted a second of time once the ground bridge was open. He had a job to do and nobody would get in his way, accident or not.

He laid his leader down on the operating table and quickly swiveled the lamp usually used for surgery close above him, hoping the heat from the light would help keep him warm. He waved his servo over the frozen mech to scan his chassis, and… the injury report wasn't good. His chassis was dented in, several enegon tubes had ruptured, and his body was at far too dangerous of a temperature.

"Ratchet…" The small Prime murmured, optics flickering as his systems were struggling to stay awake.

"Don't waste the energy, Optimus." The medic snapped back, tapping furiously away at his monitor to figure out the best way to deal with all this. As greatly worrisome and dangerous as his injuries were, they were all well within the realm of fixing for a mech as seasoned as Ratchet, the problem was his size. Optimus didn't have the energy to revert his mass displacement, and even if he did he wouldn't be able to while his systems were nearly frozen solid. They needed to heat him up and fast.

For a moment the medic stalled. Nothing in the base would be able to heat Optimus up in time without hurting him. No form of fire would be safe while he was leaking energon, and no entirely safe alternatives were at all close enough to a Cybertronian's internal temperature…

A Cybertronian's internal temperature.

Maybe all was not lost.

He had tried it a few times before when their human allies needed first aid, but he'd never done it to one of his own kind before. There were a lot of preliminary tests that should be run before he could make sure the idea was totally safe, but they didn't have the time. He would just have to try it and see how it went. And ignore how guilty he felt for making an injured Optimus Prime be his test subject.

Ratchet halted his typing and stared at the holoscreen for brief second of hesitation. He sighed with resignation and looked over his shoulder to where his tiny leader lay. "I need to stabilize you as fast as I can so you can revert your mass displacement. Optimus… I'm sorry, but this is for your own good."

He stepped over to the medical slab and scooped him up onto his servos, faceplate creased with worry. He was freezing to the touch and so, so small. It was uncomfortable to see a Prime in such a vulnerable position.

"Old friend… What do you mean?" Optimus said in a soft, raspy voice. It was obvious he was straining to even be heard.

"Just relax, Optimus. You'll be alright." Ratchet hushed, bringing the tiny leader up to his face. He wanted to explain more, but they really didn't have the time. Instead, he simply opened his mouth and gently maneuvered Optimus's pedes onto his glossa. He was so cold that the medic nearly flinched in discomfort, but he didn't stop. He did his very best to be careful when moving such a small, injured body, but he knew it couldn't have felt great. The short moment of shocked silence between the two didn't help his rapidly mounting guilt either.

"Ratchet, I do not-"

Optimus was silenced by two comparatively massive jaws closing around him. Ratchet froze for a second, metaphorically swallowing down his panic and trying his best to not yet swallow down his own Prime. He knew one of the other team members was probably looking on in horror, but he tuned it all out. Only one mech mattered right now. Optimus was so cold against his glossa that it made his denta ache. The medic purposefully increased his oral lubricant production to coat the mech in the warm, protective substance. He could feel tiny servos weakly pressing against the roof of his intake, but he ignored the sign of protest and tilted his helm back.

He didn't want to accidentally make Optimus's injuries worse with the strong metal muscles in his throat, so he simply relaxed and let gravity guide his patient down. It was very strange, but he was mostly used to it. He closed his optics with an exvent of relief, a familiar feeling of protectivness wafting over him as the mini mech slid slowly into his tank. Only when he was sure Optimus had made it far enough to his destination did he swallow the leftover saliva and open his mouth with a sigh. There was another brief second of silence between the two, and a slow dropping sensation let him know Optimus was laying down once again.

"I apologize for doing that without warning, but it was the quickest way to warm you up… I hope you can forgive me." Ratchet murmured, instinctively placing a servo over his middle. He turned on all his internal scanners and flipped on a live feed, keeping the window open in the corner of his vision to keep an eye on how Optimus was handling things.

"It is… Alright." The Prime sighed, too exhausted to even care at this point. He was safe enough to recharge and heal, and that was all his aching processor cared about. Through the feed Ratchet could see him shutter his optics and relax into the soft mesh snugly hugging his frame. The internal fluid levels slowly rose until it was halfway up his shoulders, soaking all his major injuries.

Another massive wave of giddy relief washed through the old medic as he read the readings from the scanners inside his tank. All wounds were sealing off because of the healing agent in his stomach enzymes and his temperature was rapidly rising. In a few hours he would be able to retrieve him for aided mass displacement and surgery. Thank Primus himself.

"D-Did you just… Eat him!?"

Ratchet whirled around in surprise to be met with an even more shocked Smokescreen. He sighed again, this time in exhaustion. Time to explain himself.

[nie13chen]

Player 132

-> Chapter 2 - Games and Nightmares

Pairing: In-ho x Fem! Reader (3rd person)

Summary: After In-ho and you return from the bathroom, he can't deny anymore that you mean something to him. However, he tries not to admit that in order to protect you and himself. During the third game, you notice that he isn't just a normal participant.

Words: 1,827

Tags: @ruby-the-scholar

Sorry that it took so long to finish this chapter. I'm still not done with my exams (I have five oral exams coming up in May), so I'm pretty busy with preparations for that. Hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

Chapter 3 - Whispers of the Past

In-ho walked silently down the corridor with Y/N, heading back to the dormitory. They had to return before the other players woke up. For a brief moment, he had considered simply disappearing with her, but that would be too conspicuous. Besides, it was still his job to keep an eye on Gi-hun and ensure he didn’t sabotage the games.

Y/N was lost in thought about what had just happened. Who was this man who had gained her trust overnight? Maybe it was because they didn’t have much time, maybe because she might die today, or perhaps because she had nothing left to lose—but his presence gave her a sense of security she had never known before. He provided the stability she thought she had lost. She felt safe, even though she hadn't forgotten that she could be shot in the next game.

In-ho, too, was deep in thought. He had been convinced that he had suffocated all emotions within himself. He had believed that when he lost his family, his compassion had died with them. After all the death and all the games he had witnessed, he had been certain that every trace of humanity in him had already been buried. Yet something about Player 132 tore apart his convictions with a sharpness that unsettled him. The deep affection he had just shared with her made him uneasy. For the first time in years, he doubted himself.

Just before they entered the small room where the guard was stationed, In-ho stopped Player 132.

"Y/N..."

She froze. It was the first time he had said her name.

In-ho gazed at Player 132, his expression pensive. She met his eyes. The darkness within them didn’t frighten her—it gave her hope. The silence between them seemed to pull at them, as if trying to prevent them from entering the dormitory. In-ho slowly lifted his left hand and carefully brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s forehead. The warmth of his touch took her breath away.

In-ho placed his hand on Y/N’s cheek. The gentleness with which his fingers traced her face made her forget, just for a moment, the games, the nightmares, and the pain that had led her here. She observed the questioning expression on In-ho’s face, trying to decipher the thoughts behind it, but it remained silent.

He wanted to say something, but the words refused to form into sentences as he felt her soft skin beneath his fingers. He wanted to stop her from going back, wanted to suggest they run away together, because he couldn’t bear the thought that this might be their last night. But the phrases he had prepared got lost on their way to his lips and cowardly hid away. His heartbeat quickened as Y/N looked at him.

But then, a darkness crept into his thoughts, spreading slowly yet steadily throughout his entire body. And suddenly, she was back. Memories he had never spoken aloud rose before him, threatening to overwhelm him. Memories of how, after a week, he had turned the key in his front door – being more dead than alive. How he had called her name and received no answer. How he had found her—and how he had immediately known, from her dull, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling, that he was too late.

Y/N noticed that In-ho lowered his gaze. Only now did she realize how close they were, yet at the same time, she had the feeling that something inside him had just broken.

"We... we should go now," he finally said, his voice choked, and he turned away from her.

-

Y/N discreetly fell behind the group that gathered around Gi-hun on their way to the next game’s room. Her thoughts circled around what had happened last night. Her gaze wandered cautiously to the green jacket with the number 001 printed on the back. Then, as if she wanted shake off the memory, she shook her head.

The players entered the next room, which was actually a giant circus tent. White and orange fabric was stretched across the walls and ceiling, and in the center there was a large round platform with three carousel horses. The players were instructed to step onto the platform. The metallic female voice announcing the rules of the next game echoed off the tent walls, surrounding them from all sides.

When Player 132 heard that the game required forming groups, she regretted distancing herself from the others. Then again, she had never truly felt like she belonged. As she was still contemplating, a cheerfully ominous carnival tune suddenly crackled from the speakers, and the ground beneath her feet began to spin. A children's song filled the room, growing louder until it threatened to drown her with it’s melody.

The first few rounds went relatively smoothly for Y/N. But as the number of players dwindled, it became harder to find a group. The song started again, and the platform spun once more.

"Four," the voice from the speaker announced.

Player 132 watched in a trance as groups formed around her, but she remained frozen in place. She scanned the room for three others who still needed a teammate, but suddenly, she realized she couldn't find anyone. Her eyes darted to the clock—15 seconds remaining—and she couldn't move. The green tracksuits of the other players blurred before her eyes, flashing past like streaks of light. She stood still, paralyzed. It felt like everyone was moving in slow motion. The clock showed eight seconds when it hit her: It was over. This was the end.

Her last thought was that she would never see In-ho again—when an unexpected force yanked her off her feet. She stumbled forward a few steps before regaining control of her feet and trying to steady herself. The overwhelming strength pulling her forward caught her off guard. Before she understood what had happened, she found herself in one of the small rooms, the door clicking shut behind her.

As Y/N processed what had happened, she got up and looked around. Outside, the signal sounded, marking the end of the round.

"In-ho, what..."

As she was still piecing together who had saved her—and shocked that she had used his real name—she realized they were alone.

"They... they’re going to find us... I saw them checking the rooms, and—" she began.

"Don’t worry," In-ho interrupted her firmly, peering through the door slit. She had no idea what he meant, but the confidence in his voice made her trust him. Outside, footsteps approached slowly. A mask with a triangle appeared at the door, and Y/N could have sworn it cast a questioning glance at In-ho. Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head. The soldier hesitated for a moment, then turned and disappeared. In-ho rested a hand against the door and lowered his gaze.

"You probably have questions," he began.

Of course, she knew In-ho wasn’t an ordinary player. Of course, she wanted to know who the man was who had entered the games under a false name. But more than anything, she wanted to understand why, despite everything, she trusted him. Instead, she simply replied, "You saved my life."

In-ho looked at her. Her words touched something within him—something he had long since believed forgotten. There had been a time when he had wanted to save people. It was why he had become a police officer, why he had first participated in the games. But only now did he realize that he had abandoned that mission the moment he returned to Il-nam. He had spent years turning his own loss into the suffering of others, banishing the In-ho he once was. The Front Man had nearly consumed him entirely. His face grew hot. He blinked.

When In-ho came back to himself, he realized that Player 132 had stepped closer. He met her gaze, pausing briefly to see if she would back away. She didn’t.

"It’s okay, In-ho..."

When she placed her hand over his, that feeling returned—that familiar tension between them. Player 132 studied the quiet melancholy in his eyes, searching for the thread that connected them. And suddenly, she understood why she had come here and why she had stayed. It was fear. Fear of the past and fear of what was to come. But when she was with In-ho, she only felt safe. And she hoped, more than she cared to admit, that he felt the same.

In-ho caught himself enjoying the feeling her skin left on his own. His doubts faded a little more with each stroke of her soft fingers. His breathing slowed, turning into deep, steady breaths. He felt warmth spreading through his face and his entire body.

Y/n looked at In-ho. Only now did she realize how much she had longed for his presence. She took in every single line on his face, every shade, every tiny imperfection, trying to memorize all the details as if they might disappear—until her gaze settled on his lips. They were slightly parted, as if he was about to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he just looked at her with that expression in his eyes that she couldn’t decipher. It was suddenly very quiet. In-ho gently placed his hand on Y/n’s cheek and closed his eyes as his lips softly met hers.

For a few seconds, time and space seemed to freeze around them. Y/n couldn’t believe what was happening. In this moment, all the hope she had lost over the past months and years seemed to return to her. After a few moments, she, too, closed her eyes, breathing in In-ho’s scent—aftershave and dust—feeling his cautious touch, which seemed to hesitantly ask whether it was allowed to stay. Y/n placed a hand on the nape of In-ho’s neck, feeling his hair against her palm, his warm skin beneath her fingertips, and returned his kiss.

As In-ho felt Y/n accepting his closeness, gratitude filled his body. His senses suddenly perceived his surroundings in a different way. His past had forced him to always be on guard for dangers, making him forget to notice the good around him. Maybe it was also because he had refused for so long to allow himself to be close to a woman, but her kiss felt so much gentler, so much lighter, and so much softer than he had ever dared to hope. Y/n noticed how the past that had just been haunting In-ho was letting him go. He allowed himself to be carried away by Y/n’s presence.

When they finally parted, In-ho looked at Y/n, and she thought she saw despair in his eyes. His hand still rested on her face, gently stroking it with his thumb, as if he was afraid he might forget or lose the feeling of her soft skin. When he finally found his voice again, he said:

"I don’t want to lose someone again."

[fetishfairytales2]

Obedience School, Pt. 2 (Story)

Week 1 Update

Note from Heather: Ms. Staci has promised to share updates occasionally on Brandi’s training. My lucky little girl will be spending the next 30 days in the care of the staff at Huggies. 

Heather, I know I promised an update sooner, but let me start by saying that your little sissy wasn't exactly the model guest I expected. You see, I was anticipating a fun-filled night of domination and submission after you dropped her off, but your Brandi here decided to be a bit of a party pooper. Normally, when a new sissy arrives, they're all ready to play, gagged and tied up, sometimes even presented in pet carriers like the good little pets they are. But your girl here? She was out cold! I don’t know what you gave her, but it took her hours  to wake up! When she finally did, she was all cranky! 

So our poor little victim, all tied up in her crib, barely conscious from whatever you gave her, wakes up, finally. But, girl, if I'd known she'd scream so loud, I'd have gagged that pretty mouth of hers. Of course, Brandi got feisty the moment I untied her, trying to make a run for it! The sight of her wobbling on those weak legs was so adorable, she even landed on her diapered butt with a thump! Like the good Mistress I am, I helped her stand, and what do I get in return? A wild swing from the ungrateful little slut! Oh, the nerve of this beta sissy bitch! She needed a lesson in respect, so I gave her a gentle nudge to her sissy marbles with, and down she went, groaning on the floor.

So, I was getting a bit fed up with Brandi's attitude, and I decided to bring out the big guns early. Normally, I'd wait a day or two before introducing the boys, but this sassy little bitch needed to learn quickly! She really has a lot of fight in her for someone who’s been a sissy cuck for over a year, huh? Marcus and Jamal, two of the more willing dancers at the club are always excited to help us break-in a feisty sissy, so they were happy to help of course! Before she could finish bitching about her little cotton balls, the boys had Brandi up and were taking her to The Rack. 

Once she was all tied up on the x-frame, I think Princess Pampers finally started understanding just how much trouble she was in. I loved watching her try to escape, poor thing tired herself out almost immediately. I was laughing so hard listening to that metal chastity cage clinking in those adorable pink pull-ups. Oh, and those pigtails! They bounced adorably as she struggled, she looked so cute. She was all teary eyed and red faced while she screamed at me! I didn’t show her all the goodies you left her with, but I did show her the diaper bag. She was not happy! She was also pretty upset when I showed her the cock pacifier. “If Daddy’s really this big, Mommy is a lucky woman!” I told her, as I shoved all 8” down her throat. 

I was so excited to share all the good news with our little gagged cutie!. "You see, your Mommy sent you here because you've been a very naughty sissy! I hear you’ve been refusing to suck Daddy’s alpha male cock! Don’t worry though boo, by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll never say no to anything ever again! In the next 30 days, my dear, you'll be transformed. We'll have you on a sissy vitamin regimen, because Mommy wants you to grow some adorable itty-bitty titties! I’ll also make sure that little brain of yours is as mushy as your dirty Pampers too. I’m going to help you finally understand that it’s not about what you want Brandi, you don’t have a choice anymore. Little sissies should be seen and not heard.”

The poor darling didn't even have a moment to process what I had just said. She was about to find out what made The Rack so special! I leaned in, my breath tickling her tear-stained face, and whispered; Shhh, sweetie, the fun's just beginning." With a slow, deliberate motion, I rotated the frame, turning her world upside down. "Meet Marcus and Jamal, two real men who've graciously offered to educate you." I winked at her, "Sissies aren't their usual type, not with all the hot babes like me around, but they're here to show you the ropes, quite literally!” She didn’t like the sound of that, I’m sure, she was screaming even louder now behind her gag! “Oh stop whining,” I giggled and spanked her naked ass; “it won’t always be bondage ropes…sometimes it’ll be ropes of cum!”

My day was over, but poor Brandi’s night was just getting started. It seems like word had spread among the dancers at Hunks; you know how they love to help train sissies! By the time I left, Marcus was already balls-deep in Brandi's throat, and there was a line of eager men waiting for their turn. I gave them a simple instruction: “Spank her, choke her, be as rough as you need to be, but her mouth is the only hole open tonight. When you're done, just leave her be, I'll collect her tomorrow." I came back expecting a broken sissy…I was disappointed. Sure, she was exhausted and looked like a glazed doughnut, but Days 2 and 3 were pretty much the same. Despite my offers to hose her down, feed her, or even let her sleep in a bed, Brandi was stubborn as ever. She kept insisting she wasn’t a sissy!

Day 4, and I was ready to get serious, whether Brandi liked it or not. I wasn't there in person, but I caught the whole thing on the live feed upstairs, and let me tell you, Heather, it was a fucking awesome! The Hole is one of my favorite punishments, and for good reason. After three nights of being throat fucked, Brandi was exhausted, barely able to move. So, I had two of the dancers help her out before their shift. They hosed her down, and then...into The Hole she went! See, The Hole is actually a little room in the wall between the basement and the bathroom at the club. It’s just big enough to squeeze a sissy into if they’re laying down and crouched over. 

Me and the rest of the girls at Huggies were able to watch the poor thing wake up once the guys got her all setup. There’s no lights in The Hole, so when a sissy wakes up, bound in black and with their mouth strapped to something long and hard? It can be confusing! Luckily, there’s cameras and a speaker down there with them, that way even from a distance, Ms. Staci is there to walk them through it! “That’s not a cock your lips are wrapped around anymore Brandi,” she heard me giggling when she finally started coming to, all panicked and still covered in dry cum. “You could only be so lucky now. No, no more fun on The Rack for my naughty little girl; that’s a pipe you’re deepthroating now.” God, the look on her face was priceless! Through the night vision camera, even in the darkness of The Hole, I could see the poor thing sobbing.

I had to shush the girls, who were howling with laughter at Brandi's predicament. "Shh, ladies, let me explain Brandi's new diet plan," I said with a smirk. "No more alpha male cum loads for you, my dear. From now on, your meals will come through that pipe, attached to the bathroom at Hunks." I could see her sobbing even harder now, trying to fight back tears. "That's right, girlie, you're the official toilet for that crowded strip club next door! But don't you worry, with two diapers strapped on, you'll stay fresh...for a little while, at least."

The moment her mouth filled for the first time, her expression was priceless! She tried to fight it, the cutie, but it was about to come out of her nose if she didn’t swallow! The girls and I watched her squirm for an hour, and it was hilarious! When I returned on Day 5, Brandi seemed broken. The boys had taken her out of The Hole, cleaned her up, and strapped her back onto the X-frame. "Good morning, sleepyhead," I cooed, running my nails down her chest. "Did you enjoy your midnight snack?" I giggled, "Is your tummy all full and satisfied?" She was already crying, and I hadn't even started the day's fun! "Oh, stop those tears, my dear. It doesn't have to be unpleasant if you play nice..."

I slowly rotated the frame, and gently patted her bottom. “This,” I giggled, dragging a nail down her asscrack; “is only good for two things; to spank or to fuck…” Then I slowly reached between her legs and grabbed her little sissy balls in my hand, tightly. “These are only good for one thing…to kick you in, as hard as possible.” Then I flicked her chastity cage; “and this is fucking worthless!” 

I walked away, leaving her to squirm for a second; “for making me wait five days my naughty little girl,” I said sternly, coming back with a paddle, which the poor thing couldn’t see, I ran the paddle over her bottom, "I think it's time for some discipline. After all, this is all your fault, little girl. You should've embraced your sissy side and accepted your fate like a good bitch."

She instantly yelped with the first spank. "Oh shut up! You know I won’t stop, it don’t matter how much you whine and cry. You are going to learn to obey. When Mommy and Daddy give you an order, you'll be so eager to please them. If Daddy wants his cock sucked, you'll wrap those sissy lips around his manhood and gag on it like a slut. If he wants a sissy pussy to fuck, you’re going to bend over and beg for it!

Between each sentence, I'd land a harder smack, emphasizing my point. Brandi's cries filled the room; "please, Ms. Staci! I'm sorry!" she finally started begging I paused, the paddle hovering over her asscheeks. "Apologies aren't enough, slut. You're going to learn to love your new life." With that, I started paddling her even harder, alternating cheeks, making her cry with each strike. 

"You're going to be the perfect sissy slut, begging for cock and doing as you're told." As the paddled connected over and over, her cries turned to desperate pleas. "Please! I am a sissy! I'm a pathetic sissy! Please stop, Ms. Staci!"

I leaned closer to the sobbing, shaking sissy, whispering to her, "Oh, honey, you should've thought twice before acting up. This is what happens to naughty little girls!" I spanked her harder and harder, making her squeal like a little piggy. "The fun stops when I say so, bitch!" I giggled. As my arm finally got  tired from turning her ass cheeks red, I paused, giving Brandi just a second. From behind my back, I presented her with another special treat you left for our princess. "Ta-da! These," I giggled, holding up the four used condoms, "are your new diet, straight from the Mommy and Daddy themselves!"

Oh, the look of terror on her face was hilarious, Heather! She was so scared! She was literally begging when I held up one of the condoms to her lips. "Your Mommy told me you haven't quite learned to appreciate Daddy's yummy cummies yet. You cry like a baby when she feeds it to you, and gag when Daddy makes you take it from the source! Naughty girl!" I chided, wagging my finger in her face; “real man cummies help little sissies like you grow up strong! Say ‘ahh’, slut,” I giggled and poured the contents of the condom all over her tear-streaked face. “Even if you can’t make your own because your a caged little sissy, you need to learn to love cum, like a good slut,” I laughed, spreading the jizz all over her lips. 

"Now, sissy, it's time for a taste test," I purred. "Lick it all up like the hungry slut you are. Before she left, your Mommy was very specific; you need to learn to love the taste. Because from now on, at home; you'll only be eating dog food and cummies, you lucky girl!" Brandi tried to resist, her mouth shut tight, but I wasn't having any of it. "Oh, come now, don't be shy," I teased, pinching her nose shut and forcing her mouth open. Ignoring her sobs, I smeared globs of cum onto her tongue, making her gag and squirm. "Who do you think you are, bitch?" I whispered, "you'll do as I say, and you'll learn to love it!" With that, I emptied a second condom's worth of cum down her throat, laughing as she gagged and choked.

I held her nose until I was sure she had swallowed all of it. “You really aren’t learning, are you Brandi?” I asked, standing up. “I’m going to get what I want, you will be a good little sissy bitch. I also have all the time in the world to make you the most miserable little sissy in the world; so why are you fighting me?” I pulled the cock-shapped paci out from behind my back next; “is someone fussy?” I cooed, “does someone want their paci?” I jammed the gag to the back of Brandi’s throat and tied the ribbon around her head to keep it up. “Up you come, sissy!” I giggled, titling the Rack.

“Looks like someone isn’t having a very fun day,” Ms. Becky laughed as she walked in on Brandi and I. “Has little Princess Pampers been a fussy little sissy since Mommy dropped her off?” Becky was being followed by two of the dancers, carrying The Box over their shoulders and black trash bags in their free hands. It was the same clear plexiglass coffin sized box that Brandi first saw in detention when she first came to Huggies. She immediately knew she was in trouble. “Every dirty sissy baby diaper from upstairs for the last week,” Becky smiled at me, knowing exactly what Brandi was scared of. “Has she really been this naughty?” She asked me.

"I want her buried in it, take out her pacifier, and put the tube in, so she can breathe at least," I instructed, winking at Becky. "Two days." Becky and I watched, laughing and chatting as the dancers worked silently. They lifted Brandi, her body limp from exhaustion, and carried her to the box, dropping her inside. One of them yanked out her pacifier, replacing it with a pink plastic tube. The dancers emptied the trash bags full of used Pampers on top of her. As they shut the lid and locked it, I could only see the top of the pink tube, coming from a small hole in the lid. Brandi was surrounded, trapped.

"Two days?" Becky giggled as we walked upstairs. "By then, I bet she'll be ready for the 'special tapes'."