#Silhouetted Person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vibelladonna · 3 months ago

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❛ 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒 𝓍 𝑔𝓃!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: After an unexpected rescue mission in the rain, you and Crowe find yourselves back in your cozy apartment with a rescued kitten snuggled up and safe. The night takes a gentle turn toward intimacy as the shared warmth of your bond grows deeper. Amidst horror movies and stolen glances, quiet affection blossoms into something undeniable.

Will Crowe finally let his walls crumble and allow you closer, or will he keep you at arm’s length?

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's (@fantasia-kitt) intentions. Spoilers From Day 1 and Day 2 The Kid At The Back. (More like Inspo lines)

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: Gender Neutral! Reader, Cuddling, Pillow talk, Fluff then Smut, Making out, Heavy Touching, Neck kisses, dry-humping, moaning, praise (receiving, and giving), Some hair pulling, and oral sex (giving).

The rain fell in relentless sheets, hammering against the pavement and turning the city into a glittering mosaic of slick streets and refracted light. You and Crowe barely made it back to your apartment, soaked to the bone, arms laden with grocery bags. Crowe cradled something against his chest—a tiny, drenched kitten trembling within the warmth of his vest.

“Here,” he said, his deep voice resonating with a softness that caught you off guard. There was a tender urgency in his tone as he carefully shifted the kitten into your hands. “This little one needs warmth.”

You nodded without hesitation, setting the groceries down with a thud and immediately rifling through your closet. Old t-shirts, a scarf you hadn’t worn in years—it all piled into a makeshift nest inside an empty shoebox. As you worked, Crowe watched in quiet approval, his tall frame silhouetted in the warm light of your apartment.

The kitten let out a faint meow, curling into the soft fabric as though it had found sanctuary. Crowe crouched beside the box, his dark brown hair still damp and half-undone from the rain. Strands clung stubbornly to his sharp jawline, which he brushed aside with a graceful flick of his fingers.

“You’re soaked,” you said, gesturing toward his clinging black button-up, which outlined his broad shoulders and hinted at the strong, lean frame beneath. “Go shower before you catch a cold.” He hesitated, his deep blue eyes flicking to yours, searching for something unspoken. Then, with a small nod, he rose and disappeared toward the bathroom.

When it was finally your turn, the hot water felt like heaven on your chilled skin. Steam wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, but it did little to chase away the vivid image of Crowe—his quiet care for the kitten, the rain tracing the contours of his face, the almost regal grace in his movements. He was magnetic, the kind of person you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you tried.

When you emerged, bundled in an oversized hoodie and fleece shorts, Crowe was already seated on your couch. He’d traded his drenched clothes for a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants you’d lent him. The casual attire softened his presence in a way that caught you off guard. His long hair, now untied and damp, framed his face with unintentional elegance, every strand catching the glow of the lamp behind him.

The plan was to watch a movie—something simple, a classic slasher with predictable jump scares. But your attention refused to cooperate. As the ominous soundtrack droned on, your eyes kept drifting to him. His profile was serene, his gaze distant yet intensely thoughtful. He shifted slightly, and you became acutely aware of the small space between you.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was low, and intimate, as if the question wasn’t meant to be shared with the world. “If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

You blinked, startled by the question and the way his attention focused solely on you. “Another one of your trivia questions, Crowe?” you teased, trying to mask the nervous flutter in your chest. Stretching your arms casually, you laughed lightly, but he didn’t respond in kind.

Instead, he leaned closer, the air between you charged with something unspoken. His breath brushed your cheek, sending an involuntary shiver through you.

“Wh-why don’t you answer first?” you stammered, the words barely audible.

He chuckled a low, warm sound that made your skin prickle. Then, to your surprise, he rested his head on your shoulder, the weight of him both grounding and electrifying. Before you could muster a response, he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Your breath hitched, and you prayed he couldn’t hear the erratic drumming of your heart.

“Dodging the question, huh?” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement but carrying an undercurrent of something more profound.

“Well…” He paused as if searching for the right words. “If I could have anything in this world… I’d want more time. More time to be with you. More time to spend like this.” His voice softened, tinged with a vulnerability that caught you off guard.

“Kind of selfish, huh?” His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, and your chest tightened at the sight. His gaze was downcast, his usual confidence replaced by something raw and unguarded. Though he smiled faintly, it didn’t reach his eyes.

At that moment, you didn’t know whether he was speaking to you or himself, but the desperation in his expression was unmistakable. And it left you breathless.

“You’re staring,” Crowe murmured, his lips curving into a faint, teasing smirk. Your cheeks burned, the heat spreading up your neck as you realized how obvious you’d been. “Your hair’s long,” You blurted out, instantly regretting the flat, unpolished observation. Your hands fidgeted in your lap, betraying the nervousness.

Crowe raised a brow, his fingers lazily trailing up to brush through the loose strands grazing his collarbone. The motion was unhurried, almost calculated. “Is that a bad thing?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity but mostly playful provocation.

“No! No, it’s…” You stumbled over your words, your voice dropping to a softer register as your gaze lingered on his hair, the rich brown strands catching the light. “It’s nice,” They finally said, the admission almost shy.

Crowe chuckled, a low, velvety sound that sent a flutter through your chest. “Just nice, huh?” he said, his amusement laced with challenge. His gaze swept over your face, reading your every reaction as if it were a game he’d already mastered. “Not beautiful? Stunning? Majestic like a warrior’s mane after a victorious battle?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play off the embarrassment. “I wouldn’t go that far…” You mumbled, your voice barely audible as they looked away.

He laughed again, the sound brighter this time, the sight of his smile drawing your attention back to him. You were captivated, the world narrowing to just Crowe at that moment. His movements were subtle but deliberate as he leaned closer, the distance between them shrinking.

His voice dipped to a low murmur that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “But what if I said I want you to go that far?”

As he spoke, his hand moved, fingers brushing just barely against the edge of yours where they rested in your lap. The contact was featherlight, yet it sparked like static electricity, sending a straight jolt. You froze, your breath hitching, the heat in your cheeks now rivaling the pounding in your chest. Crowe’s eyes, gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, locked onto yours.

“Can I…?” Your voice wavered, your hand hovering uncertainly in the air between them.

Crowe tilted his head slightly, his intrigue evident in the slow curl of his lips. “What is it you want to do, hm?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His steady gaze never left yours, his stillness almost daring you to close the distance.

You hesitated, your hand trembling as it lingered in the space between them. Your heart raced, your breathing shallow as they searched his face for any sign of hesitation. Instead, his expression softened, and with a slow, almost imperceptible nod, he gave his silent permission.

Your fingertips brushed against his hair, hesitant at first. The strands were softer than they’d imagined, slipping between your fingers like silk. You exhaled a shaky breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding. “I just… wanted to feel it,” they murmured, your voice a quiet admission.

Crowe’s eyes closed briefly as if savoring the light touch. A subtle shiver ran through him, but the smile tugging at his lips was unmistakable. When he opened his eyes again, they were locked onto yours, their intensity making your pulse quicken. "Satisfied?" he asked softly, though the teasing glint in his eyes suggested he already knew the answer.

"Is it as majestic as I described it?" Crowe’s voice carried a blend of playful mischief and genuine curiosity, his dark eyes twinkling as he watched you.

Your hand continued its gentle motion, fingers gliding through the soft strands of his hair, your touch almost reverent. The faint blush creeping across your cheeks betrayed you otherwise calm demeanor. You tried to focus on the rhythmic motion of your hand, but the sensation—his hair softer than you’d expected—was strangely grounding and intoxicating all at once.

Your breath hitched as you felt the weight of his gaze on you, an intensity that seemed to see more than you were ready to reveal. Still, his playful tone softened the tension, coaxing you to respond. "It’s... softer than I expected," You admitted, your voice barely louder than the whisper of the rain against the windows.

Crowe’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Smoother, you say?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned in, ever so slightly, his breath ghosting across your cheek.

"Just how soft did you expect it to be, hm?" Your heart stuttered; senses heightened, catching the faintest details—the warmth radiating from him, the subtle scent of his cologne—close to blueberries mixed with something uniquely Crowe.

Your fingers trembled as they brushed the strands of his hair framing his face, the silky texture tantalizing against your skin. Crowe’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring your touch. "Does it bother you to keep it this long?" You ventured, voice tentative, almost fragile in the intimacy of the moment.

He opened his eyes, meeting yours with a softness "No," he murmured. "But sometimes... it gets in the way while I’m running errands around the building.”

You felt the corners of your lips curve slightly, a tiny, conspiratorial smile. "You always be working and take care of everyone else… even me.” You mentioned, your voice quiet yet firm. "Let someone take care of you for once."

Your words seemed to catch him off guard. His gaze darkened—not with anger but with a vulnerability so raw it made his breath hitch. Slowly, his hand reached up, fingers roughened by life’s demands, brushing against your cheek with a tenderness they hadn’t expected.

"I’m not used to that," he admitted, the words heavy with unspoken meaning. His eyes searched yours, as though seeking assurance. "I don’t... usually let myself be taken care of."

The weight of his confession settled between them. You found yourself unable to look away. Your free hand came to rest on his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your fingers. You traced idle patterns there, feeling the heat of his skin just beneath the surface, grounding yourself in his presence.

"Why not?" You asked softly, your voice like a gentle breeze coaxing the truth from him.

Crowe’s gaze flickered down, watching the slow, deliberate movements of your fingers as though they held answers he didn’t yet have. He hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly in thought. "I’m... not sure," he confessed, his tone contemplative. "I guess I’ve always been the one to look after others. It’s just what I know."

His honesty hung between them like an unspoken promise, and for a moment, time seemed to pause. You let the silence stretch, your hand still tracing circles on his shoulder. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned in just enough for your forehead to graze his, your voice a whisper that barely bridged the gap.

"Then maybe it’s time you let someone teach you."

Crowe’s eyes flicked back to yours, locking onto your gaze. There was a flicker of surprise and uncertainty in his expression as if the very idea of someone wanting to take care of him, let alone you, was an entirely foreign concept. And yet, it carried a strange allure, something that stirred deep within him. He didn’t speak at first, his silence hanging between them like an unspoken question.

Finally, he gave a small, tentative nod.

“You… want to?” he asked, his voice tinged with both wonder and disbelief. His brow furrowed, his cheeks warming with an unmistakable blush. “You’d want to… take care of me?” His voice softened further, almost shy. “Like how? What… what are you gonna do?”

You tilted your head, lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. His earnestness, the vulnerability in his question, made your heartache most sweetly. You let the moment linger, the air thick with unspoken emotions, as if to let him absorb the gravity of his trust in you.

Your hand, which had been resting lightly on his shoulder, began to move in slow, deliberate strokes. Your fingertips brushed across the fabric of his shirt before traveling to the base of his neck, where they lingered, tracing slow, deliberate circles against his skin. The heat of your touch sent a shiver down his spine, his breath catching in his throat as his body instinctively leaned into the sensation.

“How about…” You murmured, your voice was soft and soothing, almost like a lullaby. “…you let me decide that?”

Crowe swallowed hard, his mind racing with a mixture of apprehension and intrigue. The thought of relinquishing control was daunting, almost terrifying. And yet, the softness in your voice, the gentleness of your touch, coaxed something in him to let go. He hesitated only for a moment before nodding again, this time with a hint of more certainty.

“All right,” he said quietly, his voice laced with surrender. “I… I’ll let you decide.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, at the quiet admission that he was willing to trust you in a way that seemed so out of character for him. Crowe, the ever-composed, always-in-control student council leader, allowing himself to be cared for—it was a rare, precious moment.

You adjusted your position slightly, your movements are fluid and intentional. Your hand on his neck urged him to lean back against the couch as you shifted closer. “Relax,” You whispered, encouraging yet firm. Your other hand came up to gently push him back, just enough for him to rest more comfortably.

His eyes darted to yours, seeking reassurance, before he finally allowed himself to recline. His shoulders sagged slightly as the tension began to flow away. You shifted beside him, your thigh brushing against his as they leaned in closer, your presence grounding him.

“Close your eyes,” You instructed.

He obeyed, his lashes fluttering shut. The world around him faded into darkness, leaving only the sensation of your touch and the faint rustle of fabric as you adjusted yourself once more. Your fingers continued their soothing motion at the nape of his neck, and he felt your legs shift as you moved deliberately.

Before he could fully register the change, your thigh slid over his lap, your weight settling as you straddled him. The closeness, the intimacy of your position, sent a rush of warmth flooding through him. He inhaled sharply, his hands instinctively moving to rest at your sides, though his touch remained hesitant, unsure.

You leaned in, breath warm against his cheek, lips hovering just near his ear. “Just let me take care of you,” You murmured, your voice low and soft, a seductive blend of promise and reassurance.

Crowe exhaled shakily, his body betraying his need to resist, yet failing. He could feel himself yielding, the last threads of hesitation unraveling in your presence.

Your lips brushed against his ear, a fleeting caress that sent shivers cascading down his spine. You shifted, pressing your body closer as you straddled him fully, their closeness intoxicating. He could feel your heat, your heartbeat steady against his, as you moved with deliberate intention. Your fingers trailed gently along his jawline, your touch light as air but carrying an electrifying weight.

"Let go," You whispered again.

Crowe’s hands, which had been gripping your sides in an instinctive bid for control, faltered. They trembled slightly before slipping away entirely, falling to rest in his lap as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensations they was awakening. “I…” he began, his voice thick and strained, but the words caught in his throat.

“Please?” You asked, tilting your head as your lips found the curve of his neck. You pressed the faintest kiss there, your warm breath fanning across his skin. Slowly, deliberately, you began your descent, lips tracing the line of his neck with tender persistence. You paused just long enough to let him feel every lingering kiss, every fleeting brush of your mouth, before moving lower.

The tension in his body craved and flowed with every touch. He tensed as your lips found the hollow at the base of his neck, then relaxed again as they pressed a kiss just above his collarbone. You smiled against his skin, sensing the shiver that coursed through him.

Your hands moved in tandem with your lips, sliding from his jaw to the nape of his neck, your fingers threading gently through his hair. “Just feel,” They murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as they continued your path, leaving a trail of soft, heated kisses along his chest.

Crowe’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your movements. Every kiss, every touch, seemed to peel away another layer of his guarded composure, leaving him bare and vulnerable before you. He closed his eyes tightly, surrendering completely to the unfamiliar yet exhilarating flood of sensations.

You paused for a moment, lips hovering just over his sternum. You looked up at him, a soft hum of satisfaction escaping as you took in his expression—the furrow of his brows, the slight parting of his lips, the way his head tilted back just slightly. He was yours at this moment, completely and utterly.

"You’re doing so well," You whispered against his skin, pressing another kiss to his chest. "Just keep letting go."

His fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatpants, knuckles whitening with the force of his grip. It was the only anchor he could find as he surrendered to the sensations flooding him, a steady burn that spread through his chest and pooled in his lower stomach. His breaths came in shallow bursts, and his body quaked under the unfamiliar weight of letting go, of yielding control.

Every nerve was alive, hyper-attuned to your touch, and the soothing cadence of your voice was like a salve for the storm within him.

He clenched his jaw, trying to steady himself. When your lips brushed the hollow of his throat, a tremor passed through him, sharp and undeniable. His hand twitched, releasing its grip on his sweatpants, fingers ghosting over the edge of your shoulder as if seeking permission to hold onto yours instead. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and finally managed to whisper your name.

“Please…” His voice cracked, barely audible, but the sound carried a rawness that struck you. “…Wait a sec.” You paused, lips hovering just above his skin, breath warm against his neck.

A flicker of something gentle crossed your expression as you sensed the vulnerability emanating from him—the way his chest heaved, the fine tremor in his frame, and the palpable tension that coiled beneath your touch.

"Yes...?" You murmured, tilting your head slightly to catch his gaze. Your eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and playfulness. He inhaled shakily, trying to form the words. His heart pounded against his ribs as though it sought an escape. "I can't…" he started, his voice rough, words tumbling out before he could stop them. "We can't… everything feels… intense."

Your lips curved into a soft smile, a hand coming to rest over his chest, where his heartbeat thundered against your palm. "I know," They said, your voice like a quiet melody. Your lips brushed the pulse point in his neck, featherlight and deliberate. "It's a lot, isn't it? But you’re doing so well."

He stiffened beneath you, his hands finally rising to hold your arms, steadying you but also grounding himself. "That’s not my point," he rasped, voice breaking slightly. He pulled back just enough to see your face. "I have loved you since the day I met you. I need to know how you feel—before we…" His breath caught, his gaze searching yours. "Before we go any further. I don’t want this to be… casual."

The air between them shifted, heavy with unspoken emotions. You froze, his confession ringing in your ears. For a heartbeat, you didn’t move, your thoughts whirling. But then, warmth spread through your chest, melting the tension that had momentarily gripped you. Slowly, your hands rose to cradle his face, thumbs brushing gently against his cheekbones.

"I…" You began, voice soft but trembling. "I feel the same. I have for so long, but I was scared. Scared to lose you, scared to ruin this… us."

Relief washed over him, his hands falling to your waist as he let your words settle. He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. "I never wanted to risk us either," he admitted. "But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending."

Your lips parted, a shaky laugh escaping as you leaned your forehead against his. "No wonder you kept finding excuses to spend more time with me," You teased, your voice low, tinged with affection. Your fingers trailed down to rest on his chest, "You can be selfish with me, Crowe. I’m yours, you know that. I’ve always been yours."

His lips curled into a tender smile, the vulnerability in your voice and the weight of your words filling him with a kind of courage he hadn’t known he possessed. He tightened his hold on you slightly as if afraid you might vanish if he didn’t. "I’m yours too," he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. "And I don’t just want time with you. I want everything. All of you."

Your breath hitched as his thumb traced along your jawline, his touch delicate yet firm, leaving trails of warmth. His other hand slid from your waist to your back, holding you securely. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locked onto yours.

"May I?" he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

You felt the question in your core, chest tightening and loosening all at once. Your body leaned into him instinctively, every fiber of you being answering before your voice could. When you finally spoke, words were a whisper against his lips. "Yes. Please."

Crowe moved slowly, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that belied the intensity coursing through him. The kiss deepened naturally, a shared hunger and longing driving them closer. Your hands tangled in his hair, your body pressing against his.

Crowe’s lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a purpose that left no room for doubt. His hand on your waist tightened, drawing you closer until the inner part of your thighs brushed against his lower abdomen. The heat of his body was a sharp contrast to the cool dampness still clinging to the air.

Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, instinctively tugged, earning a low, almost inaudible groan from him. The sound sent a shiver through you, making your heart race even faster. Encouraged, you deepened the kiss, your lips parting slightly to invite him in. His response was immediate, a soft flick of his tongue against yours that left you dizzy.

Crowe pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his own. His breaths are heavy, matching yours, and you beheld his red face and hair messier than before. His eyes, those piercing deep blue eyes, searched yours for any hesitation.

“Am I going too fast?” he asked, his voice husky and lower than usual.

You shook your head, barely able to form words. “No… it’s perfect.”

At that, his lips quirked into a small smile—rare and heart-stopping. “Is this a dream? I hope not. If I’m in a dream, please tell the sleeping me to never wake up. I want to live in this dream forever.” His free hand slid to the small of your back, guiding you effortlessly deeper into his lap. The movement was fluid like he’d imagined this a hundred times before.

“Will this convince you it’s not a dream?” You lean closer to his face and place a peck on his cheek. “Mmm.. maybe. But I think this would convince me.” He captures your lips swiftly. He pries your mouth open by pushing in his tongue, exploring you further, and muffing your moans with his intense kiss.

You gasp, now feeling one hand slip beneath your hoodie, splaying across the bare skin of your lower back. The other tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss further. His lips left yours briefly, trailing along your jaw and down the column of your neck to nibble at the soft flesh.

“Now people will… know you’re mine.” You gasped when his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot, and he chuckled softly against your skin. “You sound so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. The rhythm of his heart beneath your palm was as erratic as your own, a reassuring sign that he wasn’t as composed as he seemed.

“Crowe,” you whispered, barely able to hear your voice over the pounding in your ears. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again, his expression raw and unguarded.

“Please say my real name,” he murmured, his tone almost pleading.

“Jericho,” you corrected, savoring the way his name felt on your lips. He let out a shaky exhale, his hands tightening their grip on you. His lips found yours again, this time rougher, more desperate.

His hips shifted beneath you, and the friction drew a soft moan from your throat. “Do you have any idea,” he breathed between kisses, “how long I’ve wanted this?”

The heat between them was undeniable, the air practically crackling with energy. Every touch and every movement seemed to amplify the heady rush of desire rushing through their veins.

When his hips rocked against your own, another soft gasp escaped your lips, the friction so new, so sweet. Jericho presses himself against you, feeling the bulge within the confinements of his pants.

You gripped his shoulders tighter, steadying yourself as your thoughts became hazy with each press of his lips to your skin, proceeding to attack your neck with nibbles, determined to leave multiple marks instead of one.

Your voice, already breathless, managed a shaky reply, "No, but I... I'm sure it's half as long as I've wanted you." Suddenly, he pulled you closer, his hips rocking gently against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each movement brought a gasp or a groan to your lips, the friction between you growing more heated with every second.

“Please let me make you wonderful,” Jericho murmured against your neck, his voice low and soft… all of it was a delicious yet torturous sensory overload.

And at his murmured plea, your breath caught in your throat, snapping your consciousness back. Your fingers tightened on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Jericho," They managed your voice a ragged breath. “I’m the one supposed to make you feel good.”

Jericho pulled back slightly, enough to meet your gaze, "You... already make me feel good," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Just being here with you... it makes me feel more alive than anything else." His eyes filled with love, desire, and lust. “Would you let me?” He begged, “I promise to make you feel great. I want you to feel amazing.”

His words were spoken with such sincere conviction and lust. The raw honesty in them, the way he looked at you… You couldn't help yours; your fingers left his shoulders to gently cup his face. “I don't just mean at this moment," They said softly, your thumb brushing over his cheek. "I mean... I want to make you feel good in every way possible. I want..."

You faltered, unsure how much you dared to say aloud. Instead, you shifted, sliding off his lap and onto your knees before him. The movement was fluid yet intentional, your gaze never leaving his as you knelt at his feet,

Jericho swallowed, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of you at his feet. It was a sight he had never imagined before, yet now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. "What... what are you doing?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

You could see the surprise, the hint of confusion mixed with a heady sort of excitement in his eyes as they knelt before him. The position was submissive, yes, but it gave you a unique sort of control over the situation.

Your hands, now free, rose to rest on his thighs, your fingers tracing small circles on the inner fabric of his sweatpants. Your voice was soft and firm

"I'm taking care of you," They said quietly. "So just... lean back and relax." Your hand slithers to the base of his sweatpants.

Jericho let out a low, shaky breath as your fingers brushed his skin, the fleeting touch electrifying. Shivers coursed up his spine, and he bit down on a gasp, his eyes dark with a mixture of lust and anticipation. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked softly, his hands hesitating for a moment before helping you slide his sweatpants and boxers down in one smooth motion.

You hesitated, your cheeks warming under his gaze. “No… Is that a bad thing?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head immediately, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “No, it’s not a bad thing,” he said, his tone gentle yet weighted with emotion. “If anything… it makes it all the more special.” But then his expression shifted, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. He looked at you almost apologetically. “I’m sorry about this.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Hm? About what?”

The moment the fabric pooled at his feet, the answer became crystal clear. Vulnerability washed over Jericho as he leaned back slightly, his chest rising and falling with steady, deep breaths. Your eyes widened in surprise, freezing as they landed on the sight before you.

He cleared his throat, a hint of self-consciousness in his tone. “Uh… it gets a little bigger when I’m fully hard. Just thought I’d warn you.” His cheeks flushed a light pink, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usually composed demeanor.

For a brief moment, you were speechless, caught between awe and disbelief. The sheer size of him was… impressive, to say the least. You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat suddenly impossible to ignore. A nervous laugh almost bubbled up, but it was stifled by the intensity of the moment.

“I… see,” you managed to say, your voice soft but tinged with a teasing edge. Your lips twitched into a small smirk. “A little bit bigger, huh? I’m curious to see just how much more it grows.”

Jericho chuckled lightly at your words, his nervousness easing ever so slightly. Still, he reached out, his hand brushing your arm as if to steady both of you. “Take your time,” he said gently, his voice a soothing balm to your nervous energy. “Ease into it. And, uh… it’s okay if your teeth touch, just—maybe try not to bite down?”

A laugh escaped you this time, a blend of amusement and nerves. “I’ll do my best to keep my jaws in check,” you teased, the shy undertone in your voice making the moment feel strangely intimate.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you reached out, your touch tentative but curious. The warmth of him against your palm was startling, the weight and solidity grounding you. Your grip adjusted instinctively, firm but careful, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Jericho.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gave a quick nod. “You won’t,” he assured you, his voice rough with restraint.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. There was something intoxicating in the way his eyes burned with trust and desire. Leaning forward, you let your lips brush against the sensitive tip of his cock, soft and deliberate.

A low, guttural moan escaped him, his head falling back against the bed. His hands clenched at his sides, resisting the urge to move and disrupt your rhythm. “Gods,” he muttered, his voice breaking.

Encouraged by his reaction, you placed a series of soft kisses along the reddened head, your movements exploratory yet tender. Jericho’s breaths grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with each passing second. He forced himself to remain still, his muscles tensing as he let you set the pace, his desire to guide overshadowed by his determination to let you take your time.

Your lips curled into a small smile as you continued, the moment feeling raw and unfiltered. Slowly, the tension began to melt away, replaced by a shared sense of trust and discovery.

Jericho sighed when they took his lenght in your mouth. It’s already bigger than when he first pulled it out, quickly growing hard despite his reluctance to hold back. You feel it press in past your lips, dragging across your tongue, and finally hit the back of your throat. That’s it. That’s as far as it goes, right?

Looking forward, you can see that he’s not in your mouth. “Try to relax your throat,” he tells you. “That’s it, you’re doing good.” Jericho prasied. His voice sends goosebumps across your skin as his massive cock slides even further in, going partially down your throat.

“Make sure to breathe through your nose,” he added.

Your hands are on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his pants. You’re gagging slightly, trying to keep it under control and focus on breathing. After what feels like forever, your jaw is sore, and your throat aches.

Tears fill your eyes, which Jericho notices and looks at you guiltily before moving one large hand over to gently rub the top of your head. “Good girl,” he says, “you’re taking me well.”

The statement makes heat spread over your face. Then you remember that you’re supposed to be making him cum. The thought of it makes you excited somehow. You feel the urge to pleasure him, to make him feel good. He’s been so sweet to you, after all. He hasn’t moved at all, letting you do things at your own pace. Looking up at his face, it’s clearer than ever how gorgeous he is.

You tighten your lips around his base, your tongue gliding across the underside of his cock while your tight throat constricts around his tip. He looks down at you suddenly, deep blue eyes slightly widened. You give him a tentative swirl of your tongue.

He can’t tear his eyes away as he watches you work your magic on him. The sight of you, the feel of your tongue, it’s the most incredible and overwhelming thing he’s ever experienced. He can’t help but let out another deep, guttural moan as the sensations wash over him. “Gods, yes. Just like that,” he pants, his voice low and rough.

“You’re so good at this. So damn good.” He reaches out, gently tangling his fingers in your hair, not to control your movements but just to have something to hold onto.

The inside of your mouth felt nice and warm, causing him to shudder from the sensation. Eventually, his hand grips your hair and, for the first time, unintentionally thrusts into your throat. You feel a bit of force from him as he pushes your head down, his cock going halfway down your throat and almost choking you.

Jericho lets out a low moan as you suck faster, wanting to hear the desperate need for ecstasy while taking pleasure from each sound he makes. He grips your hair roughly and throws his head back, but you don’t seem to mind. After all, you want him to make more sounds.

You take the entire cock inside your mouth again, feeling the cock becoming harder than before, nodding your head up and down and swirling your tongue around his cock, making sure to aim for the tip as well, savoring the pre-cum taste. Your eyes travel to his face, beholding the euphoric expression as he bites his lips, feeling you lick the slightest bit of cum that leaks from him,

Jericho could barely hold himself together as you pleasured him, his head spinning and his body writhing. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with lust and intense with love.

“You’re... you’re driving me crazy,” he managed, his voice rough and breathless. “…God.” His moans and gasps are like music to your ears, fueling that excitement as they suck and move your head in all the ways that they know will drive him wild.

“Mmh.” You suck faster and faster, your fingers fumbling with his balls as your swallow his cock even deeper down your throat—he didn’t think any more could be possible.

He’s so deep in your throat that whenever you thrust his cock in, your nose nearly touches his pelvis. Jericho can’t help but thrust your mouth down his needy cock down your throat again.

Immediately, you feel his warm cum flood your mouth, coating the back of your tongue and oozing down your neck. His hand quickly releases you, “Sorry, love, I couldn’t help it…” He mutters another apology. His face looks slightly flushed, and he’s breathing a little harder.

Oh god, he looks so hot right now—is all you think about, feeling the growing dampness between your legs as you stare up at him, his now soft cock still in your mouth.

“No one’s ever made me feel this way before. Gods, you’re... incredible,” Jericho murmurs, his voice heavy with awe and lingering desire. His words hang in the air, electric and intimate. The way he looks at you—half in disbelief, half in reverence—sends a shiver down your spine.

Without hesitation, you lean forward, your lips brushing against the velvety, slick surface of his cock. Your tongue darts out, teasing the sensitive tip, and you savor the salty-sweet taste that lingers there. Slowly, deliberately, you begin to suckle, your tongue swirling and pressing against every ridge and curve. A soft moan escapes his lips, though he quickly clamps his mouth shut, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

Jericho’s chest heaves and his hands grip the soft couch beneath him, knuckles whitening as he fights to stay still. His breath hitches, and he glances away, the flush on his cheeks deepening as he battles the urge stirring within him. His jaw tightens, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to find you.

“You’re... you’re sure you want to keep going?” he asks, his voice strained and hoarse. Despite the question, his fingers reach out instinctively, trailing down the side of your face.

His touch is warm, trembling ever so slightly as if he's trying to ground himself. “I don’t want to wear you out,” he adds, his brows furrowing even as his lips part to let out a shallow exhale.

You pause for a moment, meeting his gaze with a soft smile, and your heart clenches at the mixture of vulnerability and yearning in his eyes. There's a rawness to him, an unguarded honesty that makes your chest tighten with affection. His concern feels genuine, but so does the hunger simmering beneath his words—a need he can’t quite hide.

Jericho looks down at you again, his heart pounding so loudly you can almost hear it. His disheveled hair falls into his eyes, and he brushes it back absentmindedly, the action making him seem almost boyish in his tenderness.

Despite the way his breathing is still uneven, he manages to smile faintly. “You’ve already done such a good job,” he says softly, his fingers brushing over your messy hair in an almost reverent gesture.

You feel a pang of something deep and inexplicable—a selfish kind of love, one that makes you want to claim and cherish every part of him. The thought takes root in your chest, blooming with a quiet intensity.

Jericho’s hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb grazing the edge of your jaw, and you realize that, for this moment, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than here, tangled in his warmth his selfish love.

#tkatb crowe #jericho crowe ichabod #the kid at the back vn #the kid at the back Crowe #crowe x reader #crowe ichabod #the kid at the back Jericho #smut #jericho ichabod #the kid at the back #the kid at the back x reader #tkatb smut

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mythblossoms · 3 months ago

Text

to come home

pairing: zayne x gn!reader

content: fluff and comfort, soft yearning, kissing, suggestive if you squint?, lighthearted, established relationship, unedited

a/n: i just think zayne deserves a quiet life where he can be the little spoon ♡ coming back to writing after so long is scary but hi ♡

wc: 1.1k

It’s 11:01, the harsh blue glow of his computer screen illuminates his office, and Zayne is thinking of the comfort of home.

Not the physical structure - all concrete and glass, hard walls enclosed around structured spaces that begged for routine, but the warmth that often resided within.

You, curled up on the couch, book in hand and eyes slowly skimming through the words. You, perched on the counter top, sipping a sweet latte and sighing contently. You, watering the plants on his windowsill and whispering little words of encouragement. You, a warm sun that cast light into every room you stepped into, leaving the space a little darker, colder when you left.

It’s 11:05, as Zayne stares at the remnants of a hazelnut latte sitting on the corner of his desk - delivered to him by you several hours earlier. A drawing of a little snowman poking its head over the sleeve of the cup. A small dose of warmth in an otherwise blurry day. He missed you. Not that you hadn’t seen each other, but this was different. Rushed, fleeting moments existed — small, sweet treats that left behind a craving. Truthfully, he didn’t think he could ever be fully satisfied, not when the treat was gone but the sweetness still lingered on his tongue.

It’s 11:15, and the soft ping of his phone is notifying him of messages from you with hidden notes tucked tenderly between the letters.

- ping

Have you eaten yet? (I miss you, take care of yourself)

- ping

Let me know when you’re on your way! (I care about you, please come back safely)

He had grown accustomed to these secret words and meanings interwoven into the space that was you and him. With each message, his heart ached a bit more.

It’s 11:27, and the lights of Zayne’s office are off. A cup with a snowman drawing is gently placed in a waste bin. His bag and coat are missing from the coat rack by the door and he’s driving to his home.

It’s interesting how home can be anything. Home can be a house, the things gathered to create a space that belongs to the person living there. It can be a family or a person, the people who hold the hearts of their loved ones close. How odd that Zayne never thought of home before you.

Seeing you silhouetted in the ambient light, his cardigan draped on your figure - too big in the shoulders, too long for your frame - the smell of mint tea hanging in the air — this is what it meant to be home. His heart swelled as you turned, that bright smile welcoming him home.

“I see someone has found a sweater to their liking.”

“Yep,” you quipped, hugging the cardigan closer to your body. “I think it likes me more than its current owner. It wants to live with its friends back in my closet.”

Zayne smiled slightly, stepping into the warm kitchen as you placed two mugs on the counter. “Is that so? Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep it from its true desire.”

His arms circled around your waist, pulling you back securely against him. He tucked his head into the crook of your neck - settling into the warmth and pressing one soft kiss onto the collarbone peeking out from the collar of the cardigan. A contented sigh leaving your lips as you leaned into him, cupping the warm mug in your hands.

“Thank you for this,” he murmured, attempting to stitch every unspoken feeling along those four words. ‘Can we stay like this a little longer?’ ‘I want to be with you - always.’ ‘You’re home to me.’ You had a way of weaving these declarations tenderly into your actions and words. Zayne hoped, by closing his eyes, by holding you closer, these unsaid words would flow to you.

Gently, you turned in his arm to face him, one hand still clasped around your mug. You gazed up at him, placing your other hand on his chest, feeling the warmth there. “I’m glad you’re home,” you whispered. No hidden meanings - stated so honestly as you smiled.

Zayne took the mug from your hand, setting it on the counter behind you, and dropped his forehead to yours. “If I can be a bit…selfish,” he breathed, ghosting his lips over yours. “There’s one more thing I would ask for.” His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks, and guided your lips to his. Slowly, his lips moved against yours. His hands, cool on your warm face, moved down your shoulders, dipping underneath the oversized cardigan and caressing your waist. Each movement intentional, as if his fingers had memorized the curve of your body - the feeling of you under his hands grounding him.

Again, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing slowly as he released the kiss. His eyes locked on yours, dazed, as his hands tightly held your waist. Words were no longer needed, every movement proclaiming every feeling Zayne had tried to contain. He leaned down to grasp your waist, lifting you onto the counter.

“Oh-”, you mumbled as you felt the cup behind you. “Your tea!”

“Tea,” he said, pressing another kiss to your jaw, “can wait. Right now - I just need you.” His voice was soft as he slowly trailed his lips up your jawline, punctuating each sentence with a light kiss.

Zayne was always so patient, quiet in a collected way. Need was a new word - and your heart ached as his hands pressed in your lower back. Your arms found their way up around his neck, running your fingers up and through his hair. “I’m here,” you whispered, pressing light kisses up his jawline to the shell of his ear. “You have me.”

Zayne took a deep, controlled breath as he ran his hands up your spine, fingers tracing the arch of your back. “I like it when you’re here,” he murmured. His lips found yours again, savoring the way they melded together — relishing in the small sounds you made as he deepened the kiss and held you as though you were keeping him afloat.

He hesitated again, his eyes still closed and hands still pressed against your back. “It would be even better, if you were here all the time.” He chanced a look at you then, barely opening his eyes.

And you were smiling at him, pulling him closer still and cupping his face in your hands. “Is this your subtle way of asking if I would like to move in?” Your lips, still pink from the previous kisses, pressed one small kiss to the tip of his nose - an unspoken answer of ‘I want to be with you all the time too.’

Zayne looked down, the corners of his mouth slightly turning up. “How else will I retrieve all my missing sweaters?” He hooked his hands under your thighs, lifting you off the counter. “I think I’ll start with this one.”

Your warm laughter filled the air as he carried you to his room, the mint teas left to cool on the counter.

#love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace #love & deepspace #l&ds zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne x you #kai𓂃🖊#⋆⁺₊❅.#ᯓ✧#posting and running why is sharing writing so scary #m: l&ds

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catiroll · 2 months ago

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𝐹𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛// *✲ﾟ*｡⋆

Pairings: Ambessa & Sevika ( gn reader leaning towards fem)

Warning: NSFW, overworking, lesbians, drinking, set relationships.

ΛMBΣƧƧΛ ↣ Cowgirl

Ambessa thrives on control, her every touch and glance designed to draw her partner into her dominance. She demands their attention, insisting they watch her and feel every calculated movement, every deliberate tease, as she takes them apart piece by piece. To her, their surrender is the ultimate proof of trust, and she wields it with both pride and unrelenting intensity, ensuring they never forget the power she holds over them.

Ambessa’s smirk deepens as her amber eyes drink in the sight of the reader beneath her, their chest rising and falling with each labored breath. She takes her time, savoring the power she holds in this moment, her hands trailing over their body with deliberate precision. Her calloused fingers explore every curve and contour, her touch firm but never rushed, as though she’s mapping them out inch by inch.

“You’ve been holding back all night,” she murmurs, her voice rich and commanding, each word sending a shiver down their spine. “Not anymore. I want to feel you give in—to me.”

She kneels between their legs, her broad frame silhouetted against the flickering candlelight. There’s an undeniable confidence in the way she moves, as if every action is part of a carefully orchestrated performance designed to captivate. Her hands glide up their thighs, spreading them apart with an unspoken authority.

“Look at me,” she orders softly, her gaze locking onto theirs. Her fingers press into their skin, not to restrain but to remind them of the power she holds. The reader’s body reacts instinctively, their breathing quickening under the intensity of her touch.

Ambessa leans forward, her lips brushing against the hollow of their throat, her kisses unhurried and deliberate. She lingers, her teeth grazing lightly against their sensitive skin, drawing soft gasps from their lips. Her hands move with practiced confidence, teasing and exploring, each motion designed to leave them trembling beneath her.

“I want to hear you,” she murmurs against their ear, her breath warm and intoxicating. “Don’t hold back from me. Let me know how much you want this.”

Her lips trail downward, leaving a heated path in their wake. Every kiss, every touch is calculated, designed to evoke as much anticipation as pleasure. When she finally takes them, her movements are slow and deliberate, her strength both grounding and overwhelming.

She doesn’t just want to touch them—she wants them to feel her power, to understand the full force of her desire. Her hips press firmly against theirs, her rhythm commanding but never hurried, her body moving in perfect sync with their own.

Ambessa’s voice breaks through the haze of pleasure, low and gravelly. “You’re mine,” she says, her tone thick with possession and pride. “Don’t forget that.”

Every sound, every movement, every moment is hers to control, and by the time she brings them over the edge, the reader is left completely undone, their body and soul marked by the intensity of her dominance.

Sҽѵíkα ↣ Missionary

Sevika thrives in the intimacy of missionary. Grounding her in a way that makes the connection feel deeper and more personal. She loves the closeness, the way their bodies align perfectly, allowing her to feel every breath and every movement, knowing they’re both fully immersed in each other. In this position, Sevika’s control softens, and she relishes in the vulnerability, the shared intensity of their connection as they move together.

The simmering tension between Sevika and the reader has been building for weeks, each lingering glance and teasing remark a spark to an already blazing fire. Tonight, Sevika arrives unannounced at the reader’s doorstep, her presence impossible to ignore as the streetlights cast a glow on her metal arm, giving her an almost ethereal, powerful aura. Holding a bottle of wine in one hand, her other hand brushes a stray lock of hair from her face, her lips curling into that signature, lopsided grin. “Thought you might need some company,” she says, her voice a velvety invitation laced with the promise of more.

The two settle on the couch, the wine flowing freely, laughter spilling into the room like a warm embrace. The warmth of Sevika’s presence is intoxicating, her low chuckle reverberating in the reader's chest as their knees brush beneath the table. Her scent lingers in the air, a heady mix of leather and something deeper, more magnetic. As the reader leans forward to refill Sevika’s glass, their hands meet in a soft, almost electric touch, sending a thrill straight through them. They share a glance that speaks volumes, the kind of look that doesn’t need words to communicate the raw desire building between them.

Sevika’s fingers trail deliberately down the reader’s arm, each touch rough and tender in equal measure, as if marking them. Her body leans closer, her breath warming the reader's ear before she finally closes the gap, her lips ghosting over theirs in a teasing, tantalizing kiss. The taste of wine is forgotten as Sevika deepens the kiss, pulling the reader closer, her hands sliding under their clothes to trace the curve of their back. The heat between them burns brighter with every passing moment, the playful banter between them replaced by pure, primal longing.

Before they know it, they’re moving toward the bedroom, the world outside fading into oblivion. The air is thick with desire, with the weight of unspoken promises and anticipation. Sevika stands over them, her eyes dark with hunger and determination, as she looks down at the reader. The soft rustle of her movements fills the room as she reaches for the purple shimmer hexstrap-on she brought with her, her gaze never leaving theirs. The strap-on gleams in the low light, a stark contrast to Sevika’s confidence, a visual testament to her control. Her lips curl into another knowing grin as she leans in, her voice rough but seductive.

"You ready for me to take you apart?" she asks, her voice low and thick with desire. Her gaze flickers between their eyes and their body, wanting to feel every inch of their submission to her. As she straps herself in, she watches the reader’s every reaction, their body trembling with anticipation.

Her movements are slow at first, deliberate, wanting them to feel every inch of her power, every inch of her control. She guides the reader’s hands to the bed, her fingers tracing their skin with possessive care, grounding them. “I want you to feel me. I want you to know exactly who’s in charge here,” she whispers, her voice husky as she begins to move. Each thrust is purposeful, an undeniable rhythm that leaves no room for anything but Sevika. She commands the space around them, her body undulating with controlled force as she watches the reader, her every movement a display of dominance and unyielding control.

The reader can only surrender, their body reacting instinctively to her, their hands gripping the bed, their back arching under her command. Sevika’s eyes lock onto theirs, holding them captive as she drives them both toward the edge. “Look at me,” she demands in a voice thick with possessiveness. “Watch me take you apart.”

Masterlist

YAYAYAYAY finnaly back I haven’t posted in a while so my bad but yeah I’m gonna make more of these like Caitlyn and vi

ALSO thinking about writing more ambessa shes soooo ughhhh

#sevika x you #sevika #sevika x reader #arcane season two #jinx arcane #sevika x y/n #ambessa x reader #arcane #ambessa medarda #arcane series #vi x reader

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chososcamgirl · 6 months ago

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(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER FIVE: moon undah water

masterlist

“FUCK PANDA, WHERE’S MY EYELINER?” Yn yells, her voice echoing through the apartment as she throws open drawers and upends her makeup bag.

Panda, sprawled on the couch with an air of disinterest, doesn’t even look up from his comic. “Girl, I don’t fucking know. Maybe try checking the Bermuda Triangle of your room?”

Nobara, meticulously applying a fresh layer of gloss in the mirror, arches an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t that fussed about your look tonight. Did the ‘low-key’ plan suddenly include a makeover?”

“Yeah, and we all know how committed she is to ‘low-key’,” Maki chimes in, scrolling through her phone with a practiced nonchalance. “Last week, she claimed she’d be fine with a used condom. Look at her now.”

Yn, throwing a dramatic glare at the mirror, retorts, “I’m just trying to avoid looking like I rolled out of bed. And don’t think I don’t see your smug face, Maki. You were ready twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Maki says, still smirking. “But let’s be real: you’re going to enjoy this concert way more than you’re letting on. I’ve seen you get excited over far less.”

“Right, like the way you get excited over a text from Yuta,” Yn shoots back, her irritation giving way to a smile. “This is different. I’m in denial. I’d rather stay home, but here we are.”

Panda finally drags himself up from the couch, stretching theatrically. “Alright, alright. Let’s find your eyeliner before you start writing angry letters to the universe and turn to a different religion.”

“Don’t act like you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart,” YN says, rolling her eyes. “You’re just angling for free concert snacks.”

Panda ambles toward the bathroom, mumbling, “Hey, I’m just here to see if you start throwing punches at Megumi. And the if the concert snacks are free, so be it.”

Nobara chuckles as she finishes her gloss. “I swear, you act like finding that eyeliner is the equivalent of defusing a bomb.”

“And if she had to choose between a bomb and missing this concert,” Maki adds, “I bet she’d defuse the bomb.”

Panda returns, holding the eyeliner with a look of triumph. “Victory is mine. Your eyeliner has been rescued from its perilous hiding place. Now, can we please leave before Yn decides she’d rather stay home and have a personal pity party that contains Megumi’s face on a dart board?”

Yn grabs the eyeliner, her irritation melting into reluctant gratitude. “Thanks, Panda. I’ll try to enjoy myself, even if I’m still pretending this is all just a big inconvenience.”

Maki heads for the door, tossing a glance over her shoulder. “Just remember, when we’re at the concert and you’re having the time of your life, we’ll all be here to remind you of this moment.”

Panda pats Yn on the back with mock solemnity. “And I’ll be right there, enjoying the spectacle and making sure you don’t look like a hot mess.”

As they head out, the apartment hums with the low murmur of their laughter and playful banter, with Yn begrudgingly acknowledging that, despite her initial reluctance, she’s in for a night worth experiencing.

The curtains part with a dramatic swoosh, revealing four dark silhouettes against a blazing backdrop of stage lights. The crowd’s collective breath hitches in anticipation, a palpable energy crackling through the air. From her vantage point, she easily picks out Megumi; he’s more attractive in person than she could have imagined. His form, silhouetted against the intense glow, seems to exude a magnetic allure that’s both commanding and captivating.

“Thank you all for coming!” Toge’s voice booms with a rich resonance that reverberates through the venue, igniting a wave of cheers and applause from the throng of fans.

“We’re gonna start tonight off with a special.” Toge’s voice rises, each word dripping with promise.

Yuta’s bass rumbles underfoot, sending ripples of vibration through the audience, heightening the sense of anticipation.

“This is ‘Moon Undah Water’.” Toge declares, his voice imbued with a fierce energy that sets the stage ablaze.

As the first powerful chords of the song blast forth, the stage lights explode into a riot of color. The band is bathed in a kaleidoscope of hues, each member’s movements magnified in the shimmering light. Megumi’s electric guitar sparkles with every strum, his fingers dancing deftly over the frets. Yuji’s drumming pounds like a heartbeat, driving the rhythm forward with relentless intensity.

She finds herself enveloped in the music, each note wrapping around her like a living, breathing entity. The air is thick with the electric charge of the performance, the collective energy of the crowd mingling with the raw, pulsing sound.

Amidst the chaotic symphony of lights and sound, her gaze locks onto Megumi. His focus is intense, his body swaying in perfect harmony with the rhythm. As if drawn by an invisible thread, their eyes meet, and the world narrows to a single, searing point of connection. In that instant, it’s as though the entire venue fades away, leaving only the two of them suspended in a private universe.

Megumi’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk, a gesture that speaks of secrets shared and unspoken promises. His eyes glint with an almost predatory intensity, acknowledging the undeniable spark between them. The smirk is laden with confidence and a touch of mischief, as if he’s fully aware of the impact he��s having on her.

She feels a flush of warmth spread through her, her heart pounding in time with the frenetic rhythm of the song. The connection between them crackles with electricity, a silent dialogue that resonates beneath the explosive finale of the music. As the song builds to its triumphant climax, she remains locked in that moment, lost in the intensity of their shared gaze.

extras!

• megumi definitely snitched and asked gojo to put out the no food rule LMFAO

• so now the group just has a bunch of rotting tomato’s in their apartment

• give it 3 days and fruit flies will start invading

• the six shots joke is a big inside joke last year when yuji and yn were taking shots and on their seventh shot they both got really horny and hooked up

• drummer!yuji spinoff when.. looks at ree

• british slander in this sorry uk moots trust i love u all

• you know that one picture of the girl laying on top of the other one applying eyeshadow imagine yn and nobara instead

• no nobara and yn have not hooked up they just used to practice kissing on eachother to see if they were good kissers

• it was platonic idc

• nobara is def a good kisser tho

• megumi was def stressing bc he wanted to make yn eat her words by saying he was not attractive

• definitely worked

• my pussys gone crazy!!!!!!

• megumi smirking knowing yn was not expecting him to look like that omfg okay sjap megumi defenders u win this chapter

• yn def took a picture of him

a/n: i loved this chapter sorry it look so long LMFAO um next chap perhaps wednesday? i’m trying to not make a week long update bc it sucks so i’m trying to post twice a week😭 also moon undah water is a puma blue song! go listen to it here to get the vibe of the concert’s atmosphere or go listen to their set list here !

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @4ngelfries @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @bonitoflakez @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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inupibaldspot · 1 year ago

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Even 12 years laters,your soul was in a color of kindness.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : purely self indulgent which I wrote when I was drunk so— some stuffs are funky

Gojo first met you when you where four.

He was five years old at that time too and was being escorted by a maid to go to the clan head meeting; he assumes you were also part of a clan brought by elders.

Normally, the white haired boy never really cared for other people. Why should he? He is the chosen one. He has the limitless technique plus the six eyes of the Gojo clan. He was the closest thing to God at this age. But today it was different.

He watched you turn your head around and stare at him, he could vividly remember the way your eyes shone with amazement either for something as superficial like his white hair or the fact he was recognized as The ‘Gojo Satoru.’

But after that amazement, you smiled. You smiled at him so bright, with the evening glow of sunlights made you so—so ethereal. Your smile was childish and that’s why it was simply pure; the white haired kid’s eyes silhouetted with the sunlight shone with surprise for he found you beautiful in ways he couldn’t describe.

Gojo looks away— he beat himself for looking away as that made him look standoffish. When he looks back, you were staring at him confused for why he didn’t greet you back.

The maid beside you turns and says something, as you nod and then walk away. Was it weird for Gojo to wish you would simply turn to him and introduce yourself? For years to come, he prayed that he’d love to hear your name; for your soul was in a color of kindness.

That chance came in twelve years later when he was a second year of his Jujutsu Tech. Him and his friends, Geto and Shoko wanted to meet the new first years. There is Nanami Kento, had a huge stick up his ass but that it self made him to be forever victim to Gojo’s pranks. Next was Haibara Yū, a bright eyed kid but Gojo found him to be a bit too— energetic for his taste.

And then you. I didn’t really need to describe Nanami and Haibara first because the first and only person he saw ever since he entered the first year’s classroom was you. Simply you. You sitting on the chair smiling bashfully at them. At him.

Ever since, every day. Without fail would rush to your side. At first you were confused as that is not the Gojo you remembered l; the one you saw and described to you by others were not this.

Nevertheless it warmed you up like a cool evening sun.

Gojo released quite early was you were kind, the type that would help others despite of her time , the type who would help every elderly by the street, the type who would feed strays and yada-yada-flowers and rainbows.

But that led to another realization. Had you truly different been treated differently?

Gojo's body tensed up. Any comfortable vibe he had felt before vanishing in an instant. He had known very well that you were a kind-hearted human being. Welcoming and warm. That made you so interesting. Your soul was so calm and simple and nice.

And even though he had observed you so closely before he wasn't able to recall any moment anymore where your own feelings had been obvious. You didn't stutter around boys.

You didn't blush. You didn't hesitate in a way which could be trailed back to her personal feelings.

Were you treating him like everyone else after all?

“Gojo?”

Your voice brought him back to sense, you were blinking curious, leaned close—so close.”what’s wrong?”

“Bring out your hand.” He smiles, as you did without question. “Guess the word I’m writing on your hand.” He smiles when the warmth from your hand soothe his nervous heartbeat.

“Eh—I’m not good at kanji!”

“That’s just too bad—!”

From then when ever Gojo feels anxious of everything—everything in this world he would play this game, with your fingers and her palm because his focus on you was more gravitating rather than that as you were simply too calming.

Geto felt slightly hesitant when he saw the type of Gojo he would become when he was by your side, he was a tad abit careless as if all of his six eyes were simply focused on you, he would be a tad bit kinder to the point Nanami gets the ick.

Where as Shoko had a blast!

She would make way towards you, give kisses on your cheeks gushing on how cute you were, wrapping her arms around you as she then sends a condescending look towards Gojo who was literally drowning in jealousy.

Shoko and you got close early on and more so because you two were the only two girls in those years. To the point where even a shy person like you was influenced to sneaking into a party with Shoko.

“Please don’t mess with my hair curler, Gojo.” You say as you look into the mirror, fixing your earring and from the corner of your eyes you could see Gojo holding up a lick of his hair into the hot iron.

Gojo peers over and immediately regrets it, you were in a short dress and high heel, hair curled so—cutely and boy, your face.

He looks away.

No, too cute.

He thought as he lets down the curling iron. Shoko peers out as she lets out a puff of smoke before passing it to Geto, who takes the cigarette in his hands. “Don’t tell me you want to come Gojo.” Shoko says. “I want a girls night.”

Gojo remember almost comically crying into his pillows as Geto nags him on ‘how woman don’t like clingy guys.’ He decides to forget Shoko and join you guys anyways.

He remembers being strangled by Shoko while you him a nervous smile trying to diffuse the situation.

Your nervous smile which made the world freeze to him, Geto sighs at the love sick look his white haired friend was giving you, who seemed so obvious to.

But don’t you remember when I said you were kind. You were kind like to help the cornered kid, the type who would volunteer to be with the loner kid, the type that picked Geto Suguru’s side.

Gojo sighs when when remembers Shoko saying you said something along the lines of ‘I don’t want Geto to be lonely along the path he takes…’

How stupid!

Gojo Satoru where ever he went would go around town mentally keeping sense of any cursed energy which could relay you back to him.

He meets you again though.

12 years later, while him and now—principle Yaga were walking along the hallways they sense a breach in security. He rushes over to first, see his once best-friend Geto Suguru by his current first year Okkotsu Yuta and secondly, you. Your eyes we’re nervously flying around before it lands on him and once again he was yours; Geto scoffs at the sight of Gojo’s expression when he was looking at you. He was almost worried that if you said ‘let’s join Geto’ with a plea—se, he just might. You just had that effect on Gojo.

But too bad, Geto was here to request war upon the Jujutsu Tech. On the 24 December, Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

Gojo rushes through curses as he makes his way towards you; and when he does, he feels as if he can’t breath. “Can you come back…?” He takes a step closer.

You smile nervously,shaking your head as you watch him take another step closer to you, you felt his hands reach out and cup your face. His face was so close to yours, you could feel the warmth radiate off him in the cold winter air. “Don’t kill me for doing this.” You we’re reminded that you guys were enemies and in a battlefield.

His face was closer now, his blue—beautiful blue eyes were slightly closed. You breath out. “I can’t kill you through your ‘Limitless’ Satoru…”

“Say it again.”

“Huh…?”

“My name. Satoru…”

You breath out. “Satoru…” The name you accidentally let out, felt so right.

“Fuck… say it a million time more, love.” Gojo laughs, slightly hoarse. “My limitless is never activated when I’m with you…”

before you realize his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft, as you hands were tentatively placed on his chest, as his hand trails along to your waist you parts your lips for him, sighs in his mouth, and that small sound of pleasure drives him crazy, floods his body with heat and desire so intense the strongest sorcerer can hardly stand.

Your are pulled away from him, when a darker and tall man goes by. “Miguel!” Gojo listened to you say.

“I need you to focus.” The man says smiling, before he takes a stance to fight Gojo. And to Miguel credit, he does fend off Gojo well, so— well that he was ‘recruited’ by him.

The day ends with Gojo losing two of his best friends in different ways. Geto would be gone, into the afterlife ended by his own hands.

But you?

Where were you? Would he meet you again 12 years later? Love?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo imagines #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo fluff

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moonstruckme · 6 months ago

Note

apple pie - send a character + a prompt off this list and I’ll write a drabble

congrats mae!! love the new theme and all your fics xx could i get sirius black and 10?

Thank you angel <3

¹⁰⁾ a six pack of beer and an apology

cw: alcohol, reader is implicitly introverted and/or shy

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 744 words

Sirius finds you on the roof of his building. It’s a nice roof, not because of the roof itself—that’s pretty disgusting, actually, scattered with beer cans and smelling of piss from parties gone by—but because of the view. The trees and bricks of his neighborhood, giving way after a few blocks to city lights and black sky.

You’re silhouetted against it all, sitting on the edge of the roof with your feet dangling over the pavement. You have a six pack of beer sitting beside you with one missing.

“Are you planning to drink all of those by yourself?” Sirius asks as he sits down on your other side, the beers between you.

You startle a little, and his muscles tense, ready to snatch you away from the edge. Sirius sits there like that all the time, but it makes him twitchy when you do it. When you realize it’s only him, your sigh is half relieved and half exasperated. Maybe there’s a little bit of fondness in there, too.

“No,” you reply, “but I wanted to have the option.”

“Sound.” Sirius grabs one for himself, popping the tab with a hiss.

You keep looking out into the distance while he takes a couple of slow sips. He never knows what exactly you’re doing when you get like this. Sometimes you’ll be quiet for so long he thinks you must be entirely in your own head, but then you’ll say something like “I think that couple on that stoop has just been on their first date. See how nervous they are?” and he’ll realize you’ve been paying attention all along.

Now, he knows you’re only waiting for him to own up.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says, “for luring you here under false pretenses.”

“You told me it was a small dinner.”

“There is food down there, if you go looking…”

“This is a party, Sirius.”

“You wouldn’t have come if I’d told you it was a party.”

You take a sip of your beer, looking like you might be trying to hide a smile. “No,” you agree.

“Then I lied.” He tests his luck, tossing you a grin meant to coax out your own. “I’m not sorry.”

“I knew it,” you mutter, but there’s no real malice in your voice. Sirius leans over, bumping his shoulder into yours.

“I wanted to see you.”

You give him a look. “You could see me any night.”

“I wanted to see you tonight,” he amends. “I had to get you here somehow.”

You sigh, leaning into him in turn. “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from your party.” You cringe. “Or being rude to your friends.”

“Don’t be silly, nobody minds. They all love you anyway, and now that I’ve been gone for more than five seconds James will have seized the opportunity to change the music. They’ll all be having a grand time.”

You smile, turning your face down so your hair almost covers it. But Sirius won’t be robbed of the sight; he hooks your hair on a finger, slotting as much as he can behind your ear.

Your eyes meet his. “I like your music,” you tell him.

Sirius beams. “And that’s why I like you, gorgeous. Well,” he hedges, “part of why. There’s also your personality, I suppose.”

“Stop.” You give him what he supposes is meant to be a stern look, but it’s only heart-wrenchingly cute.

“And your lovely ass, can’t forget that.”

You turn your face entirely away from him, but your shoulders shake silently. Now that Sirius has you laughing, he decides to push his luck one more time.

“Do me a favor?” He asks. You look over, still fighting your smile. “Come back inside. You can sit with Remus—he adores you, and he’ll be happy to have someone he doesn’t need to make small talk with. In an hour I’ll kick everybody out, and it’ll be just us for the rest of the night. Okay?”

You tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, mulling it over. “Yeah,” you say after a minute, “okay. Just give me a minute and I’ll head down.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Sirius leans over, capturing your lips with his. He makes it good and persuasive, but in all honesty he’s probably as wobbly as you are when he pulls away. “And will you do one more thing for me, please?”

“Um.” You look a bit dazed. “Sure.”

“Get down off the edge. You’re freaking me out.”

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bratzkoo · 6 months ago

Text

barely yours | mingyu pt. 1

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 3.8k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 Possible Warnings: mingyu is an idiot. not descriptive sex but there's sex. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking... and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): find other parts here! pt. 2 | pt. 3

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The pulsating bass reverberated through the arena, sending tremors through the floor and up Hwang Y/N's spine. She stood in the wings, watching as the last chords of "Midnight Reverie" faded away, replaced by the deafening roar of the crowd. Her eyes were fixed on one figure in particular – Kim Mingyu, the lead guitarist of HHT, his tall frame silhouetted against the blinding stage lights.

Sweat glistened on Mingyu's brow as he raised his guitar in triumph, a broad grin spreading across his face. The rest of the band – Seungcheol on lead vocals, Vernon on bass, and Wonwoo on drums– joined him at the front of the stage for their final bow. Y/N felt a flutter in her chest as Mingyu's gaze swept across the wings, landing on her for a brief, electric moment before he turned back to the audience.

As the band made their way offstage, Y/N stepped back, allowing the crew to rush past with equipment. She watched as Mingyu handed off his guitar to a tech, running a hand through his damp, tousled hair. When he spotted her, his eyes lit up with a mischievous glint.

"Enjoy the show?" Mingyu asked, his voice husky from two hours of performing.

Y/N quirked an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "It was alright, I suppose. I've seen better."

Mingyu clutched his chest in mock hurt. "You wound me, Hwang Y/N. And here I thought I'd impressed you with my guitar solo."

"Oh, is that what that noise was?" Y/N teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I thought a cat was being strangled."

Their banter was interrupted as Seungcheol approached, clapping Mingyu on the shoulder. "Great show, man. You coming to the afterparty?"

Mingyu's eyes flickered to Y/N before he answered. "Nah, I think I'll sit this one out. Got some... uh, post-show decompressing to do."

Seungcheol followed Mingyu's gaze, a knowing smirk crossing his face when he spotted Y/N. "I see. Well, don't 'decompress' too hard. We've got that radio interview tomorrow afternoon."

As Seungcheol walked away, Mingyu turned back to Y/N, his expression shifting from playful to something more intense. "So, about that decompressing..."

Y/N felt a familiar heat coil in her stomach. She knew exactly what Mingyu was suggesting, and despite her better judgment, she wanted it too. "Your place or mine?" she asked, her voice low.

"Yours," Mingyu replied without hesitation. "It's closer, and I don't think I can wait."

The ride to Y/N's apartment was charged with anticipation. They sat in the back of her chauffeur-driven car, careful to maintain a respectable distance despite the electricity crackling between them. Y/N could feel Mingyu's eyes on her, tracing the curve of her neck, the line of her collarbone exposed by her off-shoulder top.

As they rode in silence, Y/N found herself reflecting on how they'd gotten to this point. She remembered the first time she'd seen Mingyu perform, at a small club showcase before HHT had hit it big. She'd been there on her father's orders, to scout new talent, but she'd found herself captivated by the tall, charismatic guitarist with the killer smile.

Later, at the afterparty, they'd gotten into a heated debate about the merits of classic rock versus modern pop. Y/N had been impressed by Mingyu's passion and knowledge, even as she'd argued against him just for the fun of seeing his eyes light up with indignation. The tension between them had been palpable, and when Mingyu had suggested they continue their "discussion" somewhere more private, Y/N hadn't hesitated.

That night had been the start of their current arrangement. No strings, no expectations, just two people who enjoyed each other's company – in and out of bed. It had seemed perfect at the time. Y/N got the excitement and passion she craved without the complications of a real relationship, and Mingyu got to blow off steam with someone who understood the pressures of the industry.

But lately, Y/N had found herself wanting more. She caught herself daydreaming about quiet nights in, about holding hands in public, about being able to call Mingyu hers. It was dangerous territory, and she knew it. But she couldn't seem to help herself.

The car pulled up to Y/N's building, jerking her out of her reverie. As they made their way up to her penthouse, the air between them grew thick with anticipation. Y/N's hands trembled slightly as she unlocked her door, hyperaware of Mingyu's presence behind her.

As soon as they were inside her penthouse apartment, Mingyu had her pressed against the door, his lips crashing into hers with a hunger that made her knees weak. Y/N responded with equal fervor, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

"God, I've been thinking about this all night," Mingyu growled against her neck, his hands roaming her body with practiced ease.

Y/N gasped as he found a particularly sensitive spot. "Is that why you kept messing up the bridge in 'Starlight Serenade'?" she teased breathlessly.

Mingyu pulled back, his eyes narrowing playfully. "I did not mess up."

"Oh, you definitely did," Y/N insisted, her hands slipping under his shirt to trace the hard planes of his abs. "But don't worry, your adoring fans probably didn't notice."

With a growl, Mingyu hoisted her up, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. "I'll show you who's messing up," he threatened playfully, carrying her towards the bedroom.

They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, hands frantically removing clothing. Y/N reveled in the feeling of Mingyu's skin against hers, the heat of his body igniting a fire within her. His lips trailed down her neck, across her collarbone, leaving a path of tingling sensations in their wake.

"Mingyu," she breathed, arching into him as his hands found all the places that made her see stars.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another searing kiss.

What followed was a symphony of sighs, moans, and whispered names. They moved together with the familiarity of long-time lovers, knowing exactly how to draw out each other's pleasure. Y/N lost herself in the sensations, in the feeling of Mingyu's body moving with hers, in the intensity of his gaze as he watched her come undone beneath him.

When they finally collapsed, spent and satisfied, Y/N felt a contentment that went beyond mere physical release. She curled into Mingyu's side, her head resting on his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart as it slowly returned to normal.

"That was..." she trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Mingyu chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, it was," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

As they lay there, catching their breath, Y/N found herself studying Mingyu's profile. The sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips – every feature was achingly familiar, yet she never tired of looking at him. In moments like these, when the world outside ceased to exist and it was just the two of them, Y/N could almost believe that what they had was more than just a casual arrangement.

Mingyu must have sensed her gaze because he turned to face her, a lazy smile curving his lips. "What's going on in that head of yours, Hwang Y/N?"

Y/N hesitated, weighing her words carefully. She knew the rules of their arrangement, knew that feelings weren't supposed to be part of the equation. But lately, she'd found it harder and harder to stick to those rules. "I was just thinking," she began slowly, "about us."

Mingyu's eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh? And what about us were you thinking?"

Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Have you ever wondered if... if maybe we could be more than this?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them, hanging in the air between them like a fragile bubble.

For a moment, Mingyu's expression was unreadable. Then, to Y/N's dismay, he burst out laughing. "More than this? Come on, Y/N, don't tell me you're going soft on me."

Y/N felt her heart sink, but she forced a smile, playing along. "Of course not. I was just joking. Can you imagine us in a real relationship? It'd be a disaster."

Mingyu's laughter subsided, but his eyes remained bright with amusement. "Exactly. We're perfect the way we are. No strings, no complications. Just good times and great sex."

"Right," Y/N agreed, ignoring the twinge in her chest. "Just the way we like it."

Mingyu pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You had me worried for a second there. I thought I was going to have to let you down easy."

Y/N forced a chuckle, burying her face in his chest to hide the hurt in her eyes. "As if. You should know by now, Mingyu, I'm not the relationship type."

As Mingyu's breathing evened out, signaling he had drifted off to sleep, Y/N remained awake, her mind whirling. She thought about the first time they'd met, at one of her father's lavish industry parties. Mingyu had been the cocky new talent, fresh off HHT's debut showcase. Y/N had been the jaded industry princess, used to up-and-coming stars trying to curry favor with the CEO's daughter.

Their initial interaction had been all barbed words and challenging glares, a clash of egos that had somehow morphed into heated kisses in a secluded corner of her father's mansion. From that night on, they'd fallen into an easy pattern of flirtation and secret rendezvous, both adamant that it was nothing more than physical attraction and convenience.

But somewhere along the way, at least for Y/N, things had changed. She found herself looking forward to Mingyu's texts, not just for the promise of a passionate encounter, but for the witty banter and inside jokes they shared. She caught herself smiling at his antics during interviews, feeling a surge of pride when he nailed a particularly difficult guitar riff during performances.

Y/N had tried to ignore these growing feelings, to convince herself that what they had was enough. But nights like these, with Mingyu's arm draped casually over her waist and his steady heartbeat under her ear, made it increasingly difficult to maintain the illusion.

She thought about her reputation in the industry – the party girl, the wild child, the one who was always good for a good time but never for anything serious. It was an image she'd cultivated carefully, partly as a defense mechanism against those who would use her for her connections, and partly as a way to rebel against her father's strict control.

Mingyu fit perfectly into that image. Their arrangement was the epitome of no-strings-attached, exactly what everyone expected of her. But for the first time in her life, Y/N found herself wanting more, wanting something real and lasting.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through her curtains, Y/N made a decision. She couldn't keep doing this, couldn't keep pretending that Mingyu was just a fun distraction. It wasn't fair to either of them.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, Y/N extricated herself from Mingyu's embrace. She padded quietly to her closet, pulling on a silk robe before making her way to the kitchen. As she waited for the coffee maker to finish brewing, she leaned against the counter, trying to gather her thoughts.

She knew what she had to do, but the thought of it made her chest ache. How did you end something that had never officially begun? How did you walk away from someone who had become such an integral part of your life without even realizing it?

The soft ping of the coffee maker pulled Y/N from her reverie. She poured two cups, doctoring Mingyu's with the perfect amount of cream and sugar – when had she memorized how he liked his coffee? – before heading back to the bedroom.

Mingyu was just stirring as she entered, his hair adorably mussed and his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Morning, beautiful," he mumbled, a slow smile spreading across his face as he spotted the coffee in her hands.

Y/N felt her resolve waver at the sight of him, all soft and warm in her bed. But she steeled herself, handing him his cup before perching on the edge of the mattress. "Mingyu, we need to talk."

Mingyu sat up, suddenly alert. "That sounds ominous. What's up?"

Y/N took a deep breath, staring into her coffee cup as if it held the answers she sought. "I think... I think we need to stop this. Whatever this is between us."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Mingyu spoke, his voice carefully neutral. "Where is this coming from, Y/N? I thought we were good."

"We are," Y/N assured him quickly, finally looking up to meet his confused gaze. "That's... that's kind of the problem. We're too good. I'm starting to want things I shouldn't want, things we agreed we wouldn't want."

Understanding dawned in Mingyu's eyes, followed quickly by something that looked suspiciously like panic. "Y/N, come on. We talked about this last night. You said you were joking about the relationship thing."

"I lied," Y/N admitted softly. "I didn't want you to know how I really felt. But I can't keep pretending, Mingyu. It's not fair to either of us."

Mingyu set his coffee aside, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "So, what? You're just going to end things because you're developing feelings? That's bullshit, Y/N, and you know it."

Y/N felt a flare of anger at his dismissive tone. "What would you have me do, Mingyu? Keep sleeping with you while my feelings grow stronger? Watch you flirt with other girls and pretend it doesn't kill me inside? I'm trying to protect myself here."

"Protect yourself?" Mingyu scoffed. "Sounds more like you're running away. I thought you were stronger than that, Y/N."

His words hit her like a physical blow. Y/N stood abruptly, needing to put some distance between them. "You don't get to judge me for this, Mingyu. We had an arrangement, and now I'm ending it. That's my right."

Mingyu threw off the covers, standing to face her. "And what about my rights? Don't I get a say in this?"

"What's there to say?" Y/N challenged, her voice rising despite her best efforts to stay calm. "You made it clear last night that you don't want anything more than what we have. And I can't settle for that anymore."

For a moment, Mingyu looked like he wanted to argue further. But then his expression shuttered, his posture stiffening. "Fine. If that's what you want, consider it done. We're over."

Y/N felt her heart fracture at the finality in his tone, but she forced herself to nod. "Thank you for understanding."

Mingyu began gathering his clothes, dressing with quick, angry movements. Y/N watched him, memorizing every detail – the way his muscles flexed as he pulled on his shirt, the furrow between his brows as he concentrated on tying his shoelaces. She wondered if this would be the last time she saw him like this, rumpled and beautiful in the morning light.

As Mingyu headed for the door, he paused, turning back to face her. For a moment, Y/N thought he might say something, might fight for her, for them. But he just shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and something that looked almost like regret.

"I'll see you around, Y/N," he said finally, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

And then he was gone, the soft click of the door closing behind him echoing in the sudden silence of Y/N's apartment. She stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot where he had been, feeling as though she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life.

But it was for the best, she she told herself firmly. Better to end things now, before she fell any deeper. Before the inevitable heartbreak became too much to bear.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N made her way to the bathroom. She had a busy day ahead – meetings to attend, appearances to make. The world wouldn't stop turning just because her heart was breaking.

As she stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the lingering scent of Mingyu's cologne, Y/N made a silent vow. She would move on. She would forget about Kim Mingyu and their stolen moments of happiness. She would go back to being Hwang Y/N, the carefree party girl who didn't need anyone or anything.

But even as she made this promise to herself, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered a traitorous thought: What if Mingyu was right? What if she was running away from the best thing that had ever happened to her?

Y/N shook her head, banishing the thought. It was done. Over. And no matter how much it hurt now, she knew it was the right decision.

Wasn't it?

As she dried off and began her makeup routine, Y/N's phone buzzed with a series of notifications. She ignored them at first, assuming they were the usual morning barrage of emails and social media alerts. But when it kept buzzing insistently, she finally picked it up.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Mingyu's name on the screen. For a moment, hope flared in her chest. Had he changed his mind? Did he want to talk things through?

But as she read through the messages, her hope quickly turned to dismay.

"Y/N, what the hell? You can't just end things like this." "We need to talk. For real this time." "Answer your damn phone."

The last message was followed by three missed call notifications. Y/N's thumb hovered over the call back button, but she hesitated. What good would talking do? She'd made her decision. They both needed a clean break.

With a deep breath, she typed out a response: "I'm sorry, Mingyu. But I meant what I said. It's over. Please don't call again."

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, then promptly blocked his number. It was harsh, she knew, but necessary. If she left any line of communication open, she'd be too tempted to reach out, to take it all back.

As she finished getting ready, Y/N tried to focus on the day ahead. She had a lunch meeting with her father to discuss HHT's upcoming comeback, followed by a charity event in the evening. She chose her outfit carefully – a sleek black pantsuit that screamed 'professional' rather than 'party girl'. Today, she needed all the armor she could get.

The drive to her father's office was mercifully short. As she walked through the lobby of Pledis Entertainment, Y/N held her head high, ignoring the curious glances and whispered conversations that followed in her wake. Let them talk. They always did.

Her father's secretary waved her straight through to his office. CEO Hwang looked up from his computer as she entered, his stern features softening slightly at the sight of his daughter.

"Y/N," he greeted, gesturing for her to take a seat. "You're early. That's a pleasant surprise."

Y/N managed a small smile as she sat across from him. "I aim to keep you on your toes, Dad."

Her father chuckled, but his amusement quickly faded as he studied her face. "Is everything alright? You look... tired."

For a moment, Y/N considered telling him everything. About Mingyu, about her feelings, about the mess she'd made of things. But she knew her father would never understand. In his world, relationships were just another business transaction, a way to gain influence or solidify alliances.

"I'm fine," she lied smoothly. "Just stayed out a bit late last night. You know how it is after a big concert."

Her father's expression tightened slightly, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he launched into a discussion about HHT's upcoming schedules, their new album concept, and the marketing strategy for their next single.

Y/N listened attentively, making notes and offering suggestions where appropriate. But a part of her mind kept drifting back to Mingyu. How would this affect the band? Would things be awkward now at company events? Would she have to avoid their performances altogether?

"Y/N? Are you listening?"

Her father's sharp tone snapped her back to attention. "Sorry, what was that last part?"

CEO Hwang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I said, I want you to take a more active role in HHT's management. You've got a good eye for talent, and you understand their demographic better than some of our older executives."

Y/N felt her stomach drop. "Dad, I don't think that's a good idea. I'm not really-"

"This isn't a request, Y/N," her father cut her off. "It's time you started taking your position in this company seriously. No more parties, no more scandals. I need you focused."

Y/N wanted to argue, to tell him that she wasn't ready for that kind of responsibility. But the determined look in her father's eyes told her it would be pointless. Instead, she nodded stiffly. "Understood."

As she left the office an hour later, Y/N felt like the walls were closing in around her. Not only had she lost Mingyu, but now she was being forced into a role she'd never wanted. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost collided with someone as she rounded a corner. "I'm sorry, I wasn't-" she began, then froze as she realized who it was.

Seungcheol stood before her, his usually friendly face twisted with concern and something that looked like anger. "Y/N," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to talk about Mingyu."

Y/N felt her carefully constructed facade begin to crumble. As she looked into Seungcheol's eyes, she realized that her decision to end things with Mingyu had set off a chain of events that she couldn't control. And this was only the beginning.

#svt #mansaenetwork #mingyu fic #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu imagine #kim mingyu fic #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu smut #svt x reader #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #rockstar! mingyu

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yannawayne · 7 months ago

Text

ii. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Mild sexual jokes, Making out AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

“Hey, I’m Jason. Don’t freak out, but I think he’s cheating on you.”

Damian’s protest was immediate and alarmed. “I am not! Todd!”

Jason waved a dismissive hand, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Pretty sure I saw him with some redhead just last week—”

In the background, the distinct clink of Damian’s katanas being unsheathed was audible. The phone jerked violently as the struggle intensified, Tim’s voice cutting in with panic. “Alright, alright! Don’t stab him! Here’s your phone back.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Monday, 11:15 PM - ???, Gotham City.

THE METAL DOOR GROANED as it was forced open, releasing a cloud of dust that sent you into a brief coughing fit. Selina chuckled softly, her figure silhouetted against the dim light filtering through the grime-coated windows. She stepped inside, her movements graceful, each footfall echoing in the vast emptiness of the warehouse.

"One of my safehouses," she explained, the door clanging shut with a heavy thud behind you both. "Secluded, off the grid."

The walls were lined with old crates and rusting metal shelves, their contents long forgotten. Selina flicked a switch, and a single, flickering bulb sputtered to life, casting a dim, yellowish hue over the room.

"We can lay low here for a while. Think of this as your personal hideout," she added, brushing dust off a table. "No one knows about this place—not even Batman."

You hummed in acknowledgment, your eyes scanning the room. The space had clearly fallen into neglect, the floor scattered with debris, and the windows fogged with years of grime. The overhead light flickered intermittently, casting shifting shadows that danced eerily across the walls.

Selina leaned against a stack of crates, her watchful eyes following you as you explored. She gave you a moment to take in the space, the silence between you filled only by the soft creaks of the old warehouse. Eventually, she pushed herself away from the crates, her steps almost silent as they pressed into the thick layer of dust that coated the floor.

Her hand found your shoulder, firm but reassuring, guiding you gently to the side. "Come on," she said. "I want to see something."

You followed her through the cluttered space, weaving between old barrels and rusting equipment until you reached a clearing. Here, the walls were less covered by debris. The area was bathed in a slant of sunlight streaming through a dirty skylight, illuminating the dust motes that floated lazily in the air.

Selina stopped and turned to face you, pointing to a wide stretch of wall. "Show me what you can do. Use those hands again."

"Sure," you replied with a nod, a faint smile attempting to mask your nerves. You shook out your hands, trying to rid yourself of any lingering nerves. "Seems easy enough."

You approached the wall, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You placed your hand on the cold, rough surface, feeling it grip back. With a careful lift, you brought your other hand up and pressed it against the wall, then followed with your feet.

Before long, you were clinging to the surface, limbs spread wide. You began to climb, your start slow and careful, but as you settled into the rhythm, your confidence soared. You ascended effortlessly, and with a final leap, you swung up to hang from the ceiling, a playful grin spreading across your face as you looked down at Selina.

Selina craned her neck to watch you, a glint of pride in her eyes as she applauded slowly.

"Not bad," she called up, warm and approving. "Now, let’s see if you can get down."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the jump. Channeling the superhero landing techniques you’d seen on TV, you leapt from the ceiling, aiming for a smooth descent on your knees. But reality had other plans.

SLAM!

You landed with a jarring thud, your knees slamming into the floor with a loud slam. The shock shot up your legs, making you wince as pain flared through your joints. You let out a half-groan, half-laugh, collapsing to the floor in a heap and clutching your knees.

“Oww, damn it,” you muttered, wincing as you rubbed your knees, trying to ease the sting. “Okay, superhero landings: they look badass, but they sure as hell don’t feel badass.”

Selina stifled a snort, a smirk playing at her lips as she watched you.

"You know," she drawled, "in real life, landing like that is a surefire way to mess yourself up." She arched an eyebrow, raising a finger. "Lesson one: don’t slam all your weight on your knees or legs. Roll with it and spread out the impact. Trust me, your joints will thank you."

With that, Selina moved to demonstrate. She climbed onto a low shelf, her posture perfect as she stood poised on the edge. With a graceful leap, she descended smoothly, her landing controlled. She rolled into a crouch, looking ready to spring into action.

"See?" she said, brushing off imaginary dust with a smirk.

You shot her a glare from where you were still hunched on the floor. "Okay, okay. I get it. No superhero landings."

Selina gave you an approving nod. "Exactly. Now let’s see if you can pull it off without turning me into a laughing mess."

"Alright, I'll give it another shot," you said, pushing yourself up. "But if I end up in a heap of broken crates, it's totally your fault."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Training with Selina was a crash course in everything you thought you knew but didn't.

Parkour was the first hurdle—literally.

Each day kicked off with stretches and warm-ups before diving headfirst into rolls, jumps, and twists. Selina made it look like an art form, smooth and effortless like she was swimming through the air. You, on the other hand, had a style that was less about grace and more about grit—rough around the edges, but uniquely your own. It wasn’t pretty, but it got the job done. The city started to feel like your playground, and with every jump and scramble, you got better at making it your own.

Once you got a handle on the whole not-falling-on-your-face thing, Selina moved you on to flexibility training. Yoga quickly became your new frenemy. On the one hand, it was the calmest part of your day; on the other, you didn’t know it was possible to sweat so much while standing still. Then came gymnastics. Flips, spins, and handsprings made you feel like you’d signed up for a circus performance. You found yourself attempting gravity-defying moves that left you either soaring through the air or tangled in a heap on the mat.

Web practice was a whole different beast, mostly because Selina didn’t have much advice for swinging around the city like a manic Tarzan. The first few swings had you gripping the sides of buildings like a terrified cat. But after a while, something clicked. You stopped worrying about plummeting to your death and started enjoying the ride. Swinging through the air started to feel natural—like you were born to do it.

Then there was hand-to-hand combat, where Selina decided bare-knuckle boxing was the way to go. Turns out, punching things with super strength was way harder than it looked. You didn’t just hit things; you obliterated them—cracks in the floor, dents in the walls, and one unfortunate punching bag that went on a one-way trip out the window.

And, of course, there was that time you got a little too cocky, tried to throw a fancy combo, and ended up clocking yourself in the face. That bruise was a harsh reminder that super strength was great—until you’re the one on the receiving end.

Every one of these skills was drilled into you, over and over, until it was muscle memory.

Of course, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. There were days when you felt like you’d made zero progress and nights when your body ached like you’d been hit by a train.

Selina had a knack for pushing you to your limits—right to the brink, but never over. It was like she had some weird sixth sense for when you were about to break—she'd pull back, giving you just enough room to catch your breath before diving back in.

There was something oddly comforting about it too, like she was slowly molding you into something more, even if she had to drag you kicking and screaming the whole way.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 4:01 PM - Catwoman’s Apartment, Gotham City.

5 Days Later.

Right now, you were in your bedroom, the soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains and casting a warm glow across the room. The clock on the wall ticked towards four, and according to your new training schedule, it was time for yoga.

You found yourself in mid-crow pose, balancing on your hands with your knees resting on your upper arms. A YouTube video played on the floor nearby, the instructor’s calming voice offering a steady stream of tips and encouragement.

“Focus on your breath,” the instructor advised. “Keep your core engaged and your gaze forward.”

You exhaled slowly, settling into the pose with a growing sense of ease.

Just as you were beginning to settle into the routine, your laptop rang with a FaceTime request. With a quick shift of weight to one hand, you reached over and tapped the screen of your phone to answer the call. You nudged the video to full screen with your free hand, giving your full attention to the incoming call.

Damian’s face appeared on the screen, blinking in surprise as he took in the sight of you. His hair was tousled, and he was dressed in a fitted black shirt that accentuated his physique. He was lounging in bed, surrounded by the comfortable chaos of a well-lived-in space: rumpled sheets, a few scattered books, and a delicate, ornate cup of chai karak on the nightstand.

“Habibti. Are you... doing yoga?” he asked, a slight red tint on his ears

You tried not to grin too widely as you held the pose. “Yeah, believe it or not. It’s part of my new training routine.”

Damian’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised. His eyes briefly traced over the tensed-up muscle of your arms, a hint of admiration flickering in his gaze. “Training? I wasn’t aware you had an interest in such pursuits.”

You hummed softly, stretching out your legs with practiced ease, each movement a dance. Your body, defined and taut, seemed like a sculpted work of art against the soft light filtering through your bedroom. Damian’s gaze followed the elegant curve of your back, lingering over every contour as if he were trying to memorize each detail.

“Well, Selina's been pushing me to get better. Uh... self-defense and all. It’s been intense, but I’m actually enjoying it.”

Damian nodded slowly, his eyes never straying from you. His usually steely gaze softened into something warmer, almost embarrassingly dopey, with hearts practically swimming in those steamy forest greens. He shifted on his bed, fingers drumming absently on the edge as he continued to watch, utterly captivated.

You followed up with a few air push-ups, grunting slightly as you bent your arms down.

The effort seemed to spur Damian more than you’d expected. His cheeks flushed deeply, and he quickly raised his phone's camera to the ceiling, desperately trying to hide his flustered face. He had always admired strength and discipline—traits he prided himself on and valued in others.

After a moment of awkwardly staring at the ceiling, Damian cleared his throat and adjusted his position, attempting to appear nonchalant as he lowered the camera back down. His attempt at casualness failed miserably. He was about as subtle as a brick being thrown into a window when it came to how much he thought you were beautiful.

“Well, I must admit, I’m rather impressed. I didn’t expect you to exhibit such dedication.”

You completed your set of air push-ups and settled back on your heels, a satisfied grin lighting up your face. “Thank you. It’s been challenging, but I’m making progress. Mom’s a tough coach, but her methods are effective.”

Damian’s gaze softened as he watched you ruffle your damp hair with a towel, the warmth of the setting sun casting a golden halo around you. The light painted your face with a soft, ethereal glow, highlighting the contours of your cheeks and the sparkle in your eyes. He shifted, lying on his stomach with his face buried in a pillow, but his emerald eyes peered out with a look of pure adoration.

"You're beautiful."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but you quickly cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Thanks,” you replied, your voice betraying a hint of the fluttering emotions you were trying to hide.

Just as the moment settled, a loud crash shattered the calm. Damian flinched, his phone tumbling sideways, leaving you staring at the ceiling. Incoherent shouting and raucous laughter spilled through the background, punctuated by the unmistakable sound of someone barging in.

“Grayson! You insufferable, blundering imbecile! How many times must I tell you to knock before you manage to comprehend basic manners? You’re a barely tolerable nuisance, a wretched excuse for a brother. Get out before I lose my temper!”

Oh.

You snorted and continued to listen as more voices joined in.

“Oh, Damian’s got himself a little video call buddy. I hope you’re making a fool of my little brother, whoever you are.” A tuft of dark hair with a white streak appeared briefly before the phone was yanked away, giving you a downward view of someone’s face.

Tim’s grinning mug filled the screen next, and he gave you a lazy wave. “It’s his girlfriend.”

Before you could react, Damian’s voice erupted from somewhere off-screen. “Drake, give me my phone back this instant!”

Dick’s head popped into view next, his blue eyes the only part of him visible as he peered at you with a mischievous grin. “Y/N! Give me the phone. I wanna say hi too!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, waving to the two of them. “Hey, guys. Glad you could crash my call.”

Tim shrugged, still holding the phone. “Sorry about this. You know how it is here.”

Damian’s voice grew louder and more insistent, practically vibrating through the phone. “If you don’t give me my phone back right now, I will—”

Before he could finish, the screen shifted again. The phone wobbled as Damian wrestled for it and Tim tried to pull it back. In the background, Jason’s voice cut through with a snarky tone. “No way she’s actually real. I thought she was just a figment of his imagination.”

“Stop! Unhand it! None of you insipid fools have any concept of how to behave with respect!"

Jason managed to snatch the phone away with a triumphant smirk, his eyes narrowing as he took you in. Among Damian's brothers, he was the one you saw the least. You wouldn't be surprised if he didn't remember you.

“Hey, I’m Jason. Don’t freak out, but I think he’s cheating on you.”

Damian’s protest was immediate and alarmed. “I am not! Todd!”

Jason waved a dismissive hand, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Pretty sure I saw him with some redhead just last week—”

Just as Tim was about to hand it over, Dick swooped in one last time, his face filling the screen with a very unflattering close-up of his mouth. “Wait! I didn’t get my turn!”

Damian’s screams and the scuffle of feet continued in the background. The phone changed hands again, this time revealing Alfred’s face as he peered down at the screen with a raised eyebrow.

“Say hi, Alfred,” Dick’s face appeared beside him, and the butler gave a warm smile.

“Good afternoon, Young Miss Kyle. I trust you’re well? We were all quite concerned after the incident at prom.”

You managed a small, sheepish smile, running a hand through your damp hair. “Thank you, Alfred. I’m doing much better now.”

Alfred nodded, his expression softening. “I’m glad to hear that. Please take care, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything. Master Bruce sends his good wishes as well.”

Dick’s grin widened as he gently nudged Alfred aside and took back the phone. “See, even Alfred wants you to come over. It’s unanimous! Right, Cass?”

The screen shifted again, briefly showing Cass giving a thumbs-up and nodding. You signed a quick "hi," and she responded with a warm smile.

There was a final chaotic burst of shouting, tangled limbs, flying fists, and laughter before the screen spun once more, the sound of a door slamming shut echoing. Damian’s grumbling face reappeared, his expression a mix of frustration and relief.

“Apologies for the disturbance,” he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s fine, Damian. Your family’s just... lively.”

Then, squinting with a playful grin, you added, “Is your shirt... ripped?”

Damian glanced down, noticing the tear in his shirt for the first time. The rip ran diagonally from his shoulder down to his ribs, exposing the defined contours of his muscles beneath. The golden light from the setting sun danced across his form, casting soft shadows that highlighted the ridges of his physique. His cheeks flushed.

“Typical,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Damian set his phone down and moved to his closet. The aftermath of the earlier chaos was evident: a pillow half off the bed, books slightly askew on the shelf, and one of his katanas leaning precariously against the wall.

You whistled as he pulled off his torn shirt, admiring the way his back muscles shifted and flexed with the movement. Damian glanced over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. After a moment, he retrieved a clean black shirt, slipping it on. He picked up the phone again, his face coming back into view.

“Better?”

“Much better,” you replied, still smiling. “Though I wouldn’t have minded if you took a little longer.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but his expression was warm. “Idiot.”

He settled back down, setting his phone on his lap, which gave you a perfect view of his arms as he leaned over. The muscles in his forearms flexed slightly as he adjusted the angle, and you couldn’t help but admire how his strength showed through even in such simple movements.

"So... Is it true? Do you really have a secret redhead on the side?" you teased, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Damian's eyes widened, and he straightened up, instantly defensive. “What? No! Todd’s insufferable, and his only goal in life is to make me suffer. I would never—! I’m completely devoted to you. Their teasing is just a pathetic attempt to rile me up. I’m all in with you, no one else.”

You couldn’t resist, a cheesy grin spreading across your face. “All in, huh?”

“TT.” Damian’s face flushed even more, and he quickly hid his face from the camera, groaning in embarrassment.

You chuckled softly, deciding to shift the mood. “Are you going on patrol tonight?”

Damian’s face reappeared, more composed but still slightly flushed. “Yes, the usual rounds. Gotham never sleeps.”

You nodded, trying to sound casual despite the worry creeping in. “Just... be careful, okay?”

Damian’s expression softened. “I will. And if anything happens, you’ll be the first to know.”

You smiled, feeling a comforting warmth. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 2:20 AM - Catwoman’s Safehouse, Gotham City.

THWIP.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Selina taunted, her voice dripping with mockery as she effortlessly sliced through the webs you cast with a flick of her claws. “I thought you were better than this.”

The dimly lit warehouse echoed with the rapid sounds of your movements as you and Selina sparred. At 2 AM, the night’s calm had long since dissipated, leaving only the two of you engaged in a relentless back-and-forth.

You grinned, focusing on your next move. “Oh, I’ve got plenty more. Just warming up!” You flicked your wrist, sending another burst of webs toward her, aiming to trap her legs.

Selina nimbly leaped over the webs, landing gracefully. “Warming up? You’re going to need more than that to catch me.” She charged at you, claws extended, slicing through the air.

You flipped away just in time, twisting mid-air to narrowly avoid her claws. You landed lightly on your feet. “You know, for someone who’s supposedly training me, you sure like to make things difficult.”

Selina smirked, turning to face you. “Aren’t you at least a little curious?” She teased. “Training isn’t supposed to be easy. If it were, it wouldn’t be worth the effort.”

You dropped into a boxing stance, fists raised and ready.

“Easy? Who said anything about easy?” You shot back with a quick jab aimed at her midsection. Selina dodged with a bend. Unfazed, you followed up with a powerful cross, your fist just grazing her cheek.

“Let’s see if your skills can match that mouth,” she sneered.

Frustration simmered, and you launched into combo of punches—left jab, right cross, left hook—occasionally shooting webs. Selina danced around them with cat-like grace. When you swung a particularly forceful uppercut, you shot a web at her feet. She leaped clear, laughing as she did.

“Getting better,” she admitted, landing a bit rougher than usual. “But still not quite there.”

You readied yourself again, stance firm. “Not yet, but I’m catching on.”

Selina lunged again, her speed almost blurring. You ducked under her swipe, but she adjusted mid-move and closed in with a sudden burst of speed. Her claws grazed your jaw, and you stumbled backward, trying to regain your balance.

“Damn,” you cursed, wiping a trickle of blood from your chin.

“Learning yet?” she replied with a smirk.

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Charging forward, you fired a burst of webs that latched onto Selina’s torso. With a sharp yank, you reeled her in, closing the distance between you. As she was pulled within reach, you shifted your weight and threw a punch.

JAB!

The force of your punch connected solidly with her chin, knocking Selina backward. She hit the ground with a grunt but was quick to recover.

Huffing slightly, she sprang to her feet, brushing off the dust and massaging her jaw with a wry smile. “Nice hit.”

“Didn’t hit you too hard, did I, Mom?” you asked, genuine concern in your voice as you started to undo the wraps on your knuckles.

Selina chuckled, brushing off a stray web from her hair with an exaggerated flick. “Hardly. I’ve been hit harder by a wayward cat toy."—An obvious lie, you were a very heavy hitter—"But I appreciate the effort.”

You relaxed your stance, feeling a rush of accomplishment. “Just trying to keep up with you.”

"Is that so?" Selina said, gliding over to a table to grab a handful of ice, which she pressed against her jaw. She then slipped into a sleek, black jacket that accentuated her lithe frame. As she turned to you, her eyes sparkled with mischief, and a playful smile danced on her lips. “Still have some energy left?”

You rolled your shoulders, savoring the satisfying ache of a solid workout. “Yeah, I’m not quite ready to hit the hay yet.”

Selina gave a nod of approval as she bent to lace up her boots. “Good. We’re going out.”

Your eyes lit up, and you couldn’t hide your excitement. It had been days since she’d let you get out and test your new skills, and you were itching for some action. “Really? You mean it?”

“Yep,” Selina said with a sly grin, pulling a stray web from her hair. She tossed the ice pack aside, the cubes clinking as they hit the metal table. “Time to see what you’ve learned. Go get ready.”

You nodded and did as told.

You slipped on a red varsity jacket—Damian’s from the school’s soccer team. He was the star player, but he never actually wore it, so you decided to "borrow" it for yourself. The jacket was oversized on you, but it offered that familiar warmth and carried the faint scent of his cologne. Underneath, you kept on your training clothes: leggings and a sports bra, still damp from the warehouse workout. On your feet, you pulled on your red, ratty Converse, their worn-out soles feeling oddly comforting.

It wasn’t long before you and Selina were leaping across Gotham's rooftops, the city below a sprawling tapestry of glowing lights and deep shadows. The cool night air rushed past you, carrying the distant hum of traffic and the occasional whoosh of a passing vehicle far below. Each leap sent adrenaline coursing through your veins, the thrill of the city’s pulse beneath your feet.

“Keep up!” Selina’s voice cut through the wind.

On cue, she vaulted off a high ledge, her body twisting mid-air like a dancer in flight. The moonlight glinted off her jewelry and caught the sharp focus in her eyes as she executed a flawless landing atop a streetlamp. The lamp swayed slightly under her weight, but she held her position with poise, a smirk playing on her lips.

With a grin, you shot a web at the streetlight, using it to swing in a wide arc around the pole. The momentum propelled you into a series of rapid spins, your laughter blending with the whistling wind as you twirled through the air. Releasing the web, you pulled yourself up and off the lamp, flipping effortlessly before landing in a smooth roll on the adjacent rooftop.

“Nice moves,” Selina called out. She leaped from the lamp with a fluid dive, twisting gracefully mid-air before she landed beside you, her boots barely making a sound on the rooftop.

Both of you continued moving, the exhilaration of the chase fueling your every step. The city lights streaked past in a blur of neon and shadow, each leap and swing a burst of adrenaline. As you bounded across another rooftop, something caught your eye—a large billboard, its bright screen flickering with the latest headlines.

The text burned across the display.

“Gotham High Senior Prom Interrupted by Villain Connected to Sionis Crime Family: Chaos Erupts.”

You came to an abrupt halt, your shoes skidding against the gravel roof. Breathing heavily, you tilted your head slightly and turned to face the billboard, your gaze fixed on the glaring headlines. The screen flickered to a live feed of a stern-looking news anchor.

“Last Saturday, prom at Gotham High was disrupted by a violent attack. Eyewitnesses reported a scene of utter chaos where a villain equipped with mechanical arms infiltrated the event, resulting in a brief but intense altercation. Several students sustained injuries. The assailant, identified as Octavius Burton, was apprehended by Batman and his partner, Robin.”

Tucking your hands into the pockets of your jacket, you turned as Selina began to make her way to you, your brow furrowing with concern. You could see her fingers flexing at her sides, a telltale sign of her mounting frustration. She pulled her sleek, black jacket tighter around her, the fabric rustling softly.

“Burton, a former professor at the academy, was terminated following inquiries into his activities connected with the Sionis Crime Family, an organization with known affiliations to the criminal figure known as Black Mask. Authorities are continuing to investigate the motives behind this incident.”

Black Mask was a touchy subject between the two of you, subtly pulling at threads of pain that neither of you fully addressed. His name seemed to drift into conversations like a ghost, stirring up the quiet ache of past losses—the kind that felt like a fresh wound, reopening old scars that neither of you had fully healed from.

“Have you seen anything strange lately?” you asked, trying to gauge her reaction.

Selina gave you a sideways glance, her expression thoughtful. “Funny you should ask. I’ve picked up on some strange shifts. The gang’s movements have been off—more frantic, almost like they’re gearing up for something.”

“And what do you think it means?” you asked carefully, trying to avoid pushing too hard.

Selina shrugged. “It’s hard to say. They’re usually pretty secretive, but something feels different this time. Like there’s a bigger play going on.”

You chewed on your inner cheek, feeling a familiar tightness in your chest. This was the most you’d managed to get her to talk about Black Mask or any of the darker aspects of her other life. It wasn’t often Selina opened up about such things, and the rare glimpses she offered were often fleeting, like shadows slipping through your fingers.

“Have you picked up any solid leads?” you asked, tugging at the sleeves of Damian's jacket. “Anything that might give us a clue about what’s coming?”

Selina’s expression grew more guarded. “Not much. Just fragments and whispers. But whatever’s brewing, it’s got those boys on edge. And when they’re on edge, you know something big is about to go down.”

You nodded, feeling a knot of anxiety in your chest. You shut your eyes for a brief moment, gathering the courage to voice your thoughts. When you opened them again, your gaze was steady.

“I want to check this out,” you tell her.

Selina froze. “I’m sorry, what?”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “I can’t shake the feeling that everything’s connected. There’s too much coincidence here to ignore.”

Selina’s eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening as she took a step back. “What are you getting at?”

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to keep your voice steady despite the knot in your throat. “Look, think about it. My parents died because of Black Mask. Then, this villain linked to him shows up at the prom. The next day, I wake up with spider powers, and my dad was working on spider-human DNA stuff. All these pieces—”

Selina cut you off. “You’re not seriously suggesting you want to dive into this mess yourself, are you?”

“I have to! It’s all connected somehow. I need to find out what really happened with my father. I need to piece it together myself,” you sputter.

Selina’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a disbelieving laugh, her hand coming up to her forehead as if to steady herself. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Kid, don’t get ahead of yourself. Just because I trained you for a week doesn’t mean I’m about to let you go and get yourself tangled up with the Sionis Family.”

You bristled at her dismissive tone, stepping closer, you waved your hands around in desperation. “But you don’t get it. I can’t just sit back and ignore this!”

Selina’s expression hardened, her protective instincts flaring. “You think I don’t get that? I lost your mother—my sister—too. I know how hard it is. But rushing into danger without understanding everything is risky. The Sionis Family isn’t just a petty gang; they’re dangerous, with connections and resources that could put you in serious danger.”

You took a step back, feeling the sting of her words. “You think I’m too weak to handle it, don’t you? That I’ll just fall apart like everyone else you’ve seen?”

Selina’s eyes widened. “That’s not what I meant—”

“But that’s exactly what you’re implying!” you shot back. “You’re treating me like I’m still a kid like I can’t make my own choices.”

“You’re my daughter,” Selina said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “You are a child whose whole world was turned upside down with no explanation. You were left there all alone, on my doorstep. And I took you in because I couldn’t stand to see you lost and alone. Now, you’re asking me to let you dive headfirst into a world that killed everyone I loved and nearly destroyed me.”

You shook your head, trying to protest, but she silenced you with a raise of her hand.

“I know you're confused. I know you're angry. So angry about your mother's death. And, baby, I am too,” she whispered. “But you have so much ahead of you, and I don’t want this world to consume you before you’ve even had a chance to truly live. This life, it’s... it’s not what I want for you.”

“But what if this is what I want?” you asked quietly, looking back up at her.

“You’ll regret it,” she croaked. Her eyes were clouded with something you couldn't quite place—fear, maybe, or sorrow. As she pulled you into a tight embrace, her shoulders sagged, the tension seeping out of her in a slow, painful release. “I see myself in you, in all the ways I wished I could have been something different, something better. It scares me because I know all too well what this life can do.”

The news report had long since faded, replaced by a garish commercial that blared across the billboard. The vivid reds and yellows bathed both of you in an almost surreal glow, distorting the moment into something dreamlike and distant.

The relentless noise and flashing lights felt like they belonged to another world, far removed from the quiet tension between you. You simply nodded, your throat tight, and clung to Selina, the weight of her words settling into your chest as you hugged her back, holding on just a little tighter.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 3:43 AM - Catwoman’s Apartment, Gotham City.

The newly bought alarm clock, a hasty replacement after the old one met its demise the night after prom, glared at you with its green-tinted screen. Its bright blue neon numbers cut through the darkness, each digit pulsing with impatience:

3:43 AM.

You were seated at your desk, robin-themed socks snug on your feet and a green blanket draped around you for warmth. The soft glow of your laptop screen illuminated your face as you pored over a labyrinth of links and tabs, your eyes scanning for any scrap of information related to Octavius Burton. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the computer and the occasional click of your mouse.

Both you and Selina had returned from the run just an hour ago, the air between you still charged with unspoken words. Selina, visibly exhausted, had offered you a final, goodnight kiss on the cheek before retreating to her bed. The weight of your conversation had clearly worn her out, but you remained restless.

CLICK.

You clicked through a few more links on your laptop, but the information was frustratingly sparse—just fragmented reports and vague mentions that led nowhere. Restlessness gnawed at you, making the room feel too small, too stifling as if the walls were inching closer with each passing second.

Your gaze flicked to the window, where the city lights barely penetrated the thick curtains. The cool night air called to you, a whisper of freedom. An idea began to take shape, stirring a familiar itch beneath your skin—the urge to move, to escape, to find answers.

You grabbed your laptop and closed it with a decisive snap. The screen went dark, but the soft green light from your alarm clock still bathed the room in an eerie glow. You slid your feet into your shoes and approached the window.

Opening the window quietly, you peered out into the night, the cool air splashing against your face like a cold, refreshing wave. Using your spider powers, you crawled effortlessly up the side of the building. Once you reached the rooftop, you settled onto the edge, your legs dangling over the side.

Cool and refreshing, a welcome change from the stuffy room. You pulled out your laptop.

As you continued your search for information, the quiet of the night enveloped you, broken only by the occasional distant sound of the city below. It felt like the world had opened up just a little bit more.

With a click, you redirected your search to something more personal. You began scrolling through the company pages of Oscorp Industries, the old company where your father had worked.

You skimmed through employee directories, old press releases, and archived news articles. You paused at a page detailing the company’s history. Among the names and dates, you spotted a familiar one: Octavius Burton.

The text described him as a former lead researcher who worked at Oscorp Industries for a brief three years before his abrupt departure. Huh.

Shaking off your unease, you shifted your focus to a research site where your father had published his work. Searching for his name, you navigated to his profile.

Scrolling through his list of publications, you examined the coauthors and acknowledgments. Your heart skipped a beat when you came across a paper that mentioned Burton in its acknowledgments section. It read:

“Special thanks to Dr. Octavius Burton for his invaluable insights and technical expertise during the development of this project.”

A knot formed in your stomach as you closed the laptop, your head beginning to throb. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together, but the edges were still blurred, the full picture just out of reach.

Scowling, you rubbed your temples, trying to soothe the growing tension that had built up behind your eyes. But before you could find any relief, the unsettling tingle of your spider-sense flared to life. It started as a faint prickle at the back of your neck, quickly escalating into a sharp, insistent warning that sent your heartbeat into overdrive.

!!!

Your body reacted before your mind fully processed the danger. You snapped your head around, every nerve on high alert. A shadow moved in the corner of your vision, and in the next instant, a figure dropped down from above, landing with a nearly imperceptible thud just a few feet in front of you.

Without thinking, you sprang into action. Your laptop tumbled from your lap as you lunged forward, your fist arcing toward the intruder's face. The impact was solid, your knuckles meeting the side of their jaw with a satisfying crack. The figure staggered, but quickly recovered, straightening.

"What? Looking for some more?!” you growled, swinging another punch aimed at the intruder. But before you could connect, a gloved hand shot up, catching your fist with surprising ease.

"Beloved?" The familiar voice cut through the adrenaline-fueled haze, laced with both surprise and a hint of irritation.

You blinked and looked up to see Damian, clad in his Robin suit. His jaw was already showing a deepening bruise, a mottled patch of red and purple swelling rapidly.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, mortified. The realization of who you had just struck hit you like a wave, your cheeks burning with heat. "I—I'm so sorry! I didn’t mean to—"

Damian adjusted his stance, wincing slightly as he gingerly touched the sore spot on his jaw. “Really? Is this how you greet everyone who drops by? I’m both impressed and deeply insulted.”

He gave you a scrutinizing look, the white slits of his mask narrowing. “That punch—while forceful—was a bit too eager. A more controlled approach would be better. Precision and control usually work better than raw power.”

You stared at him, taken aback. “Are you... judging my punch?”

Damian’s lips curled into a smirk as he went on, clearly enjoying the moment. “And your balance was off. You need to keep your center of gravity more stable. Alignment and posture are key to effective strikes and maintaining stability.”

You rolled your eyes. “Brat.”

“Well, if the shoe fits,” Damian said with a self-satisfied smirk, adjusting his gloves with a flourish. “It’s only fair that I offer some guidance. A bit more finesse and you might have neutralized me more efficiently.”

Your eye twitched. Men and their egos, you thought, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Oh, sorry for not meeting your high standards,” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your words. “Maybe next time, I’ll make sure not to punch the person who’s here to give me tips.”

Damian chuckled, crossing his arms with a grin. “It was a decent hit. You’ve managed to impress me. Think of it as a compliment. Most people don’t even get the chance to lay a hand on me.”

“I hate you,” you grumbled, but the words lacked any real bite. Despite your irritation, you found yourself stepping closer, wrapping your arms around his torso, and burying your face into his chest.

Damian simply huffed, amused, and placed his arms over your shoulders, the warmth of his embrace comforting in its familiarity. Even when he was being insufferable, there was something about him that made it impossible to stay mad for long.

“Why did you drop by anyway?” you asked, lifting your head to look up at him.

Damian’s arms tightened around you as he responded, “I was in the neighborhood. Curiosity got the better of me. And it seems I was right to investigate,” his gaze flickered toward your laptop, still lying on the rooftop.

You narrowed your eyes, not buying it. “Really? You just happened to be passing by? You know this is Catwoman’s territory, right? Seems a bit out of your way.”

“Tt,” Damian scowled, looking away as a faint blush crept up his neck. The tips of his ears turned a telling shade of red. “It’s not like I was actively searching for you,” he added, trying to sound indifferent. “Just a fortunate coincidence, I suppose.”

“Mhm. Sure, babe,” you murmured, reaching up to gently touch Damian's face. Your fingers traced a scar near his jaw with a tenderness that made him pause, his breath hitching ever so slightly.

“Idiot,” you said affectionately, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“Hardly,” he replied, a subtle warmth breaking through his tone. Before you could react, he scooped you up into his arms with ease.

“Put me down,” you groaned, half-heartedly resisting. “I’m heavy.”

Damian’s lips curled into a smug grin, his breath warm against your skin as he scoffed, “Beloved, my bench press warm-ups weigh more than you.” The gravel in his voice took on a teasing edge, smugness bleeding into your ear. “Watch.”

Before you could react, Damian’s arms tightened around you, and with a quick, effortless motion, he tossed you into the air.

A startled scream escaped your lips as you flailed, instinctively shooting out a web. The sticky thread hissed as it latched onto the rooftop edge, pulling tight and catching Damian’s attention. His head whipped around, confusion clouding his features as he tried to make sense of the sudden blur of movement.

In the split-second of panic, you plummeted back toward him, landing safely in his arms.

Shit.

Without missing a beat, before he could fully look back, you grabbed his jaw and pulled him into a kiss. Damian’s eyes widened in shock, but as you deepened the kiss, his surprise gave way to something else. His arms wrapped around you, and he kissed you back with a fervor that matched your own.

After a few minutes, Damian tried to pull away, his curiosity still evident in his eyes. But you weren’t having any of it. With a soft, pleading whine, you drew him back in, your hands sliding over the contours of his armor. You whispered his name against his lips, the warmth of your breath mingling with his.

Beneath the hardened exterior and the carefully constructed armor, Damian was achingly soft. The mere thought of kissing you, of feeling your lips against his, had managed to distract him so thoroughly that the facade he worked so hard to project fell away like fragile shards of glass.

Damian’s attempt to pull away was fleeting as if he were tethered by an invisible thread pulling him back to you. His hands tightened around you, one sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, the other pressing firmly against your lower back, drawing you closer. He swallowed the honeyed sounds slipping from your lips, savoring every breath and murmur.

Your hands roamed across the edges of his mask, fingertips tracing the ridges and contours, teasingly attempting to slip it off.

Damian’s groan of your name was a low, throaty rumble that vibrated through your chest. His lips followed a fiery path down to your neck, each kiss a heated brand that made your breath catch, as if he were etching his mark on you with every touch.

Suddenly, the sharp crackle of Damian’s earpiece sliced through the intimate moment. His body tensed, and with a swift, almost robotic motion, he leaped several feet away from you, landing with a heavy thud. He straightened up, his posture rigid as he fiddled with the earpiece.

“Dam—Robin,” came Tim’s voice through the earpiece. “Eugh. What the hell is that noise? I thought you were on patrol. Are you seriously making out on the job? Redhood and I are getting an earful of... whatever that is.”

“Yeah, thanks for the front-row seat to the romance, demon brat. I’ll be sure to add that to my list of things I didn’t need to hear tonight. Next time, maybe give us a warning before you make me want to shoot myself.”

“TT,” Damian’s face turned a deep crimson as he yanked the earpiece from his ear with a grimace. In a burst of frustration, he slammed the device down, reducing it to a pile of broken plastic.

“Oh,” you said with an amused grin as he spun on his heel with a sharp, almost frantic movement and leaped off the rooftop in a swift, disappearing dive.

“Next time, maybe keep the earpiece off!” you called after him, the grin still playing on your lips. Damian responded with a speedier exit, vanishing into the night.

As the echoes of his departure faded, you let out a deep sigh, your grin slipping away. Turning around, you saw the web you had shot still clinging to the rooftop, its glistening strands catching the moonlight with an almost ethereal shimmer. Panic bubbled up inside you as you approached it, your hands trembling slightly.

Fuck. That was too close.

Taking a steadying breath, you carefully picked up the web, its sticky texture making your fingers feel oddly weighed down. With a swift motion, you tossed it off the roof, watching as it drifted into the darkness below. The night seemed to grow eerily quiet in the aftermath, each distant siren or rustle of leaves making your heart race with an anxious thrum.

You scanned the rooftop one final time, making sure no trace of the night’s events remained. Grabbing your laptop, you felt its reassuring weight as you turned and headed back to your room.

"I have got to be a lot more careful," you sighed to yourself, the words barely more than a whisper.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Monday, 2:19 PM - Chemistry Lab, Gotham Academy.

“...and as you can see, the rate of reaction increases with temperature, which in turn affects the activation energy required. Remember, it’s crucial to maintain consistent variables to ensure accurate results. Any questions?”

The room buzzed with the soft rustle of papers and the occasional murmur as students exchanged glances and half-heartedly raised their hands. A question from one of the students prompted Dr. Foster to shift to a new segment of the lecture.

You slouched over your desk, trying to focus on the textbook despite the monotonous drone of the lecture. The room felt stifling, the endless rows of lab benches and flickering fluorescent lights adding to the sense of tedium. Your pen drifted absently across the paper in your notebook, sketching spiders—each more intricate than the last. It was the third-to-last class of the day, and you found yourself counting down the minutes until freedom.

This was one of the only classes you didn’t share with Damian, and his absence made the wait for dismissal feel even longer.

With a sigh, you sketched a detailed spider, giving it a little mask and cape for amusement. The classroom’s buzz of activity continued around you, blending into a dull hum as you lost yourself in your sketches.

“You like spiders?” came a voice, interrupting your idle doodling.

You turned to find your seatmate, Morgan, looking at you with a curious expression.

Morgan Stark—her full name rolling off the tongue like something out of a high-fashion magazine—was your lab partner in Chemistry class and a standout at Gotham Academy. Top student, robotics prodigy, and the heiress to Stark Industries

You blinked, slightly taken aback. “Oh, um... yeah. I guess so. Just an interest.”

Morgan leaned closer, her chestnut hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. “Really? Most people find spiders creepy. What got you into them?”

You glanced at your notebook, where intricate doodles of spiders and webs sprawled across the page.

“I don’t know,” you began, pausing as you searched for the right words. “They’re just… fascinating. I like their webs.”

Morgan nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing on her lips. "That's pretty cool.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a bit more at ease. As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, students began to gather their belongings with a collective sense of relief. The clatter of backpacks and the rustling of papers filled the room.

Morgan leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms with a small smile. She tilted her head, studying you with a curious gaze.

“What’s your name again?” she asked, her hand moving to adjust the glasses perched on her nose.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. After months of sitting next to her, you'd assumed she’d have gotten it by now. Hell, you two did tablework assignments together, shared notes, and even collaborated on that tough group project last semester.

“You... don’t know my name?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Her eyes widened slightly, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her notebook. The blush deepened, contrasting with the freckles dusting her skin.

“Oh, I know your name,” she lied horribly, her voice faltering just a bit. “I… just want to know if you know it.”

A smile crept up your cheeks as you gathered your notebook and packed it away, your movements slower and more deliberate.

“I’m Y/N Kyle,” you said, offering a gentle smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Morgan said with a smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe next time we can trade more than just doodles and spider talk.”

“Sounds good,” you replied, sliding your backpack over one shoulder and standing up.

As students filed out of the classroom, you and Morgan exchanged a final look. She gave you a quick, playful wink before turning to join her friends, who were already waiting by the door.

Walking out of the classroom, the hallway was alive with the usual end-of-day hustle. Students rushed to their lockers, chatted animatedly, or headed to their clubs. The walls were lined with lockers, some ajar and spilling over with books and personal items. Conversations and occasional bursts of laughter echoed off the walls.

As you pushed through the crowd, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was a message from Damian:

SUGAR DAMI:

Beloved, I'm afraid I can't drive you home today.

I have soccer training that will extend until 5 o'clock.

You sighed, a touch of disappointment creeping in. Selina was out on a heist for the whole day, leaving you to your own devices. The thought of spending the rest of the afternoon cooped up in your apartment didn't exactly thrill you.

With a quick huff, you typed a response:

YOU:

No worries, I'll figure something out. Good luck with training!

You hit send and slipped your phone back into your pocket. Adjusting the strap of your backpack, you made your way toward the back entrance of the school. As you pushed open the heavy double doors, the crisp afternoon air greeted you with a refreshing coolness.

Stepping outside, you were met with a clear blue sky, dotted with only a few wispy clouds drifting lazily. The sun bathed the school grounds in a warm, golden glow, while the distant hum of traffic blended with the cheerful chirping of birds.

You made your way to a secluded corner of the school grounds, checking over your shoulder to make sure no one was around. With a nimble leap, you cleared the fence and landed lightly on the other side. Slipping into the narrow alleyway, your footsteps echoed softly off the brick walls as you made your way to the fire escape.

You scaled the metal steps with practiced ease, pulling yourself up to the rooftop. Once there, you rolled your shoulders, loosening up before taking in the expansive view. Your apartment was visible in the distance, but that wasn't your destination today.

With a final glance back at the school, you took off across the rooftops.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Monday, 3:25 PM - Catwoman’s Safehouse, Gotham City.

The journey to the safehouse was quick, the cityscape blurring by as you made your way. As you pushed open the heavy doors of the safehouse, the familiar scent of old wood and metal greeted you, a stark contrast to the crisp afternoon air outside.

With a tap on your phone, you opened Spotify and selected a playlist, the tunes soon filling the room from the speakers resting on a nearby table.

Don't wanna be an American idiot One nation controlled by the media Information age of hysteria It's calling out to idiot America

Still in your school uniform, you took off your blazer and tossed it somewhere on the floor, leaving you in your shirt and tie, slightly rumpled from the day's wear. The warehouse felt cooler without the extra layer, and the air against your skin was refreshing.

Using your shooters, you spun a hammock between a few panels of the wall. You jumped onto it, the webbed fabric creaking slightly as it adjusted to your weight. The hammock swayed gently as you settled in, the rhythmic motion easing the tension from your muscles.

As the music played on, you bobbed your head to the beat, letting the lyrics wash over you.

Welcome to a new kind of tension All across the alienation Where everything isn't meant to be okay Television dreams of tomorrow We're not the ones who're meant to follow For that's enough to argue

Settling deeper into the hammock, you pulled out your phone and began scrolling idly through the latest news reports. The headlines were grim, detailing the latest string of crimes committed by Black Mask. As a Gotham native, you were used to the constant stream of bad news, but it still made your stomach churn slightly.

One headline caught your eye.

"Multiple Tech Industries Robbed: Black Mask Suspected in High-Tech Heist Spree"

You click on the article, your eyes scanning the details.

"In the past week, several leading tech companies have reported break-ins and thefts, resulting in the loss of millions in high-tech equipment and proprietary technology."

The article detailed the affected companies and the nature of the thefts. Wayne Enterprises had reported missing nanotechnology components. LexCorp was missing cutting-edge encryption devices, while Queen Consolidated had reported the disappearance of prototype energy sources.

Your brow furrowed as you took in the list. Black Mask was stepping up his game. He was gutsy, you'd say that, targeting Wayne Enterprises when Gotham was practically owned by the company. Maybe you could ask Damian for info. He might have some insights that could help you in your personal little mission.

!!!

Then there was a tingling sensation, a familiar prickle at the back of your neck, like tiny electric currents dancing along your spine. It heightened your senses, sharpening your focus as if the world slowed down for a brief moment. You turned just in time to see Selina swinging in with her bullwhip, landing on the ground with a graceful yet forceful thud.

Smirking, you raised a hand in greeting. “You didn’t roll. You know that’s really bad for your knees.”

“Oh, please, honey. Turning my own words against me? I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you,” she said, rolling her eyes. She straightened up, her black leather suit catching the dim light that filtered through the dusty windows.

"Why so early?" you hummed. "Thought you were out for the whole day. Got caught by Batman again?"

"Caught? Please, I never get caught. I just let him think he has a chance," she scoffed, sauntering over to you, her boots clicking against the concrete.

She held a small, black bag in her hand and, with a casual flick of her wrist, tossed it your way. The bag flew smoothly through the air, landing with a soft thud against your stomach. You grunted slightly and caught it in your arms.

“What’s this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just a little something I picked up on my way back,” she replied, leaning casually against a nearby crate. “Figured you could use a bit of excitement.”

As you opened the bag, you discovered a sleek, black suit inside. The material felt smooth and durable—definitely Kevlar. It was similar to Selina’s suit, but when you turned it around, a spider symbol was stitched onto the back.

“A suit?” you marveled, pulling it out for a closer look.

Selina smiled, lifting her goggles and moving to sit beside you. “I made it myself. Took a while to get everything just right, but I think it’ll suit you perfectly.”

You traced the spider emblem with your fingers. “I thought... you didn’t want me to go out into that world?”

Selina sighed softly, her expression softening as she watched you. “I was hesitant at first. You know how dangerous it can be out there. The streets of Gotham aren’t forgiving, and I’ve seen too many people get hurt—or worse—because they weren’t prepared. But I also understand why you feel the need to do this. It’s in your blood, just like it’s in mine. We’ve both got that itch.”

She paused, her gaze distant for a moment before focusing back on you. “When I first started, I was headstrong, eager to prove myself. I took risks, some stupid, some necessary, but I learned. This is my way of making sure you can learn the ropes without getting in over your head.”

"You're going to let me patrol?" you gasped out, a grin so wide it spread across the ends of your cheeks.

Selina’s tone sharpened. “Don’t think for a second this means I’m giving you free rein. I’ll be watching. One wrong move, and I’ll be right there to pull your little spider-butt back. But for now, consider this my way of making sure you’re ready.”

“Fuck yes,” you cheered, smiling as you hopped off the hammock.

She smirked, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, get suited up. Let’s see how you look in action.”

You took the suit and headed to a makeshift changing area in the corner of the warehouse. The material felt surprisingly light and flexible, molding perfectly to your body. You glanced at yourself in a cracked mirror propped against the wall. The sleek, black suit clung like a second skin, with the spider emblem standing out against the dark fabric.

Stepping out of the changing area, you caught Selina’s eye. She circled you once, then twice, before nodding in approval.

“Not bad,” she said with a smirk. “You look like you mean business.”

You smirked cockily, crossing your arms over your chest. “I do mean business.”

Selina raised a clawed finger, her tone turning serious. “Now, before anything, let’s set some rules. First, no killing—under any circumstances. That’s non-negotiable.”

You nodded solemnly.

“Second, stay away from gangs. That means no getting tangled up with Black Mask or his crew. They’re trouble.”

You deflated a bit but agreed.

“Third, avoid the Bats. Don’t go near their patrol routes or get involved with them. No crossing paths.”

“No patrolling on school nights – your education is your priority..”

“No associating with Catwoman – you can’t be seen with me in costume. It raises too many eyebrows and could lead Batman or others to figure out who you are.”

“So... I get to go solo?” you grinned.

Selina rolled her eyes. “Yes, but I’ll be tracking your every move. Stick to small, street-level threats like muggings, burglaries, and assaults. No big jobs or anything that could draw too much attention.”

“After patrols, come to the warehouse first – don’t go straight to the apartment.It’s safer to lay low here.”

“And no mixing with civilians—keep your crime-fighting life separate from your personal life.”

You nodded, committing the rules to memory. “Got it. No killing, no gangs, no Bats, no school-night patrols, no Catwoman, warehouse first, and no civilians.”

“Good. Stick to those rules, and we might just keep you out of trouble. Any small slip-up or any inkling of suspicion from the Bats, and you're out. Got that?”

Her eyes bore into yours, glaring into your soul. You gulped and nodded again, more firmly this time. "Got it. No room for mistakes."

Selina gave a satisfied nod and tossed you a mask. You caught it and inspected it closely. The mask was sleek and full-faced, featuring large, white mesh eye covers bordered in black. Subtle, almost invisible web patterns were etched into the surface.

"You know, for someone who doesn't follow the rules, you sure do have a lot for me," you snorted, running your fingers over the webbing, appreciating the craftsmanship before slipping it onto your face.

“That’s because I’m Catwoman and you’re not. I know when to break the rules and play. You’re still learning.”

“Do I at least get a cool name?” you asked, adjusting the mask to fit snugly.

“The press usually decides that, honey. How do you like the sound of Spider-Girl?”

“Spider-Woman,” you corrected with a huff.

“Spidey might be cuter,” she teased.

“Spidey,” you hummed, rolling the name around in your head. “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Spidey it is, then.”

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

dududun there's a stark

surely putting this child into vigilante work is a good idea

i am very sure spidey will be responsible and not at all destructive like every other peter parker ever

also! you fight like spider noir because both of you use bare-knuckle boxing

#the suffering begins!#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #batfamily #dc robin #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne imagine #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batman

544 notes · View notes

comatosebunny09 · 2 months ago

Text

Self-aware Sylus, who’s been plotting to break free of the LADS universe for a while. He’s been plagued by dreams of someone, seeing their smiling face in his sleep every day. Each time he’s met them, the details of their countenance have become more evident.

Now that he knows he’s been manipulated, everything from his actions to his dialogue preset for him, Sylus wants nothing more than to be free and to meet the person plaguing his dreams. With the use of his hacking prowess, he’s able to escape the game.

He wakes to ocean waves crashing against the shoreline and seabirds cawing in the distance. He sits up in the surf, blinking the bleariness from his eyes. A figure rushes towards him, blurry at first, silhouetted by the sun.

“Are you alright?” the figure asks, kneeling at his side. It’s them—it’s you. The person he’d dreamt of for what felt like ages, quietly calling out to him from the furthest regions of his mind, even when he wasn’t in control.

You’re more beautiful than his dreams could conjure, voice gentle, hand cautious on his shoulders.

He takes you in, still in awe. Surveys his surroundings, noting that he’s washed up on a beautiful island with modest infrastructure and palm trees bordering the horizon. He’s clearly not in Kansas anymore.

As you help him sit up, his mind races with questions. Where is he? How did he get here? Why is he here? But more importantly, he wants to know who you are and what significance you play in his life, haunting his dreams like a pretty specter.

Before he can get a word out, more figures approach from behind you. And Sylus thinks he might’ve had a rough ride traveling from the LADS universe to whatever timeline he currently inhabits. Because why in the hell do all the figures behind you look like anthropomorphic animals?

#scribbling this down before i forget #animal crossing au #because why the hell not #self-aware sylus #sylus x you #like this could be so fluffy and cute #sylus fishing and making a modest living catching bugs and foraging by your side #grassland romance my beloved

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rhyrhy · 1 month ago

Text

Slut me out series ˚ · .˚ ༘🦋⋆｡˚

Football! Fuckboy! Abby Anderson x female reader!

Cw: cunnilingus, fingering (r! Receiving), sex/actions under the influence, hate sex-ish, talks of drinking, smoking, college/ modern setting Abby!, no talks on body or race specifics! (Ellie appearance!)

MDNI- mlist for previous chapters

Chapter five: Out of bounds (not fully proofread I’m tired)

January 19th, 1am

The pool lights flickered, casting a soft glow that reflected on the water, painting everyone’s face in shades of blue and green. You had your head laid back on the cool, wet tile at the pool’s edge, listening to the distant chatter and the soft splash of water. The hum of R&B from the speakers couldn’t drown out the nagging question you had bouncing in your mind. So, you turned to Layla.

“Do you think she meant it, Lay?” you asked, unsure if the answer could even help the pit in your stomach.

Layla looked at you, brow furrowed, then softened. She knew what you were asking. “I think she did,” she said quietly. “And you know I wouldn’t lie to you. So… yeah”

Her words lingered in the air.

Was she really sorry this time? What did that even mean? What now?

You’d been soaking for an hour or so, you couldn’t bear to go back inside right now. Your mind was a mess, and whatever Layla put in your cup wasn’t helping. It just made you more fuzzy than wanted. Praying she’d come back soon, for a distraction or unfunny dad joke she loves to tell when you aren’t feeling like yourself.

You tried to push away the lingering thoughts of Abby. Don’t let her consume you, you are your own person. You repeat in your head, letting out a deep sigh. They wouldn’t leave you alone. Until a lanky, auburn haired, familiar face entered your line of sight.

You blinked a few time to process, seeing Ellie. standing a few feet away, her hands stuffed casually into the pockets of her faded jeans, her slightly awkward yet endearing smile impossible to ignore. Ellie Williams, You’d borrowed notes and had a few study groups with her in it, a friend. A comfort from the raging thoughts. Ellie’s eyes glinted with playful energy. you couldn’t help but feel a slight pull toward her, even with everything else on your mind.

“You looked a little lonely over here.” She nodded toward you, her green eyes flicking briefly to the drink in your hand. “Guess I’ll have to keep you company now.”

A small smile fell on your face. “Oh you’ll ‘have to’ , Is that right?”

Ellie shrugged, stepping closer. “Just doing my civic duty.” She leaned against the pool railing, her expression soft. “soo, you hiding from someone or?All mopey, red solo cup in hand”

You laugh at her dramatic description of you just chilling in the pool. Although she’s right, you were a tad ‘mopey’. Before you could answer, the patio door slid open with a clatter. Abby stepped out, her broad shoulders silhouetted by the light from the house, carrying an air that made your heart to pause for half a second. Yeah..Maybe it was foolish to think she wouldn’t be here.

Ellie’s teasing smirk faded slightly as her gaze flicked toward Abby, and she straightened up. “Guess I’ll leave you to it,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. She gave you a smile before turning and disappearing back into the crowd.

You barely had time to process Ellie’s sudden appearance before she was shuffling through the backyard. you sighed deeply and sank into the water a little more praying once more but for her to somehow not notice you.

And for awhile, she didn’t…until she did.

“Oh…Didn’t expect to see you here,” Abby said, her tone calm, though the way her hands flexed at her sides awkwardly gave her away.

You set your drink down on the pool ledge, avoiding her eyes. “Didn’t plan on it.” She may have apologized but I didn’t mean you were any less pissed at her whole ‘hit it and quit it’ act.

The air between you felt heavy, the distant chatter of the party and the bass-heavy music fading into the background. Abby shifted on her feet, glancing over her shoulder briefly, as if gauging whether this conversation was worth continuing.

…And for better or worse, she decided it was.

“Hey, about the other night—”

“Please Don’t,” you cut her off, finally meeting her gaze. Her blue eyes were softer than you wanted them to be, and it made your chest tighten. “I’m not here to rehash it, please.”

Abby hesitated, the sharp confidence she usually carried dulled by your words. Then Abby’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might walk away. Instead, she took a step closer, her voice almost pleading. “I don’t know how to fix this, okay? But I meant what I said to you, even if I messed up.”

There it was again. you had wanted to hear for weeks, and yet it still didn’t feel the way you thought it would. The words sounded sincere, but sincerity didn’t erase the hurt she’d caused.

Your heart skipped, the weight of her words pressing down on you. You wanted to believe her—wanted to believe there was still something real there—but the ache of what she’d done was still fresh. Before you could respond, Layla reappeared, her presence breaking the tension like a knife to a balloon.

“Sis, Everything good here?” she asked, her tone casual but her eyes narrowed as they flicked between you and Abby.

“Fine,” you said quickly, grabbing your drink and standing up. “I was just heading inside.”

You brushed past Abby, The feeling of her strong shoulder against yours sent a shiver down your spine but it quickly vanished. feeling her eyes linger on you as you walked away. The second somewhat apology had come, or more so admission of guilt..but the question of if it was genuine still bounced around in the air.

——-

The night dragged on, Layla throwing more distractions your way than you could handle. They were almost working. “we’re about to play pong in the living room. You in?” You hesitated, glancing toward the back door. You could still feel Abby’s presence out there, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

Layla nudged you. “Come on, forget her for a minute. This is supposed to be fun, remember?”

Sighing, you relented. “Fine. But only if I’m on your team. I’m not carrying someone else.”

Layla grinned, pulling you toward the living room where a makeshift table had been set up. Red solo cups were lined up in neat triangles on either end, and a group of people were already cheering loudly as a ball arced through the air and splashed into one of the cups.

——-

The game quickly became a small escape—a distraction that let you focus on something other than Abby’s lingering words. You and Layla made a solid team, racking up points and earning loud cheers from the group that had gathered to watch.

For a while, it felt like the knot in your stomach was starting to loosen. You were finally feeling normal. Before this torture of the Abby Anderson web. The laughter, the competitive smack talk, and Layla’s overbearing teasing were enough to keep your mind occupied.

But then, just as you were lining up a shot, you caught sight of her. Abby had come back inside, her towering frame impossible to miss as she leaned against the wall near the kitchen, arms crossed. Her eyes were on you.

You locked hers with her mid throw—You missed the shot.

Layla noticed immediately, following your gaze. “Seriously?” she muttered under her breath. “She can’t leave you alone for five minutes?”

“Lay, Let it go,” you said quickly, trying to shake it off, but the distraction was already setting in.

Abby didn’t move, didn’t say anything. She just watched you, her expression unreadable. no matter how much you tried to focus on the game, her presence was like vacuum, pulling your attention back to her again and again. You hated the small flutter in your stomach swirling with irritation and hurt.

——-

The alcohol was settling in now, warmth washing over, blurring the sharp, harsh edges of the world around you. The chatter from the living room blurred into the heavy bass of the music, and Layla’s voice faded into the background as you excused yourself, weaving through the crowd toward the bathroom.

Inside, the sounds of the party fell away, leaving only the hum of dim lights and the distant thrum of the music through the walls. You leaned against the sink, as you stared at your reflection. still slightly damp from the dip earlier you turned to find a towel to dry off fully.

emotional weight of the night hitting you like a bricks, feeling your chest tighten as the flashes of the past month began to pour in now that you were alone with no distractions.

The push and pull was maddening. Every time you tried to move away from it, she showed up. Every time she spoke, she cracked open wounds you were desperate to let heal. How can her words be the bullet and bandage at the same time?

Why can’t you just let me go?

The door creaked open behind you, and you froze, meeting Abby’s reflection in the mirror. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

“Abby—”

“I had to,” she interrupted, her voice low and raw. “I couldn’t just…watch you out there and say nothing.”

You turned to face her, your back pressed against the sink. “We’ve already said enough.”

“Clearly not,” she said, her gaze pleading once again. as she took a step closer. “You think I don’t see it? You’re hurting. And I know I’m the reason why.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, cutting through the haze of alcohol just enough to make your chest ache. “Then why do you keep doing this?” you asked, your voice breaking. “Why can’t you just leave me alone if you’re not going to—”

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” she said, closing the distance between you. Her voice softened, but her expression was anything but. “You think I don’t feel it too? You think I don’t hate myself for how I’ve hurt you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Abby’s strong hands were on your face, pulling you toward her. Her lips crashed into yours, desperate and messy, the heat of the moment fueled by the alcohol coursing through your system and the unresolved tension between you. You dropped the towel you had in hand and clinger onto her to steady you both.

You said you were done, she was supposed to be a closed chapter. So this wasn’t the best idea—you both knew that. The taste of tequila lingered on her lips, and your thoughts screamed at you to pull away, but your body didn’t listen. Your fingers tangled in her shirt as you kissed her back, a mix of anger, longing with a swirl of so many other emotions you couldn’t and wouldn’t name.

The kiss deepened, your back pressing harder against the sink as her hands slid to your waist, holding you like you might disappear. Her tongue darting into your mouth when gasped at her grasp on your hips. pull away. Pull away!

You couldn’t. For a moment, the world outside the bathroom disappeared. There was no party, no pain, no lingering questions. just the two of you, caught in something reckless. as the kiss broke, reality crashed back in. Abby’s forehead rested pressed against yours, her breathing uneven. You couldn’t open your eyes, knowing it would make the moment too real. The weight of what was happening would crash back into your mind if you did. Your mind once again a hailstorm of emotions and unspoken words.

“Abs…This doesn’t fix anything,” you whispered.

“I know,” Abby said, her voice low and hoarse. “But I can’t help it. Please just…please just this once”

She couldn’t help it and Neither could you.

As soon as you gave her the green light, your lips were back together like you were glued together.

Her tongue gently teased at your lower lip gently, silently asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Her other hand moved from your hip to wrap around your waist, her fingers gently holding onto the back of your shirt, pulling you closer still.

The moment you gave her access, abby’s tongue darted back into your mouth, her moan muffled by the kiss as she began to deepen the kiss. Her hand on your lower back began to explore your body, slowly tracing up and down your sides while she kissed you. Clearly missing how you felt in her hands.

She felt as if her body was almost completely pressed against yours now, her hands and lips practically greedy as they continued to explore, both her hands tracing up and down your sides, over your hips, and your body pressed against hers, her tongue continuing to gently explore your mouth, tasting you, wanting more of you, needing more of you.

Abby’s breathing became heavy and ragged as the kiss went on, her entire body continuing to react more and more as the kiss continued, her hands continuing to trace over your body, her hips gently grinding against yours, a small moan slipping past her lips again as she began to kiss you with more and more urgency. You were sure she was going to devour you at this point. She felt as if she was losing herself in the kiss, feeling as if the only thing that mattered was how your body felt against hers, how your tongue felt in her mouth, how your body was pushing her against the wall, her moans getting louder and louder the more the kissed.

You were surprised and slightly disappointed when she pulled away, wanting to continue the kiss. breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath, lips slightly swollen from the kiss, cheeks flushed as your eyes slowly opened.

her eyes tracing from yours to your slightly swollen lips, enjoying how they still looked from the kiss. Her hands were still resting gently on your hips, almost like she couldn’t bring herself to let go of your body. Not again. Not after all this time apart. Even though it was her fault.

Abby sighs of relief and moans softly at the feeling of your hands on her hips. You gave into the moment and ran your hands over the places you missed most. her body responding instantly to your touch. She leans in, pressing her mouth to your neck, her lips trailing hot kisses along the soft skin there.

Abby smiles against your skin as she feels your response, her kisses becoming more intense as she nips and sucks at your neck. Her hand slides up to tangle in your hair, holding your head in place as her other hand grips at your hip, pulling you closer, if that’s even possible at this point. she continues to kiss and bite at your neck, but she wants more. She wants to taste you, to re-explore every inch of you. missing the way you sounded and squirmed under her. Without warning, she drops suddenly to her knees, her hands working quickly at the fastenings of your jeans. Those blue eyes flick up to meet yours, a hint of mischief in them as she works the buttons on your jeans. you gasp as she began to undo your bottoms, hips bucking slightly with anticipation. She can hear your breath coming in shorter bursts. She feels the hand tighten on her shoulders, as you watch her work. All rational thoughts are out the window and did a full 180. Her hands push at the fabric, tugging them down over your hips until they're around your ankles. Truth be told, she didn’t want to double check in fear you’d pull away.

She wastes no time in moving forward, her mouth immediately pressed against the soft, sensitive skin of your plush inner thigh.

The kisses move higher, her tongue tracing patterns along your thighs as her hands grip your hips, keeping you pinned against the bathroom wall. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Flushed, hand in her hair, biting your lip in response to her mouth so close to where you wanted her. mind too fuzzy to care about if this was a good idea anymore.

Abby leans in and presses her mouth against the soft material of your underwear. her tongue tracing the edge of the material as her hands slide up and down your thighs, gripping at your skin. She glances up at you from time to time, watching your expressions as she works, every sigh and sigh like a sign telling her to keep going.

“Abs…please”

She hears you gasp her name and moans in response, the sound muffled by the fabric of your underwear. She reaches up and pulls the material away with a quick tug, her mouth immediately moving to taste you directly, her tongue sliding over your folds, desperately separating them.

Tongue plunging into your walls.

the slight was almost to much, as leaned your head back onto the wall in pleasure. her tongue-fucking you, face buried so deep between your legs you weren’t sure if she was even breathing, and honestly didn’t care.

Dropping a hand to grip onto her hair, needing to steady yourself to not buckle completely.

She slid a hand up your hips to cup around one of your breast. Needing at the skin, like she was trying to re-memorize the lines and dips of your body. When she squeezed a little on the swell of your breast

You groaned and involuntarily thrusting your hips up, giving her access to push her tongue further into your wet gummy yet needy entrance

then drops the hand completely to draw messy circles around the tense bud of your clit.

All you could do half lidded was watch the scene of her working on your pussy for the third time you’d allowed her between your legs, in the bathroom mirror. One strong veiny hand gripping on your hip to keep you steady and the other filling the bathroom walls with sounds of sin. The sloshing of her thick fingers working against you restlessly. finding its home in the warm, wet folds of your cunt. Thumb out to press messy circles on the aching bud of your clit.

Your words were slurred pleas to go faster, give you move. subconsciously wanting her to tire herself out on pleasing you, in slight payback of the hell she’d been putting you through these past few weeks.

“Faster abs..faster” you begged gripping her hair into you as close as she could be.

Those desperate blue eyes watch every reaction you gave her. Obeying your wishes she draws her fingers out and plunge them back into you again in a quicker manner.

your eyes rolled back. gripping her braid so tight you’d think you’d pull her thoughts out.

Jesus, she kept brushing on a spot deep inside you with the pads of her fingers. Thankfully, She never faltered, plunging her fingers knuckle-deep at whatever pace you mumbled out. You two were completely lost in the moment. The room was so hot, with hurt, and pure need.

Every hurtful moment that flashed through your mind caused you to rut of your hips faster against her face. If you couldn’t punch it, you were going to fuck it into oblivion.

your walls were sensitive you’re clamping around her fingers. Head fallen back on the wall.

Abby can hear it in your voice, the way your words are coming out in broken gasps and moans, the way you're trembling and pressing against her.

you couldn’t take it anymore, squeezing your thighs together around her head. And crying out through your teeth as you let the orgasm take you.

Back jolting off the wall as you let the flash of white from your eyes squeezing shut. and shudder as you placed a hand on her shoulder to stay upright. Catching your breath and slowly opening your eyes once more, seeing yourself in the mirror once again.

A mess.

—-

“We— Jesus… we can’t keep doing this…this is so stupid Abby I—“ you panted out. Tugging her head back from between your legs to look up at you.

but the sound of a knock at the door interrupted

“Hey, some of us need the bathroom too, you know!” a voice called from outside, followed by a chorus of laughter.

You both froze, caught in the intimacy of the moment and the sudden reminder of where you were. Abby’s eyes stayed locked on yours, looking up at you. Hands on your hips still. searching for something…maybe forgiveness, maybe understanding..but you couldn’t give it to her. Not yet. Especially not after what you just gave into.

——-

Last few chapters on Sunday! Thank you for reading so far :p💓💐💞 will proofread later, I’m half asleep 💤

—-

Taglist cuties: @deadbolted @grey-jedi12 @ceylnisgone @evabby @abby-anderson-wifey @icedsimpsayo @elle-girlylesbian

#wlw smut #x reader #abby x fem!reader #fem reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #tlou smut #lgbtq #smut

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