#How To Increase A Height After 18

[fit-fabulously]

[thecameronchronicles]

A Cup Of Sugar

TW: age-gap (reader's over 18.), dirty talk, sex without condom, manipulative behavior.

SUMMARY: Your next door neighbor and crush asks for a favor and leaves with something else...

A Cup of Sugar

The blue house with the white shutters has always been a staple to your cul-de-sac community since you could remember. Block parties pulled everyone together through fake smiles to save face for those who would more than likely be thrilled to not have to speak ever again. But in the politics of jealous wives and HOAs came one glimmer of peace in your existence.

The man in the blue house and white shutters.

Rafe Cameron.

He stood classified to his thoughts, his eyes always dancing over some shaven blades of grass paid to appear so perfect. He offered the waves to those to his caliber and always left you with a kind smile before slipping back inside. And this is how it had been for two decades. Since you were the little girl with pigtails who walked over with your parents to welcome him and his wife to the neighborhood before you could even look him in the eyes. And now, you dreamed of those eyes looking down on you for an entirely different reason.

You were always on the cusp of being noticed, putting increases effort when it was least expected. Even going out to check the mail you made yourself flawless in what you could, only ever getting the politeness from him.

At least until your eighteenth birthday. You caught his gazes lingering, your heart picking up speed, and his words a bit more adult than normal.

-------

A knock pulls you from the mundane afternoon where even the recent slew of TikTok trends over your FYP page do little to pass the time. Once opening the door, you silently curse not giving yourself a once-over in your camera before pulling it open.

"Mister Cameron. My dad isn't here..." The corner of his lips pull upwards.

"I know. I'm sorry to bother you, uh...do you have any sugar?" You stare, helplessly lured and anchored into the beckoning of him. Having always been attracted to the forbidden man across the street of blue eyes full of intimidation and cautious hands silently strong, you find it difficult to keep from showing it.

"Sugar? Um...let me check..." You move inside and hear him follow in uncertain steps before the door finally closes.

Once you come to the cabinet full of baking ingredients seldom used, already aware if you have any sugar it is probably more in brick form than edible, you play the time anyway to keep him in your company.

"Is Madison making something for Cheer or-"

"Let me help..." He stands behind you, shadowing you enough to nearly swallow you in his height alone, as he reaches over the cabinet.

"This cabinet?" You nod, facing him. His smirk remains on you as he makes no effort to actually seek out the sugar and simply holds his hand beside you as if to block you in.

"Mister Cameron..."

"Did you know that when your window is open at night that I can hear you in my backyard?" You blush, trying to imagine if there was anything embarrassing you had done. Played music too loud? Argued with your (now ex) boyfriend and it keeping him awake? Talked to yourself? Only God, it wasn't about him was it?

"Did I? I'm sorry. If I was too loud-"

"I can hear everything from the concerts you put on...to that which you do after you think everyone has gone to sleep..." He leans against you, his cologne dizzying you.

"I..." There is no mystery to his thinly veiled innuendo.

"You heard..." You can't say the words aloud, never having the chance as nobody else has ever been so brazen.

"Everything, Y/N. Or at least enough to know exactly what it is you need..." You blink in disbelief as all words thicken on your tongue, refusing to formulate.

"I-"

"You don't have to deny it. I know exactly what you need....Let me give it to you?" You swallow hard, trying to understand how this is happening. Manifestation truly works if your silent prayers had gone unanswered.

"I don't know-"

You are lifted onto the counter and he stands between your parted legs. It is a quick moment that feels as if it is in slow motion to the feeling of his hands on you.

"You want to know what else I know?" You swallow and nod, curiosity succeeding over logic.

"You can only come with my name on your tongue..." He kisses you with intent. Not to be gentle or loving but to claim. He doesn't wait for you to find breath or even steady against him as he uses the grip on your hips to pull you to him. You hold at his shirt for stability and it only makes him growl as your nails find him instead.

"You need what only I can give you, isn't that right, sweetheart?" You nod, too intoxicated by his touch to want to tempt fate to sober.

"I know nobody will be home for at least a few hours. You know how I know? Because I made sure of it. Now open those thighs for me-" You open and he scoffs, rubbing his jaw as he sees you not only eager but ready as you've completely soaked through your panties.

"I've had to listen for months while you got yourself off thinking nobody could hear you. But I did. And I wondered if you were doing it just to fuck with me or if you were really REALLY that desperate to come...next time, you say my name I'm taking it as a call and I'll make you come. Bet this sexy fucking ass on that." He grips the part of your ass exposed to him before he leans forward.

"Because I've had to hear you and now, you're gonna show me..." He pulls your panties to the side and rubs his cock up and down those lips.

"God, you're so fucking wet, it's almost pathetic." He moans before pushing the bulbous head of his dick closer to your entrance.

"Yesssss." He hisses as you gasp. He's wide, thick, and hot in every sense of the word. The coarse hair usually hidden to the naked eye is now stroking against you as he pulls back far enough to see the slickness you left behind on him.

"That's it....coat my fucking cock." He groans as he continues to thrust brutally and withdraw in almost torturous strides as you are breathless and wordlessly in awe. It is erotic, and almost painful, before he huffs.

"You sound so much better stuffed with me than whatever you were doing. What was it? Hmmm? Your fingers?" You nod, embarrassment rising up your body.

"And it was only me you thought of, yeah? None of those useless boys who can only dream of filling you like I can, right?" When you don't answer, he grips the back of your neck. "RIGHT?!"

You nod as he hoists your flat feet up to the counter so you're completely wide to him. His speed is no longer traceable as he's just pounding into you. Hand stabilizing himself in the cabinet above you, he rams into you with the force awakening something bold within you. You claw at his back and through his hair before kissing him again, instigating it all as he reciprocates with heady excess.

"Trying to get me to notice you in those bikinis and shorts like I could ever ignore you? Fuck, Y/N you're so wet for me aren't you? Gonna come hard? Maybe I should make you wait like you made me." He patronizes behind a humored growl. His head comes back, throwing it in pleasure as his face comforts, mouth wide and almost in disbelief as he grips the flesh of your hips with a punishable clutch.

"You need to come, you come to me. For me."

"Mister Cameron-"

"You call me Rafe when I'm this deep inside of you. Understand?"

"Yes R-Rafe."

"Good. Now scream it while I make you come and then I fill you up." The kitchen shudders around you as he thrusts and retracts, in and out, hard and deep. You were already sore but now you feel expanded and exhausted as he grips the back of your neck and pushes his mouth against yours. Not to kiss, to inform, and maybe even earn through a clenched repetition of "mine".

"Say it!" He calls out as you nod, agreeing in desperation as he showcases his approval on the final snaps of his hips before you feel him flood your womb in all that you were responsible for.

"Ahh fuck, yes I needed that..." He sighs as you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out of you. Without a care to clean up anything more than the space between you, he conceals himself back within his pants and shakes his head.

"So fucking sweet." He walks to the door and you're suddenly left half naked and empty.

"Wh-what about the sugar you needed?" You question, hoping it'll make him stay. With his brilliant smile and tempting lips purposed to a smirk, he grins.

"I got what I came for,. sweetheart." You sit in awe, realizing he took more than he left, including the fact you hadn't come. It was a play for power you gave him willingly and as much as you wanted to be the one in control, you knew you'd falter against him. Having a taste of him, you were eager for the next. Suddenly addicted to the man across the street you've loved and lusted for in equal measure since you could remember...

MASTERLIST

[celestialowlbear]

🌿 ♡ Halsin NSFW Headcanon Drabble ♡ 🌿

Pairing: Halsin x Reader (GN)

WC: ~600

Warnings: 18+, NSFW. Smut. Mentions of marking, possessiveness, some fluffiness. Reader/Tav not described besides having soft skin.

A/N: I’ve been having major Halsin thots and had to get them on a page (hence the bulleted list). Enjoy, my fellow big Druid lovers. 😊

You are like nothing else he has ever experienced in his long life. 

He craves you, an insatiable hunger that burns his body from the inside out, and only you can tame that raging fire within him.

Your lips, your gentle touch, your sounds…

You are the rising sun, the soft glow of the moon, the peaceful breeze on a summer’s day, and life at the onset of spring.

Sometimes he wondered if he was a dead man walking, a specter of some sort, because being with you was heaven, or what he imagined it to be.

Halsin has to continuously control himself around you, at least while others are around.

When the camp was quiet and he had you all to himself, was when he could absolutely and utterly devour you, show you just how much he longs for you.

You let him lose control, wanting it, craving it yourself. 

You want to feel his fingers dig into your thighs, hear his louder and louder moans as you take more and more of him so, so willingly. 

When you are very much warmed up by his tongue and fingers, he finally fills you, sinking himself into you inch by inch, careful to never harm you and checking that it was never too much.

Halsin loves praising you, breathlessly comparing you to everything extraordinary and exquisite in nature and beyond.

His honeyed words spur you both on as his pace increases, the head of his cock caressing that spot so deep inside you it leaves you boneless and seeing galaxies.

You know he still holds back, the bear desperate to claw its way out, the primal urge raging under his skin as he pounds into you.

Halsin always wants your pleasure before his, making sure to get multiple orgasms out of you before he finishes. 

The way your body reacts, the way his name from your lips transforms from breathy whimpers to guttural moans of pure ecstasy is seared into his memories until the end of time, and that will still never be enough.

When you are finally spent, flushed and sweaty and thoroughly loved, is when Halsin takes what is his.

He loves flipping you on your stomach, gripping your thighs and pulling you up toward him, sinking into you with one thrust.

He mounts you, caging you in with his body, his bulging forearms on either side of your head, his lips at your ear, his broad chest pressing to your back.

You love it, feeling protected by him, encapsulated by everything that was Halsin.

The man, the bear, your lover, your mate. 

He is always able to get deeper in this angle, his fingers digging into the grass and dirt beneath you, his hot, growling breath on your neck as he finally loses his control.

Your soft body beneath him, the trust you have in him, the love in your eyes even as he fucks you relentlessly like a beast in heat, always brings him to his end, intense and blinding and all-consuming.

When you bask in the afterglow, Halsin carefully maneuvers you, checking you for any wounds he may have accidentally inflicted in the height of passion.

There’s usually a bruise or bite-mark or two, and you have to convince him it’s fine. 

You can tell he always feels bad after losing a bit of control, but part of him loves the fact that he’s able to see the marks on your body, reminding you and anyone else that you were his.

Then you lay in the grass, gazing up at the stars, your head on his chest.

He loves telling you stories about the constellations, and his deep timbre always lulls you into a peaceful sleep, with him following soon after, content in one another’s embrace.

-ˏˋ⋆ Thanks for reading, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! ⋆ˊˎ-

[rafeandonlyrafe]

feeling generous

words: 1.3k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, dubcon!!, blackmail!!, blowjob, cum eating???, voyeurism, public sex, car crash but like its in a parking lot lol, pogue!/broke!reader

“shit, shit, shit.” you groan, quickly putting the car into drive and moving a few feet, cringing when you hear the crunch of metal coming undone. you throw the car into park and hop out to see your worst fears actualized.

“are you fucking blind?” the shout makes you jump. you didn't even realize that the owner of the car was sat in the driver's seat.

“im-im so so sorry.” you shake your head quickly, surveying the damage. you caught their back bumper with your own, the red paint from their car flaking onto your silver one. “i-i didn't see how close-”

“no shit you didn't see! jesus fucking christ, do you know how expensive this car is?” he shouts, standing to his full height and slamming the car door closed. you don't know how much the car is, but judging by the look of it and the man driving it, certainly not cheap. “this is a custom paint job too.” 

he places his hands on his hips, eyes shifting between glaring at the ruined back end of his car and you.

“insurance and id. now.” he huffs out. “before i call the cops.”

your eyes widen. you have the minimum required insurance, and even that payment is killing you, there's no way you'll be able to afford it if you get an increase for a crash.

“can i pay you out of pocket?” you offer, clearing your throat, trying to keep a level head.

“no way you're able to afford it.” his eyes turn towards your car. it's old, a junker, but gets you around fine enough. and best part, it was free, a hand me down after your grandma bought a newer car.

“i-i probably cant, but i can't afford the insurance increase either and i- we can work something out. please.” you don't care how pathetic it is, you'll get down on your knees in the parking lot if you have to. you're not beyond begging and pleading.

he looks you up and down before grunting, heading back towards his car. your feet spring into action, grabbing onto his wrist, not wanting him to reach for his phone.

“no, please, sir-”

“rafe.” he says, hand twisting so now he's the one holding your wrist. “my name is rafe.”

“oh.” you blink up at him before responding. “my name is y/n”

“you shouldn't have told me.” rafe holds his hand up. “in case i change my mind. you're lucky im feeling generous today.”

“oh my god, thank you so much!” you feel tears well up in your eyes.

“don't thank me yet, darling.” his gaze turns dark as he looks down at you, only now realizing how tall he is, how he towers over you.

“what do you mean?” you question.

rafe takes your hand gripped tightly in his fist, turning it and bringing it down to place it on his crotch. your eyes widen when he moves your fingers back and forth over his shorts, stroking along your length.

“i- what are you doing?” you try to pull your hand away, but he's holding on too tightly.

“it's either this or we can get insurance involved.” rafe looks at you, the shiny lip gloss smeared over your mouth. you may be a broke pogue, but your mouth should be good enough to please him, to ease some of the tension from getting his car hit.

“im not a prostitute.” you say, certainly not meaning this when offering to work something out.

“yet you're gonna get on your knees and suck me off. or i call the cops.”

“right here?” you look around the parking lot. it's pretty empty, but it's the middle of the day, the sun shining down on you, making the illicit act obvious to anyone who looks between where your two cars are parked.

“yeah.” he shrugs, pressing your hand harder into his crotch. he's obviously hard, seemingly almost painfully so.

you look back to the damage, the cherry red color that you're sure isn't stock, and then sink down to your knees. rafe smirks down at you as he drops his hand away from your wrist, light purple bruises already forming.

you gulp and resolve yourself to what you're about to do, tugging at his zipper before undoing the button on his shorts. you open up the flaps, eyes widening when you take in his length through his underwear.

rafe chuckles before pushing the elastic down to pull his cock out, exposing it to the warm summer air.

“suck.” he simply commands.

you open your mouth, taking an experimental lick at his tip, surprised that the taste isn't completely repulsive. you lick again before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.

“come on.” he spurs you on. “do it good or ill cum in your mouth and still make you pay.”

the threat has you moving quickly, sinking down onto his cock, closing your eyes so you don't have to see rafe looking down at you. he may be attractive, but you're still getting forced to do this. 

“ahh, that's good.” he groans as you set a quick pace, bobbing your head up and down. you pray no one pulls into this part of the parking lot or looks your way. you'd be absolutely mortified to be seen on your knees for a man in the middle of the day, not even going into his car to suck him off.

rafes hands grip your hair, pulling them into two makeshift pigtails.

he lets you stay in control for a while longer before he gets sick of you sucking him off however you please. he shoves his hips forward, causing you to gag when his cock buries deep in your throat.

rafe doesn't give you time to recover, thrusting while holding your head still by the hair, tears now streaming down your eyes as he pushes in then out, in then out.

“fuck, you're actually good.” rafe chuckles. just his luck the dumb bitch who hit his car gives good head, your throat tightening as you swallow around him with every thrust.

you feel the combination of drool and tears drip down your chin, hoping rafe cums soon so this can end.

you place your hands on his thighs as your knees dig into the pavement. your jeans are going to be completely ruined by the time rafe is done with you, but at least you'll have money to buy a new pair.

you feel rafes cock swell in your mouth, your eyes widening to look up at him, the sun behind his head, illuminating him in a perfect halo, but he's no angel.

rafe pulls his cock out before he can cum. you stick your tongue out, knowing exactly what to expect as rafe strokes himself quickly, moaning as if he doesn't care about being seen as his cock shoots out ropes of white cum onto your face and awaiting tongue.

he taps the tip against your tongue, smearing it through the mess of white. “kiss it.”

it's humiliating, but not any more than what just happened. you pucker your lips and press a kiss to the tip of his cock, seeing that it's already beginning to soften.

rafe tucks his cock back in as you pant on the ground, hands coming to your thighs as you try to gain composure.

“hey.” rafes voice has you looking back up, your eyes widening when you see he's got his phone now, taking a picture of your disheveled state, face still covered in his cum.

“what was that for?” you shout.

“part of your repayment in case you ever try to go back on our agreement.” you understand what rafe means. in case you try to tell anyone he forced you into it.

rafe smiles when the look of acceptance sinks into your features as you resign to your fate. he bends down, looking you in the eye before his tongue presses against your jaw, dragging up your cheek, tracing the trail of your tears, not caring that he also tastes his own cum on his tongue. 

“see you around.” he smirks, swallowing your tears dramatically as he gets into his car, speeding away before you even get your knees off the ground.

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[lacroixqueen]

i'm so chill but you make me jealous jealous deadpool x fem!reader, 18+

Summary: deadpool sees you on a date with another guy and loses his shit lol

Pairing: jealous deadpool x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings/Tags: jealousy, possessive, angst, brat, noncon, dubcon

You were trying to figure out the fastest way to get out of this dumpster fire of a date. This is what you get for putting yourself out there, by the fervent advice of both your mother and entire social circle. So you went ahead and downloaded a dating app out of sheer boredom but also a tiny glimmer of hope. After quite a number of left swipes and a small handful of rights, you somehow wound up across the dinner table with… er, you forgot his name already. 

But you knew he worked in finance. Or was it accounting? Anyways, he was currently explaining the intricacies of the stock market to you, and the appetizer hasn’t even come out yet. And you realized that you couldn’t care any less. 

“I.. have to go to the bathroom,” you said, standing up quickly and pushing in your chair. Your date almost didn’t seem to notice, giving you a half-hearted acknowledgement and then continuing to drabble on to himself about cryptocurrency. 

Without another word, you darted to the nearest exit of the restaurant, finding yourself on the freshly rained-on sidewalk. You always loved the smell of the concrete after it had just rained. 

Your heels made a satisfying click-clack sound as you briskly maneuvered your way down the street. You opened up your texts to see if you missed anything during the god-awful date, and lo and behold, was a message from none other than Wade.

“Love the dress,” it read. 

You glanced behind you, then side to side, and once you turned back around, there he was, leaning against the side of the cornerstore. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, barely turning towards him before directing your attention back to your phone and continuing to walk past him. 

“Ohhhh, so it’s ice cold today,” he commented, following right behind you. “I love that flavor.”

“What do you want,” you said while texting a friend about how disastrously the date went. “I am just going home.”

“Well, I was just walking by when I caught a glimpse of you through the window of that Italian restaurant back there,” the assassin replied. “Speaking of which, what was on the menu? I mean that place looked upscale! Like they probably sprinkle gold dust on their pasta instead of parmesan.”

It was an Olive Garden.

“To be blunt, I honestly forgot,” you responded. “I didn’t even eat anything.”

“Well, why did you leave so early?” he pried, this obviously piquing his attention now.

“I-I felt sick,” you lied, your intonation increasing as quickly as your apprehension. “Can we just change the subject, please?”

“Oh ho ho,” Deadpool chuckled, as if he struck gold. “That bad? I mean, I didn’t get a great look at the guy, but from what I saw, he wasn’t terrible-looking. Also, he wore a fleece vest. I mean, that’s just the height of fashion, you really can’t get any better than that.”

“Are you having fun?” you said, rolling your eyes as he continued to mock your absolutely colossal defeat of an evening. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Deadpool laughed. “The other point of contention is why the hell you decided to pull out this absolute banger of a dress for your first date with Mr. Finance Bro there and not ours?”

“That was not a date,” you enunciated, pressing your finger into Wade’s chest. “That was a drunken one night stand that will never happen again and that you even promised to never bring up. It was stupid and nonsensical and I can’t believe it even happened in the first place.”

“Oh come on, Y/N, you’re going to break my heart,” he whined, clasping his hands together like a needy puppy. “I, for one, thought that night was very special. I mean, you even told me that you could see yourself fall-”

Before he could say another word, you grabbed him by the hand and led him into a dark alleyway so that innocent bystanders wouldn’t hear you scream.

“Stop! Bringing that up!” you exclaimed. 

Deadpool was shocked his casual mention of the event elicited such a strong emotion from you. “Okay, okay, jeez.. calm down.”

You sighed, letting him go and turning your back to him. 

But he didn’t let you. Not even for a second. Before you could even react, he grabbed you by the neck and slammed you into the wall. 

You gasped, your hands instinctively reaching up to clasp over his while his grip only tightened over your carotid. 

“Besides, you know that I only followed you here because I wanted to see more of you in this ridiculously skimpy dress..” his voice darkened as he continued to choke you like a helpless animal. “I mean, look at you. That thing practically clings onto you like skin! If you weren’t such a tightass I would have ripped it off of you by now..”

He unsheathed his pocket knife and ran it across your lacy scarlet choker, over the thin straps of your slip dress, and onto your chest. He traced the outline of your cleavage with the dull edge, and then slowly slid it down over your taut stomach. 

You were trying to gulp up air for just one breath, but his hold was unrelenting. 

“I mean a red mini dress, are you fucking kidding me?” he snarled, his blade gently brushing against the garter belt on your right thigh. “Wearing my favorite color? With some other guy? This has got to be orchestrated at this point, Y/N.”

“Wade.. please..” you begged, lips beginning to quiver. Regardless of how much he joked around with you, he scared you when he was angry. 

He finally released you, allowing you to cough and gasp for your first breath. 

“But you know of course I wouldn’t kill you, I mean who do you think I am, a psychopath?” his tone immediately brightened up the moment he saw how much you feared him. “I just like watching you not being able to breathe is all. It’s so cute.”

 After you finally caught your breath, you stared daggers down at the vigilante who stood before you. 

“Listen, Wade,” you said. “I understand you are not exactly pleased with the current state of affairs. But this isn’t entirely up to me. And I’ve told you this a million different times.’

The assassin let out a dramatic, almost cinematic sigh. “Yes, I know, Your mother wants you to date ‘someone sensible with a stable career and not a psycho killer’. Which is perfectly understandable! I get it. I mean, I would probably think the same thing if I lived in the suburbs and made tuna casserole in my spare time.”

“Wade..” you shook your head and rolled your eyes. “You know it’s not that simple.” You walked up to him and gently lifted up his mask to reveal only his lips. 

He didn’t hesitate to grab you by the waist and pull you so close that your body was pressed up against his. 

You stood up on your tiptoes in your heels, stabilizing yourself by holding onto his broad shoulders. You weren’t exactly sure what you were doing, but you knew something within you just wanted to kiss him. But you also didn’t know if this was the right idea. 

The plump part of your lip gently brushed against his. The smell of your watermelon lip gloss was driving him crazy. He started to breathe heavily, and if another second passed where you weren’t kissing him he would say fuck it and just do it himself. 

You felt his hot breath in your mouth, and you felt your arms twist around him like they knew exactly where to rest themselves. Like they have done this before. 

“I’m so stupid for this,” you sighed, as you felt his lips beginning to close over yours. 

He smiled smugly into the kiss, quite pleased with himself over the hard fought victory. Without another moment of hesitation, he grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you up without much effort at all. He walked over to the wall, pressing your back softly against it. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist automatically, kissing him like you would die if you stopped. You felt his tongue wrap desperately around yours. He was aggressive, hungry even. He wanted you all to himself, not some fucker in a fleece vest or anyone else for that matter. 

You knew you would regret your decision in the morning. And that no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you would come running back to him. Every single time. 

[thetwstwildcard]

"I have lived lies. I have done it again and again. I live lies because I cannot endure the weakness of anger, and I cannot admit the irrationality of love."

Full Name: Nasira Salim

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 18

Sexuality: Demisexual

Birthday: October 9th

Star Sign: Libra

Height: 168 cm (roughly 5'6)

Eye Color: Ruby

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Dominant Hand: Left

Voice Claim: Aya Hirano (Japanese) Natalie Van Sistine (English)

Inspiration: Mozenrath

Homeland: Land of Hot Sands

Dorm: Scarabia

Year: 2nd

Club: Board Game Club

Best Subject: Ancient Curses

Worst Subject: Music

Favorite Food: Fattoush

Likes: Quiet atmospheres, smooth fabrics (her favorites are silks and cashmere), the sound of running water, her role, serving Kalim, trying to make her family proud and sunlight (the warmth, she tends to run colder)

Dislikes: Genies, people who do not behave/follow their "role", those who take their freedom/status for granted, people against Kalim, being seen as just a "pretty thing", people not taking her skills seriously/who look down at her designs and being seen as weak

Biggest Fear: Becoming magicless once again

Personality: The curt yet soft spoken clothing designer of Scarabia. She rarely talks to others, outside of those close to Kalim. She will be colder to people until Kalim "approves" of them, where after she will be kinder. Do not interrupt her while she is working on a project. The "model servant", her life revolves around her "role" and she is too afraid to step outside of it. She actually has strong opinions and can be rather sarcastic/sassy but she tends to hold her tongue and "behave" to "not shame Kalim/her family".

Unique Magic: Xerxes: Summons skeletal helpers that can assist her in whatever task she asks of them, though they cannot be out for long, she tends to avoid using it.

Trivia:

The only one who makes Kalim's clothing, her entire family works closely with his family and so she was sent to NRC with him to be in charge of his wardrobe.

Born magicless, upon finding a genie, her sole wish was to get magic, which she did... From the body of a deceased powerful sorcerer which replaced her arm (and attempted to strangle her when it was first attached, hence her bandages)

Because she was not born with magic, but now has powerful magic, she is prone to blot and must limit her magic usage (hard on her body)

Argues with Jamil over their status (she "likes" serving Kalim because she "has a purpose")

Dislikes Idris as it was his UM that lead her to find the genie (his UM leads people to their destiny)

Always has a black handkerchief in case she is around others when she overdoes it (will cough blot)

The more she overdoes it, the more the black markings on her increases (as seen on her arm and eye, it is possible that in her adulthood, if not careful, her eyes will be completely black)

If she fully overbloted, she would die

Serves Kalim due to an offhand comment he made about liking the clothing she made him as children, how he "always wanted to wear her designs" and so, her family took his childish idea as a demand and made it her life.

While she is hard working, she can be found resting around the dorm when not with Kalim (to avoid accumulation of blot)

Is very protective of her sewing/design room and will throw a sewing needle at anyone who lets themselves in without her permission.

Avoids love/romance (helps she's demi) because it would "distract" her from focusing on her "role"

Is a good singer and on the off occasion can be found singing to herself at night with the door open to her sewing room

Has to wake up early to put on all the accessories of her dorm uniform (her mother demands it to "look pretty" by Kalim's side)

Does somewhat dislike Kalim (won't let herself admit it) only because due to his words, she doesn't get freedom. She actually would be an influential designer and is highly sought after, but she always turns offers down because "she can only design for Kalim" (due to their families, more so hers)

Is surprisingly close to Isidoros, the two have jokingly called themselves the "money bought our friendship" duo. Though Nasira thinks much higher of Kalim than Isi thinks of Idia. Aka Kalim's family buys any material Nasira asks for to make Kalim outfits and for Isi, Idia's family bailed his family agriculture business out of going bankrupt by making his sister (way too young and after their parents' traumatic death) sign a contract resulting in Isi having to stay with Idia for half of the year. Isi is so far, outside of Kalim and Jamil, is the only one who can put his hands on Nasi.

[picksnrolls]

As Advertised

Had this tickling my fingers for a while now and needed to get it out of my system. I hope this fills a little bit of the hole for these two. I know I could use more cocky masc Cait, too.

Warnings: 18+. explicit sex. rpf.

1k CC x Nika

Caitlin opened the door to her apartment, beer in hand, wearing a white sports bra and light grey sweats. Hair pulled back in a mid loose ponytail. 

She had been friends with the former Husky for a couple years, seeing each other at various functions outside of the game and they messaged a little more regularly since their draft weekend NYC adventures. She would flirt a bit here and there but wasn’t upset when a comment didn’t really have its desired effect. 

Nika had been linked to the same guy for a few years but she knew they were open to doing their own thing while away as long as it was on the dl and that was exactly how Caitlin liked it. No commitments, no expectations. 

When Nika had accepted her invite to come over after their second game at the end of May they both knew what was on the table. What Caitlin hadn’t expected was to see the Croatian back in her pre game fit, short skirt, crop top that just barely covered anything and knee high boots with a heel that gave her the height advantage. 

“Damn girl. You really put that fit to work.” Caitlin let her eyes roam the length of Nika, licking her lips and biting her bottom one. “Can I get you anything? Beer or wine?” 

Nika took hold of the bottle that was in Caitlins hand and drained the rest of its contents. She handed it back with a smirk. “No thank you. I didn't come here for the drinks.” She let her own eyes take a long scan of the sight in front of her and she liked everything she saw. 

Hooking up had come up a few times and she was more than ready to let Caitlin try to fuck the good sense out of her. There were the occasional rumors that a few others had found themselves begging for and being on the receiving end of her strap, then leaving later that night thoroughly wrecked and fucked proper. 

“No?” Caitlin pulled her on court rival in close, the bottle had already been discarded on the table. “Why did you come?”

“I haven’t yet.” Nika’s eyes were blazing. She knew what the game was and she was ready to play. “But you’re going to do something about this?”

“You don’t mince words.” She leaned in as close as she could get without actually kissing Nika, her scent of strawberries and vanilla near intoxicating. “You're sure you want my cock?” 

xxx

“Damn you're the prettiest girl I ever did see sucking on my cock, taking me all the way down your throat.” 

" Does that line work on all the girls you try to get in bed?” Nika husked out between long licks. 

" Who says it's a line? “ Caitlin pulled her cock back from Nika’s mouth, running her thumb along her bottom lip, a line of spit being wiped away. “And if it was, looks like it worked on you." 

Nika had been on her knees taking the length of the strap with ease, she gagged once when Caitlin thrusted erratically from the way the base had rubbed her clit. She kept that knowledge for use a little later in the night. 

Nika's first orgasm came on Caitlin's tongue. She was on her back, legs spread wide, her clit suckled and both nipples tugged and twisted. 

"You're so fucking hot when you cum. You ready for my cock?” Caitlin was knelt between her legs, condom being slid slowly onto her length. She swiped one finger through drenched folds and was pleased to feel Nika buck up into her touch. " All this for me?”

It wasn't a question that needed to be answered. She knew it was and she was rewarded with a long low moan when she slid in to the hilt. Caitlin started out slow, a drawn out build up, one leg up over her shoulder. The sounds filling the room would have most people blushing but it only added to her cockiness. 

Having this European goddess matching her thrusts as they increased almost set her rhythm off. She leaned forward, wrapped both legs around her waist and plowed into Nika like it was a skills competition and she was out to win gold. 

She was quickly rewarded with a second orgasm. "Fuck! That's right.. who's pussy is this.. you gonna take more of this.” She couldn't keep from gloating just a bit.  

"So maybe you are as advertised.” Nika gasped out after her body was rocked to a second intense climax without her clit being stimulated this time. 

“There was doubt?” Caitlin growled out while taking in a couple deep breaths. She was a bit more winded than usual but had no plans on stopping until there was begging to do so. She hovered over the beauty, the tip of her dick bumping Nika's clit which caused it to press back against her own. The sensation threatening to push her over the edge a lot sooner than planned. 

“You just let me know when you've had enough, Mami." 

“Don't be silly, Cait. Now lie back so I can ride your cock. Let's see if you can keep up. "  Nika had Caitlin on her back in a flash leaving her slightly dazed. She straddled her, lined her entrance up with her cock and slid down so she was fully impaled. The action left Caitlin gasping again and the way the base nudged her clit again was obvious to the girl on top. 

Caitlin gripped tight to Nika's hips trying to control the movements. Everytime she slammed back down the fire inside her belly grew a little hotter. Every swirl of her hips had her closer to exploding. 

When her orgasm hit, Caitlin cursed through gritted teeth, hips stopped pumping and vision blurred. For a second she would have sworn this fake store bought dick was actually a real part of her. A true extension of her body. Even the tips of her fingers pulsed as she came down from a high she almost never achieved like this, especially at the hands of someone else. 

“You want to have Daddy status but can't keep going after you've cum?” Nika's eyes burned with renewed energy as she watched Caitlin blink back into focus. 

She knew there would be a quick recovery and she was positive whoever was in the apartment next door was in for a sleepless night. 

Round one had been a draw. Caitlin only stopping when it was time for her new obsession to leave. When their teams played each other again they planned to pick up exactly where they left off.

 Nika was more than willing to let her wreck her body any time she wanted. 

[jonbene]

Thank you for the outpouring of responses and support on my first few stories. It’s been great to see and very encouraging. I’ll try to write as much as the inspiration strikes to keep you all…entertained :) Here’s my next one:

His father saw an ad guaranteed to make your kids “man up” almost overnight. It was at a wilderness camp teaching kids about foresting, wildlife, and logging. His dad jumped at the chance and dropped him off. To be honest, his son was actually excited. He loved the idea of getting dressed up in costume, spending the summer among the trees.

It’s true, within the first day they put the kids straight into lessons and trainings all about the forest and how to work. His son adjusted quite quickly and grew a liking to it. They fed him a ton of steak and carbs as he sweat, chopping down trees and hiking. It was 12 hours of work all in the first day and all the kids were exhausted by the end of it. As they got into bed, they noticed that they had changed a bit. Their clothes felt different, but still fit. They were all kind of awkward in their bodies as they grew in height subtly.

The ad didn’t lie when they said they would man up almost overnight. They all woke up at what seemed like 18 years old. Most of them had full beards by morning!

They weren’t scared though. They felt confident, excited, and strong. Testosterone coarsened through their new bodies, giving them all the symptoms. And with every new, exciting symptom, there were the adverse ones. They became more aggressive and moody. Their appetites and libido increased. They experienced headaches, acne, and their voices cracked.

Since the camp somehow changed their bodies rapidly, all their symptoms appeared and progressed and heightened rapidly. As they worked on the land feeling more comfortable in their bodies allowing their shirts to open up, letting the wind brush against their skin, their skin began to change. Their skin became tougher, thicker. Their bodies began to bulk, sprouting more and more body hair.

This was when the boys started to become alarmed. They hadn’t even been there a week, and so much had changed for them. They looked like boys in a football college now. They struggled with all the rapid, mental, and physical changes and wished they’d stop. They never wanted it to be like this; they just thought they’d be playing in a summer camp!

But the changes did anything but slow, no matter how hard they pleaded with their bosses and teachers. The deed was done and there was no reversing it. Their bosses didn’t like their protest, so it was time to escalate. They all started screaming as their bodies burned. One by one they started bursting out of their clothes. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! As one limb after another bulked and sprouted and bounded up, out, and away from them. Veins bulging out of their skin. They begged, “plllleeAAASSEE! nnnoOoOOOoOOO!” as their voices dropped even more into a huge, thunderous man’s voice. Their fate was sealed. They were men now, especially as their muscles one by one bulged up and swelled. Their bodies getting more and more dense hair. No amount of clothes could cover up their virility.

They must be silenced. There was no way the company could afford negative reviews. A wash came over their minds as the transformation slowed. As fast as it came, it ended. “Ohhhhh,” they moaned softly as their hair fell out of their heads very quickly, leaving them with none left on top and plenty everywhere else. Must be the excess testosterone. They all stood there naked coming to in a trance gently exploring their new bodies with their hands. It seemed normal to them now how hairy they’d become. It didn’t feel like just days ago their dads were dropping them off as kids. It felt normal to them how large, firm, and massive their bodies became.

It felt normal to them now that they were fully grown men. Men that enjoyed the outdoors. Men that were very capable and handy around the house and yard. Men that worked hard for their money and knew how to enjoy life as well.

Months later, they were just grown men like everyone else in society. The big secret was that they were just kids months ago and were now men in their 40s. But nobody talked about it, so the process continued happening for generations of boys looking to be accepted by their fathers.

[houseofhugo]

ONE AFTER ANOTHER: PART ONE

[ SYNOPSIS ] you take him to your room tempted and riled up for a heated session.

[ PAIRING ] lee sangyeon x f!reader

[ CONTENTS AND WARNINGS ] 18+ read (smut), mdni (minors, please do not interact), stepcest, stepfather!sangyeon, top!lee sangyeon (as what fits him), bot!reader, age gap (both are legal, of course), petnames, blowjob, edging (reader!giving), face fucking, throat pie, tan skin sangyeon (yes, that's a warning), sweats sweats sweats, tiny mentions of porn and porn-related terminology as adjectives and compliments

[ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] this is my first ever smut. if you want to make appreciation of this post, please don't hesitate to like, reblog, comment or do all of the above. hard thoughts are also always open. love, hugo!

[NAVIGATION] PART TWO, THE BONUS CHAPTER

With a single push of your thumb, the click of the doorknob lock behind you bloomed into your ears like music. Your hands are still grasped upon the cold metal behind you but your thumb has been lifted off the button lock. Two open hands then acted like vines as they glided over your skin to find position on your rears—one secured behind your neck while the other snuck up behind your waist. At your eye level, your sight dwells at the low neck of the fitted, bicep-showcasing, sleeveless, gray shirt that extends down enough to fully show off a sexy damp cleavage between firm masculine mounds. From there, your eyes then went up north; through your eyelids, you met the face of the man who let you mix a libido-increasing supplement in his lunch and made you watch him eat every spoon of it right in front of you, and now, he is standing twice your height right in front of you with a wet collar on the shirt darkening the cloth as beads of sweat trail down his temples. The supplement must be making him feel hotter as much as he looks right now.

Who knew you will go this far just to get a man be all over you? And who knew it would be your stepdad for a month now?

"Is it locked?" Sangyeon asked in caution as he held you firmly.

Giving the older a pleased smile, you twisted the knob and both of you heard the lock snapped back open only for you to push it back in with your thumb. Your hands finally left the round metal poking your back. "Yes," you assured him.

His chest descended into ease due to his lessening fear of getting caught—that's actually a minority of his problems right now. Without thinking twice, he hunched and leaned forward to attach his lips onto yours. You're the fuel to this growing fire between you two right now, so won't you just let him work himself for a few moments in devouring your lips?

He wears a pair of beige shorts that only covers one-third of his tree-trunk thighs. You can see through the garment how it hugs and imprints his size that is almost identical to the girth of a kitchen towel tube and quite to the length of a forearm. It's extending down to the leg opening where you caught his whole swelling huge tip with an inch of shaft already peeking out. His hand behind your neck went down to join his other hand on your back to pull you towards him and ground his crotch onto your clothed folds. You held onto his shoulders for extra support. Sensing his desperation, you eventually began munching back at his wet and squelching kisses. Eyelids then draped your sight. You can taste some of the saltiness of his sweat on the skin around his lips. Tilting his head, his nose is now hovering at the zone of your left cheekbone where you feel the air brushing the skin of your left cheek before it gets vacuumed into his nostrils. With that one inhale, he pulls away to have himself a breather; meanwhile, you were standing there silently yearning for the intimate contact that was broken. You want this but you wanna be careful.

"When's mom coming back?" you brought up right away.

"She told me she's gonna meet a few friends until 3 PM to plan their formal gathering."

You turned your head to the digital clock placed on the nightstand behind him showing 12:41 PM in strong red color. Recalling, you two just finished eating during the early minutes of the first half of the hour, so it means the supplement has already done its job on him. You darted your eyes back at his masculine face but something at the corner of your sight suggested you to look around and as soon as your eyes went south first, you knew why.

"What is it?" Sangyeon follows the direction of your head. He sees nothing but his stiff manhood below begging to be freed as it is shoved and pressed on his thighs by the fabric that starts to hardly accommodate his growing and swelling size. You can also see how a line of precum is formed streaming down his calves while his tip drips off that clear and viscous man stuff like a half-way closed faucet. It's just now that he's gotten aware of it which sinks into him how it's quite getting uncomfortable since he's really that big. "Well, look at that. You have no idea how strong that supplement hiked up in me after I ate that food." Through the fabric, he held his cock with is hand in a thumbs up sign as he attempted to wiggle it right at your sight.

You handed over his words to your explorative imagination; the more you think about it, the more you feel your guts warm up. You couldn't help but chew on your lower lip as you press all your fingers right onto your clothed pussy now that you have your stepdad standing in front of you all horny and hot at its peak. However, you don't wanna get yourself losing your shit just yet, so you cupped and pushed his solid shoulder blades down to stabilize yourself standing on your toes reaching his lips with yours to continue the kiss he broke. It went like that for a few seconds until he could feel you nudge forward trying not to trip over.

With Sangyeon's feet apart, he bent his knees as he hunched to even up both of your heights. Feeling stable back again on your soles, you palmed his manhood right at the spot, rubbing his length through the fabric. Of course, it wouldn't be fair if he doesn't do the same. You sensed his right hand slip into the waistband of your shorts. By the time he had is whole hand inside, he began treating your left ass check as the biggest stress ball he has ever held.

A moan of yours was sent out and vibrated through both of your lips. You decide to knead him back while he's stiff and it's quite a pain for Sangyeon since you're treating it like a soft dough when his manhood is nowhere near to that softness; as a reaction, he squeezed his eyes shut and a hum escaped through his nose. He then pushes your head away to break the kiss which distracted you into a full stop from what you were doing with his clothed cock.

"Oh, baby. Guess I can't let you go on like this any further." He ran his words between heavy breaths as he glanced between his legs. "Wanna blow me now, sweetheart?"

You didn't even hesitate and just gave him an immediate nod of excited approval. You signed up for this.

"Yeah? Wanna have the real thing?" A mild laugh was produced from his chest. "Of course, you do."

Sangyeon lets you continue playing his clothed length as he scans your room for the first time. His body keeps nudging back and forth because of the force of your hand on his cock. It's so clear how he's letting you take over from how dependent his hips are to your hand movements. "Where do you want me to sit?" he asked while mentally collecting spots in your room to be in position. Not to mention the way he can already imagine how he would look like getting his cock done in those places was so horny of him.

"Uhm, actually..." Noticing your hotdog pillow next to you on the floor, you horizontally laid it in front of your feet before dropping your knees on top of it one at a time. You then slipped two fingers on both sides of his shorts including his boxer briefs underneath. "Can you just stand?" you proceeded.

Even his smile looks radiant down here. "Anything for you, kitty." He rested his hands on both sides of his waist waiting for you to do your business with those fingers on the waistband of his shorts.

"Want you to take off your top," you instructed.

No horny man will ever be patient, so Sangyeon immediately crossed his arms. Hands fisted at the hem of his white sleeveless top, he crumpled the fabric in his hold. The way he pulls it up with his torso arching backwards seems like he suddenly became your private stripper on the spot. The muscle stretch was so tender and yummy; from his defined v-line, and rock hard chocolate six-pack, up to his juicy pecs, all those gym-molded muscles slowly got undraped right before your eyes. He's such a meal in that tone of tan. The sweat that has been collecting in thick coatings on the surface of his clean and smooth textured skin makes it appear that he received a Midas touch and survived from how golden brown his skin is. You can't believe you're having a man for yourself in your personal space for 20 years since your childhood but you never thought that it would be someone like him.

As you drag down his lower garment right at his knees, you are presented with the way his massive cock that matches the tone of his overall skin made a squelching slap as it sprung up and smacked onto his sweat-glazed abs before the glossy pale-brown head came back pointing right at your face. His dick hole was impressive to dispense a drip of pre-cum that created a short string before falling down on the floor between your thighs. He even got a few soft and damp pubes at the finish line.

Mmh! Delicious. That was so far the hottest thing you made out of him.

With an open palm, you softly struck his shaft from below sending it upward and landing back down on your open hand. Why? You just wanna feel how hefty his cock is in your hold. Not gonna lie, it's almost similar to catching a pillow with one hand.

"You might wanna get your taste buds on that cock now, sweetheart." He reminds you. "You can't play with that if you'll just keep it dry."

The tip was at the level of your mouth. First thing's first. You choked the cock under the tip with your whole hand before treating it like a lever as you pulled it up to uncover his testicles and the thick lining under the shaft decorated with prominent veins. You ran your tongue across your lips before fully sticking it out and leaning over to begin your journey with your tongue at the underside of the base close to his pair of "table tennis" balls. Going up, you started to leave trails of your saliva on his shaft as you made your way up to his tip where you took it whole in your mouth right away. Your hand that was wrapped under the head came down to his base to hold his manhood in place. As he was quite past your pretty lips, you swirled your tongue around the head before your licking organ turns into a shape of an arrowhead inside your mouth because you are about to press the very tip of your tongue right at his slit.

"Oh—" His reaction got caught up mid-throat but he still managed to whisper a, "wow," as he squeezed his eyes shut.

His hands circled into a fist as he kept it hovered over the outside of his thighs to endure the initial stimulation you are causing between his legs, so you thought of bringing them behind his back crossed and fixed. You gave his triceps gentle caresses before your mouth left his tip coated and dripping in your spit. You continued to lick his shaft on the sides just like how anyone would typically consume an ice cream. At the same time, you pepper a few wet kisses until you're back up again at the head where you find the courage to take more of him than a while ago. The slit kisses the roof of your mouth. Still fine with it, you attempted to get his length deeper into you. Since a stiff dick couldn't curve, you hunched your back and tilted your head up to make your throat straight for his size to fit. By the time you pushed yourself on him once again, his head was already resting at the back of your tongue right before your uvula—the one dangling that can make you vomit when excessively triggered—and you thought you would throw up everything you just ate this lunch when you decided to push more of him in; but the next thing you know, your nose has touched something wet with a bit of hair and the pressure in your throat started to build up due to the lack of air, but it's fortunately not enough to pass you out.

"Mmmh. That's it. Warm that cock for me." His mumbles were mixed with an airy tone. Out of curiosity, the man laid his palm under your jaw and pressed your cheeks with his thumb and middle finger causing your inner flesh to concave and touch his girth—the fact that he didn't have to press deep because he already felt his solidness through your cheeks in a split-second. He then leaned back with a hunched back as he tilted his head to see your face before squishing your cheeks once again just to confirm what he felt was reality. "Fuck," he whispered with a smirk. "Did I just fill your mouth instantly, baby girl?"

Sangyeon carefully looks down at you to see you withdraw his length out of your mouth centimeter by centimeter until you were just left with his head again alone in your lips. He releases a deep sigh as he starts to feel your tongue fondle his cock head once again; but this time, with suckles.

"Hah! Ooh, yes!" he exclaims. "Of course, you know what to do—hngg, fuck." He sucked air through his nostrils and released it through his mouth.

You couldn't wait any longer. Laying your hands on both of his thighs, you started bobbing your head in a fixed rhythm. The drag of your lips at the base of the man's tip sends shivers all throughout his hot body as it just begins to fuel him towards insanity.

"Deeper again, baby girl. Want you to savor it all. You signed up for a whole meal, not a snack."

HORNY JAILLLL!!!

Well, who are you to refuse when he's already in the process of outdoing the capability of the lube's glossiness with his own thick layer of sweat starting to look like he just got poured a gallon of it. The way your hands are slipping off his muscular thighs was so surreal. His locks are so wet that it drips off down on you.

By the time you're drooling and you're beating your own throat on his hefty meat, you heard a hummed growl from above. His super wet palms held you by the cheeks to get you off his dick. "Oooh, my gosh!" His release was already right at the tip. He just held you there away as he struggled to prevent himself from building up an orgasm from where he left at. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Curses spilled as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was then followed by a hiss, a huge out breath through his nose, and an undertone moan as he squeezed the base of his cock with his whole hand to prevent himself from pushing anything out.

"Wow," you subconsciously mumbled. "Did you just—that's insane. Does it hurt, though?" You've only seen men edging in porn. You never thought about witnessing a man doing it real time could outdo the videos.

"Not—ngh... at all. I've done this to myself a couple of times." His hand eventually left the base of his cock once he felt the build up of his orgasm crumble back down. "You liked that?" he brought up the question. "Or did I break your fun on my cock?"

Of course, he did; but the mental image of him jerking off was just different to you, exceptional even. Imagine him alone in the room with his current look right now, stroking that fat meat flute for minutes in bed to the thought of you—well, who else is it gonna be? This is your fantasy. It would be weird to think that he's pumping that cock while thinking of someone that is not you.

"I mean...that turned me on," you uttered.

"So you liked it?"

"Why would I not?"

An idea snapped into the older man's mind and he just gave you a mild laugh before grabbing both of your hands and guided you up relieving your knees at the same time. He dragged you away from the door and led you to the corner of your room where a bean bag is getting a spotlight from the sunlight coming from the window. Sangyeon sits there already with parted legs and beckons you to kneel between them.

Sangyeon looked around. "Do you have any lube here?" he asked.

There was a nightstand next to the bean bag and you pointed him that way. The stretch of his torso was so defined when he leaned back in place and pulled the top drawer out where he saw a bottle of lube rolled out. He squirms at his seat until he feels in a comfortable position before handing the bottle to you. "I'm just going to sit here and all you have to do is jerk me off, okay? I'll let you know when I'm about to cum, so you'll know when to cut me off."

"Oh."

"Yes, sweetie. You're gonna edge me good."

And that's an offer you would never turn down on. "You sure about this?" You twisted the cap off the bottle in contrast to your question. Apparently, you want this.

"Come on. I didn't let you get me on that supplement for nothing. I'm giving you myself to enjoy."

Looking down, you bite your lip as you stare at his delicious hard-on standing proud and tall.

"Go on," he encouraged. "Tease me all you want. I'm all yours."

You tilted the mouth of the bottle down hovering above your open hand. Satisfied with the amount that has landed all over your palm, you put the bottle down on the floor and spread the viscous liquid up to your fingers. With your one hand on top of the other, you wrapped them around his shaft and began pumping him in a slow and steady pace to gloss his sex up. Your hands are already tight enough for Sangyeon to begin riling himself up with. He slips his hands behind his back indicating that he has passed over unto you the control over his climax. He then just realized that this is your first time using your hands full time on his cock which is why the softness felt so silky smooth for him—because also of the lube—rather than fleshy smooth.

Leaving only one hand stroking him off, you reached for one of his pecs and went for the pinching work on his erected milkers. His drive started to tense in his pelvis causing him to hunch with his shoulders folding in. You then cupped his chest and gave it a couple of grope and squish motion before moving to his other one to do the same thing. His firm muscle under your touch feels so warm.

He fisted on the fabric behind him as he carefully rested his head back. Trying to prolong himself, he closed his eyes and breathed through his nostrils with his chin tensing up. The man thought it would work as a distraction until you abused the pace to produce gooey, luscious squelches which took over his senses rather than the on-the-spot distraction mechanism he just made for himself. At the same time, you were swiping your thumb fast on his nipple which triggered the tickle on his chest.

"Ngh! Hah!" Sections of his muscles contracted through his skin causing his body to appear very ripped. "Baby, I'm close!" His words scratched up his throat before exiting his mouth.

Your hand landed on the base for a split second before coming back up brushing past the bottom of his tip as your touch finally leaves his skin and hovers in a fist above his head. You saw a small white bead of liquid forming at the slit like a pearl before it runs down his shaft like a teardrop cry. You didn't expect to get a first glimpse of his cum that way. That bead was already creamy and thick as—

"Fuck!" The word came out airy of the elder. "Gosh! That was so close!" He looks down to inspect his huge swollen meat. He thought his cock would go limp due to how intense that edging was but look, it's still reaching for the ceiling. His two eyes came up to yours with a sharp stare while he was busy catching his breath through his heaving big milkers. "Hope I looked good with that," he spoke through heavy breathing.

"Thought I was actually watching porn for a sec," you complimented.

"I wouldn't leave the video paused if I were you," he replied.

Not gonna lie, he's a perfect spectacle for this. He would be in huge demand in the club if he was a stripper.

"Vibrators?" you offered.

"Surprise me."

It felt like you just won. You threw a smirk at him before coming back to the nightstand next to the bean bag he was sitting on. You came back kneeling to him presenting a big white microphone-shaped one and a cock ring in between your thumb and index finger.

"Oh... are you gonna use those two on me, munchkin?"

"Why not? I'm just making our every second count."

The cock ring was, of course, elastic. Slipping four fingers—two from each hand—into the hole, you stretched the vibrator over the head of his cock before going down wearing it on him like a headband of an 80's workout attire. The only difference is that it was placed under the tip; but it's cock, so it's unnecessarily gonna choke. You let the vibrator sit there in peace with the vibrating mechanism settled right at the back of his tip.

"Tight?" you assured.

"No. It's perfect," he replied.

Shooting him a short-term smile, you switched the microphone-shaped one on and tested it on his thigh. Just as you expected, you earned a little twitch from him. Without any warning, you also switched the cock ring on, letting the sensation torture his big head and run down his shaft then to his aching testicles.

"Shit!" It caused the older to plant his feet on the floor for his ass to leave the seat a few inches north before sitting back down. "I don't think I would even last a minute with this one at all, sweetie—fuck!" With the continuous withdrawal of the vibration from the object, Sangyeon is back with his rapid breathing through his nose paired with clamped lips as he watches how his length starts to significantly vibrate along. He's actually surprised that a small vibrator can cause his massive cock to do something like that, and you're surprised that he's still manspread despite his whole body flaming to the feeling.

Bringing yourself up from your knees, you hooked your thumb on the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down, so that you're left with your panties on. You sat on his left thigh and leaned sideways towards his body avoiding the skin of your knee from making contact with the underside of his shaft by crossing your right leg over your left. The way the sweat on his firm thigh muscle acted like an adhesive for your naked ass to sit on made your walls twitch on nothing but air. You rested yourself there and have your right arm sneak over his shoulder. You just let his head fall back on your arms. With your right hand, you use it to hold the big vibrator and let it do its job on his right nipple.

"How are you feeling?" you talked right at his left ear.

He meets you at the left corner of his eyes with his head still thrown back. "You don't know how hard I'm trying to hold myself together right now—hmm." You cut him off with a kiss where you began lapping his lips up just like how he did to you a while ago, and just like your response to his kiss, he laps back at you where wet squelches began to be produced between your wet mouths. Both of you didn't stop as you swallow his deep manly moans and groans and whines. The sounds he made while kissing were coming to you unforced for a while suggesting that he's still not getting his pleasure striking up his cock, but that didn't last when he started humming in a specific pattern.

"Baby," he managed to let out even if it was muffled, but you were so immersed by the feeling of his lips on yours that you didn't stop lapping him up. "Hmm," he firmly and helplessly hummed through the kiss. He just thought of it by now to tilt is head away so that his voice won't be drowned by your kiss. "Don't wanna—ugh, fuck—cum yet, sweetie. You still have—hmm... a lot to do with this body, remember?" He just rapped his words out before turning into a panting mess because his orgasm is already hiking up to his cockhead.

"What?" You didn't catch him.

"Oh, shit!" The rippling sensation was clogging the words right at his throat. "The... vibrator."

"Shit! Sorry." Without getting off from sitting on his lap, you stretched your left arm to reach for the back of his tip where the button and the vibrating mechanism was positioned at. You also turned the big one off before tossing it to your bed.

"Damn it!" It was obviously inevitable for you to get your skin on his cock which made it worse causing a single string of his cum to shoot out of the slit; it was so thick that you are sure you heard a resemblance of a slap on the floor.

That load escaping made Sangyeon impulsive that he told you take the cock ring off right away, so you immediately dropped yourself on your knees and stretched the ring to get it off of his dick.

"Oh, no," you mumbled as another string of cum couldn't help but jump out the slit and land around somewhere. Once the vibrator was removed, you secure it in your fist. Meanwhile, the man already has one hand wrapped around the base of his cock with pressure just so he could prevent himself from the brink of busting the rest his load.

The whole scenario didn't have to be so chaotic but it did, anyway. It's like you just minimally broke a faucet and didn't know what to do.

He raised his sight at you with a crunched forehead and semi-narrowed eyes. "Why do you have that vibrator, anyway? It's for cocks," he asked.

"I actually have not much idea yet about these things when I bought this. The vibration was just so great, so I just bought it as my first one."

The man's eyebrows rose in surprise after hearing that. "Yeah, you're right." He recalls the feeling. "That thing could've turned me into a fountain."

You stretched your arm out to him with an open hand. "Wanna have it?"

"You sure?"

"I mean...we both saw how it fits perfectly."

Sangyeon puts out his hand open. You dropped the stuff on his palm and his hand withdrew in a fist, getting the ownership passed down to him.

"Just don't tell mom that it came from me."

"You're not the only one who's gonna be screwed if I do tell her."

You nodded your head up and down in agreement. "Right."

Both of you consumed a few seconds to stare at each other's face before he breaks the contact by checking the digital clock on the nightstand: 1:34 PM.

"Wanna make me cum this time?" his voice vibrated through his throat in deep and relaxed mumbles.

Well, you don't know if that was a command or request but, either way, you're not refusing a man like him. He squirms at his seat to make himself comfortable before he sweeps the air with his fingers beckoning you between his thighs. "Come here. Use your mouth now," he said.

You nudged forward to get his cock in your hands. It's impressive that he's still keeping his stiffness to the maximum. You keep on humming as you start to take him inch by inch past your lips leaving one hand wrapped at the base to prevent you going all in and save your throat for later. It didn't take long until you were bobbing your head up and down as you stroked his cock in a twisting motion. He then finally rose from the back rest of the bean bag to lean forward towards you giving you an easier access to his whole torso. Big hands run down your hair as you work his size in your mouth.

Look at him now: slippery, glazed, and hot by the natural light and your combined body heat.

Just as you came up from his member, you replace your mouth with your hand keeping the movement coming to his senses. You then stretched your neck to experiment your tongue on one of his nipples; getting his sweat caught on your taste buds was appetizing and mouthwatering rather than salty and disgusting. He's got the yummy bod you love, so you never actually thought of that beforehand.

"Fuck my hand," you rushed your command as you initiated to stack your hands on top of each other and make a hole out of them for him to ram into. Sangyeon couldn't wait. He laid his hands in a fist behind his back causing him to lean back and get a full view of you between his sweat-glazed beefy thighs with your hand below the other covering his tip. He planted his soles on the floor to get a good grip before he began sloppily thrusting up to meet your hands. You can see how his glistening golden abs wave along his noodle-like movements. Even his butt cheeks are tensing as he does it. It really looks like you just got a private stripper dancing for you in your own place. You then kept an eye on his cock head exiting at the top and disappearing back in your hold like those in whack-a-mole, but you're not here to hammer it in; that would hurt.

Sangyeon notices your tongue gliding through you lips as your eyes are darted at his consistent thrusts. "Like what you see?" he engaged. "Like watching your stepdad being a spectacle for you fucking your hands like this? Aren't you a lucky girl?"

"More than lucky, I guess," you plainly spoke as you were so focused on his moves.

The man thought you were not satisfied enough because of your leisure tone, so he became robust on fucking your hand from below. His eyes narrowed as he bit his lip because the fast brushing of the skin of his shaft in your hands was tickling him that it's triggering his balls to push out all the cream he's been saving to give you a pleasant cum explosion. It's painful for him to hold back like this and it's the kind of pain that's keeps him in seduction.

"Hah!" He threw his head back making his sweaty chin, sharp jawline, and the tip of his big nose the only things that are seen of his face from your lower ground view. You took the chance to replace your hand one by one with your mouth by going down as you remove one hand. You wanna surprise him but you eventually coughed when the tip jabbed on your uvula which caused him to raise his head back to see what just happened.

"Sorry, didn't wanna distract you—cough," your words got caught in your throat.

"You could've just told me you want me to mouth-fuck you." Sangyeon stood up from his seat and bent his knees so that his pelvis was at the level of your face causing him to be in a kind of squatting position. You didn't have to be told as you open your mouth with allowance for his size. By the time you felt his tip going past your lips, you shut the excess space your mouth made—which is not that quite much—causing your lips to comfortably wrap around his tip.

"Just tap my thigh if you want me to go deeper, okay?"

You could only nod your yes in response now. Recalling how you coughed to his rhythm, the elder initiated his thrusts by slowly grooving the underside of his shaft on your tongue.

Seeing him through your eyelashes as your head was thrown back a bit for his convenience, you are met with a drenched Sangyeon watching his manhood reappear and disappear in your mouth. Meanwhile, your hands traveled up past his hips and up to his stomach where your palms traveled across his bumpy six-pack. They were so hard that it doesn't feel like you're touching muscles but rather steel.

From your lips directly shaped by the circumference of his shaft, you let your jaw drop a bit before tapping the front of his thigh three times. You didn't know that what he meant by deeper was past your uvula but to your surprise, your body already registered the sudden gag you had earlier and told your brain that you're all fine.

"Shit! Your mouth is so tight down here," he spoke on behalf of his tip that has already reached the back of your throat. "Is this okay?" he assures.

You hummed as you nod making his cock twitch in your throat due to the vibration the wet flesh inside your mouth produced. One of his hands left the back of your head to go up his chest and cup one of his pecs. You can see how he kneaded and squished the muscle and gave his hipple a pinch. Your hand is still there roaming and worshipping his rock hard abs. Now that he's deep in you, you close your lips around his shaft again and hollow your cheeks to give him a tighter feeling around his member. You don't have any idea what's stopping him from picking up his pace in your mouth so you basically reach for his ass cheeks to pull him in. He read that and now, he was already making lewd noises out of his cock and your mouth. You're just getting obsessed by the hefty feeling of his size that has gone directly all over your jaw and how his tip was blocking and unblocking your airway with every thrust he takes. You played along by randomly humming throughout his pace.

"Hoo! Damn!" Sangyeon twitched in your mouth and it felt like he just redirected your whole jawline. "I'm so close, munchkin. Where do you want me?"

You let go of his dick with a cartoon-ish sound of popping bubbles. From base to tip, he's coated in a glossy thick layer of your own drool. He used it for his own convenience to begin jerking off above your head.

"In my mouth, please."

Sangyeon never heard words so loud and clear causing him to stroke himself faster as his breath was shaking to the rhythm. "Oh, baby. You should be honored. I've never came in someone's mouth before." He used his own facts to rile himself up which riled you up too. It's actually true but you don't wanna dig more up from there. You just want everything now to be between you and him. "Holy shit! Lips around the tip now, munchkin."

You leaned forward to take him just as he wanted. The way his cock inserted into your open mouth like a charging plug was a smooth fit. While he went full speed in pumping himself from shaft-end to shaft-end, you couldn't help but think that he's such a pornographic spectacle to do it in front of you. In fact, he really looks like he would do something like that.

"Gonna fill your mouth good, baby girl—fuuuckkk!" Ropes of his white, creamy, and viscous baby batter gushes out from his slit and onto every corner inside your mouth. "Ugh! Take it all for me, sweetheart." As soon as it started to pool on your tongue, the mild sweet taste was accepted by your taste buds as a delicious treat. You can even smell his cum perfectly in your mouth. He's releasing a lot to the point that he can feel how his tip is getting a dip on his own cum that has already pooled inside your mouth. You tried your best to not swallow because you love the feeling of how thick and gooey he is inside you. You're even thinking of gargling it. By the time he pulled himself out, there was a bit of cum that got caught on his tip, so he came back to smear it on your shut lips like a lipstick. He leaned and told you to open up and there he sees the white sticky substance dwelling inside you in thick globs and stretchy webs; it looks like edible lotion. Your throat feels slippery than usual due to those that made it down your throat. "What are you gonna do with that now?" he questions. The man has seen porn about these things but seeing this personally was silently driving him insane.

Your lips pressed on each other and made sure you exaggerated your gulp enough for him to hear; and to your surprise, it was louder than you expected to be because of how hard it was to push into your esophagus from how thick it was. The feeling of his cum sliding down your throat in globs is something you would be addicted to. You even tongued the corners of your teeth and licked your lips just to make sure there's little to no cum left to see from there.

"I guess I have to cum in your mouth just to hear you swallow like that." He strokes your head a couple of times. "That's not something I would hear from a normal gulp."

"There are a few still stuck in my throat that my saliva can't remedy." You tried clearing the way with a few strained vibrations until you knew that only water can take them away. "You must be eating something."

Duh! Look how firm his entirety is. That man is a god! He wouldn't be looking so damn blowjob-able to you if he's not doing something to his own body; and whatever that is, you wish he doesn't cut it off because mmhh... man so yummy as fuck!

"Guess my meals being different from you isn't noticeable."

If not all, most of the healthy shit he was eating every time in the kitchen started to fired like a machine gun back into your memory. "I should feed you more of those," you didn't hesitate to drop those words right away.

A scoff left his nose along with a hot steam of breath. "You really enjoyed it, huh? Can't blame my girl." He looks down at your body just to notice that he's the only one naked in the room. "You're still clothed, by the way," he reminds.

"Oh." You just realized that. "Yeah, right."

"Did you not touch yourself along?"

"I did. I just... wanted to focus on you."

"Well, baby girl, you know I appreciate that." He hooked his hands under your pits to help you to get on your feet. "Let me focus on you this time."

To be continued...

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXVIII. “eleventh hour”

read on AO3 🦇

parts: previous / next

plot: witnessing the breaking of Bruce, your desperation reaches new heights.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, mention of suicide, description of panic attack/psychosis, light gore, angst, hurt/comfort, ableism (internalized; ‘crazy’ etc.), manipulation/lying

words: 8.8k

a/n: if you do not wish to read this, I will post a blurb at the front of the next chapter to summarize what happened in this one so you can still follow along. this is the last chapter for a while to talk about it explicitly.

prev. chapter summary (XXVII): You visit Bruce at Arkham, and share a tender moment. Bruce is moderately injured. Dr. Crane explains to you the protocol for interacting with patients who experience schizophrenia or psychosis, including not directly engaging with their delusion. Bruce remembered a powerful, owl-like creature attacking him, but it was ruled a suicide attempt. Bruce visits your apartment after his hold ends, where he tells you he didn't try to kill himself. Frustrated at not being believed, Bruce leaves, with no intention of getting medication or therapy.

In the afternoon you awoke, even more upset than the night before. Sleep allowed the weight of your task to internalize—you nearly passed out peeking at the news on your phone, fully anticipating news of his death—though you found nothing, the fear wasn't alleviated. A look at Scypher proved no one knew he'd been to Gotham General or Arkham, either.

As day crept into night, you found yourself pacing your apartment. Your current fixation was on whether or not you should go to Alfred, and if so, whether to leave now or later. Now would increase the odds of Bruce seeing you, probably as he donned the suit and left the tower for another shift; that could leave him agitated. Leaving later would increase the odds of danger finding you, make it a sketchy Uber driver or chancing a walk across town in the total dark; neither option bode well, but there was no chance you would stay here. Every tick on the clock felt like a drop of blood spilling out of Bruce.

You paid extra for Uber Luxe, hoping that might decrease your chance of being assaulted or beheaded. Your taser sat thick in your sweatpant pocket, jostling with every step. You'd given the driver instructions to drop you off a block before Wayne Tower grounds, at the last convenience store. The drive was unfortunately short, leaving little time to plan what you wanted to say. Alfred would likely still be awake, waiting up for Bruce who was ever so ungrateful to have someone waiting and praying for his safe arrival.

Walking up the grounds was ominous; this wasn't what you thought a celebrity's house would be like, and you cringed thinking of him that way. There were no overlording guards, security staff peppering the outskirts, or someone watching the door. It was empty, quiet, and dark. The steps to the main entryway were broken concrete. The door was thick wood, double the height of a regular door, and equally wide. When you knocked it hardly made a sound.

The door opened without fanfare, the only sound the echoing creak of the door hinge bleeding into the foyer. Alfred's eyes brightened momentarily, and only slightly, at your arrival. He gave a watery grin and stepped aside for you to come in. "Miss Y/n. Bruce told me you visited at Arkham."

You were struck by how different he seemed; his previously warm, jolly demeanor was replaced with all-encompassing fatigue, dread swaddling him with a sweaty blanket. "If you want to check on him, I'm afraid he's out." He walked to the unlit kitchen and grabbed a glass from the counter, drawing water from the sink before taking a gulp. His hand rested on his waist, his head facing the ground as he sucked his teeth. He rubbed his eyes.

You shut the door behind you, crossing your arms round your waist. "He looked pretty beat up."

Alfred gave a solemn nod. "Did they tell you what happened?"

You reciprocated. "About his great grandfather too." You paused. "Doesn't seem like he believes it."

The sigh the man heaved could've moved mountains. "I've tried to get through to him." His voice cracked. "Only seems to make him more resentful." He laughed hollowly.

Your heart hurt for Alfred. Maybe you'd only scratched the surface and the old man was some abusive piece of shit, maybe Bruce was perfectly right to disregard him, maybe it was all a show, but from what you'd experienced with Bruce, he seemed unwilling to consider his impact on others, not the other way around. "Did he seem worked up at all?"

Alfred, though exhausted, easily sniffed out your not-so-subtle attempt at gathering info. "I see—the psychiatrist brought all hands on deck." He'd wondered why you'd visited; it was hard to believe that Bruce would have asked for you, even if he'd wanted you. The boy hadn't even asked for him—though that could've been his altered consciousness after the attempt, or shame, embarrassment. On a good day the boy was tough to crack. He hadn't heard a thing about you since your leaving the mansion in the spring.

When Alfred got the call he panicked, quite literally dropping what he was doing to rush to him, but it was when he was pulled into a private room with the doctor that his heart shattered. How alone did Bruce feel? How isolated, lonely, and helpless had he felt? That night when Bruce arrived home from Arkham he'd had a long, heartfelt, one-sided conversation with him while they waited for his med timer to go off. He went on about whether Bruce would attempt again, and how Alfred could help prevent that. Bruce averted his eyes and listened, for a while. Eventually he stood with dewy eyes and told him he hadn't done it. The ensuing argument was steeped in desperation from both sides; Alfred hadn't slept a wink since. He checked on the boy every half hour as he slept and hadn't left his general vicinity until he slunk off in the suit.

"You know him best." The hallway cast an echo to your words. "Do you think there's anything you or I could do, or say? To make him get help?"

Alfred's laugh startled you. "That's precisely the issue, Miss. Bruce has an unforceable hand." He set the glass down, body tense. "He has to want it for himself. And he doesn't." The way he planted himself into the dining chair had you wonder if the sink wasn't actually filled with vodka. It almost looked like Alfred had given up. It pissed you off—not at the sorrowful man before you, but at Bruce. If your mom had begged like that, you wanted to believe you'd try something. This path of destruction he was on...

He interrupted your fuming. "Is that why you paid him a visit, to convince him to seek help?"

You nodded but his back was turned. "Yeah. Dr. Crane seems to think I can get through to him. No idea how. Said I was the last point of contact."

He huffed. "At this point anything's on the table." So maybe he hasn't given up hope... or maybe he truly sees no scenario where Bruce makes it out.

Footsteps sounded from the shadowy hallway at the back of the kitchen and before you knew it, Bruce arrived in the suit. His black eyeshadow had smeared at the edges. The cowl hung in his left hand.

"Bruce,"

His voice was terse, still hoarse. "What's she doing here? Did you call her?" He strode past Alfred in the kitchen to rip open the fridge and grab an apple. God, you wanted to scream. As he moved toward the elevator, you nearly flew off the handle at the combination of his back facing the two of you and his disgruntled sigh. With how fast he was escaping, that rage was unable to be tempered in time for a measured response.

"So you're gonna act like I'm not here?"

He stopped but didn't look back. "I asked him a question."

"I didn't call her, Bruce." He rubbed his temples, a migraine forming. Alfred sighed and excused himself to grab an aspirin upstairs. Bruce kept forward. His stomach twisted into knots seeing you here again—intrusive, meddling, righteous. He took massive care to avoid limping.

The scene was poetic: Bruce disdainfully walking away while his butler (and only guardian) went to medicate for a stress-induced ailment. Metal clanking signified his nearing departure and you snapped. "Do you see how much you're hurting him?"

That was the single most aggravating and entitled thing you did: pretend you had any damn idea who Alfred was or had even a crumb of knowledge about their relationship. He spun around. "You know nothing about him—"

"I know he's exhausted and miserable waiting on you, he's alone in the kitchen at 10 pm with his goddamn head in his hands—"

"I told him he doesn't have to worry."

You could've laughed, but your body wouldn't let you. "You are genuinely risking your life, how the hell are we not supposed to worry?"

His eyes flashed at your pronoun choice. "You're ridiculous to think you're in any alignment with him."

"Are you?"

He stepped out of the elevator, his chest thick with tense breathing. "You don't know when to stop talking, do you?"

You shot an icy glare. "Is that a threat?"

He snarled. "Observation."

Heat rose to your cheeks for reasons you couldn't yet decipher. The longer he stayed arguing with you the less time he'd have for seeking behavior, but you had to toe the line. He was getting too riled up. "We-I just want you to be safe."

He stared at you for a good few seconds, trying to do a temperature check. You were hard to read. Ever since you'd come back he'd been decidedly disappointed in your intermittent composure. These glimmers of bite made him feel curiously alive, in ways both delightful and infuriating. "You got what you wanted from me. Why are you still here?"

It was like he was ignoring you on purpose; like he hadn't cried into your touch a day prior, like he couldn't fathom if he had been successful, Alfred would be planning a funeral right now. You shrugged, your chest procuring an exasperated sound to accompany it. "Do you not know how serious this weekend's been, or do you not care?"

He paused only briefly, enough for him to shoot a dagger stare. "It's not serious in the way you're painting it."

"Can you suspend your disbelief just a moment?" Please. Please. Please. You began to sweat.

"I could say the same to you."

You were losing him, you knew it. Whatever thin string tied you to him was threatening to sever.

You opened your mouth but he cut you off, knowing if he gave you space to speak he would implode. "I know what I saw." His hands flexed in and out of fists, trying desperately to metabolize the stress, to temper the helpless rage bubbling in his stomach.

No idea what to say and at an utter loss, you stood and looked at him. The moon only lit up your half of the kitchen. The air was tense and brittle as ice. Dr. Crane's voice was a subtle pulse cocooning every sentence you thought you might say. "I know you saw that, I believe you."

His jaw set. He responded with a colossal eye roll and scornful jeer. "You don't believe it happened, you believe I experienced it."

Your voice lost its gusto, your mind going blank. "I don't know what else to say."

"Say nothing. It's not needed." He moved to turn and you reflexively tossed a lasso.

"You're needed; who will protect Gotham?" You paused too long in the middle there.

He cackled—a jarring, unsettling sound in the chilled air. "There's no line you won't cross."

Fuck. You wanted to stomp your foot, and throw a tantrum to shake the house; this visceral experience of exasperated compassion fuzzed your restraint. "No line you won't ignore."

He stopped turning and scowled, his voice devastatingly cutting. "Says the person loitering."

He needed to know how serious this was; all arrows pointed in one direction. "If you'd been successful, we wouldn't even be t—"

"I didn't do it!" It was the first time he'd really yelled around you, and definitely the first time at you. It peppered goosebumps across your skin and hitched a few breaths.

Clamoring steps and Alfred entered, brows raised after a quick scan of the room. "What's going on?"

Bruce turned on his heel and made haste to the elevator, slamming his palm against the button before he rocketed down to the cave. His heartbeat pulsed in his ears, tears springing up for the umpteenth time this weekend. The second the doors opened he bolted through the basement, his cowl catching on the corner of a particularly obtrusive desk in the center of the room. He tossed the cowl, and as he felt the helplessness punctuate into his chest he began ripping off the suit until he was nothing but spandex base layers. He sprinted through the subway doors, past the car, and barreled north. The chilled air slapped his flushed cheeks, the pain in his foot and torso going silent as he sprinted through unlit sidewalks and alleys. He'd find it. Find something. Find anything. His weak ankle slipped on a patch of oil, and he landed swiftly on his back. Unprotected by the suit, the thud knocked the tears out of him, and they slid silently down his cheeks until they joined the puddles on the ground.

Alfred turned toward you and searched your face. "I heard shouting?"

You whipped out your phone and dialed Dr. Crane. He picked up on the second ring; you put it on speaker for Alfred to hear. "Ms. Y/L/N. Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. I went to see Mr. Pennyworth, and Bruce caught me there and, we had an argument and he just, he ran off." The adrenaline rush of his shout lingered much like sweat. You fought to catch your breath as tsunamis of guilt and fear crashed into you. Would he hurt himself right now? Is he gonna die?

Dr. Crane sighed. "Certainly not ideal..." Another sigh. "Did he make any threat against his life, or anyone else's?"

"No."

"Did he seem oriented to place and time?"

"Yes."

"Unfortunately there's not much we can do at this point."

Your hands shook. Alfred placed a hand on your arm to steady you. "I could go after him, I don't, I don't know,"

"No." Dr. Crane was quick with it. Alfred shook his head at you too, but remained quiet. "That might push him further. Mr. Pennyworth has this number, let him know to call me if he doesn't come home in the next few hours. Anything else I can do for you?"

God this was hopeless. Guilt ravaged through you, and you barely contained a sob while telling him that was all. You stowed the phone in your pocket, callously wiping hot tears from your face. Alfred dropped his hand from your arm, face empathetic but grim. "Miss. This is not your responsibility."

"I need to leave, I'm not making this better,"

"Let me drive you."

You shook your head. "I need to walk. I have a taser, I'm fine." You brushed past him before you melted into a pile of dust and became unable to command your legs.

Alfred walked across the kitchen and pulled off a piece of paper towel. "At least take my number. I'm a call away." The soft lull of his accent and the smooth feel of the fiber grounded you enough to walk out the door and brace yourself for the two-mile walk back, after a brief embrace and thanks.

You stomped along the sidewalks with your arms across your chest, both grateful and suspicious at the lack of people around. Glints of flickering street lamps caught your attention on the wet cement. It shocked you that Gotham still got rain in the summer—much less, yes, but the littering of puddles and slick pavement was an ever-present ghoul.

The sidewalk curved to the left, jutting out to various side streets and alleyways. Some faint yelling punctuated the otherwise quiet evening, but that was usual. As you walked further however, it grew louder, sounding distressed. You grabbed your taser and held it in front with the trigger ready, safety off. The screaming kept an insistent space in the ambiance. Shuffling, hitting, thudding, scrambling. The fuck? Curiosity outweighed the fear that criticized every step toward the noise pollution. By this point the main street's light source had waned, rendering your phone the only way to not trip and break your nose against disgusting concrete. You yelped when someone ran out in front of you—it took a full ten seconds to realize it was Bruce.

His clothes were completely torn up; he wasn't in the suit, which confused you. Is it lying somewhere? Someone could easily trace it back to him. He turned quickly and paced back from whence he came, a small alley littered with garbage and decaying leaves. You could make out even less of what he looked like now. Every time you moved your light up he flinched, turning hard away from it. The puddles refracted the light off your phone, allowing just enough to frame his expressions and movements. He was hunched, shaking like he was in an earthquake, and shreds of his shirt and leggings were strewn about.

"Get away from me." He grumbled, loud, his voice bloated and cracked. The hoarseness from earlier had devolved into a scratchy sound, almost like his throat had open wounds. He spoke too loudly, with some words emphasized and shouted while others sounded more swallowed, drowning in the tears he sputtered on as he choked out shouts and screams. You didn't bother to hide your wince; with sounds that heartwrenching and lights so low, it would be futile to suppress. Upon closer inspection some of his bandages had been ripped off too; as if on cue he began ripping more of them off, digging underneath his shirt, sniffing, huffing, and heaving.

"Bruce,"

He looked at you like he'd seen a ghost. "How do you know my name?" He shrieked, doubling over into the fetal position while he anxiously ran his hands through his hair, smearing the bloody, blackened tears into his hairline. His next few breaths were desperate and shallow, and you heard the sound of air sucking through his teeth. You stood about ten feet from him, unable to step any closer due to his erratic movements. He fell onto his ass and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, yanking violently as he rocked back and forth. Spit launched out of his mouth and dangled in the corner of his lips, the hiss of strained airflow clenching your gut into knots.

You gulped, your limbs beginning to numb. "I'm calling Alfred."

Your hand shook nearly as much as his as you tried to squint to read his number. After too long, every second passing like ten minutes with the state Bruce was in, he picked up. "Alfred,"

"Miss? Everything—"

"Bruce needs to be picked up." You didn't realize you were gasping until you had to speak through it. It was at that second that Bruce acknowledged you, jumping to his feet and racing to only a foot's distance.

"NO!" His pupils were blown, eyes rapidly shutting and squeezing. Crouched to be at eye level, you could see how his lip trembled under the weight of the sweat and tears pooling beneath his nose. His bleary, soaked, inflamed eyes threatened to impale yours with the intensity of their focused attention. He opened and shut his mouth a few times without speaking, and when he did, flecks of spit landed on your chin. A few unsuccessful regulating breaths and heaving exhales later, he whined into the phone. "Don't tell Mom and Dad about this."

Palpable silence. Alfred was the one to break it. "I'll be there in three minutes." The phone sat heavy in your palm after he hung up. Bruce sank to his knees and pressed his forehead to the wet ground. He bloodied his knuckles beating against it. His screams became muffled as you stood, frozen. He gazed at the alley's dead end and shouted unintelligibly, his agitation mounting until Alfred arrived and helped him into the backseat.

You couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and the man had to walk you to the passenger seat. "I'll take you home first, Miss."

"You won't tell them, right? I can't be out this late." Bruce wrung his hands together and looked out the window anxiously. You and Alfred exchanged a solemn look.

Alfred nodded. "It'll stay between us, Master Bruce. I promise."

This was bad, and you both knew it. It was sad, too. Would he wake up wondering where his parents were? Would he have any recollection of this in the morning? Would Alfred have to break the news to him that his parents had died years ago? Did this warrant an inpatient stay? What would Dr. Crane think? The hum of the cabin air was the only distraction from Bruce picking at his fingernails and sniffling up sobs. If there had been any more breathing room in there you would've joined him. But you had to wait until they were gone. Wait until the only thing around you was dark, empty silence. You directed Alfred to your apartment, and soon enough you arrived.

Pulling up to the curb of The Moore, he waited for your door to open before locking the rest. He stepped out and walked over to hold the lobby doors. His steps were slow and a bit shallow. He saw tears streaming your cheeks and stopped before grabbing the handle. "Miss,"

Now that you were out of the car you couldn't contain yourself. "It was my fault, I'm fucking meddling,"

His mouth settled into a tight frown. "As far as I'm concerned you saved him tonight. Who knows what could have happened if you hadn't been there?"

You shook your head, his words not penetrating the layers of guilt. "He wouldn't have been like that if it weren't for me. I'm inserting myself where I'm not needed."

Alfred placed a hand on your shoulder, waiting until you met his eyes to speak. "Efforts to save a life are never misplaced." With that, he nodded and bid you adieu. The walk to your room felt like a million years with the weights on your ankles. Your room was cold, a liminal space between before and after, then and now. If only I hadn't left.

Bruce had woken up screaming five times that night. The first two times he'd bolted out of his bedroom in his underwear, needing to be coaxed back to bed with firm reassurance and breathing exercises. Alfred took to sleeping in a makeshift cot in front of the boy's door to make sure he didn't slip past. When morning came, he hadn't recalled a thing; his head ached, his body felt like it'd been struck by lightning, run over by a car, and chewed on by twenty dogs. Seeing Alfred sleeping at the foot of his door prompted a conversation about what had happened last night—he'd glazed over by the time he was told what he'd said about his parents, though it didn't help the sting.

As much as he wanted to rot in bed the rest of the day until he could go out as the bat, his stomach grumbled to the kitchen. It was there that Alfred threw out the idea of going to see you. "Miss Y/n is the one who found you. She called me."

Bruce returned to his bedroom without eating.

After a few hours of avoidance that only propelled the day to early afternoon, he caved; the hovering presence of Alfred made his embarrassment and frustration peak, and if he'd stayed a moment longer he might have lashed out. So... he found himself once again at the door to your apartment. He felt strange being there, like he wasn't supposed to remember where you lived. He figured a text would have been worse.

You opened the door wearing black sweats and a white tee. You looked exhausted. A pang shot through him.

"Alfred wanted me to stop by."

It hurt more than it should have that it didn't come from him. Moreso than desiring any self-indulgent recognition, you wanted to feel like he didn't hate you. Regret had kept you up the entire night to the extent of wicked nausea. Your knees still ached from kneeling in front of the toilet for hours on end. I'm sorry caught before it passed your tonsils, evaporated before reaching your tongue. All night you'd ruminated about how ridiculous and intrusive you'd been. All you'd done was fuck up his life. Why had you even gone over last night? Because some man in a blazer with a fancy degree gave you a crash course on mental illness meant you had any right to meddle? Those thoughts stormed against others that saw the pain and dangerous denial plainly in him, like a ticking time bomb.

Dr. Crane had called you earlier that morning to warn you about his condition. "It appears he's in a state of delirium. This is the worst-case scenario outside of another attempt... which is usually imminent soon after." His words echoed through your best attempt at listening. You'd have to remove 'works well under pressure' from your resume after this weekend. The call had ended on a sobering note, such lethal stakes nearly forcing you into complete apathy. You'd sat on the edge of your couch with the phone on speaker, sitting on your hands that grew colder the more he spoke. "The gravity of his current condition cannot be overstated."

"Me talking to him only hurt him." Your voice was dry and raspy from lack of sleep. "It sent him into a spiral, I can't do that again." Your arms wrapped around your torso in a sad excuse for a hug. Walter would've been great company right about then.

"Ms. Y/L/N, I assure you: such a high-caliber reaction could not be spurred solely by asking him to get help." But you didn't believe him. At this point you snapped, wanting to drill into him that you were making it worse. "He does not like me. He only gave me the interview because I wouldn't leave him alone, I have been a stain in his life for months."

Dr. Crane sighed. "Y/n." This was the first time he'd addressed you so informally. "I am aware he might dislike you. I hear what you are telling me. My professional judgment remains."

"Wouldn't someone you hate telling you to get help only make you want it less?" This thought had plagued you between dry heaves, the thought of your assistance only exacerbating his refusal. If someone you detested—and barely knew—came barging into your home demanding you get help and told you how much you were hurting your parents... you'd want to slap the shit out of them. It was embarrassing how entitled you'd acted the night before. "I'm making the problem worse. I need to be hands-off."

"I did my graduate studies on interventions for schizophrenic populations—I focused on the different outcomes between estranged and aligned families. Some of these guardians were outright abusive and thoroughly hated by the patient," He spoke the next part emphatically. "Yet regardless of how polluted the relationship, the data was clear:" He needed to drill every syllable of the next part into your very spirit. "Once the patient entered delirium, the families who took a 'hands-off approach' had an 87% increased rate of patient mortality within one week."

If the phone had been in your hands you would've dropped it. "Whatever you need to do, make sure it gets done. Nothing is too far when it comes to saving a life. It's the eleventh hour."

You stepped aside and Bruce walked in no further than required to shut the door behind him. He looked worse than ever. How did he even walk up here in the light of day? If even one camera got a picture of him it would be plastered to the front of every tabloid, he would have to come out with a statement...

He stilled. He saw the strain in your breath, how your chest rose rapidly, the slumped defeat in your body, your swollen under eyes and chapped lips. "I also wanted to apologize." He certainly hadn't meant to, but the anger was dissipating with every second he looked at you. "Last night I wasn't myself."

Maybe he'll say it himself. Maybe this is it, maybe he came to accept it. Hope fluttered against your ribs. No more fighting, no more arguing. "I'm sorry for inserting myself. I shouldn't have said that about Alfred. I'm a stranger." After the call with Dr. Crane, you'd wondered about playing docile, but this wasn't a ploy; this guilt was desperate to purge itself, and he was an altar edging it out.

He blinked at the ground. "You weren't wrong. Alfred is suffering." It hurt to push those words past his teeth. "But there's nothing I can do about that." He snuck a look over, seeing your mouth open. He cringed. "Don't tell me to get help." He grit his teeth and balled his fists, the tension in his body overwhelming. When you didn't respond, he spoke again, trying to show you plainly and clearly how suspicious it was. "It's an anonymous witness. No footage."

You wanted to talk about how the witness probably stayed anonymous because he was Bruce Wayne, someone so rich and powerful they might have feared retaliation if their identity was on record, but the other times you reminded him of his status had sent him spiraling. You wanted to talk about how the city budget was so misused that most of the security cameras around town were out of order, especially in dark alleyways that businessmen didn't frequent—that was the only purpose of justice in Gotham anyway, to protect and serve the elite. But the tension was visible and unnerving; you and Bruce together at a fragile crossroad. That mortality rate sat like a boulder in your gut. Every option was bitter on the tongue.

The one thing you thought to do was the one thing Dr. Crane said to never do; engage directly with his hallucinations. Did you even care about that anymore? Was he even right? Was Bruce right? Probably not. He'd been so beyond himself he thought his parents were still alive, staring at the back of an empty alleyway like someone was out to get him. That couldn't be reasoned with. Another refrain ran laps around you: one week. Seeing Bruce Wayne in your kitchen after hearing that... it seemed the odds were more likely you'd attend a public memorial than speak to him next weekend. Oh. Fuck.

He chased after the shift in your body language. You had that look again from city hall. The expression of being far away, on another planet. It instilled in him an unquenchable urge to thrust you out of it. "Last night... It was like I'd been drugged."

Any explanation to keep him in denial. You shook yourself out of it, immediately replacing the dismissive thought with something more just. It's a lot to accept. Of course he's struggling with it. The most you could manage was to stare at his shoes. Your eyes still glazed. The room muffled. Unaware of every breath. You hadn't dissociated this hard since the first call from the doctor seven years ago. Therapy had helped back then, letting you know this served a function. Holding it compassionately wouldn't do a damn thing right now, locked in your gridlock, dipping your toes in the apathy that lusted to infiltrate your bloodstream. My apathy is deadly. My apathy could cost him his fucking life. But you couldn't shake it. You couldn't look up at him, you couldn't even speak. You burst into tears... or thought you did. You'd heaved an enormous sigh and sat with your head down, unable to well up tears in such a detached state. Even if you could, you wouldn't cry in front of him if you could manage; he didn't need that.

Your sigh had a whimper at the end of it, sending a jolt through him. The stillness of the moment had him noticing the details, like how you hadn't changed since the night before. Your apartment was still disassembled. The time on the stove read 4:18. His mind wandered. Gordon got off on weekends at five; the mask would conceal most of his injuries, and the ones it didn't would make sense. He could investigate it more with him, explore the evidence room... But there you sat. And he didn't want to leave you like this. His tone was tender, like yours had been. "I'm safe."

Arkham. "I don't know what else to do."

"Believe me." He pleaded, a gravelly whine fraying the end.

Dr. Crane had warned you about this on the phone call. He asked about your plan if he came over; you hadn't had one, wanting to ignore the possibility entirely. Dr. Crane said it was likely he'd draw more desperate. You'd asked about humoring him. Tried to express how stubborn Bruce was. Nope. Not a possibility. "If you want to throw gasoline on a fire."

Your lids were heavy with sleep, stress, anxiety. You could see how much you stressed him out. How he was on the edge of leaving. How desperate he was to be believed. Fish hooks in your sides threatened to cut you in two, tugging equally left and right, splitting each layer of your skin at the belly button.

At least if you stuck with Dr. Crane's plan and it ended horribly, you would have someone else to blame... You hated yourself for letting that cross your mind. Bruce wasn't an experiment, and this wasn't a low-stakes outcome. As much as the situation juiced your heart until it was throbbing and weak, he was the one with the most to lose, and he couldn't think clearly. He needed you to stay the course. Trust the science. Listen to the data, to reason, not what tugged at your heartstrings. You took a deep breath. "I know it hurts to not be trusted, but you have to weigh the pros and cons."

All he did was glare back at you. You couldn't hesitate, refusing to waste another second. "Worst case scenario is you have some temporary side effects," You ignored how visibly agitated he was becoming, how his hands twitched and his eyes looked away as his jaw clenched. "Worst case scenario of not trying them is you do that again, and not even know it's happening."

He'd far surpassed his limit; every syllable slipping past your lips trying its best to gaslight. You'd been persistent when getting the interview, he should've seen the red flag in your tenacity. "You're never going to believe me?" Posed as a question, meant as a statement. His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer. "Why are you pushing this?" Why would you of all people be shelling this so hard?

It was simple, and you said it as such. "I don't want you to die."

Bruce didn't give it time to linger. His face was sour with a scowl. "Doesn't change what happened."

"Weigh the options. One outcome is far worse." Please. You crossed your fingers behind your back to summon the universe's luck. Please. He just glared at you. Small shaking of his head. You pressed on. "You don't even have to believe anyone, just humor—"

He scoffed, the sound like a slap across the face. "Take medication to humor..." Your audacity... fuck. He could've laughed. He could've rolled his eyes, stormed out, any number of things. His was instead welded to the floor. It didn't make sense. Any of it.

"Please." God, the way you whined. The smallest, most minuscule seed of doubt entered him. Terrified of it manifesting into slipping resolve, he turned to leave. "Where are you going?"

He kept walking. The squeak in your voice, the haze of desperation, the exhaustion weighing you down—had you stayed up all night thinking about this? You couldn't have. He reached the doorknob just as you jumped toward him. "Please, stop,"

He winced. "Stop sounding like that." Your begging was pointless. He'd made up his mind. He'd leave, he wouldn't even look back... he wouldn't think about it, he wouldn't think about you, you wouldn't get to him.

At this point your heart was beating so hard you swore Bruce could hear it. As soon as he slipped out of your apartment he would be unreachable. Every other time he'd left like this, something terrible had happened. He could be dead by the end of the night. The end of the hour. When he turned the doorknob you could've jumped out of your skin. Your vocal cords constricted from overwhelming dread. This is too much. "Where are you going?"

"Don't need to concern yourself." He opened the door and you grabbed his arm; his head whipped around to look at you, startled by the forcefulness of your grip. Through his sweatshirt he could feel how ice cold your fingers were.

"I do,"

He shrugged his arm away. "Keep telling yourself that." The door opened wide with a quick snap; the snarl in his tone, the glare set in his features, you had about two seconds before he was down the hallway to god knows where to do god knows what. Popping into your mind was his insinuation that no one had seen it; no evidence, no corroboration, and you made a split-second decision as he stepped into the hallway.

"Because I saw it." A disorienting combination of emotions swarmed you; immediate regret at having lied, and immediate relief in seeing Bruce freeze, no longer rushing out to his demise.

"Saw what?" His voice lowered and he stilled, like he knew exactly what you implied but hoped you didn't mean it.

It was hard to stay quiet through the sudden flush of tears down your cheeks. The lie ended up gasping out of you. "I saw you jump, I'm the person who called."

You barely contained a sob of relief when he stepped back inside and shut the door. He peeked at you, his eyes searching your face slowly, deliberately. This was the first time you'd had any feeling at all that he was willing to listen. This was your last chance, his last chance, anyone's to get him to safety. "I felt bad about how the interview ended, so I went looking for you."

Bruce could barely hear you, and he could only hear you. The world, his thoughts, everything but the crackle of the flaming pitchforks his defenses held faded away. It would make sense it hadn't leaked to the press yet if it had been you, but.... He said this like an accusation, eyes narrowed with skepticism. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

He was giving you an inch, you were taking a mile. You were yanking him close to you and holding him there. You would've imploded if you had to see him in a casket, knowing you could've done more. Even if it wasn't your responsibility, even if you barely knew him. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Thought it'd be easier."

His heart was in his throat. Hope was lying nearly dead in his chest, gasping for air before a final death rattle. His voice was strained, weary, haunting. "You saw me jump?" His brows knit together just barely, daring you both to be honest and to spare him. "Off a building?"

You bit your tongue until a searing sting. Jesus... You couldn't hesitate. Not with him, not now. Not with him looking at you like that. Not with his pulse hanging in the balance. You nodded and strangled the words out from where they clotted in your throat. "It was horrifying. I thought I watched you die."

Bruce flinched as you said it, your words evoking a visceral sensation of being stoned. Brick by brick it hit his chest, teleporting him to the night his parents died; the feeling of watching blood pour out of their bodies, shucking sounds of it glugging against the wet concrete, seeping into puddles. Like a flipped switch, he had no choice but to believe you. This was his line.

The notion that he had caused someone to experience even a fraction of that feeling... no matter how deep his denial, no matter that he saw the creature clear as day, he would have forgotten his own name if it meant sparing someone. If he suffered through the truth, fine; if it harmed anyone else, it was over. Folded. Hard limit. Fear was a tool, but not like this.

You witnessed a clear shift in him. You were too busy swimming in fragile relief to think about why that had connected. Your body was buzzing, and you watched on with bated breath as he stood in silence. If you listened hard you could hear his deep nasal inhale. His shallow, quick exhale.

He felt embarrassed, ashamed, and afraid. He hated how much he still wanted to drill you. How desperate he was to corroborate his experience and dismiss everything else. He wouldn't force you to rehash it. he wouldn't make you relive something like that. The walls began to close in as his reality rapidly dissolved; the owls hadn't been real, the creature hadn't been real, he'd really jumped off a building and his mind was so unreliable he hadn't known? Ooh, this was... this was...

You sniffed. It brought him back to space and time. He couldn't lose it yet. "Do you, uh," He squeezed his eyes shut, his mind completely numbed out. Save the spiral for later. "What do you need?"

You felt absolutely disgusting. What did you need? It churned your stomach. Why did he have to have humility now? Flashbacks to him screaming and hitting the pavement as spit flew out of his mouth. Taped down to a psychiatric bed. The scabs beginning to form on his face, neck, and hands... the pain that surfaced so quickly when you'd even barely touched his cheek. You pursed your lips and blew out a shaky breath to ground yourself. Save the spiral for later.

"You want me to get meds, therapy?" Desperation coated his tone. Like he was counting the seconds until he could leave, or explode, or both.

Your eyes were wide and bleary as you made contact with his. You couldn't bring yourself to nod, or even look him in the face longer than a few seconds. "I just want you to be safe."

He didn't speak for another minute. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but he certainly wasn't at peace. You hadn't expected him to believe you. You hadn't imagined a universe where he would ever believe a word you said. But then he nodded. Lost in thought, eyes darting across the floor, breathing labored, and said things you never thought he would. "I'll pick some up in the morning."

The dizzying haze of shock annihilated him. He walked to the door but felt stumbled, like his saliva was thickening in his mouth, blood rushing to his core to sustain him, keep him upright, thinking, moving. When he grabbed the doorknob he couldn't feel it. In a blink the door opened and he didn't remember opening it. The zigzag pattern on the hallway rug floated, fuzzy, spotting the edge of his vision.

He walked calmly to the door; you couldn't see his face, no idea what he was thinking, and it killed you. "Are you gonna be safe tonight?"

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to reassure you he wouldn't do anything now that he knew you were involved. He wanted to tell you he didn't think he'd ever attempt to kill himself, but apparently that wasn't real. You'd witnessed him try to end his life. He was obviously unstable, an unreliable narrator, and he was afraid. The pieces were falling into place; the wear in your body, your meddling... He heard the elevator ding from the end of the hall and shut the door, leaning his sore, bruised forehead against it. What had he done to get that? He couldn't remember where half of his injuries came from. Alfred said he'd panicked the night before. Was out of his body. The last thing he remembered was staring up at the cloudy sky, wishing, pleading the universe to be believed. Then it was all black.

He spoke in a whisper, though unintentional. "I don't know." He didn't trust anything now. Was he even here? Was this even happening? Were his feet planted against your flooring, or was he actually in a field by himself? He couldn't do this now, he couldn't, he couldn't make you take care of him, you couldn't feel responsible, you weren't, this was crazy. He was crazy. His heart began to race when he heard you step behind him. He shook his head hard. "I'll stay inside tonight."

"Bruce," A plaintive cry.

He spun around. His shaky, blurred vision dialed in to your slick, puffy face. His jaw hung slack. "I'm sorry I put you through that."

It's worth it. He's getting help. No more bruises, cuts, jumps. I did what I needed to. He's not gonna die. He's not gonna die. He's not. gonna. die. You flirted with hyperventilation the more you sat under his gaze. "It's fine,"

"It's not." He wasn't going to leave you like this, alone and crying. Had you gotten flashbacks like he did way back when? Did you need a hug as badly as he did after taking their bodies away?

"You're okay, so." He stepped toward you and you jumped. He searched your face and goddammit, tracked every tear again. He is not gonna take care of me. STOP CRYING! You stammered for anything to say that could shift the focus off of you as you forced your tear ducts to close. "I can call Alfred if you want to be picked up," Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. I'm a fucking liar. I'm lying. I'm lying.

He didn't answer. You gulped, feeling increasingly like you were about to pass out. "The smog's pretty bad today, um," Your hands shook, you needed to find something to tether them to. Heat flooded your lashes again, fuck. "I think I have some tea, if you're walking it might, it might help."

Your hands quivered against the lavender mug as you pulled it from the cabinet. "With your throat, you know." Your hands were going clammy, your forehead felt sticky. He watched your trembling fingers search the drawers, finally procuring a packet. He'd traumatized you—he wouldn't let you take care of him too. He tracked your eyes to the microwave, and moved to open the door. You filled the mug with water and put it in the microwave for two minutes.

Just walking those few steps made him queasy; on top of everything else he was late to taking his pain meds. Inside, he frantically plugged a cracking dam. Would he be able to go out as batman anymore? How would the psych meds affect him? Had anything else happened that wasn't real? Did you even know he was batman? Was batman even real? Was batman a way for him to channel his sickness into something productive? What memories were real? He held his hands in front of him. The dam was breaking.

You turned around to grab a paper towel, but saw Bruce standing a foot away staring at his shaking palms. The blueness of his eyes was exaggerated by his constricted pupils. Unsure of what to do, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you stared at the mesmerizing spin of the mug. Round, and round, and round. The light hit his cheek, emphasizing the scabs and cuts. The beat of his rising chest pulsing in your ear propelled you forward; maybe it was the rapid fluttering of his lashes or the first tear that fell, but you grabbed his suffering hands and the room went quiet.

"Hey, hey." You squeezed his lukewarm hands with your cold ones, nearly making a self-deprecating joke about not being able to warm him. He was staring blankly over your shoulder, his bottom lip ragged from biting. The whir of the microwave came faintly back into earshot, until Bruce looked back at you. A crest of tears balanced in his waterline.

His entire body vibrated. He wanted to tell you how terrified he was, but he was sure you could see it. He could see it in you, too. He still didn't want you to have to care for him, but that was rapidly deprioritized as more fears crowded in. You could almost see the dreams dying in his eyes; uneventful, hopeless, and frustrating like a dud firework. You swallowed back bile as you grasped for anything you could say to him, repeating a mantra to stave off the nausea. I didn't cause this pain. This was the only way. This has to help him. This is worth it, it has to be. You didn't believe it, but having him alive and in your sight helped muffle the self-hatred.

The microwave sounded. When you pulled back to open it you felt resistance—he squeezed your hands lightly, his breathing heavy and deep. You hesitated before giving another reassuring squeeze; you'd acclimated to each other's temperature, your fingers no longer feeling like ice against his. His hands were calloused and rough, and your palm rubbed on the scabs when you pulled back. Before your mind could wander further, before you collapsed in a puddle of tears, you slipped your hands out of his and busied yourself with steeping the tea.

Bruce lowered his hands to his sides, gently flexing them to remember the shape of yours. He ached to hug you; he ached to go back and stay just a little longer after the interview. He could've helped you pack more. Could've called Alfred for a ride home. What had it looked like? Had there been sounds? Body fluids? Did you race after him, or stay away out of fear? Had he needed CPR? Had there been a pulse? Did you see the impact? Did you run to catch him? Were you close, were you far? How vivid was your memory of it?

"How do you like it?" You didn't have much, just some sugar and honey, some old oat milk in the fridge.

He concealed a gasp as you broke his feverish spiral. He shook his head. "It's yours."

You didn't bother fighting him on it; the warmth of the mug and taste of the ginger would be a welcome distraction until he left safely with Alfred. You placed a plate over the mug and pat your sweats for your phone. "Did you want to call him?"

"I got it." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a regular-degular iPhone, shocking you more than it should have. You went to grab the honey while he spoke to his butler. You sat in a valley between; you wanted Bruce to leave as quickly as possible so you could throw yourself into the shower and cry, then hibernate in bed until Thursday, but it scared you to have him leaving these walls.

"He'll be in the parking garage soon."

Crap. "You need a key to open it, one of those fob things." You put a scoop of honey and mixed it in, the tremble in your hand coming back. "I'll walk you down."

The mug was cooling in the building's AC, the whoosh of the elevator doors hastening the process. The ride was quick and painless, the walk to the garage the same. Bruce had pulled up his hood, cinched it around his face, and put on sunglasses before leaving. He was actually pretty unrecognizable, but part of you wondered if that was just because you knew people would never suspect him out with someone like you; unknown, working class, in dirty sweats and flip flops.

Alfred came swiftly, giving you a wave as he pulled up. Bruce turned to you before getting in the car. "I'll keep you updated." He nodded, then sidled into the passenger seat. A second later, tint enveloped all the windows, leaving the car completely anonymous as it drove off.

The walk to the shower was excruciating. Every step felt like you were walking on legos. The shower offered a sliver of relief, but it didn't warm your conscience. It wasn't until Alfred called a few minutes after you had toweled off that you could let yourself breathe.

The old man was tearful, sniffing after every word. "Miss Y/n. Bruce asked me," He blew his nose. "To get his script tomorrow morning." He tried to catch his sobs, but they were getting away from him. "I don't know what you did, but thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

I truly believed it was the end."

[ruggiesears]

template by @/ai-kan1

Background & personality:

Isabelle is the princess of a very small kingdom in the Shaftlands called Roseneuve. Her dad, despite being king, loves to create things and study, so he always encourages her to study as much as she can, and they bond over their similar interests. She's a bookworm and she's the youngest of the family, — third in line to the throne — and she's often teased by her older sisters about how much time she prefers spending with her books than with real people, as well as how she's way too idealistic for this world.

Isabelle is kind and warm as often are RSA students, but different from them she can be really sassy, and doesn't stay quiet when people undermine her loved ones; speaking of which, surprisingly, Isabelle doesn't have many friends. Isabelle’s father and kingdom are known for being very creative and for being ahead of their time in the sense of improvement and inventions. Most people think she's a bit weird because of how much time she spends studying/reading books because of wanting to live up to the reputation of her dad, as well as because of how strict she can be on herself and others around her, so she's often labeled as the black sheep of the school.

Isabelle is the housewarden of Rosantée, a made up dorm based on Beauty and the Beast that me and my friend @4necdote created. She got the position by dueling the current housewarden in her second year, wanting the position so she could improve the dorm to live to the reputation of its inspired character: Belle (and also, because she desperately wanted people to stop avoiding her and get to know her as a person).

Fun facts: Leona and Isabelle have chess matches with one another ever since they've become somewhat tolerable with each other's presence, and they've been on a tie ever since.

Basic information:

Height: 155cm

Age: 18 years old

Grade: junior (3rd year)

Nicknames: Isa (by friends and family), mousey & Belle (by Leona), white rose (by Perse)

Birthday: November 13th

Dominant hand: both (ambidextrous)

Favorite food + drink: pudding and tea

Best subject: history of magic

Club: RSA's equestrian club

Hobbies: reading books, playing chess

Homeland: Roseneuve

Unique Magic: Inner Beauty - allows her to create a book of someone's life so she can read any information she desires about them, but it can only be done once.

Relationships:

♡ Leona Kingscholar: Isabelle and Leona were promised to each other a year before Isabelle enrolled at RSA to increase the better relationships between the two kingdoms (in other words, because Isabelle's kingdom is small, they're interested in it to gain a bigger, much stronger ally, and in Sunset Savannah's end they'd appreciate the amount of technological advances Isabelle's kingdom has). They hated the idea of an arranged marriage but they didn't have much of a say in the topic, and while Isabelle decided to deal with it the best she could so her country could prosper, Leona didn't really make any effort to get to know her at first nor to try and make the engagement something at least tolerable. Leona made an awful first impression to Isabelle, and ever since their first meeting they've been butting heads, but after a while of spending time together (forced time, may I add) and getting to know each other, they warmed up to each other and slowly fell in love.

Neige: Isabelle and Neige met each other right at her first year in school and he was one of the few people to actually accept her. She had a crush on him for a while, but she was rejected + she knew she wouldn't be able to break her engagement with Leona so she gave up. They're really good friends and always are seen together.

Chenya: Isabelle gave up trying to understand him a long time ago. At this point his weird manner of speaking and the way he just makes his head visible doesn't phase her one bit, she's used to him. Also, she's able to speak his full name with a straight face.

Malleus Draconia: they've known about each other since they're both royalty and because of Malleus's reputation, + him and Adeline have a "will they won't they" thing going on. Malleus and Isabelle have a mutual understanding, since most people tend to avoid them due to being scared and/or finding them weird. She tries to invite him to tea every once in a while.

Adeline Rosique (oc by @4necdote <33) : Adeline and Isabelle are very close friends, with both being there for the other at the times they needed each other the most. Adeline was one of Isabelle's first friends, and one of the few people to not have judged Isabelle for her interests and personality, making her a safe space to Isabelle. Adeline is also Isabelle's vice housewarden and her most trusted friend in the school other than Neige.

Character references:

[utapri-translations-uuuu]

ASSMU Behind the Stage Ver.B [Natsuki, Syo, Ai, Nagi, Yamato] - Translation

Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.

Ai: It is interesting that towards the end of the song, when the 18 of us sing together, the position of the five of us splits into two, with me in the center.

Ai: On the right are Natsuki and Yamato, who are large and adult-like, and on the left are Syo and Nagi, who are small and cute.

Nagi: Nagi may be small and cute, but my feelings are the greatest, so I’ll make the audience more excited than anyone else.

Natsuki: Wah! You’re so lovely, Nagi-kun! Not only are you cute but you’re also cool! Gyuu!

Syo: W-Wait a minute!!

Nagi: Woah!

Syo: Wait, Natsuki! Don’t go hugging Nagi! If you’re gonna do that, it should be with the super cool me.

Natsuki: I understand. Of course, Syo-chan is always cute and cool too. Gyuu!

Syo: Argh! I got it, but-! You’re squeezing too hard!!

Nagi: Jeez, what are you two doing? It can’t be helped. Nagi will teach you how to hug more cutely. Come here for a second, Natsuki.

Natsuki: Okay. Is it okay if I just wait here like this?

Nagi: Yes. Lean down a bit more. Like that. Here we go. Gyuu~ Then let’s both look at Syo and wink! How was that?

Natsuki: It makes it look like we get along well, which is very good.

Syo: Wow, that was damn clean.

Yamato: Hey, Natsuki. If you have any energy left over, be my opponent.

Natsuki: Really? That sounds fun too.

Ai: That kind of thing should be done after practice, not now. Incidentally, I'm pretty confident in my own skills though.

Syo: I mean, I'm not losing either. I'm not talking about height or arm wrestling! What's needed for a live performance is spirit! I'm going to put my heart and soul into singing and dancing for my fans.

Yamato: Yeah, exactly. I can’t waste time. I need more stamina to put on the best live performance I can. Should I increase my training? First, 500 push-ups!

Syo: No, that's ridiculous. We finished practicing the basics and now it's time for the dance lesson.

Yamato: Don't be so rigid about something being a little out of order. Let's do it together! 1, 2, 3…

Syo: I haven't said I'm going to do it yet! Ah, damn it!

Yamato: 4, 5, 6…

Syo: 7, 8, 9, 10

Ai: Okay. I'll leave the push-ups to you two. Shall the rest of us go over the moves again?

Natsuki: Yes! That’s right, Nagi-kun. How about we try to incorporate a moment of interaction with the fans like we did just now in the song?

Nagi: That might be good. Let’s see…

Syo: (out of breath) Hey, don't just leave me like this, do something about it!!

Ai: (sigh) It can’t be helped… Yamato! Let's stop that for now. Since we're all here, let's all review the choreography together so that we're all in sync.

Yamato: Now that you mention it, you’re right. Got it.

Syo: Thank god! I'm so glad Ai’s here.

Natsuki: Ai-chan is our center not only in that part of the choreography but also figuratively.

Nagi: I guess I can kinda see it.

Yamato: Natsuki, that was a good line!

Syo: I feel like having Ai in the group gives it a nice balance. Let the five of us create a new harmony.

Ai: I think I understand what everyone is trying to say. Well, thank you. Now then, I think we should get back to the lesson. After this, Syo and Yamato will do push-ups. Let's start again from the beginning.

Yamato: Sounds good. It’s the perfect schedule.

Syo: Let’s do that. I’ll do my best!

Natsuki: Then I'd like to join in on the push-ups too.

[fushiguroshotwife]

HAUNTED HOUSE

TW: unprotected sex, deep throats, blowjobs, gagging, a little age gap between reader and Toji, RAPE-PLAY kink!.. Ve's note !: This needs more warnings but idk 😭— Honestly I don't like how I made the theme of this i kinda think it doesn't look good but I finally made smut so idc hehe, Again, even if you're not a minor; if you're not comfortable with Rape-Play DNI. But both partners have given consent!.. What happens?: Toji gives in to acting for your kink after you begged him for your little fantasy of Rape-Play in a haunted house 🏚️ ... [Luv] WC : 1,002 words! This is for @fuyuswifey 's 31daysofhalloween collab 🏚️

MDNI 18+ CONTENT HAPPY EARLY SPOOKY SEASON 🎃

It was late at nighttime when you and your female friends visited a haunted house, and the only reason you went there was simply because you had gotten extremely bored.

While your so-called buddies went to the locations where the workers, also known as the folks costumed to perform jump scares, were, you headed to the darker, more deserted areas of the old house.

The moments were slipping away like wind because you were overwhelmed with boredom.You decided to pay a visit the nearby cornfield maze because it was just a short trip away.

As you approach the maze's entrance to see how things are going, you notice that no one is present. Instead, everyone has entered the haunted home to see if they would experience any fright.

You didn't mind it all that much because there was no one to annoy you in the maze—there were no crying infants or crying little children, nothing at all.. just nothing..

As if you were in a scary movie, the night grew progressively darker until it seemed as though you could not see anything else. However, you could see things, but darker than usual.

Then a dark tall man wearing a black mask and black lose shirt and cargo pants with quite the strong figure walked up to you intimidatingly, you panicked and thought nothing of it and hoped it's just another man going to the maze, but oh.. how you're mistaken..

Next, the man crept up a little bit. He grabbed you by the neck, held you motionless, and slammed you onto the hard, cold ground.Panic increased as you panted from the unexpected movement.

When you felt his hot breath on your neck, you froze and shivered. You said, "Sir, p..please don't hurt.. me," in a low toned voice.

"Are you trying to command me, little girl?" he snorts. He cluckles like a psychopath, and you plead, "no.. b..but.."

Before you could complete, the masked man sits on the ground at your height because you are unable to stand up at all.

His eyes widened as he ripped off your crop top, revealing nothing but your bare breasts within. As you pant in anxiety, he nibbled on your nipples.

As he spoke while groping you, you pant helplessly."What's up, kid? Not being able to speak? going to cry now? "Poor thing," he spat and laughed maniacally.

You only manage to contain your tears as you wriggle in his arms and feel his hands touching your exposed breasts.

You start to sweat profusely from the tension, and you let out a quiet, low moan. His eyes widened again, and he pulled off his undergarments and trousers, saying, "Take it all, kiddo." He cluckles like a lunatic and thrusts his large hairy, veiny dick into your mouth. As you spit it out, he moves it back and further in. "Take it all, or I'll make you suffer pain if you don't." He spat laughing .. Over and over, it makes you gag.

You repeatedly sucked his dick clean up until.. "Take everything in your mouth, and perhaps I'll reward you for being such a good little girl." He laughed like though a psychopath in the blood, When you followed his instructions, he came right into your mouth and commanded in a stern voice, "Take it all down there, kid."

Not that you had a choice, you obeyed.

He entered your mouth, tore off your miniskirt, and dove right into your sex as you gasped with such pleasure. You thought, 'I'm not supposed to like this. Am I?,' as he inserted his finger directly into the small opening that was deep within your sex.

You groan loudly as he fucks you vigorously and hits all the right points because, after all, you need him. You pant and squirm as he does it. "Feelin' good, kid?" he chuckled with his deep raspy voice.

You groan deeply in a more intense, softer voice like a pornstar; it was too much for you to bear. "It appears that someone may be enjoying this a little too much, are we? " He responded in a hoarse, deep, low voice..

"Fu- fuck! Toji m' cumin' mm!" You barely had said, he was a tad bit surprised.. "are you not on control?.." he asked as he rose up to look at you on the ground..

"y..yeah.. m 'sorry .. " you replied a soft toned voice.. "alright then.. did I scare you, princess?" He cluckles the same as before, "maybeee!.." you replied.. "alright.. I did your little fantasy ya' weirdo.. " he laughed.

"I am not weird! " you protest. "Oh I'm sorry— should I call you a fuckin' down bad little pussy for me? " he replied with a sarcastic grin..

"because to have such a fantasy like yours is unusual, ain't it, my dirty lil slut?.." he says.. you pout in return, "don't pouts brat, I did what ya' asked." He says with a smirk, "or do you just want a round 2 already, what a needy brat, aren't ya darlin'? "

"what.. mm.. n..no.. " you replied stuttering like a dork.

"then get up and lets go back home, kiddo." He said in a raspy voice

"okay.. fine.." you pout, as you tried to get up.. you couldn't..

"awwh did I fuck you so hard you can't stand on two legs anymore?.. how cute.." he smirked, you say, "just shut up and get me off the floor!.." he helped you off the floor and carried you away like a groom to his bride..

You lay next to him on his bed at home and cling on to him as you think of the whole thing that just happened..

You completely forget you left your friends right inside of that damned haunted house thing that you all went, but none of that matters, all that matters, is Toji.. toji fushiguro is the only thing you care about, you didn't give a shit about them anyway.. let them be there.. they will find a way out sooner or later, right?..

FUSHIGUROSHOTWIFE2023/2024™ all rights reserved, do not translate, copy, use my layouts or ideas, do not repost my work even on different sites, do not steal any of my work. Do not claim any of my work as yours, like shit ain't nice.

[ultram0th]

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 21: Centaur

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21

“Fuck!” Derek roared as he stormed into the yard, hands clenched into tight fists. 

The werewolf was irritated over having nearly lost control of his inner wolf, and nearly wolfing out in public. Derek and Stiles had been out on a simple dinner date, when stupid Jackson had to show up and be his usual douchey self. Normally, Derek was able to keep his lupine instincts in check; however, the second that stupid Jackson had placed his hand on a clearly annoyed Stiles’s shoulder, Derek had seen red. He’d shot out of his seat and had unleashed a fearsome snarl, even baring his massive werewolf fangs in the jerk’s direction.

It had managed to get Jackson to cut his crap, but the action had also accidentally caught the attention of other patrons in the restaurant, who’d only stared awkwardly/fearfully in Derek’s direction. The ceaseless staring had totally ruined the night, and Derek had dragged Stiles out of there early, much to his chagrin.

“Der!” Stiles called out after the stomping werewolf. “It’s fine, really!”

Derek was still seething. Sure he was irritated with Jackson, yet he was more so angry with himself and how his lack of self-control had ruined his date with Stiles. Thinking about it more only served to bring out an onslaught of more anger-inducing memories about how being a werewolf was a pain in Derek’s ass.

His jaw clenched, Derek just huffed in annoyance. “It’s not fine,” he pouted. “And this whole werewolf bullshit is something that’s just going to keep causing us trouble.”

Stiles frowned and placed a tender hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Sometimes,” Derek huffed, “I wish I wasn’t a werewolf.”

On cue, a streak of light flickered through the night sky as a shooting star bolted across.

Immediately, Derek flinched as he felt a warm travel throughout his body. The first thing he noticed was that his pants were starting to grow uncomfortably tight. 

“What the hell…?” Derek wondered aloud as he looked down at himself. HIs eyes went wide as saucers when he saw his altered bulge in the front of his pants. 

His normally proportional six inches had somehow elongated, creating what looked like Derek was stuffing a ripe grapefruit in his boxers. It was obscenely large, and between his thick thighs, Derek felt balls that had to be the size of lemons. Worse was that back of his pants felt as if they’s burst at any moment.

Looking over his broad shoulder, Derek gasped at the caricature of a butt that was attached to him. His perky cheeks had somehow managed to balloon out to a crazy size, pushing further out with each second.

In his panic, Derek ripped off his pants, his breath getting caught in his throat at what he saw.

Never being one lost for words, Stiles gasped out, “Holy crap, Der! You’ve got a horse cock!”

Derek’s cock had grown to at least fifteen inches, and it was nearly as thick of his beefy wrist. His balls had swollen up to resemble baseballs. The werewolf didn’t have time to focus on that as he felt his weight being yanked back due to the increasing size of his booty.

His legs stretched out longer, causing Derek to sprout up at least two more feet in height. All he could do was stare in disbelief at his changing body, his heart beat loudly in his muscled chest as he wondered what was happening to him. His throat went dry as he witnessed his toes fusing together, his nails hardening to form hooves. 

His butt grew so big that Derek stumble back and almost fell, but he was caught by something.

Stiles’s wordless gasp mirrored his own as he looked back and saw that he’d grown an extra set of legs to offset his elongated backside. Derek blushed at how he must’ve looked, having his regular-looking torso sitting atop a lower half that was stretched out with four legs needed to keep it upright.

Derek’s altered lower half began to itch as thick, black fur sprouted all over it, covering every inch. It was glossy and looked shiny underneath the moonlight. As a final touch, Derek winced when he felt his distended backside tingle as he sprouted a long tail that swished back and forth.

The warmth finally dissipated, and Derek also felt an odd calm inside of his head, like his inner wolf was finally silenced.

“What the fuck just happened?!” Derek panicked, taking an awkward step forward in his new body, his hooves clacking loudly on the ground as he struggled to get used to walking. As he moved, his huge cock dangled around freely, making his face crimson.

Stiles’s mouth was agape as he looked over his changed boyfriend. Derek’s long legs were thick with muscle, which flexed with animalistic power with every heavy step he took. “Der,” he gasped, “you’re a centaur!”

“A what?” Derek groaned, pinching his nose in irritation. “When I said that I didn’t want to be a werewolf anymore, that didn’t mean that I’d rather be a centaur instead! How the fuck am I supposed to hide this thing!?” He gestured at his horse ass and cock, which were humongous and definitely would prove to be difficult to keep from prying eyes.

Derek stopped and sniffed at the air, still maintaining a keen sense of smell. And a curious aroma was wafting off of Stiles in waves.

“R-really?” Derek asked incredulously.

Stiles bit down on his lower lip and shrugged. “I played a lot of fantasy RPGs, and always liked the centaur characters… like, a lot.”

Derek felt his shock slowly fade, and he couldn’t help but grin coyly at his boyfriend.”C’mere, I’ll give you a ride,” he chuckled.

Stiles eagerly took his hand and hopped up onto Derek’s new back, wrapping his arms around Derek’s human torso. 

Derek marveled at how weightless Stiles felt as he carried him, and he began to trot towards the house… his swaying horse cock getting harder and harder. He just hoped that Stiles knew some special stretching techniques.

[millalya]

Ok I’m back once again with a questionable Furby accessory crochet pattern. This time it’s the carrier.

It took way longer than I expected because I got bored doing the repetitive strap and became addicted to some roguelike dungeon crawler.

The project started from replicating this:

But I soon realized that I’m a very tight crocheter and if I simply follow this pattern the final product will be too small. Also, I don’t really like the weird protrusion as shown in the original creator’s final product…

So a tweaked version below the cut… A quick disclaimer I’m not sure how well will this replicate, I’m someone who tries to create a blanket out of granny squares and end up with 9 that each has a different measure.

I guess just don’t be afraid to redo rows or modify things, and politely ask your beloved Furb to try it on every now and then.

Tools of the trade:

A 7.0 mm hook (There are places where I personally used a 4.0 mm hook, which will be specified. In a hindsight, it’s probably better to use the 7mm hook throughout this project)

Good old 3mm yarn that’s 35g/59m (1.23oz/64.52yd) (Yeah blame me for relying on Daiso as my sole source of crochet gears, I dare you) Roughly as dense as worsted/4 yarn

Jargon:

ch - chain stitch dc - double crochet hdc - half double crochet ss - slip stitch

What I did (with a lot of unnecessary ranting):

R1: Start with slip knot, ch 2, dc 6 in second stitch from hook (used 4mm hook, because I kinda suck at starting a circle)

And from here on I switched to the 7mm hook as

Otherwise I have trouble keeping the circle flat

A bigger hook makes each stitch and the final product larger

R2: dc 2 in each of the previous stitches (12 stitches)

R3: [dc 1 in the first stitch, dc 2 in the second stitch]*6 (18 stitches)

R4: [dc 1 in the first stitch and second stitch each, dc 2 in the third stitch]*6 (24 stitches)

R5: [dc 3, 2 dc’s in the fourth stitch]*6 (30 stitches)

R6: [dc 4, 2 dc’s in the fifth stitch]*6 (36 stitches)

Experienced reader will realize that it’s just inc 6 for each round, until you have 36 stitches in one round.

One thing to notice is that after you finish R5, the circle should be roughly same size as your furb’s bottom.

R7: dc 3, ch 3, dc into 4th stitch from hook, dc 2, ch 3, dc into 4th stitch from hook, dc 12, ch 6, dc into 7th stitch from hook, dc 5 (used 4mm hook, 36 stitches)

This gives you the two peet holes and one tail hole. Yes a quick calculation should show that this is not symmetric but somehow it fits, so remember to use your own Furb as measure and adjust if necessary.

From here on I switched to hdc to control for the height increase and *ahem* save yarn.

I tried to continue with 4mm hook but the opening contracts significantly, so just stick to the 7mm hook throughout.

This is also where the pattern starts. If you want a single colored one, just replace all the following rows with hdc 36:

R8: [hdc 5 using the color you started the project with (color A hereafter), hdc 1 using a different color (color B hereafter)]*6 (36 stitches)

R9: [hdc 4 using color A, hdc 2 using color B]*6 (36 stitches)

R10: [hdc 3 using color A, hdc 3 using color B]*6 (36 stitches)

R11: [hdc 2 using color A, hdc 4 using color B]*6 (36 stitches)

R12: [hdc 1 using color A, hdc 5 using color B]*6 (36 stitches)

For alternating between two colors I yarn over with color A, and pull through color B. For other stitches I brings along the inactive color by tucking it in between the three loops and the active yarn when you are supposed to pull through (see below for two poor quality photo as reference):

R13: Edging for the body. hdc 5, ss 11, hdc 5, ss 15 and then sc 1 in the same stitch as last ss using color B (37 stitches)

The two hdc 5 clusters will serve as base for the strap.

Then you just baby blanket it, I dc'ed all the way until the end of the first cluster and ch 2 for turning, repeat until desired length. Also did two dc's in the first and last stitch of the 5 hdc base to add extra width to the strap (So each row has 7 dc).

I also reverted back to 4mm hook (finally) for a neater look.

For this part simply do however many rows as you will find fitting. I did 90 rows of 7 dc.

When the strap is finished, connect it together with a technique similar to this on the inside. I used slip stitch instead of single crochet to give the seam a more even look.

Honorable mentions: This and that for reference on specific technical details and pattern writing, and Lime helping me with the fit.

[yamaylander]

hey, it's me again! after a whole 2 days, i've finished redoing Nightmare. to be honest i didnt expect myself to work that fast but i guess i was THAT devoted to redoing her entire character. it's a really long file so it's obviously gonna be put under read more. there'll be a preview up until her profile below

special thanks to @cherry-blossomtea and another friend for helping me research DID as well as talking about their experiences with DID themselves. and obviously thanks @adorablegorilla for inspiring me to do this (although i did take a lot of liberties remaking Nightmare's character. found the evil alter thing distasteful)

of course, feedback is always appreciated so i know what parts work best and what areas i need to improve upon, especially in regards to DID as this is my first time engaging it. so do send if you have any!

without further ado, i present to you what i'm calling: Y5 Nightmare!

-----

Nightmare, Medic Operators of Rhodes Island, will provide help no matter who’s currently in the moment.

Who is it I’m talking to today?

Codename: Nightmare

Class: Incantation Medic

Real Name: Nyx Rebel Pasbelletti, Gloria

Gender: Female [Both]

Experience: 6 months [Nyx], 1 month [Gloria]

Place of birth: Victoria

Date of birth: June 1st [Nyx], March 12th [Gloria]

Race: Feline

Height: 156 cm

Infection status: Visible internal blotches, infection confirmed

(file continued below)

Token: A glow-in-the-dark doll, handmade. Nyx said it’ll protect you from bad dreams.

Physical examination

Strength: Normal

Mobility: Standard

Endurance: Normal

Tactical acumen: Good [Nyx], Normal [Gloria]

Combat Skill: Good [Nyx], Standard [Gloria]

Arts adaptation: Excellent

Skills (Rank 7)

Soul Reflection - ATK increases by 70% and attacks two enemies at once, healing two allies in range; each attack binds enemies for 3 seconds

Phantasmagoria - Range expands and stops attacking; decreases movement speed of enemies by 60% and drains 20% of their health every second with Arts damage, while healing operators depending on how many enemies are currently in range

Talent

Fronting - Healing effectiveness increased by 20% when equipped with skill 1; Obtains 18% ATK when equipped with skill 2

*Gloria has asked to keep this event classified until both her and Nyx come to a consensus to speak about it.

Profile

Nyx is a Victorian operating under the codename Nightmare with her headmate, Gloria. Prior to their entry into Rhodes Island, Nyx was a college student who studied medical Arts. Gloria came later during her life due to an unspecified event* before her subsequent infection. They now currently work in Rhodes Island’s triage section, working to help patients as well as Operators in the battlefield.

Clinical Testing

Imaging tests for this Operator showed a blurry outline of internal organs with visible unusual dark spots. Unusually high concentrations of Originium particles were present in her circulation, indicating signs of infection and confirming her as infected at this stage.

[Cell-Originium Assimilation] 16%

Surveillance is recommended for rare cases like this.

[Blood Originium-Crystal Density] 0.33u/L

Infection is in mid-stage and continues to spread. First-level medical plan recommended. Pathological Monitoring Protocol Label: Red (signed by Dr. Kal’tsit, see medical file for more detail).

Gloria is known to be gentle, almost to a fault. She doesn’t strike anyone as the type who would go out in the battlefield, instead giving the impression that she would rather stay and help others in the infirmary. This view is only half the truth. While Gloria does indeed want to help others, she wishes to do so in a manner that both soothes and protects her fellow operators onboard. In the ship, she is often the one who consoles others during their time of need. This is especially true for those who are currently experiencing traumatic stress. Surprisingly Gloria seems to have a good handle on how to deal with such matters, to the point that she could very well apply to be a therapist. It’s even more surprising that Gloria chose to become a battlefield operator, though this is because by her and Nyx’s volition, they want to help people wherever they can.

Archive File 1

Operator Nightmare suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder. In rudimentary terms, DID is when a person suffers from having two or more personalities, also known as alters, in their consciousness. Currently, Nightmare has two headmates that are present, that being Nyx and Gloria, the latter of which tends to be fronting much of the time.

On the subject of Nyx, who is the oldest alter before Gloria came to be, she appears to be far more reserved compared to the more sociable Gloria. She usually remains dormant for long periods of time, often letting Gloria front whenever possible. On the chance that Nyx is fronting however, she shows herself to be far quieter than Gloria is. When talking to others, she speaks in a hushed voice and is quick with her words. She also tends to be more upfront and honest, which has led to others conflicting with Nyx from time to time. From Gloria’s words however, this isn’t because Nyx chooses to be mean, this is only because Nyx isn’t sure how she can talk to others. 

Currently, Gloria is undergoing talks with Nyx in order to help her open up, but she also stresses that Nyx must be given time before she can properly do so. On that note, Operators should be mindful of who they are speaking to at the moment and that proper respect should be given to Nyx’s situation.

Nyx has attended many classes regarding medicine and psychology, to the point that she often spent time reading up on the subject matters during her free time which has resulted in her stifled sociality. This may have also given way to her blunt nature, as Gloria admitted that Nyx often got into trouble by her own volition simply because she was honest in a manner that hurt others. Nyx doesn’t seem to understand why this is but seeing as this was the consequence of her honesty, she wishes to learn how she can avoid hurting others in the future.

Archive File 2

Both Nyx and Gloria have an interest in medicine, psychology and Originium, a somewhat broader range of interest compared to others. Although Nyx was born in a Victorian city that focused on artistry, with her father working in the pottery business, Nyx opted to follow her mother’s footsteps, who worked at the local hospital.

Her interest in Originium came about after Gloria had manifested. Both have been seen attending classes and reading up on Originium and its effects in Rhodes Island. As Gloria stated, “We want to know about Originium simply because we don’t want others to suffer because of it, as well as helping others become safer around it”. To say that Nyx and Gloria are determined to work hard and help others is an understatement.

On the subject of medicine and psychology, it seems the interests somewhat split with Nyx leaning more into studying psychology and Gloria studying medicine more often. Nyx appears to be up to speed on most mental disorders and knows how to deal with them in their proper manner while Gloria’s knowledge on medicine allows her to work in Rhodes Island’s infirmaries without trouble, assisting the doctors if she is available. Their efforts in both departments are commendable and their knowledge will prove fruitful to Rhodes Island’s advances in care.

When Gloria is fronting, the Arts unit becomes more effective at healing operators on the field, targeting multiple people at once. The healing Arts is immensely effective, allowing operators to stand longer and keep fighting. It also has the effect of making our operators feel more alert and thus more vigilant during their battles, increasing their performance in combat.

Archive File 3

For someone so young, Nyx shows a surprising aptitude for battle. Although Gloria has only had one month of combat experience and has focused mostly on first aid, Nyx seems to have the battlefield almost under her control. This is attributed to her Arts unit, which was discovered to have two functions based on whoever is currently fronting at the moment.

On the other hand, when Nyx is fronting the Arts unit becomes focused on keeping enemies back. When used on enemies, it puts them into a dreamlike state where their consciousness appears to dissociate from the current reality. This often causes them to give up fighting in bizarre ways, the most common of which involves them dropping their weapons and staring up at the sky, with some of them slowly wandering the area aimlessly. Why this happens is currently unknown, as Nyx refuses to divulge for the time being. Many operators who have been in field missions with Nyx have said it to be unnerving, unsure what to think when they see the people they were fighting with “suddenly fall asleep while awake”.

One notable incident happened during one of Nightmare’s field missions with Nyx fronting. While fighting a particularly dangerous enemy, she wound up forcing them into a REM state. This resulted in the enemy panicking as though experiencing vivid nightmares, constantly screaming for nonexistent entities to stop while begging for their life to be spared. It was only when they were knocked out that they ceased their panic. After this, Nyx was told not to do this again although it doesn’t seem like she was particularly affected by this event.

While walking back home from college to visit her parents, she decided to take a quick shortcut through one of Londinium’s districts to head there faster. However, she wound up getting caught in the middle of the Kazdel-Victoria crisis where the district she was in ended up getting caught in the middle of the artillery barrages. With nowhere else to go, Nyx was forced to run aimlessly through Londinium in an attempt to get away from the situation. Although mostly successful, the event left her deeply traumatized. In the state the district was in, she had to fend for herself no matter what.

Archive File 4

After a long time, Nyx and Gloria eventually agreed to share how they came to be. Upon their request, this file should also be kept secret from the general staff of Rhodes Island.

The next few days were described to be a living nightmare. She ran afoul with some of the district’s residents whose rationales were gradually deteriorating. Nyx wasn’t an exception as she also began to steal from others whenever she could just so she could make it to another day, even going as far as to attack others who attempted to steal from her. This all eventually culminated into her breakdown when one night, while hiding away in a shelter, someone had broken into it and attempted to steal her supplies. When Nyx tried to fight back, the attacker was far more aggressive than she thought and nearly killed her. Out of desperation, Nyx casted her Arts onto her attacker. Rather than putting them to sleep however, the blast was powerful enough to not only put her attacker to near death but also caused him to experience live nightmares. The end result was that the attacker was left screaming for help for the next few seconds before finally perishing.

Horrified by her actions, her stress finally broke her down. She underwent a severe mental and emotional breakdown before her mind eventually “quarantined” the stressor. For the next few minutes, Nyx had no success of calming down until she suddenly heard Gloria’s voice, who immediately began to reassure her and that everything will eventually be alright. After that, Gloria was able to help Nyx through the crisis however she could, right up until they joined Rhodes Island when they entered one of our buildings in Victoria.

The event has changed Nyx forever and it is certainly not something she’ll easily forget, but she is forever grateful that Gloria was born during her greatest time of need.

To this day, Nyx and Gloria have been continuously communicating to each other about their activities this way but after their therapy sessions, have also been figuring out alternative ways to break down their amnesiac barriers. This led to them creating a headspace of their own, which Gloria described to be a small bedroom in the middle of the night, with a nightlight on at all times. According to Gloria, this is what they find most comforting.

Promotional Record

Prior to them joining Rhodes Island, whenever Nyx and Gloria switched they often forgot about their alter’s activities during their time fronting. Gloria was the first to notice this problem when she spoke to Nyx during their time in Victoria, after hearing the latter ask what Gloria did. With this problem in mind, Gloria had the idea of using a journal she found to document both her and Nyx’s activities so that until they find proper shelter, their alter can remember what the other did so that they are aware of what happened.

Appointed as Assistant - Oh, it’s really bright in here… Doctor, do you mind if you turn down the lights a bit?

Dialogue

Normal text is Gloria speaking, italics is Nyx speaking.

Talk 1 - When we got into Rhodes Island, we weren’t sure what we were expecting… including the kindness that everyone was expressing! It’ll take a bit for Nyx to get used to, but I think she’ll also do just fine here!

Talk 2 - Our staff was given to us by Nyx’s dad. It has the power to sorta put people to sleep but to be honest, using the staff isn’t really a wise choice if we actually want to sleep…

Talk 3 - When I’m alone and Nyx is awake, we talk to each other. The same goes for Nyx too. Hm? Do people think it’s weird? I don’t think Nyx would care, as long as she has someone to talk to… and, well, she’s right for it.

Talk after Promotion 1 - There wasn’t a moment where I could get a good night’s rest back in Victoria… but when Gloria came along, I was finally able to rest. But… I do feel bad for making her go through those horrors. She’s a really brave person.

Talk after Promotion 2 - Oh, what’s that? Our Oripathy is worsening? Yes, that’s been a really big concern of ours… but we’re sure that Rhodes Island can do something. Right Nyx? … mhm.

Trust Talk 1 - Erm, let me apologize on Nyx’s behalf! She really didn’t mean to start that fight in the hallway, I promise! It’s just been a while since she properly talked to someone so her social skills are a bit rusty… but I promise, I’ll help her learn how to socialize better. Just please be patient with her?

Trust Talk 2 - If I’m allowed to be a little morbid here… you’re essentially the leader of Rhodes Island, right? If you die out there, I’d imagine that your operators… your friends, they wouldn’t take it well. Well, that’s why we’re here! We’ll protect you, and everyone, from the threats outside. That much we can promise.

Trust Talk 3 - You get tired from time to time, right? With that pile of work, surely you do lose a lot of sleep doing it… well, what if I have a solution to that? I can always just make you sleep for a day or two. All you have to do is say the word… and I’ll come right along with what you need… haha, just kidding. Too scary?

Idle - … sweet dreams.

Onboard - Ah, hello! I’m Gloria, but you’ve already seen our resume right? My headmate’s name is Nyx! Oh, but give her some time, she’s not used to talking to people yet… codename? Hmmm… well, I think Nyx would want something intimidating like Nightmare but… w-wait, you’re already registering it?! H-Hold on!

Watching Battle Record - So this is how you get stronger…? Intriguing…

Promotion 1 - When we came here, we thought we’d simply be patients getting treatment… but we’d never imagined that we’d be so much more…!

Promotion 2 - It feels like I’m not qualified for this promotion at all… but since Gloria insists, I’ll take it too. I’m just lucky to be alive at this point. So, whatever you need us to do, we’ll do it.

Appointed to Squad (S1) - Mhm, got it.

Appointed to Squad (S2) - I’ll do my best.

Appointed as Squad Leader (S1) - W-Wait, can I really do this alone?

Appointed as Squad Leader (S2) - You won’t be alone.

Depart (S1) - We’ll get a good night’s sleep after this, right…?

Depart (S2) - Curious… what kind of things will you pull off?

Begin Operation (S1) - I see them… over the horizon…

Begin Operation (S2) - So, these are the enemies we’re facing…

Selecting 1 (S1) - Are our supplies safe?

Selecting 1 (S2) - I’ll keep them safe.

Selecting 2 (S1) - I’m ready to fight!

Selecting 2 (S2) - Be sure you won’t regret this.

Deployment 1 (S1) - So this… is our battlefield…

Deployment 1 (S2) - I see no difference in battlefield.

Deployment 2 (S1) - I’ve only fought a few times, please bear with me…

Deployment 2 (S2) - It’s been a while since I’ve been somewhere like this.

In Battle 1 (S1) - Don’t get too rash now!

In Battle 1 (S2) - I’m only getting serious.

In Battle 2 (S1) - Keep yourselves calm!

In Battle 2 (S2) - Relax. You'll only be sleeping for a few seconds.

In Battle 3 (S1) - Have a nice rest!

In Battle 3 (S2) - Sweet dreams.

In Battle 4 (S1) - We’re still advancing? O-Okay!

In Battle 4 (S2) - Don’t waste our time.

4-Star (S1) - D-Doctor… did we just… do something incredible?

4-Star (S2) - So this is what total victory feels like…

3-Star (S1) - And that’s that! Good work everyone!

3-Star (S2) - It ends here. Well done.

2-Star (S1) - Ahhh, is anyone hurt?! I’ll be right there!

2-Star (S2) - We’ve won… but it’s costly. I’ll go clean up the mess.

Assigned to Facility - Where should we sit…

Failure (S1) - Are you hurt?! W-We need to run, now!

Failure (S2) - This… can’t be happening…

Tap - Ah-! Oi.

Trust Tap - Oh, hello! Hi.

Greeting - Good morning, Doctor! Are you well rested?

Title - Akunaitsu.