#and a cufflink fell off

[marvel-lous-guy]

Tony: I can't believe I lost my wedding ring. It's the one thing I can't replace.

Peter: Don't worry, Mr Stark. We'll find it before Pepper finds out. We'll just have to retrace your steps.

Harley: Or we could hire a metal detector and comb the entire city. That's what I did when I lost my cufflinks.

Tony: I don't think that's very practical

Harley: Hey, I found them, didn't I? And not everyone can afford unlimited cufflinks old man

[batmanlovesnirvana]

—‘marriage of convenience.’

BRUCE WAYNE X FEM!READER

ONE SHOT | smut, minors DNI.

synopsis : In a marriage of convenience, emotions were never part of the plan, yet they’ve begun to surface. You’ve always wanted to be a mother, but uncertainty hangs in the air. Your husband has four sons—why would he want another with someone who was never meant to stay?

A/N: This one’s a bit longer because I’m focusing on building up the pace, but I promise it’s worth it—or at least, I hope so! I didn’t specify which version of Bruce Wayne I used, so feel free to picture your favorite! I know it’s a bit of a cliché, but I’m a sucker for this plot, and I haven’t seen many similar ones with Bruce, sooo… here we go I guess ? Also, English isn’t my first language, so apologies in advance for any mistakes <3

THE MASTER BEDROOM felt both too big and too small at once—filled with walls of unspoken words and silences that grew louder each night.

Nine months had passed since you’d agreed to this marriage with Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s most enigmatic billionaire by day and its silent guardian by night. He had told you his reasons, vague as they were, and you had yours.

Still, it was a marriage of convenience—a carefully orchestrated arrangement that left you perpetually feeling out of place, knowing it could end at any moment.

It wasn’t as if you’d come from wealth, either. Your life before Gotham was modest, middle-class, and worlds away from Bruce’s fortune and the grandeur of Gotham’s elite.

This marriage was supposed to be a shield—a calculated protection from some gang’s threat, leaked just enough to the Justice League to ensure Bruce’s intervention. Beyond that, the reasons were murky, known only to him.

But hey, you were married to a billionaire, at least for now. If nothing else, it would make for one unforgettable line on your résumé.

Through the vanity mirror, you watched him, absorbed in his meticulous ritual of dressing for the gala. Each movement was slow, deliberate, as he adjusted his cufflinks with a focus that held you captive every time.

The tailored suit framed his broad shoulders perfectly, narrowing to his trim waist, offering fleeting glimpses of the muscles shifting beneath his skin. His jaw was set, and a few unruly strands of dark hair fell just above his eyes as he tightened his tie.

Those blue eyes. God, they were enough to undo you.

You forced yourself to look away, turning to your own reflection, hoping it would quiet the ache swelling in your chest.

But it didn’t.

No matter how often you told yourself you were fine with the space between you, a quiet longing lingered—a need to be more than just an arrangement, more than a convenience.

The feeling ran deeper than you’d ever admit—far beyond the desire you tried to bury.

You wanted him to want you—truly, fully, unreservedly, and completely.

Foolishly, you even dreamed of children. His children. But you reminded yourself it was just that—a dream. He already had five sons, and one day, he’d likely find someone better suited to his world.

You swallowed the ache and tied the silk robe firmly around your waist, applying a final touch of red lipstick and smoothing your glossy hair into place.

The dress, lying in wait on the bed, was a sleek masterpiece that clung to every curve. You couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation at the thought of his reaction, even if it was silly. Ridiculous, you scolded yourself. Pathetic, really, to hope he might notice.

With a nervous breath, you slipped off the robe and began to step into the gown, unaware that he was watching, his gaze tracing your every movement.

Bruce adjusted his cufflinks, stealing a glance from the corner of his eye as you bent down, the delicate fabric of your lingerie tracing every curve. The lace hugged your body perfectly, emphasizing the soft curve of your hips and the tempting line of your back. His fingers paused, the tightening in his chest mirrored by a tension lower that was hard to ignore.

With a clenched jaw, he forced his gaze away, willing himself to focus elsewhere—yet the image of you lingered, vivid and consuming, stirring something he’d long buried, something he wasn’t sure he could ignore much longer.

Finally, you slipped into the dress, smoothing it over your curves before looking up to meet his gaze in the mirror.

The intensity in his eyes was unmistakable; his usual restraint had slipped, revealing a raw hunger that sent a thrill through you.

His gaze traveled slowly, savoring the way the fabric hugged your silhouette, lingering on the curve of your hips, the bare expanse of your collarbone, and the soft line of your chest.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes softened, and you felt the weight of his attention like a touch, his restraint fraying at the edges.

Your breath caught as you held his gaze, the tension between you thick and electric, an unspoken pull that left your heart pounding. You’d never felt his eyes on you like this—an intensity that thrilled and unsettled you, setting every nerve alight.

Bruce looked away abruptly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, his gaze dark with something he clearly fought to contain.

Yet you could still feel the heat of his gaze lingering on your skin, and a forbidden question lingered in your mind—what would happen if he finally let himself surrender?

You tried to ignore the thrill that raced through your mind, focusing instead on slipping into your dress. But as you reached behind to pull up the zipper, your fingers faltered.

Clearing your throat, you took a steadying breath. “Could you, um… help me with this?”

In a few long strides, Bruce was behind you, his presence filling the mirror as he met your gaze. He reached for the zipper, his touch feather-light, and the brush of his fingers against your bare back sent an involuntary shiver through you.

His movements were unhurried, almost tentative, as if savoring the excuse to be this close. His fingertips lingered a fraction longer than necessary against the base of your spine, rough yet gentle, leaving warmth in their wake.

You couldn’t help the subtle arch of your back at his touch, pressing just close enough that your bodies brushed, igniting a spark that flared dangerously between you.

His breath ghosted against your neck, his eyes lowering to the bare skin exposed before him. And for a breathless moment, his hands lingered, hovering near your shoulders, as though wrestling with the urge to pull you closer.

Then, he stepped back, clearing his throat, the moment dissolving, leaving an ache in its place.

The two of you had never been intimate. On nights when he wasn’t patrolling, you shared a bed, but there was a boundary neither of you had dared to cross.

You had never… been with anyone, and while you weren’t ashamed of your virginity, it was a private matter, something you didn’t feel ready to share with him.

As for Bruce, once Gotham’s most eligible playboy, he’d shed that image completely since the marriage—a surprise to the public, but a quiet relief to you.

Yet, a small part of you wondered if he’d been with anyone else since you’d exchanged vows. The thought tightened your chest with a pang of jealousy you tried to ignore, a feeling that only grew stronger as the months went on.

“You look… breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice rough, as though he had to push the words past some unseen barrier. His warm breath brushed against your neck, and a shiver trailed down your spine that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

The sincerity in his tone pierced through the walls you’d carefully constructed, the tenderness resonating deeper than you expected.

“Thank you.” Your voice sounded softer than you intended, and you turned from the mirror to face him, finding his face only inches away from yours.

You let your hand drift to his shoulder, where he’d been wounded just the night before—a jagged slice you’d barely managed to patch up in the early hours before dawn, despite his protests. The paramedic in you had insisted on cleaning and dressing it properly, even if he brushed off your concern.

Absently, you brushed your fingers over the clothed spot, feeling the muscles flex beneath your touch as you assessed for any tension or pain. “And you… you don’t look too bad yourself,” you managed, offering a soft smile.

His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile—the kind he usually reserved for his family—and warmth blossomed within you. You felt… safe, desired in a way that transcended the formalities of your arrangement.

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, your fingers lingering as they traced small circles over the fabric.

“Almost healed,” he replied, his eyes softening. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture so tender it nearly unraveled you. The warmth of his fingers sent a thrill skittering across your skin, lingering long after his hand fell away.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the unsaid words that hung between you.

For a heartbeat, you almost dared to believe that he felt something deeper too. But then he stepped back, creating a measured distance that returned him to the safety of formality, the moment slipping away like sand through your fingers.

You stepped back as well, the warmth of his touch still imprinted on your skin, and took a shaky breath. "Well, we should get going," you said softly, striving to regain your composure, to suppress the surge of longing that clung to every part of you he’d touched.

But Bruce held your gaze, the tension in the air so thick you could almost taste it.

He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it, casting one last lingering glance over you before slipping on his suit coat. "Of course," he replied, his tone as stoic as ever, as if nothing had happened. "Tonight is important."

With a final breath to steady yourself, you began to put on your high heels, fastening your earrings and necklace before spritzing on a hint of perfume. As you donned your fur coat and grabbed your clutch, you felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

Bruce was waiting by the door, his posture relaxed yet alert, a man ready for the evening’s demands.

You stepped beside him, and for a moment, you both stood silently, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air, as if the night held the potential to change everything.

The grand staircase was silent as you descended, the soft tap of your heels against the marble echoing through the empty expanse of Wayne Manor.

With Alfred away visiting family in England and the boys off with friends, the mansion felt hollow tonight, every corner draped in shadows and stillness.

Outside, Bruce’s sleek sports car waited, polished and gleaming under the foyer lights.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the passenger door for you, his eyes catching yours with a warmth that made your stomach flutter.

You slid into the car, smoothing your dress as you settled in, and he rounded the vehicle to take his place behind the wheel.

As the engine purred to life and Bruce eased onto the long driveway, the question gnawed at you again, sharper this time.

It had been weeks, maybe even months, building inside you—a silent hope that had somehow turned into a constant hum in the back of your mind.

You wanted to ask him about children, about whether he’d ever want to start a family. The words hovered in your chest, heavy as stones, weighing down your heart until they ached.

You could almost hear his answer, feel it—a quiet, certain yes. But in that silent, unspoken response, there was a sharp edge that you couldn’t ignore. He’d want children, maybe even a family, but he wouldn’t want it with you.

You glanced at him, fingers twitching nervously in your lap as you wrestled with the words caught somewhere between your mind and your heart.

The steady hum of the engine filled the silence, but the air between you felt charged, thick with all the unspoken questions.

Bruce’s gaze flicked your way, almost as if he could sense something lingering on the tip of your tongue. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a low, familiar rumble beneath the car’s gentle purr.

You swallowed, drawing in a shaky breath as you tried to steady your thoughts. “Yeah, just… a lot on my mind.”

He nodded, his gaze softening. “It’s a big night. But I’ve seen you handle bigger.”

His confidence in you tugged a small smile from your lips, but the question still gnawed at the edges of your resolve.

Did he want a family? Could he imagine your family, a future with you? No. That was foolish.

This was a marriage of convenience—a choice made in the shadows, under false pretenses.

Besides, he had enough wards, allies, people to worry about already. A baby? Your baby? That would be a first, and a step he’d never take with someone like you.

The car glided down Gotham’s dimly lit streets, streetlights casting fleeting golden beams across the quiet interior.

You could feel your heart pounding as you looked down at your hands, fingers twisting nervously in your lap.

The question sat heavily in your chest, fragile and vulnerable. But after so many months of holding it back, you took a deep breath and let the words rise to the surface.

“Bruce…” His name came out as a whisper. You glanced at him, then away, focusing instead on the blur of city lights slipping by outside. “Have you ever thought about… having more kids?”

For a moment, silence filled the car, pressing thick and tense between you.

Bruce’s gaze stayed focused on the road, his face unreadable, shadowed in the dim light. As the seconds dragged on, you started to regret even bringing it up. But then he spoke.

“I didn’t think you’d want to bring that up,” he said, his voice a quiet murmur. “I thought you were… okay with how things are now.”

You hesitated, his answer making your heart clench, but you knew you couldn’t leave it there.

Summoning a shaky breath, you pressed on. “I am, really. I love the boys—each of them. They’re a part of my life in a way I never thought possible,” you said softly, fingers nervously tightening around the fabric of your dress. “It’s just… they know about us. They know this marriage is… part of the mission. And because of that, I think they’ll always see me as someone—” you struggled, searching for the words. “As someone useful, not… someone who matters.”

Bruce’s gaze flicked briefly to you, the hardness in his eyes easing as he listened.

“I know they care about you,” he said quietly, but there was a trace of hesitation in his voice, as if even he was aware of the boys’ guarded reserve, that shield they’d learned to hold around themselves.

“I know they do,” you replied. “They’re so much like you, in that way.” A faint, sad smile touched your lips. “They’re protective, and closed-off, and brave, and so loyal it hurts to watch sometimes. They’d die for you, you know?” You paused, swallowing against the ache in your chest. “I’ve tried to reach out, to be there for them… but I’m not sure they see me as someone important. Just another piece in this game. And I understand that.”

The words lingered between you, exposing the silent ache you’d carried. “But there’s a part of me that still wants…” You trailed off, feeling warmth rise in your cheeks as your heart willed you to continue.

Clearing your throat, you pressed on, “I guess I’ve always thought about… starting something like this, but from the beginning. A chance to be a mother… for real.”

The quiet that followed was painfully raw, every second stretching as you waited, almost afraid to look his way.

But when you did, his expression was softer than you’d ever seen, as if he understood, maybe even felt the same longing.

“I didn’t know,” he murmured, his voice gentler, with a kind of unspoken apology in his eyes. He reached over, his hand covering yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment. “I thought maybe I’d assumed too much—that this marriage, this… arrangement, would always keep us in that gray space.”

Your fingers tightened around his hand, your pulse thundering as you tried to process his words. “So did I… but it’s hard not to think about it now.”

Bruce turned, his eyes catching yours, and in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, you glimpsed something rare—vulnerability in his usually guarded gaze, a hint of the man beneath the mask. “And… if I told you I’ve been thinking about it too?”

The weight of his confession settled between you, mingling with the warmth and hope rising in your chest. Your breath caught, surprised by the honesty of his admission. “Really?” you whispered, the disbelief blending with the gentle swell of emotions you’d kept buried.

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his mouth, softening the edge of his stoic expression. “I didn’t think… I’d ever get to look beyond the mission. But it’s different now. Since marrying you, I keep thinking of… things I’d given up on before. It’s just… complicated.”

Your heart ached with the longing you’d tried so hard to suppress. “I know it is,” you replied, fingers clutching his hand a little tighter. “We’re not exactly a picture-perfect family. But I see the way you are with the boys, the way you protect them, how you’re there for them in every way you can be. You’re a good father, Bruce. And I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have that with you—to build something real together.”

He looked away briefly, his gaze darkening, his jaw tightening in thought. “I worry… what that means for us, for the boys, for everything. This marriage—it started out as a convenience, a front. And I don’t want to complicate things more than they already are.” His voice was almost pained, a weight in every syllable. “But… if we had a child, if we took that step—it would change everything. And I have to consider… the risks that come with that.”

You felt a thrill of excitement mingled with a pang of fear, both feelings clashing within you. “Maybe change is exactly what we need,” you said, your voice gentle but sure. “I’d never want you to feel trapped or forced into anything, Bruce. I just thought…” You paused, a blush heating your cheeks. “I just thought that maybe, there was a way for us to make this real, to make it work.”

His gaze lingered on you, searching, as if weighing his own feelings, his fears. “You really want this?” he murmured, his voice husky, a bare whisper that made your heart flutter.

You nodded, feeling the intensity of your own need to finally say it out loud. “More than anything,” you confessed, the words tumbling out, almost desperate in their honesty. “I want that with you. I want to build something, something that’s truly ours. Not part of a mission. Not for the sake of appearances… but because I love you.”

He looked at you then, and you saw something in his eyes soften, his own defenses melting as he held your gaze.

For a moment, the man you saw wasn’t Batman or the elusive billionaire, but someone who was deeply, painfully human, someone who loved fiercely but carried the weight of the world.

“I’ll have to think about it more,” he finally said, his words almost apologetic, but not without warmth.

Your heart sank a little, but you understood.

Of course he wasn’t going to say he loved you. Instead, he clenched his jaw, his hand tightening on the steering wheel. He was restraining himself, caught in some inner struggle—or maybe he was just angry. Angry at you, at what you’d said.

Guilt washed over you, but you understood. Yes, you understood. His life, his choices—they were unlike anyone else’s, and you couldn’t blame him for thinking twice.

“I know, Bruce,” you said softly, guilt threading through your voice. “I didn’t mean to bring it up now, of all times. You’ve got enough on your mind. I just wanted to know… just to see if maybe…”

He didn’t respond right away, his silence heavy with unspoken words.

You turned your gaze out the window, watching the city streets pass by as the car glided closer to the hotel where the gala awaited.

The flickering lights of Gotham washed over the sleek streets, gilding the world outside in a golden glow, the perfect contrast to the raw ache in your heart.

Bruce’s hand never left yours. He gave a small squeeze, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes, as if to say, I know. 

The warmth of his touch felt like a quiet promise, reassuring even in the silence.

You found a moment of solace at the bar, the cold glass of water refreshing against your lips amid the gala's chaos.

As you took a sip, your gaze wandered around the room, taking in the crowd mingling and laughing, their voices blending into a dull hum that felt both comforting and overwhelming. Bruce was deep in conversation with the Wayne Enterprises board, his brow furrowed in concentration, clearly weighing matters far more serious than the evening's festivities.

You tried to shift your weight to ease the ache in your ankles from the high heels, but the discomfort only deepened as the evening wore on. Just as you were about to take a moment to breathe and steady your nerves, a man approached you—confident, charming, and entirely too close for comfort.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, leaning casually against the bar, a grin spreading across his face. His eyes roamed over you, assessing and appreciative, and you felt a knot of discomfort tighten in your stomach.

“Actually, I—” you began, but he cut you off, undeterred.

“Oh, come on. You look like you could use some company,” he said, flashing a flirtatious smile that only made you feel more uneasy. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing all alone?”

You forced a polite smile, trying to convey your disinterest without sounding rude. “I’m not alone; I’m here with my husband,” you replied, fidgeting with your diamond ring—Bruce’s mother’s signet—its intricate design sparkling under the dim lights. The ring felt like a reminder of your bond, a talisman against the unwelcome advances of strangers.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. “Surely he wouldn’t mind you having a little fun. It’s a party, after all.”

A small flush crept up your neck at his suggestion, and your smile faltered. “I really don’t think so. He’d prefer I keep to myself,” you said firmly, hoping to end the conversation.

Just then, you caught sight of Bruce looking your way, a flicker of concern in his eyes as he scanned the crowd. Your heart swelled with gratitude at the sight of him, a silent reminder of why you were here.

The man followed your gaze and smirked. “Seems your knight in shining armor is watching. How sweet.”

“Actually, it’s called being a good husband,” you replied, your tone sharper than intended. You felt a rush of protectiveness over Bruce and your relationship, wanting to assert that bond against this unwanted attention. The man leaned in closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “I’ve seen you with him. You deserve a little fun tonight. I bet he doesn’t appreciate you like he should.”

Your heart raced uncomfortably. “No, really. I’m happy,” you insisted, attempting to keep your tone light. But the way he watched you felt invasive, and you were suddenly aware of how your ring gleamed—a reminder of your commitment amid the tension in the air.

“Let’s have a drink together. What’s the harm in a little fun?” he pressed, inching closer, his flirtation becoming bolder. You laughed at his joke, but it felt forced, a smile painted on your lips while your stomach twisted in knots.

Across the room, you could feel Bruce’s presence. When your eyes met, you saw the tension in his posture, his jaw clenching. The flicker of jealousy in his gaze sent a rush of warmth through you, reminding you of the complex emotions swirling around you.

Just as the man leaned in, brushing against your shoulder, Bruce appeared at your side, his voice smooth but edged with something darker. “I think she’s fine,” he said, making it clear he wasn't in the mood for debate.

You turned to Bruce, relief washing over you at his intervention. He positioned himself between you and the man, his body radiating authority and unyielding strength. “What do you want?” he asked, his tone leaving little room for interpretation.

The man straightened, clearly caught off guard. “Just having a conversation with this lovely lady,” he replied, struggling to maintain his composure, but you could see the flicker of fear in his eyes.

Bruce leaned in slightly, his voice low and serious, a chill settling in the air. “You’re talking to my wife. I’d recommend you keep your distance.”

The man hesitated, the bravado fading as he glanced nervously between you and Bruce. "Should I repeat myself?" His voice quivered, and you caught a hint of the intimidating Batman lurking beneath Bruce’s polished exterior.

“Of course not, Bruce,” the man stammered, gulping as he fumbled with his suit.

“It’s Mr. Wayne to you,” Bruce replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed the intruder. “Your name?”

“Uh—sorry?” the man said, clearly flustered.

“Your name.”

“Jack Laurent, sir.”

Bruce hummed, his dark stare analyzing him as if he could pierce through to the man’s very soul.

After a moment of awkward silence, Jack retreated into the crowd, a forced smile plastered on his face. As the tension dissipated with his departure, Bruce turned to you, his expression softening but still protective. “You okay?” he asked, concern threading through his voice.

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and something deeper at his instinct to shield you. “Yeah, just trying to find a moment to breathe,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "But I think you scared him off." You laughed lightly, trying to ease the lingering tension.

Bruce stepped closer, his presence wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. He grasped your bare shoulders delicately, as if you were made of porcelain. “I don’t care about him or anyone here,” he said, pulling you closer and searching your eyes with an intensity that made your heart race. “I just need you to be alright.”

You let out a breath, feeling the weight of his words. “I know,” you replied softly, slowly bringing your hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes at the contact, savoring the warmth, and your heart swelled with appreciation. “It’s just...sometimes it’s hard to remember that in a place like this.”

Bruce nodded, his gaze steady and reassuring. “You belong here just as much as anyone else. And don’t forget, I’m always just a few steps away.”

The tension in the air slowly melted away, and the chaotic buzz of the gala faded into the background. The music shifted to a slow, melodic tune, wrapping around you like an embrace, inviting intimacy amidst the sea of glamour.

“So, Mrs. Wayne, would you like to dance?” he asked, his voice low and inviting, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

You nodded, your heart racing at the prospect. “Of course, Mr. Wayne.” You smiled, feeling a warmth blossom within you as he extended his hand, palm up, inviting you closer.

When you placed your hand in his, a spark ignited within you, sending a thrill coursing through your veins. He led you to the center of the ballroom, where couples swayed, lost in their own worlds, oblivious to everything but each other.

In the heart of the dance floor, Bruce pulled you close, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back, guiding you against him. The warmth radiating from his body was intoxicating, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart, syncing with the rhythm of the music.

As you began to sway together, his fingers lightly brushed the curve of your waist, igniting a trail of warmth in their wake. Leaning in, you could feel his breath against your ear as he whispered, “You look stunning tonight.”

The compliment sent a delightful shiver down your spine, and you met his gaze, searching for the sincerity in those deep eyes. “I know, you already told me,” you teased, a playful smirk creeping onto your lips.

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating deep within you, revealing a smoldering intensity that stirred something primal and aching inside. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you smile,” he replied, his voice low, laced with a hint of mischief.

“But, thank you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as he guided your movements across the dance floor. In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the palpable chemistry crackling in the air.

With each step, his touch grew bolder, fingers grazing your skin just a bit longer than necessary. It was electric, a tantalizing connection that made your heart race. The tension between you thickened, almost tangible.

As the song swelled, he pulled you closer, your bodies pressing together, and you felt the comforting heat radiating from him. His other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking gently across your skin. The intimacy of the moment made your breath hitch, your pulse quickening in response to his nearness.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his lips nearly brushing your forehead, sending a shiver of excitement through you. The protective warmth of his embrace enveloped you, making you feel safe yet utterly exposed.

“Yeah,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s more than okay.”

The music wrapped around you like a warm, irresistible tide, drowning out everything else. In that moment, it was just you, Bruce, and the rhythm. His presence was a force, drawing you in, and his gaze—filled with longing, affection, and something deeper—held you captive.

You broke away from his intense stare, suddenly aware of the warmth spreading through you, and cleared your throat. “Bruce, I… I wanted to apologize. If I made you uncomfortable in the car earlier, that wasn’t—”

But he cut you off, his voice calm yet unyielding. “You didn’t.”

Surprised, you looked up, your brows furrowing. “What?”

He clenched his jaw, the words seemingly heavy, as if pulling them from some hidden place within. “I’m not great with words. But… I love you too. And I want more than anything to build a life with you. Children, a family… all of it.”

Your breath caught, and you felt your body still in his arms. “You… you do?” you whispered, barely able to believe it.

In response, he placed his hands on either side of your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. He leaned in close, his lips grazing your ear. “You’re everything I never knew I needed,” he murmured, his voice filled with a raw, unguarded honesty that sent warmth flooding through you, leaving you feeling both safe and seen.

As the song slowed to its final notes, he pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your waist. His mouth lifted in a rare, tender smile as he whispered, “Let’s go home.”

Stepping through the grand entrance of Wayne Manor, the lively echoes of the gala faded away, replaced by the soft, ambient hum of the house settling into the quiet of the night.

It had been a long evening, filled with mingling and the subtle games of socializing with Gotham’s elite.

The air between you and Bruce buzzed with unspoken tension. His hand rested possessively on the small of your back, guiding you up the elegant staircase. Each step was a silent promise, building the anticipation and drawing you both toward the inevitable culmination of the night’s charged atmosphere.

When you finally reached your bedroom door, he paused, turning to face you. The moment hung in the air, electric and charged, as he searched your eyes for something—an answer, perhaps. The world outside faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of you suspended in this intimate space, heartbeats synchronized in the dim light.

Before you could catch your breath, he pushed the door closed behind you, the soft click resonating like a heartbeat in the silence of the room. He stepped closer, invading your space with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. The flickering candlelight danced across his features, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and the depths of his darkened gaze, making you feel both exhilarated and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was low, almost a growl, thick with desire and restraint.

The question hung heavy in the air, sending a shiver racing down your spine. It was raw, honest—an invitation that ignited something deep within you.

“Yes,” you breathed, the word barely escaping your lips as the weight of his gaze enveloped you. The rest of the world blurred away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this cocoon of intimacy.

In an instant, he closed the distance between you, pressing your back against the cool wooden door. The warmth of his body radiated against you, and you felt his breath ghosting over your skin, igniting every nerve ending in a fiery dance of longing.

He leaned in, capturing your lips with his, and the kiss ignited like a wildfire—fierce, consuming, and utterly intoxicating.

His lips were warm and insistent against yours, each press sending surges of electricity coursing through your body.

You melted into him, hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders, anchoring yourself as he deepened the kiss. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was this moment, the exquisite collision of your mouths.

Bruce’s hands tangled in your hair, tilting your head back slightly to deepen the kiss, a gentle possessiveness that made your heart race. Tongues danced, exploring and intertwining as if they were fighting for dominance, enveloping each other in a sweet battle that fueled the fire of desire.

The sensation sent shockwaves coursing through you, awakening a hunger you hadn’t fully realized was there. You responded in kind, kissing him back with equal fervor, your lips moving in a rhythm that felt both familiar and entirely new.

The weight of his body pressed against you, grounding you while his kiss transported you to a realm of dizzying exhilaration.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, a potent energy that fueled the fire building within you. The kiss grew more passionate, a fusion of longing and urgency, as if you were both trying to reclaim something that had long been held back.

Every touch, every movement, felt like the unveiling of secrets long buried, a revelation of what had been simmering beneath the surface.

When he finally pulled back, both of you gasping for air, his eyes dark and stormy, filled with an intensity that made your heart race. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed, his voice rough, laden with unfiltered emotion.

The vulnerability in his admission sent a thrill through you, a delicious mingling of excitement and certainty that surged through your veins.

“Me too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible yet brimming with honesty. The weight of those words hung between you, binding you together in a shared moment of understanding that transcended the chaos of the outside world.

Bruce stepped back slightly, just enough to trace a finger along your jawline, the touch featherlight yet electrifying. “I never wanted to rush you. I just needed to make sure you felt safe… wanted,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering, filled with a sincerity that made your heart swell. Each word was a testament to his care, each glance a reminder of the bond you shared.

“Being here with you feels safe,” you admitted, leaning into his touch, craving more of that intimate connection. “It feels right.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, transforming his fierce demeanor into something tender.

He leaned in again, this time pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a promise wrapped in affection that made your heart flutter. “Then let’s make this moment last,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, igniting a yearning that simmered just beneath the surface.

His lips were back on yours in an instant, and you surrendered to the moment, letting the world around you fade away once more. The warmth of his body enveloped you, drawing you into a cocoon of desire and urgency, each kiss igniting flames of longing that spread through you like wildfire.

With a gentle yet deliberate touch, he slowly unzipped your dress, the fabric slipping away to pool at your feet, leaving you clad only in your strappy heels.

The cool air brushed against your skin, causing your nipples to harden in response, the sensation electric and thrilling.

You felt exposed yet liberated, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation.

His gaze darkened as he drank you in like a man starved, his fingers trailing down your abdomen, teasingly exploring the curves that he found so captivating.

As his hand glided over your hips, he softly brushed against your nipple, sending a shockwave of sensation through you.

The unexpected contact made you gasp, your head tilting back instinctively, exposing your neck and inviting him closer.

His breath hitched at your submission, the hunger in his eyes intensifying as he inched even closer, the warmth of his body radiating against your skin.

You could feel the tension crackle in the air between you, thick and intoxicating, enveloping you both in a heady mix of desire and vulnerability.

He cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple, eliciting a shiver that danced down your spine.

You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as desire ignited within you, flaring to life like a match struck in the darkness.

The sound seemed to spur him on, a silent encouragement that sent him deeper into this intoxicating exploration.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he leaned in, his lips grazing your neck as he trailed soft, tantalizing kisses along your collarbone. Each kiss sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, and you tilted your head to give him better access, the soft whimpers of pleasure escaping your mouth only fueling his hunger.

The weight of his body pressed against you grounded you in this shared moment while your hearts raced in sync, every pulse resonating with the urgency of your connection.

His lips continued their tantalizing journey, exploring the sensitive skin of your neck as he whispered words that sent shivers through you, igniting a fire deep within.

Each kiss grew bolder, more urgent, as if he were claiming you, marking you as his own.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, a magnetic pull drawing you even closer, making it impossible to resist. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as you pulled him in, craving more of his touch.

He responded instantly, his hands roaming lower, tracing the curve of your waist before grasping your hips, anchoring you in place as he deepened the kiss.

The taste of him was intoxicating—warm and addictive, leaving you breathless, desperate for more.

With a sudden, bold movement, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he pressed you against the wall, the cool surface contrasting with the heat radiating between you.

You could feel his heart racing, matching the tempo of your own. Every brush of his skin against yours sent electric jolts of pleasure coursing through you, and you gasped, caught in the whirlwind of desire and longing.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending waves of anticipation crashing over you.

The world outside your little bubble faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you enveloped in this heated moment.

You locked eyes, the intensity of the moment palpable, and with a breathless whisper, you revealed your deepest desire, surrendering to the passion that had ignited between you.

“Take me,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper but heavy with longing.

The air around you crackled with anticipation as his eyes darkened, a primal hunger evident in his gaze. With a swift, possessive motion, he captured your lips again, the kiss igniting into a fiery dance of tongues and breathless gasps.

His hands roamed eagerly over your bare skin, exploring every inch as he savored the taste of you.

You could feel him growing harder against you, and it only heightened your desire, stirring an insatiable craving that drove you both deeper into the moment.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, searching for any hesitation, but all he found was unyielding need reflected back at him.

A smirk curled on his lips, playful yet dangerously seductive. “I want you to feel everything,” he promised, his voice a low rumble that made your pulse quicken.

“Everything,” you echoed, the weight of that word hanging between you, filled with the promise of what was to come. His hands tightened around your waist, and you felt an exhilarating rush of anticipation flood through you.

With each passing second, the tension between you escalated, pushing you both to the brink of surrender.

His hands grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carries you to the bed. You fall back onto the soft sheets, the sensation sending a ripple of pleasure through you. He hovers above you, the heat radiating from his body enveloping you like a warm embrace, and you can’t help but arch against him, craving his touch.

“Just like this,” he murmurs, leaning down to trail kisses across your collarbone, his warm breath fanning against your skin. He pauses, lingering at your breast, his mouth closing over your nipple, sucking gently as you gasp and writhe beneath him. Each flick of his tongue sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, unraveling you further.

“More,” you plead, your voice thick with desire, and he responds instantly, shifting lower, his kisses trailing down your abdomen, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

You can feel every nerve ending awaken, every touch igniting a longing deep within you as you surrender to the intoxicating sensations washing over you.

He pauses, looking up at you, a devilish grin on his face. “You have no idea what you’re in for,” he teases, before continuing his descent, ready to explore the depths of your desire.

The air around you crackles with tension, your heart racing as anticipation coils tightly in your stomach, a mixture of excitement and raw yearning.

His words hang in the air, heavy with promise and heat, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m gonna put a baby inside of you,” he growls, the primal intensity of his voice igniting a fierce longing deep within you.

The sheer audacity of his claim leaves you breathless, every part of you alive with the possibilities of what’s to come.

You can hardly process the weight of his statement, the idea swirling in your mind, feeding the fire of your desire.

The thought alone sends a surge of warmth through you, making your cheeks flush as the heat between you builds, wild and untamed.

Your heart races, a blend of exhilaration and raw anticipation thrumming through your veins. His words are bold, stirring something deep inside you, a desire so potent it’s almost overwhelming.

“Do you want that?” he murmurs, his eyes locking onto yours, piercing through the haze of your desire to reach the vulnerable truth beneath. His question feels like an invitation, a daring challenge, as his thumb brushes over your cheek, grounding you in the moment. The tenderness in his voice only intensifies the intimacy, and for a heartbeat, you feel a depth that goes beyond passion—a need that borders on devotion.

“Yes,” you answer, barely more than a breath, but thick with longing. The simple word hangs in the air like a spark, lighting a fuse neither of you can ignore.

A slow, almost triumphant smile curves at his lips as he leans in, capturing your mouth with a kiss that’s searing, consuming. His hands slide to your hips, his grip firm, possessive, sending a thrill down your spine as he presses you closer.

“Then let’s make it unforgettable,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and low, each word vibrating through you as he begins to move, each movement slow, intentional, every thrust deep and consuming.

He takes his time, savoring every reaction, every shiver, every gasp that slips from your lips as he drives you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

In a playful moment, you pause him, a spark in your eyes as you lean in to trace your lips over the faint scars that line his chest, each one a silent testament to battles fought and endured. Your kisses are warm, gentle, and when you murmur, “You’re so beautiful,” the words come from a place of pure sincerity.

You can feel his breath hitch as your lips trace his skin, the depth of his groan telling you he feels it too, letting you both linger in this exquisite, vulnerable intimacy.

His breath hitches, caught off guard by your tenderness amidst the raw intensity of the moment.

You let your hands roam over his defined torso, tracing the contours and dips, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips. The warmth radiating from him envelops you, fueling your desire.

With a bold move, you grasp the waistband of his briefs, teasingly tugging them down.

His length springs free, a glorious sight that takes your breath away. You bite your lip, heat pooling in your core as you admire the raw masculinity before you. He’s impressively big, thick and hard, with veins running along his length—a striking reminder of just how much he wants you.

He watches you with hooded eyes, a mix of confidence and need in his gaze.

Without breaking eye contact, you reach out, wrapping your fingers around him, feeling the heat and strength beneath your touch.

His jaw tightens, a low, breathy groan escaping as he watches you, eyes dark with desire.

Slowly, you begin to move, each stroke slow and deliberate, savoring the connection, letting the intensity build between you with every deliberate touch.

Then, with a teasing smile, you lean forward, your soft lips hovering just above him. The anticipation hangs thick in the air, charged with desire as you take a moment to savor the view. He’s so big and long, and the sight of him sends a thrill of excitement through you.

With a playful flick of your tongue, you tease the tip, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him. The sensation sends shivers coursing through your body, igniting your own hunger. You wrap your lips around him, taking him in slowly, your mouth fitting him perfectly as you begin to move.

He groans, a deep, primal sound that reverberates through you, urging you to continue. The warmth of your mouth envelops him, each movement eliciting a wave of pleasure that sends him spiraling deeper into the moment.

You feel his hands thread through your hair, guiding you as you take him further in, savoring the taste and the way he feels against your tongue.

You lock eyes with him, the heat of the moment intensifying as you push yourself to take him even deeper, your lips gliding over his length in a rhythm that builds both your desires.

He watches you with a mix of awe and lust, every thrust of your mouth sending him closer to the edge.

“Just like that,” he encourages, his voice low and rough, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you.

You take him deeper, unyielding, letting the sensation of him fill you completely. You don’t care if you gag; the thrill of taking him entirely fuels your desire, and you want him to see just how far you’re willing to go for him.

His eyes widen as he watches you, the lust in them igniting a fire within you that makes you crave him even more.

As you push your limits, you feel him tense beneath you, the undeniable signs of his release building.

“I’m close,” he warns, his voice a low growl, but you only increase your efforts, sucking harder, your mouth gliding over him in a frenzy of pleasure.

Your other hand sneaks down, slipping beneath the waistband of your wet panties, your fingers finding your slick heat. You touch yourself, the combination of sensations sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you.

His breaths quicken, the sight of you pleasuring yourself while taking him deeper pushing him to the brink.

“Yes,” he gasps, and with one final thrust of his hips, he explodes, warmth flooding your mouth and throat.

You swallow instinctively, looking up at him through lust-filled eyes, and you can feel the overwhelming rush as more of him spills forth, dribbling from your lips.

You keep your eyes locked on his, the connection electrifying as you revel in the moment. There’s so much cum that it spills over, dripping from your mouth, a visual testament to the intensity of your shared pleasure. You can see the mixture of awe and satisfaction in his gaze, and it only heightens the fire within you.

With a satisfied smirk, you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, savoring the lingering taste of him and the thrill of the moment. But before you can utter a word, he grips your elbows, effortlessly pushing you back onto the mattress. His lips find yours again, this time with a roughness that sends a jolt of electricity through you. It’s primal, a clash of teeth and tongues, raw and unfiltered, leaving your lips bruised but you find you don’t care. There’s something intoxicating about his urgency, something that awakens a wildness in you.

He pulls back, his gaze piercing as you gasp for air, your heart racing. “Do you want a baby?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his fingers trailing across your stomach with a rough tenderness that sends a shiver through you. Heat floods your cheeks, and you avert your eyes, unable to meet his gaze. But he gently cups your face, forcing you to look at him. “Tell me,” he urges, his intensity igniting something deep within you.

After a moment of contemplation, you whisper, “Yes.” The word hangs in the air, heavy with possibility and charged with electricity. Without hesitation, he quickly pulls your panties down, the suddenness of his action catching you off guard and leaving you breathless.

As his fingers glide through your folds, a moan escapes your lips, and you arch your back instinctively. “Bruce,” you gasp, reaching up to cradle his cheek, your fingers tangling in his hair. The way he teases you makes it hard to think clearly.

“Bruce, I—” Another moan escapes you as he applies pressure to that sensitive bundle of nerves, making it impossible to finish your sentence. “I’ve never done this before,” you finally admit, your voice trembling.

He pauses at your words, concern flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry if you’re not ready—”

But you cut him off, urgency flooding your voice. “No—I want this more than anything.”

He softens, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before trailing down with warm kisses and the teasing flick of his tongue, exploring the valley between your breasts and moving down to your stomach.

Before he enters you, he shifts his position, lifting your legs and resting them on his shoulders.

The new angle sends a thrilling rush through you, completely exposing you and making you feel both vulnerable and electrified. You meet his gaze, a mix of hunger and desire burning in his eyes as he prepares to take you in every sense.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with longing. The warmth of his breath sends shivers down your spine, and you feel the heat radiating from his body, drawing you in closer.

He lowers himself, pressing a soft kiss just above your thigh, teasingly inching his way toward your core. The anticipation is nearly unbearable as he inhales deeply, savoring your scent, and you can feel your body responding instinctively to his presence.

“Please,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need as you arch your back, trying to pull him closer. The heat within you builds, desperate for his touch. “I need you...”

With a wicked grin, he finally gives in, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like a decadent dessert. The sound of him savoring you vibrates through your core, eliciting a loud moan from your lips that surprises even you.

He licks with the fervor of a man starved, drawing on your most sensitive spots with a precision that drives you wild. Each flick of his tongue sends you spiraling deeper into ecstasy, your body instinctively arching and grinding against his mouth, hungry for more. He grips your thighs firmly, anchoring you in place as he devours you with an insatiable hunger, as if it’s the first time he’s ever tasted something so exquisite.

“God, you taste incredible,” he growls against you, his voice muffled yet filled with raw desire.

The heat within you rises, your fingers tangling more tightly in his hair, pulling him closer as you push him deeper into your core. He responds eagerly, teasing your entrance with his tongue, and you cry out in pleasure, coiling tighter with every movement he makes. The world around you fades, leaving only the intoxicating sensations of his mouth and the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you.

Your breathing quickens, each gasp mingling with soft cries as you surrender completely to the waves of ecstasy washing over you. The tension builds within you, the edge of release drawing nearer with every flick and swirl of his tongue.

“Don’t stop,” you plead, your voice thick with need as your body thrums with anticipation, ready to shatter into a million pieces under his touch.

He watches you with hungry eyes as he slips one finger inside you, filling you in a way that sends jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. You gasp at the sensation, instinctively grasping his wrist, your back arching as your hips grind against his hand.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety. He begins to work his finger deeper, curling it to find that sweet spot within you. The pressure builds, and the pleasure intensifies with each thrust.

Just when you think it can't get any better, he adds another finger, stretching you further. Your breath catches in your throat, the sensation overwhelming as he fills you completely. “You’re so tight,” he growls, his eyes dark with desire, and you can’t help but moan in response, guiding his hand deeper, craving more.

With a deliberate rhythm, he begins to thrust his fingers in and out, finding a pace that makes your body sing. Each stroke pushes you closer to the edge, heat pooling low in your belly as you bite your lip, trying to hold back the cries threatening to spill forth.

“Please,” you whimper, desperate for more, and he responds instantly, slipping in a third finger, filling you to the brim. The combination of his mouth on your sensitive skin and his fingers working you expertly is almost too much to bear.

“Let go, baby,” he urges, his voice deep and smooth as he continues to curl his fingers just right, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. You can feel yourself teetering on the brink, the tension winding tighter until you feel like you might burst.

With every thrust of his fingers, you get closer and closer, the room spinning as you lose yourself in the moment. “I’m so close,” you gasp, your body trembling under his expert touch.

“Good,” he growls, his fingers quickening, pushing you over the edge with a final, delicious thrust. You shatter, a moan escaping your lips as pleasure explodes through you, sending you spiraling into blissful release.

“That's it, let it all out,” he murmurs, satisfaction evident in his voice as he watches you ride the waves of ecstasy, your body writhing beneath him.

As you come down from your high, he pulls back, his fingers slick and glistening as he wipes them on your thigh, a smug smile playing on his lips. The hunger in his eyes tells you that this is just the beginning of what’s to come.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied grin. The sight of him savoring you sends a rush of heat through you, reigniting the desire that simmers just beneath the surface.

Then, with a deliberate motion, he takes a pillow and slides it under your hips, angling your body just right. Anticipation builds within you as he positions himself, the tip of his length teasingly pressing against you. You catch your breath, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through you.

“It’s gonna hurt at first,” he says softly, his gaze locking onto yours. You nod, breathing heavily, and he takes one of your hands in his, the warmth of his skin grounding you. “You tell me if you want to stop.” You respond by leaning in and kissing him deeply, reassuring him of your desire to continue.

With that connection, he slowly pushes inside you, stretching you in a way that makes you gasp. It’s hard and intense, and he’s not even halfway in yet. Every inch of him fills you, the sensation of his size and the texture of his veins overwhelming as he sinks deeper. “You feel incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

Taking both of your hands, he pins them above your head, his grip firm yet tender as he leans down to kiss you. The kiss ignites a fire within you, and you lose yourself in the taste of him. As he continues to push into you, a mix of pain and pleasure washes over you. You know your body needs to adjust, but the feeling of him filling you is intoxicating.

“Just breathe, it’s okay,” he whispers against your lips, and you nod, focusing on his soothing voice as he finally buries himself completely within you. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel so full, and he pauses for a moment, allowing you to acclimate to his size.

As he kisses down your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses along your skin, the pain begins to fade, replaced by an overwhelming wave of pleasure that courses through you. His movements are slow and deliberate, drawing out the sensations as he starts to move, each thrust igniting sparks of ecstasy within you.

The rhythm builds, and you can’t help but let out an echoing moan, the sound reverberating in the expansive room. “That’s it, let me hear you,” he encourages, his voice a low growl as he picks up the pace, the rhythm of flesh against flesh echoing around you.

You arch your back, surrendering completely to the pleasure, the initial discomfort forgotten as you lose yourself in the sensations he’s creating. It’s almost overwhelming; each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, your body responding instinctively, craving more, needing more.

At first, his movements are slow and tender, each thrust deliberate as he savors the connection between you. He watches your face closely, absorbing every expression and sigh that escapes your lips. The intimacy of the moment feels almost sacred, wrapped in the warmth of his body.

But as the rhythm continues, the tension builds. You feel heat rising between you, a pressure that intensifies with each gentle thrust. The sweet pleasure begins to intertwine with a growing need for something more. You grip the sheets beneath you, your body tightening around him, silently urging him to go deeper, to give you more.

And just like that, he shifts gears.

The slow, romantic pace is replaced with something far more primal—animalistic even. He thrusts harder, deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. The headboard bangs against the wall, the intensity echoing your rising desire.

Your breath hitches as each thrust sends jolts of pleasure mixed with a delicious edge of pain coursing through you. You can feel the raw power in his movements, the way he claims you completely. Each time he fills you, it’s overwhelming, and you gasp and moan, lost in the storm of sensation.

“Just like that,” he growls, his voice low and rough as he drives into you with urgency, his grip on your wrists tightening. One of his hands glides to your chest, grasping one of your breasts and squeezing, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. It’s too much, yet not enough, and you can feel his heart racing, matching your own as he loses himself in the moment.

Your body instinctively arches to meet him, craving every thrust. The sensations blur the lines between pleasure and pain, leaving you caught in their throes, every cry and moan spilling from your lips unbidden.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he rocks into you with increasing ferocity. You feel heat pooling deep within, the familiar pressure building as he takes you higher and higher.

With each thrust, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this moment of raw, uninhibited passion. The tension between you is palpable, igniting a fire that consumes you both. You know you’re on the brink of something incredible.

“Don’t stop,” you beg, your voice a breathless whisper, urging him on. He responds with a primal growl, picking up the pace even more, pushing you further into ecstasy.

You touch your chest absently, lost in the sensations swirling around you. He leans down, taking one of your nipples between his teeth, and a sharp gasp escapes your lips. The pleasure is overwhelming, and with each thrust, the connection deepens, sending shockwaves through your body.

“God, it’s too much,” you cry out, your voice echoing in the room. You try to meet him with each thrust, but it’s a struggle; the intensity is more than you ever imagined. As you scratch his back, your nails digging in, he can only moan in response, reveling in your reactions.

Your legs open wider than you thought possible, driven by an insatiable desire for him to penetrate you deeper. “I want you so deep,” you whimper, your voice thick with need.

With every powerful thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of bliss, the waves of pleasure crashing over you until you can’t hold back any longer. You explode, a scream of ecstasy bursting from your lips as your body quakes with release.

But he doesn’t relent. He continues his relentless pace, pounding into you with an urgency that keeps you riding the high, your body still trembling from the aftermath of your orgasm. Each thrust pushes you higher, your senses overwhelmed as pleasure pulses through your veins.

It’s only when your cries start to quiet, the peaks of your pleasure beginning to ebb, that he finally lets himself go. With a primal roar, he drives into you one last time, filling you to the brim, a wave of warmth spilling inside you.

You can feel him shudder as he reaches his own climax, the raw intensity of the moment binding you together in a whirlwind of heat and desire. He collapses against you, breathless and spent, and you can only hold onto him, the remnants of pleasure coursing through you as you both come down from the high.

In the stillness that follows, the echoes of your passion linger in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

But he isn’t finished. Not yet.

With a sudden, powerful movement, he turns you over, bending you back with an arch that leaves you vulnerable and exposed to him entirely.

You gasp as he re-enters you, the sensitivity from your last wave of pleasure sending fresh sparks through your body. Each thrust is a mix of pleasure and delicious discomfort, igniting a new fire within you.

“So tight, so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with hunger as he fills you once more. The initial sting quickly gives way to overwhelming pleasure, and you can’t help but surrender to the sensation. It’s as if he knows just how to push you, how to drive you wild.

As he thrusts deeper, you feel every inch of him, stretching you perfectly, igniting every nerve ending. The angle sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes anyway—a breathy sound of pure desire.

“Take it,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly, anchoring you as he begins to pound into you with renewed vigor. Each thrust sends you spiraling, and the world outside fades away once more, leaving just the two of you in this heated moment.

“Please, yes,” you manage to gasp, pushing back against him, urging him to go harder, to claim you completely. The sensation is a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, and you can feel the heat pooling deep within you once again.

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear, whispering words that send shivers down your spine. “You love it, don’t you? You love being filled with me.”

You can only nod, too lost in the pleasure to form coherent words.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, each thrust echoing your shared desire. You feel yourself teetering on the edge again, your body responding instinctively to his every movement.

As he continues to drive into you, the rhythm builds, becoming more frantic, more desperate.

You can feel your body tightening, your high building once again, and it’s almost too much to handle. “I’m so close,” you breathe, the words barely escaping your lips.

“Come for me,” he commands, and with that, you let go completely. The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, pulling him in with you as you both reach your climax together.

As the tidal wave of pleasure crashes over you, your body convulses around him, tightening involuntarily as the waves of ecstasy pulse through every fiber of your being.

Your scream of bliss fills the room, echoing against the walls as you surrender completely to the intensity of the moment.

He growls deep in his throat, the sound primal and raw, matching your high with his own. You feel him surge deeper, his movements becoming more erratic as he loses himself in the pleasure of your shared release.

The heat between you is intoxicating, a swirling mix of desperation and fulfillment that binds you together in that sacred space.

With each thrust, he drives you further into the depths of your pleasure, his own release mingling with yours. You can feel him spill inside you, a warmth that fills you completely, pushing you over the edge once more—a final wave of bliss washing through you, leaving you gasping and trembling.

“God, yes,” he breathes, collapsing onto you, his weight pressing you into the sheets as he takes a moment to catch his breath. The room is thick with the lingering scent of sweat and passion, the echoes of your shared climax hanging in the air.

You feel spent but exhilarated, every inch of your body humming with a delicious afterglow. He gently pulls out, and you can’t help but shiver at the loss, the sensation sending a soft gasp from your lips.

He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze down at you, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “You okay?” he asks, his voice low and husky, tinged with concern, as he brushes a damp strand of hair from your face.

“More than okay,” you reply, a breathless laugh escaping you as you meet his gaze, your heart racing from the intensity of it all.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

With that, he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that ignites the embers of desire once more. You can feel the heat building between you again, a spark that promises the night is far from over.

As his hands wander across your body, exploring every curve and contour, you realize that this moment, this connection, is something you never want to end.

With a renewed surge of desire coursing through you, you shift your position, straddling him as you sit up. Your body instinctively responds to the heat radiating from him, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as he watches you, his expression a mix of admiration and raw hunger.

Slowly, you begin to ride him, your chest rising and falling with each movement, breaths mingling in the heated air. You sink down, feeling him fill you completely again, a soft moan escaping your lips as you adjust to the familiar stretch.

“Just like that,” he encourages, his hands gripping your waist, guiding your movements as you find your rhythm. You lift your hips, then push down, the sensations electrifying as you take control, the intensity of the moment building with each thrust.

His eyes are locked onto yours, filled with a primal need that sends shivers down your spine. “You look so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “I could watch you all night.”

You smile at his words, feeling empowered as you pick up the pace, your body moving fluidly above him. The pleasure intensifies, and you can feel the tension coiling within you once more, ready to unravel.

As you ride him, your hands find his chest, fingers trailing over the defined muscles, tracing the scars that tell stories of battles fought. You lean down, pressing your lips against his, the kiss igniting a fire between you that fuels your movements.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic melody that matches the beat of your hearts. You feel the familiar tightness in your core, the sensation building as you grind against him, taking him deeper and deeper, lost in the ecstasy of it all.

“Just like that, baby,” he groans, his hands gripping your thighs, urging you on as he meets your movements with his own thrusts.

The two of you are perfectly in sync, the connection palpable, electric even.

You feel the heat pooling within you again, a delicious pressure that teeters on the edge of release.

Every motion sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you can’t help but cry out as you lose yourself in the moment, surrendering to the bliss that envelops you both.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp, the words escaping your lips like a desperate plea, and he responds with a growl, driving up into you with renewed vigor.

With each downward motion, your breaths come faster, a delicious mix of pleasure and desperation driving you both closer to the edge.

You know you’re close, the world around you fading as you focus solely on the moment, on him.

He brings two fingers to your clit, playing with it, and you scream, throwing your head back and exposing your neck, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with each thrust.

“I’m almost there, Bruce,” you gasp, feeling the heat pooling deep within you, ready to explode.

“Me too,” he growls, his eyes darkening with desire.

With one final, powerful thrust, you both let go, the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, pulling you both into the depths of ecstasy.

As you watch where you’re connected, your heat enveloping his length, absorbing it, tightening around it, a rush of exhilaration courses through you.

The sight is primal and intoxicating, fueling your desire as you quicken your pace again, driven by instinct, addicted to the feeling.

Suddenly, he sits up, his arms enveloping your torso, bringing your naked chest against his muscled frame. His hand descends to grip your hips tightly, enough to leave a bruise, but you don’t care; you don’t want this to end.

He pulls you closer as the rhythm becomes almost animalistic—no, more than that; it’s nihilistic.

Both of you are sweating, your bodies glinting under the moonlight. The sound of your bodies meeting fills the air, a wild, desperate symphony that matches the pounding of your hearts.

You lock eyes, a silent understanding passing between you, and then you kiss fiercely, the connection igniting into a fiery exchange. Your lips crash against his with a fervor that leaves you both breathless, teeth clashing as you bite at each other’s lips, tasting the need that crackles in the air around you.

“God, you feel so good,” he growls against your mouth, his breath hot and heavy, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, heightening your senses.

You can’t get enough, and you grind down harder, reveling in the pleasure that builds with every thrust.

His hands roam your body, exploring your curves as he pulls you closer, deepening the connection between you. You can feel every pulse, every inch of him, and it drives you wild.

Leaning back slightly, you allow him to watch as you move, the sight of you taking him in and out, completely lost in the moment.

“More,” you demand, your voice a low whisper, filled with urgency, and he responds with a feral growl, matching your intensity. The room is charged with heat, your bodies entwined in a dance that feels both ancient and raw.

You can feel the world outside fading away; the only thing that matters is the rhythm you’ve created together.

He leans in, kissing down your neck, each bite and kiss igniting sparks of pleasure that shoot through your body.

You can’t hold back any longer.

The pleasure builds higher, tightening like a coil within you. “I’m so close,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, urging him on.

“Let go for me,” he urges, his voice thick with desire, and with a final thrust, you tumble over the edge, your body quaking as pleasure washes over you in waves, pulling him along with you into the depths of ecstasy.

You cry out, a mix of pleasure and relief, as you both surrender to the moment—hearts racing, bodies entwined, lost in the bliss of your connection.

You can feel his warmth inside you, completely full and satisfied, and you revel in the sensation.

For a while, you stay like this—him on top, your bodies intertwined, enjoying the closeness and the aftermath of your shared ecstasy. He kisses your forehead softly, a tender gesture that makes your heart swell.

Slowly, he begins to pull out, and you moan at the loss, the sensation of emptiness causing a bittersweet ache.

Cum drips from your core, a reminder of the intensity you just shared, but before you can fully process it, Bruce slips two fingers back inside you.

You let out a soft moan, surprised yet responsive, your body still humming with pleasure despite the exhaustion settling in. Your eyes feel heavy, droopy with fatigue.

“Just to make sure it stays,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, as he lays down beside you.

You only nod, too spent to protest or question his actions, and finally, you close your eyes, surrendering to the blissful aftermath.

The world around you dissolves into nothingness, leaving only the echo of your shared breaths and the pounding of your hearts, two souls entwined in an exquisite dance of passion and desire.

Each heartbeat feels like a gentle reminder of the intimacy you’ve just experienced, a moment that feels both surreal and grounding.

In this cocoon of warmth and safety, you drift off into a peaceful sleep, fully content and wrapped in the remnants of bliss.

go check [ TU’BURNI (Bruce Wayne fic) ]

Congrats to me for finally posting this draft cause it’s been rotting since forever… Also first time writing and posting smut so please be nice … 😣 I might delete it later lol

don’t hesitate to leave a comment babes xxx

[newtonsheffield]

Here’s just something random to drum up excitement for I fell in love with the fire long ago (Surprise neddy Au) because I can do what I want I guess:

Kate knew they’d moved past the point of two people sat beside one another while they drank hours ago. She’d felt the moment the shift had happened when she’d lain her hand on his thigh and that muscle in his jaw clenched again before his hand shot out and took hold of the bar stool between her legs until she was so close she could feel every movement of his body when he’d turned back to the bartender.

“Trouble and I’ll have another round.”

It was late now. That was obvious from the way the bar had emptied around them and she’d let the moment to leave pass almost gladly. And now here she was, waiting for one of them to make a move.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Just the thought of it made her want to clench her thighs but she pretended to think about it, finishing her drink. “That depends.”

He raised his eyebrows, “On… what?”

“Two things.“ she clicked her tongue, “Are you married?”

“Not married. Not seeing anybody.”

Kate nodded, “Then it depends on how well you kiss me.”

His lips curved in a lazy smile as he stood, he’d taken off his suit jacket ages ago, leaving him in his waistcoat. He tugged his cufflinks free and rolled his sleeves. “Nice kiss or filthy kiss?”

“Somewhere in between.”

“Stand up then, Trouble.”

The second she slid off the stool his hand found the back of her neck, tugging her forward until their lips met. His other hand curved around her hip, warm against the bare skin where she’d removed her blue after work and buttoned her jacket over her skin. The stubble on his face grated against her skin as his lips moved over hers and she felt a moan ripple through her chest as his tongue swept over hers. He tilted her head back deepening it further and his tongue moved in time with the slow circles his thumb was drawing on her hip. He tugged her closer, sliding one of his legs between hers, drawing the kiss on and on. Suddenly he pulled back, his eyes burning into hers as his tongue moved slowly over his bottom lip.

Kate’s voice sounded much more breathless than she wanted it to. “That wasn’t a nice guy kiss.”

He laughed, his hands still gripping her. “You didn’t want a nice guy kiss, Trouble.” He stepped closer to her again, his lips brushing her ear, “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes.”

[ghoulsbounty]

Can I request baby billy maybe reader Is a Virgin and he has plenty of skills he will help teach his innocent girl ?

Hidden Sins

Uncle Baby Billy Freeman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, loss of virginity, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, corruption kink, slight cum play, innocent reader, takes place in a church (it used to be a sears, okay), description of a religious service, talk of religious beliefs/upbringing, manipulation, possessiveness, idolisation.

Word Count: 7.3K

A/N: I joined these two requests, I hope that's okay! I love writing for Baby Billy, he just oozes charm but has that slight edge of manipulation 🥵 Thank you for the kind words on A Fall From Grace, anon! I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

As the doors of the newest Gemstone Prayer Centre opened on Sunday morning, the congregation trickled in. There was a gentle murmur of voices as families, couples, and individuals made their way to their seats. The set lights created colourful patterns on the floor as they streamed through imitation stained-glass windows, giving a warm and inviting glow to the sanctuary, which was a recently renovated Sears in Locust Grove’s Eastland mall.

There was a comforting rhythm to the rituals performed as people settled into their seats. Some bowed their heads in silent prayer, while others leafed through their hymnals or exchanged hushed conversations with their neighbours. Children, dressed in their Sunday outfits, fidgeted beside their parents, their impatience to be let free into the mall barely contained. The musicians, positioned near the front, tuned their instruments and chatted quietly among themselves, their voices blending in harmonious laughter.

The keyboardist played a soft prelude, the gentle notes filling the space and creating an atmosphere of reverence and anticipation. Conversations gradually quieted as the music swelled, drawing the congregation’s attention towards the front of the church. The choir stood, their faces reflecting a mixture of concentration and serene joy as they prepared to lead the opening number, a soulful blend of rock and country.

At the pulpit, Baby Billy Freeman took his place, his persona commanding yet approachable. He adjusted the microphone, his warm hazel eyes scanning the room, acknowledging familiar faces with a nod and a smile. As the last notes of the prelude faded, a hush fell over the sanctuary. He cleared his throat, his melodic voice resonating with warmth and authority as he welcomed everyone to the service, setting the tone for the morning’s worship.

“Good morning, brothers and sisters,” he began, rich and melodious, filling the space with ease. “It is a blessing to see so many familiar faces, and I extend a heartfelt welcome to those who are visiting us for the first time. We gather here today, not just as individuals, but as a community of faith, bound by the love and grace of our Lord.”

Calls of “Amen” rang out through the room as he stepped away from the pulpit, moving to the front of the stage with a graceful confidence that commanded attention. He began weaving a story, his voice rising and falling with the rhythm of his words. You found yourself entranced, unable to take your eyes off his tall, lean frame. He oozed magnetic charm, from the way he adjusted the cufflinks on his impeccably tailored suit to the slick, groomed hair that crowned his head. This was a pastor who clearly appreciated the finer things in life, and it showed in every deliberate movement he made.

His story unfolded with the elegance of a master storyteller, each word chosen with care, each pause perfectly timed to draw the crowd deeper into his narrative. The light caught the fabric of his suit just right, highlighting its quality and fit, and you couldn’t help but admire the attention to detail in his appearance. It was evident that Baby Billy Freeman understood the power of presentation, using it to enhance the impact of his message, much like the Gemstone family did.

As he spoke, his eyes scanned the crowd, ensuring each person experienced a sense of direct connection as he addressed them. His hands moved gracefully, emphasizing points with a natural ease that came from years of practice and a deep understanding of his craft. The way he stood, the way he gestured, even the way he smiled—all of it contributed to the aura of a man who was not only confident in his message but also in his place at the front of the room.

When his eyes settled on you, it appeared time itself slowed. His gaze lingered, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he took you in, assessing you with a knowing look. The intensity of his eyes sent a jolt through you, igniting a heat that rocketed to your cheeks under his watchful scrutiny. Your fingers moved subconsciously to smooth the pleats of your dress over your lap, a nervous attempt to steady yourself against the flurry of emotions his intense stare provoked.

In that moment, it was as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you. The sanctuary, its audience and ambient murmurs, faded into the background, leaving only the charged connection between you and Baby Billy. His eyes, so penetrating and vivid, held you captive, conveying a silent message that was both thrilling and unnerving.

His smirk deepened, a small but deliberate acknowledgment of the influence he had on you. You felt exposed, as though he could see right through the façade of composure you tried to maintain. The room felt warmer, the air thicker, every sense heightened by the charged interaction. Your heart raced, and your breaths came quicker, shallow and uneven, as you struggled to regain control.

The folds of your dress became a focus for your hands, fingers trembling as they smoothed and re-smoothed the fabric in a futile attempt to calm your nerves. Nothing could lessen the impact of his gaze. His sermon and presence made you feel singled out and significant, as if he intended them solely for you.

His eyes moved on, continuing to scan his flock, but the spell he had cast remained. You were left feeling flustered, your cheeks still flushed, and an unfamiliar yet exhilarating sense of longing settling in your chest. The rest of the room came back into focus, the collective presence of the congregation reasserting itself, but the lasting effect of his stare lingered. You knew that something had shifted within you, a spark ignited by the magnetic pull of Baby Billy Freeman’s attention, leaving you both eager and apprehensive about the next encounter.

The moment came sooner than you expected when Judy Gemstone grabbed your hand and marched you toward the backroom after the service, her heels clipping briskly on the tiled floor as you hurried to keep up. Suspense and lingering incense from the church filled the air, adding a heady sense of urgency to Judy’s determined stride.

You had been friends with Judy long enough to recognize the signs—her set jaw, the tenacious glint in her eyes, and the way she moved with single-minded purpose. Judy was on a mission, and right now, that mission was to secure the coveted position of the lead vocalist of her uncle’s church. Almost tangibly, her passion fuelled her determination to prove her brothers wrong and show her father she could uphold the Gemstone reputation.

Like the rest of the Gemstones, Judy’s determination was a force of nature. Her drive to impress her family was relentless, and it often swept you up in its wake. You had long accepted your role as her loyal sidekick, accompanying her on various ventures and ambitions. Today was no different. She dragged you into the backroom of the church, her arm linked tightly through yours. Memories of similar situations flooded your mind, each one of her ideas more hare-brained than the last.

The backroom, a repurposed Sears storage room, was a hive of activity, with band members chatting animatedly and church staff tidying up after the service. The noise and movement seemed to part like the Red Sea before Judy, her appearance commanding immediate attention. You stayed close, your heart fluttering at the prospect of finally meeting Baby Billy Freeman.

The service wasn’t the first occasion you had laid eyes on him, but it was the first time you had done so in person. Your mother admired Amy-Leigh Gemstone for a long time. They became close friends, which likely led to your introduction into Judy’s social circle. She had keenly tracked Amy-Leigh’s ascent to fame, along with her brother, accumulating their albums and any related merchandise available.

Your family home was practically a museum dedicated to the siblings. Vivid posters of Baby Billy decorated the walls, providing a stark contrast to the otherwise subdued décor. Shelves brimmed with collectibles ranging from signed photographs to rare figurines, each item echoing your mother’s deep appreciation for the famed clogging pair. Items adorned with Baby Billy’s image, from coffee mugs to decorative pillows, filled the space, turning it into a veritable shrine.

After your own mother passed away, Amy-Leigh became like a second mother to you, and her eventual passing left a profound void in your life. The Gemstones embraced you, providing a modest home within their compound and a job assisting with their ministry. The day Eli announced Baby Billy’s appointment as head pastor of their new centre, you could hardly believe it. Years of fawning over the man on the poster, and finally you were going to be within proximity of him.

Judy’s heels clicked with authority as she approached the corner where her uncle stood, surrounded by a small group of admirers. His charismatic aura was unmistakable, even in this more casual setting. He was in the midst of a conversation, his laughter rich and inviting, but it cut off smoothly as he noticed Judy’s determined approach.

“Uncle Baby Billy,” Judy called out, her voice clear over the din. “We need to talk.”

He turned towards her, his eyes momentarily flicking to you, a spark of recognition lighting up his features. His smile broadened, that familiar smirk playing at the edges of his lips. Your pulse quickened as his gaze held yours for a beat longer than seemed necessary before he turned his full attention to Judy.

“Judy, my favourite niece,” he greeted, his voice warm and welcoming, though his eyes still held a mischievous glint. “What brings you here?”

Judy didn’t waste a moment. She launched into her pitch with the fervour of someone who had rehearsed every word, every inflection. She spoke of her vocal talents, her dedication to the church, and her deep desire to serve in a greater capacity. Her words were passionate and persuasive, painting a vivid picture of her as the ideal candidate for the lead vocalist role. All true for the moment, but her attentions were often fleeting.

As Judy presented her case, you couldn’t help but notice how Baby Billy listened intently. Yet, every so often, his eyes would dart back to you, a silent, lingering glance that made your skin heat. You busied yourself by nodding along to your friend’s speech, trying to appear composed despite the tumult of emotions within you.

Judy concluded her pitch with a confident smile. “So, Baby Billy, what do you say? Give me the chance to prove myself.”

Baby Billy leaned back, his expression thoughtful and appraising as he considered her request. His eyes flicked between Judy and you, a smile spreading across his face. “Well, Judy, you certainly make a compelling case,” he said, his tone measured. Then, his gaze settled on you, and his smile took on a warmer, more personal touch. “What about you, darlin’? Do you think my niece has the pipes to pull it off?”

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand under his attention, the depth of his gaze making your heart race. You noticed every detail—the slight arch of his brow, the glint of curiosity in his eyes, and the expectant look on Judy’s face. Your mind whirled, searching for the right words, knowing that this moment was crucial for your friend.

Clearing your throat, you straightened up, wrangling your fingers out of nervous habit. “Absolutely, Pastor Freeman,” you began, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “Judy has an incredible voice and a passion for music, just like her mama.” A small, white lie. You would pray later.

Baby Billy smiled, his eyes never leaving yours as he seemed to weigh your words. The connection between you felt almost tangible, a silent communication that left you both exhilarated and unnerved. He nodded, his gaze shifting back to Judy.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got quite the endorsement, Judy,” he said, his tone approving. “Let’s see what you’ve got. How about a little audition, just so’s its fair? Don’t want ol’ Baby Billy being accused of playing favourites, now.”

Judy beamed with excitement, her eyes sparkling with a readiness that lit up the room. “I’m ready, Uncle Baby Billy! I’ll blow the roof off this place,” she declared, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Just tell me where you want me!”

“Hold on there, speed racer,” he chuckled, raising a hand to temper her enthusiasm. “There’s a bit of preparation that needs to be done first.” He gestured toward a group of staff members who were exiting the backroom to continue the clean-up in the centre. “Why don’t you help tidy up while the band gets themselves ready on stage?” he suggested, handing her a mop from the trolley behind him with a playful smile.

Judy’s face fell for the briefest moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features. “Uh, no fuckin’ way,” she protested, holding the mop out to you. You took it from her, feeling the rough handle in your grip. “I’m the star, not the help.”

Baby Billy exhaled and caressed his forehead with his thumb as he glanced at her. “Now, Judy, we must exhibit grace in all our actions,” he murmured, retrieving the mop from your grasp and placing it in her hands. His fingertips grazed yours, sending a shock wave of energy through your nerves. “Amy-Leigh and I, we began by mopping the floors of the church halls where we would perform each Sunday.”

Judy looked down at the mop in her hands, her defiance wavering as she absorbed his words. “Those were humble beginnings,” he continued, his voice filled with a nostalgic warmth. “But it taught us the value of hard work and humility. We learned to appreciate every step of our journey, no matter how insignificant it seemed.”

Judy sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Alright, Baby Billy,” she muttered, reluctantly accepting her fate. “But you owe me one for this.” She turned to you, jutting her head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

Baby Billy chuckled, a soft, reassuring sound that seemed to lighten the atmosphere. “Hold on a minute,” he patted Judy’s shoulder gently, his touch almost fatherly. His gaze then shifted to you, his eyes twinkling with both mischief and sincerity. “I have a different job for your friend here,” he said, his voice laden with a sense of importance. He turned fully towards you, his smile warm and inviting. “If you’ll accept.”

You felt the weight of his words, the air thick with anticipation as Judy’s eyes fell on you. Baby Billy’s influence was commanding. It made you feel both honoured and nervous.

You nodded, your voice barely audible, and uttered, “I’ll help.”

“Alright,” he grinned, slapping his hands together with enthusiasm. He instructed the band and the other employees to return to the main area as he carefully led Judy to the exit. “Make sure you give it a thorough cleaning, Judy. The Lord is always watchin’,” he remarked, nudging her through the door and shutting it on her objections.

Your throat dried as you watched him twist the lock, producing a thunderous click that reverberated throughout the silent room. The sound seemed to echo endlessly, amplifying the tension that had been steadily building. He redirected his attention to you, his expression warm and inviting, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. Yet, there was a glint of something darker in his eyes, a flicker of intent that sent a shiver down your spine.

“She’s got a lot of spirit, doesn’t she?” he said, his tone light as he stalked towards you. You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat under his potent stare. “Always been so desperate to prove herself, our sweet Judy,” he continued. His eyes didn’t leave yours. He stopped just a step away from you. “What about you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a soft, almost tender whisper.

As you swallowed hard, the severity of his question hit you. The room felt suffocating as you struggled to calm your breathing. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something deeper, and you found it hard to think straight under his watch.

“What about me?” you gulped, your voice hardly steady.

He stepped closer, and instinctively, you took a step back. Your back hit the edge of the vanity, causing various lotions and potions to topple over, clattering onto the floor. Your fingers grasped at the table, the cool wood grounding you as you looked up into Baby Billy’s predatory gaze.

His eyes, fierce and unyielding, locked onto yours, making your heart pound against your chest. He was so close that you could feel the raw magnetism seeping from him, leaving you feeling both vulnerable and electrified.

“Are you desperate to prove yourself?” he asked, his finger lightly grazing your chin. He tilted it upwards, leaving you no choice but to look directly at him. The touch of his fingertip sent a pulse of arousal through you, making your pussy thrum. You squeezed your thighs together to ease the ache between them. His gaze was unrelenting, piercing through your defences and searching for the truth hidden within you.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammered, your voice breaking. It wasn’t true. Deep inside, you felt a magnetic pull toward the older man standing before you, a profound need to please him. You’d fantasized about this moment countless times over the years, your fingers teasing your most sensitive spots as you pictured him. You had writhed against your mattress, biting your lip to stifle his name from escaping them in a heated whisper. You’d wanted him for so many years.

“Don’t be shy now,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes glinted with amusement and something primal. “You certainly weren’t when you were giving me those eyes during the service.” His voice dripped with a teasing tone, each word deliberately slow, as if savouring the memory.

His words sent a flush of heat through your cheeks and you tried to look away, but his finger held your chin in place, keeping your gaze locked with his. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his presence overwhelming. The room seemed to shrink around you, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension and desire as you looked up at him, transfixed.

His thumb brushed lightly across your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. The scent of his cologne filled your senses, making it hard to think clearly. His eyes, a captivating blend of mischief and command, searched yours for any sign of resistance, but all he found was the raw vulnerability you tried to hide.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” he uttered, his voice a velvety whisper that seemed to wrap around you. “I see you, all of you.” The sincerity in his tone made your heart clench, any defiance melting away under the heat of his gaze.

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your lips, teasing and tempting. The closeness was intoxicating, every nerve in your body alert to his presence. You could feel the strength in his grip, the subtle dominance that made you weak with craving. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, the promise of what could happen hanging heavily in the air.

“I saw the way you looked at me,” he continued, his voice low and intimate. “Like you were daring me to come over and do something about it.” His eyes smouldered with intent, and the smirk on his lips grew more pronounced. The weight of his gaze was almost too heavy to withstand, filled with challenge and promise that made your pulse quicken.

You struggled to react to his words, a haze of lust clouding your mind as he leaned in closer. The mixture of authority and need in his eyes was utterly mesmerizing, making it impossible to look away. Your entire being, every fibre in your body was alive with excitement.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Do you want me to do something about it?” His question hung in the air, the weight of it pressing down on you as you struggled to find your voice.

Another sharp intake, the proximity and the raw emotion in his voice, leaving you vulnerable. “Yes,” you whispered, the admission sending a thrill through you.

A satisfied smile curved his lips as he pressed a soft, chaste kiss to your mouth. “Good,” he whispered back, his voice low and commanding. “Clothes off, angel.”

His words sent a shiver of anticipation through you, and you hesitantly glanced toward the door. Sensing your distraction, he gently tilted your chin back toward him, his eyes locking onto yours with a determined gaze.

“Don’t you worry about her,” he assured, his voice soft yet assertive, drawing your attention back to the moment. “You focus on me.”

“But you said that the Lord is always watching,” you reminded him, echoing the words he had spoken to Judy just moments before.

Raised in a devout Christian household, you had lived and worked with the Gemstones, always striving to be the virtuous, Christian woman your mother wanted you to be. A part of you knew that this was sinful, felt wrong, like a lamb being led to slaughter. Yet a larger part of you—the part that felt a fire ignited within, burning and aching for more of his touch—knew that your words were a hollow attempt to save face before you gave in.

He smiled, running his hands up and down your arms in a soothing gesture. “The Lord and I, we have a deal,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “Ain’t no one’s eyes on you but mine.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, both comforting and thrilling. Taking a step forward, his hand made contact with your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your skin. “I bet you’ve tried so hard to be the good girl, to live up to everyone’s expectations,” he murmured. “But what about your own needs? What about what you want, hmm?”

Your heart pounded as his words took hold, resonating within you. The years of restraint, the hidden fantasies, all converged at this single moment. “I... I want this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ve never been with a man before.”

His smile widened, a mix of triumph and tenderness. “Oh darlin’, I know that. I’ll be gentle,” he said, his voice a low, seductive murmur. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, drawing you closer until your lips were almost touching. “Let me show you what it means to truly surrender.”

The last barrier within you crumbled, and with a shuddering breath, you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both fervent and tender. You sighed into his mouth as his tongue licked against your own; the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. You felt consumed by him. It was as if all your reservations had melted away, leaving only a deep, aching need for his touch. His hands roamed your body with a possessive tenderness, and you knew there was no turning back.

He released you, gave you an encouraging smile as his eyes flickered over your body. You hesitantly undressed, your fingers fumbling with the buttons and fabric. The room seemed to grow warmer with each piece of clothing that fell away, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air. His expression was a mix of appreciation and yearning, his eyes darkening with every inch of you revealed.

“That’s it,” he said when you were bare before him. He stepped closer, his fingers tracing a path down your chest, over the swell of your breast. The touch was exhilarating, sending waves of sensation through your body. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over you with undisguised admiration. “A sight to behold.”

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together. The feel of the rich fabric of his suit against your skin gave you goosebumps, and he slowly traced kisses down the expanse of your neck, over your collarbone, until he reached your breasts. He took one hardened nipple into his mouth, enclosing his lips around it as you gasped.

You grabbed hold of his shoulders for support as your legs weakened from the fiery touch of his tongue. His mouth worked skilfully, alternating between gentle sucking and flicking, setting your nerves on fire. His other hand caressed your side, his touch both reassuring and tantalizing.

“You’re so sensitive,” he mumbled into you, his voice thick with want. His hand moved to your other breast, his thumb brushing over the nipple, eliciting another gasp from you. He switched his attention, giving your other nipple the same devoted attention, his mouth and hand working in perfect harmony.

Your body responded to his touch, arching into him as the pleasure built. The contrast of the soft fabric of his suit and the firmness of his body against your bare skin heightened every sensation. You could sense the power in his shoulders under your grip, grounding you as he continued his exploration.

He left your nipple with a suctioned pop, lifting you until you perched on the vanity table. His mouth was back on you, kisses trailing lower over your breasts, down your stomach as his hands guided you to lean against the mirror. He knelt between your legs, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. His fingers grazed your thighs as he paused. Looking up at you, a devious grin spreading across his lips.

“Wouldn’t deny an old man a taste, would you?” he asked, low and teasing as he parted your legs wider.

You held back a moan, the longing building as his hands caressed your thighs, spreading them apart. The cool surface of the mirror against your back contrasted with the heat of his breath on your skin, making every feeling more intense. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you pulsating.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I wouldn’t.”

His smile widened, a look of triumph and hunger in his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured, his hands sliding round to grip your thighs firmly, your mind reeling from his praise.

He leaned in, his mouth descending to your core, and you mewled his name as the flat of his tongue dragged through your wet slit. He moved skilfully, exploring every inch of you, his hands holding you open as he flicked and swirled his tongue over your sensitive flesh. When his lips wrapped around your clit and he began sucking gently on the bundle of nerves, you couldn’t suppress the whine that escaped your lips.

One of your hands left the vanity, slipped into his perfect hair, tugging and pulling him closer, desperate to feel more of the intense, foreign sensation. He groaned in response; the vibration adding another layer of pleasure as he continued his ministrations, his tongue dancing over your most sensitive spots with precision and care.

Your hips bucked against him when you felt his tongue dipping into your tight hole. He laughed, his grip on your thighs tightening as he held you to the table and fucked your cunt with his tongue. His strong nose brushed against your sensitive clit, and you cried out, fighting against his hold to grind against him, desperate for more friction.

“Baby Billy, it feels s-so good,” you moaned, your voice trembling with pleasure.

With his finger prodding at your entrance, your grip on his hair tightened and your back arched, while his lips encased your clit again, sucking with fervour as you adjusted to the stretch of his finger.

As he stared at you greedily, he pulled back to witness his finger sliding into you, wet with your juices. “Oh, you sweet thing,” he cooed, his voice dripping with lust, adding to the growing tightness of the coil within you. Your eyes widened as you felt another finger prod experimentally at your hole, swirling through your arousal before pushing in to join the first. You gasped at the stretch, then broke into a cry when he curled them against you, hitting a spot that had your vision spotting.

With precision, he twisted and thrust his fingers, never taking his eyes off your face as he watched your reactions. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a mix of encouragement and dominance. “Let me see how good it feels.”

Your pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak. His fingers moved faster, curling and stroking the sensitive spot inside you with expert skill as the rings that adorned them stretched you deliciously, the chill of them a shock against your dripping heat. The wet sounds of your arousal and your increasingly frantic moans echoed throughout the room.

“Please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”

He smirked, relishing the impact he had on you, and the sight of him so dishevelled—hair unkempt and face glistening from your juices—had you grasping at him, pulling him up toward you for another heated kiss. You rocked your hips harder as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, the taste of yourself on his lips adding to the sinful pleasure.

His mouth swallowed your moans, the kiss deep and hungry, your tongues tangling as you revelled in the shared intensity. His fingers moved relentlessly, curling and thrusting with expert precision, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over as he thumbed your clit.

The room seemed to spin as the pleasure built, your body tightening around his fingers. His free hand roamed your body, caressing and gripping your curves, adding to the sensation of overload. Every touch, every thrust, pushed you towards the brink.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured against your lips. “Feel how wet you are, letting Baby Billy do such unholy things to you.”

You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The rhythm of his fingers was driving you wild, the coil inside you tightening to the breaking point.

A choked sob escaped you as your muscles clenched around his fingers, your body convulsing with pleasure as the tension finally broke. He held you through it, fingers never stopping their assault, drawing out every shudder and gasp. You slowly came back down, eyes bleary and body quivering around him. He looked down at the mess between your thighs where his fingers were slowly retracting from your cunt. His eyes shone with a satisfied gleam.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. His fingers glistened with your arousal as he brought them to his lips, tasting you once more with a low, appreciative moan. “You’re nice and ready for me now,” he grinned, pushing between your legs to grind his clothed arousal against you.

He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you to move against him. “Feel that?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “That’s what you’ve done to me.” His eyes locked on yours. The intensity in them makes even more heat pool between your thighs.

The friction of his hard length against your slick folds sent shivers through your body, your hips rocking against him to seek more. His grip tightened, controlling your movements as he pressed harder against you, the fabric of his pants only heightening the sensation.

“You want this, don’t you?” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me how much you want it now.”

You reacted to his command, a moan escaping your lips as you ground against him with more urgency. “I want it,” you uttered, your voice quivering with longing. “Please, Baby Billy. I need you.”

His grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he watched you writhe against him. “Oh angel,” he sighed, his voice rough with lust. “You’re gonna get exactly what you need.”

He pulled back just enough to unzip his pants, freeing his aching cock. The sight made your mouth water—thick and long, with a slight curve and beads of pre-cum glistening on his swollen, red tip. He stroked himself, spreading the slickness over his length, and you watched, mesmerized. A sudden curiosity flooded you, imagining the weight and taste of him on your tongue.

“See something you like?“ he teased, his voice a sultry, enticing rumble. His eyes clouded with desire as he watched your reaction, enjoying the effect he had on you. He stepped closer, his hand still working his shaft slowly, as if to give you a show. His eyes flicked to the door, then back to you, his expression deep in thought. “Ain’t enough time for that now, but you best believe I’ll be puttin’ that mouth to good use next time.”

Before you had time to contemplate his words, Baby Billy grabbed at your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he positioned himself at your entrance. The weeping head of his cock teased through your slick folds, sending shivers up your spine. His eyes snapped to yours when he heard the whimper fall from your lips, an almost sadistic grin spreading across his face.

Whispering softly, he brushed his lips teasingly against yours, and said, “Once I’m finished with you, you’ll belong to me, understand?”

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered you. The stretch was an exquisite blend of pleasure and pain, making your vision blur and chest heave as you clung to him. Driven wild by the sensation of your tight, wet heat, he let out a guttural moan as he pushed himself deeper.

“Good Lord, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, his voice thick with passion. His firm hands held onto your hips tightly, bringing you closer as he filled you entirely. The overwhelming force of the moment left you breathless, your body trembling with each inch he claimed.

He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the fullness, his eyes hardened with possessiveness as they locked onto yours. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Made just for me.”

His words made you keen, your mind empty except for the thought of Baby Billy and his cock consuming you. Pleas tumbled from your lips, urging him to move, begging him to fill you, and he groaned as he snapped his hips, setting a slow and deliberate pace so that you could feel every ridge of his cock as he moved within you.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut briefly at the tightness of you around him, fingers digging into your hips as he fucked into you. “Take all of me. I know you can.”

As the sparks of pain subsided, overwhelming surges of pleasure took over. The vanity and mirror slammed loudly against the wall as he rocked your hips to meet his, matching his rhythm perfectly. You were so absorbed in him you didn’t care about the door just a few feet away, separating your friend — his kin — from possibly hearing the illicit act you were engaged in.

With your back arching into him, you pleaded for more, as his lips wrapped around your nipple again, eliciting a desperate whine from you. “Faster, please.”

With a growl, he responded, grazing your sensitive bud with his teeth, causing you to sharply inhale. His muffled curse vibrated against your skin as he picked up the pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that reached new depths, pushing you closer to the edge. Your nails dug into his shoulders, crinkling the fabric of his expensive suit.

“I knew you weren’t as innocent as you seemed,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice dripping with raw desire. “Can’t get enough of Baby Billy, can you?”

His breath was hot and heavy against your chest, each word making your spine tingle. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer as he thrust deeper, the intensity of his movements mirroring the hunger in his voice.

“It’s like music to my ears, hearing you beg,” he murmured, delivering a final flick of his tongue over your nipple before straightening to meet your gaze. “My new favourite song.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart race even faster, the connection between you electrifying. He held your gaze with an intensity that left you breathless, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. Every thrust, every touch, was a symphony of pleasure that built and built, pushing you both closer to the edge.

As you teetered on the brink of another orgasm, your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your muscles spasmed. One of Baby Billy’s hands left your thighs, snaking between you to trace wet circles over your swollen clit. You bucked into his hand, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body, as he looked down at you with pride.

“That’s it. Sing for me, angel,” he commanded.

As your body convulsed around him, a broken cry ripped from your throat. Your thighs shook and you gripped him tighter, riding out your earth-shattering ecstasy, every muscle tightening as you clutched desperately at him. He watched you with a primal hunger, his eyes dark and filled with greed, captivated by the sight of you falling apart on his cock.

Your walls clenched rhythmically around him, drawing a gasping moan from his lips. The sensation was too much for him to handle, and his thrusts became sloppy and erratic, each movement driven by pure instinct. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, trying to maintain some semblance of control as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice heavy with need. “You got me feelin’ some kind of way, angel. Something wicked.”

His words had you spiralling, your orgasm continuing to crash over you like a tidal wave. Your garbled cry cut short as he captured your lips with his and you moaned into his mouth, riding out the rest of your climax with desperate ruts of your hips, clinging to him for dear life.

His kiss was deep and consuming, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he couldn’t get enough of you. He held you tight, grounding you both as he bucked at a frenzied pace, chasing his own release. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the faltering rhythm of his thrusts echoing in the heated air. Your lips tore from his, head dropped back against the mirror, eyes half-closed, as you surrendered to Baby Billy’s insistent need.

He used your cunt for his own amusement, his thick girth splitting you open and filling you. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure and pain through your body, the intensity almost too much to bear. You breathed in shallow, erratic gulps, mingling with his groans of pleasure.

“You gonna let Baby Billy finish inside of you?” he grunted as you felt the powerful contraction of his muscles under your fingers. “Go back out there with my cum filling you, let everyone know who owns you now.”

His words, steeped in raw, possessive control, gave you goosebumps. The heat between you was almost unbearable, and the thought of being so intimately claimed ignited a fire within you. You could barely manage a nod, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Yes,” you managed, your voice trembling with need. “F-fill me.”

His eyes shone at your words, lighting up with pride. You felt him pulse and throb inside you, and with a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. His body shuddered as he found his release, the hot spurts of his cum flooding you, mingling with your own arousal to create an intoxicating warmth. You milked him for every drop of his seed, drawing out every ounce of pleasure.

Your body, wrecked and trembling, collapsed against his as you sobbed into the crook of his neck. A combination of fulfilment and exhaustion washed over you, your breathing slowly adjusting to a calmer rhythm. His gentle touch roamed your spine in soothing strokes, grounding you as you both basked in the afterglow. The surrounding air seemed to hum with the energy of your passion, the scent of sweat and sex lingering, creating a heady, intimate atmosphere.

With his breath still uneven against your skin, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “That was a job well done,” he murmured, his voice prideful despite his jest. He groaned as he pulled himself from your swollen cunt, eyes shining at the sight of you leaking with his load. You whimpered at the emptiness, a pout forming on your lips as he tucked himself away, but then he pushed two digits into you, stuffing your pussy almost full again.

“Keep it all in there,” he said, his eyes flicking to you as he twisted his fingers. The squelch of his load being forced back inside of you filled the room, an erotic sound that made your mouth water. “I wasn’t lying. Baby Billy wants you out there, front and centre.”

The intensity in his gaze, coupled with the sensation of his fingers pushing his cum deeper inside you, had you shaking again. Each movement was deliberate, ensuring you felt every bit of his claim on you. The thought of stepping out, filled with his essence, ignited a mix of thrill and arousal within you.

He finally withdrew his fingers, leaving you with a lingering sense of fullness. “Now, let’s get you dressed,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He helped you to your feet, steadying you as you adjusted to standing. The rush of reality hit you as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror—marks from his mouth adorned your breasts, and bruises from his fingers dotted your thighs. You looked spent, yet there was a radiant glow to your skin that hadn’t been there before.

You watched in the mirror as Baby Billy adjusted his suit, fixing his hair until it was back in almost perfect condition. He dabbed at the sweat that had formed on his brow with his handkerchief, his focus intent on readying himself. The sight of him, composed and immaculate, made you suddenly aware of your own state. You felt uncomfortably exposed and quickly retrieved your clothes from the floor.

Your body ached as you dressed, each movement a reminder of what you’d just done. Your muscles throbbed from the recent exertion, and as you put on your clothes, the thoughts that had been repressed by passion now surged through your mind. The reality of your sin with the pastor drowned you in a wave of guilt and confusion.

You wanted to regret it, to tell yourself that you would pray for forgiveness, but you knew it wasn’t true. You’d wanted him so much, was willing to throw all caution to the wind and give yourself so freely to him. Now, he seemed so distant from you, and maybe that felt worse than anything. The desire that had driven you to this moment still simmered under the surface, a raw and undeniable truth.

As you finished dressing, you caught your reflection in the mirror. The marks on your body, the glow in your skin, all told the story of what had transpired. You felt a complex mix of emotions—shame, guilt, satisfaction, and a strange sense of pride.

Baby Billy turned to you, his eyes softening as he took in your appearance. “You alright?” he asked, his voice gentle, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before.

With a nod, you managed a slight smile. “Yeah, I think so.”

Drawing nearer, he lightly brushed his thumb against your cheek. “No one else needs to know what happened here.”

You took a deep breath, fully absorbing the impact of his words. The secret you now shared felt like a heavy burden, one you couldn’t speak of to anyone. The fear that this might be your last moment with him gnawed at you, prompting you to ask softly, “Will I see you again?”

He smiled, a teasing glint in his eye, as he leaned in to place a gentle, lingering kiss on your lips. When he pulled back, he lightly tapped his finger over your bottom lip, his touch both tender and possessive.

“Oh darlin’,” he drawled, his voice low and filled with promise, “didn’t I already tell you I’d be puttin’ this mouth to good use one day?” 

The way he said it sent a chill through you, the intimacy of his words and the light touch on your lip igniting a spark within you. His eyes held yours, the playful glint mixing with something deeper, a reassurance that this moment was far from the last.

As he stepped back, his hand trailed from your lip to your chin, lifting it slightly. His gaze softened, the teasing replaced with genuine affection as he murmured, “this isn’t the last you’ll see of Baby Billy.”

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Wildest Dreams - Epilogue

Word Count: 2k

Themes: an unbelievable about of fluff

Summary: Set two years after the reunion, and Y/N and Sebastian are (finally) getting married

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL. All characters are aged up and around 27/28 years old. Quote in bold italics is not mine. It’s from the film Corpse Bride and I love it too much to pass on using it.

Find Part One here and Part Two here

Two Years Later

Sebastian stood by the fountain at the north entrance of Hogwarts castle and couldn’t help but think of the last time he had been here - how it felt like he couldn’t get Y/N out of there fast enough. It was a stark parallel to the present, where he shuffled between his feet with nervous energy and willed her to move a little faster so that he could finally see her. When he approached Headmaster Black about getting married in the gardens he had half expected the man to laugh in his face and reject him. Instead, he clapped him on the shoulder and agreed without a second thought, muttering about how it would do wonders for the image of the school if the Hero of Hogwarts chose to return there for the most important day of her life. Sebastian itched to shake him off and find a different venue instead, but he knew Y/N wanted nothing more than to get married in the first place she had truly called home, and so he begrudgingly thanked his old Headmaster and informed him of their plans. 

They had decided to get married in the summer, partially so they wouldn’t disturb any students, but also because it offered them the best weather for their outdoor ceremony. They would have both much preferred a winter wedding so they could see the grounds covered in snow, but decided it would be easier (and warmer) to get married earlier in the year so they didn’t have to worry about constantly casting warming charms. Sebastian had to admit, the summer flowers added a beautiful touch to the whole affair, his eyes darting over the different array of colours in the gardens around him. 

“Stop moving so much,” Ominous nudged him gently. “You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” Sebastian laughed and nudged his friend and brother back. “I’m so sorry for putting you out on my wedding day.”

“Apology accepted.” Ominis smirked at him, his head tilting to the side slightly as the guests in front of them talked amongst themselves. Sebastian began to fiddle with his cufflinks as he watched their guests arrive and take their seats, nodding in greeting to those who caught his eye. “You seem jumpier than usual, are you alright?”

“I can’t wait to see her.”

“I remember that feeling.” He smiled softly to himself as he remembered his own wedding day with Anne, how anxious he had been as he waited for her arrival. He would have much preferred to run away and elope as opposed to having all the attention on them both, but he knew she wanted a proper ceremony and he wanted to do things right by her. “We should be starting soon. Are you ready?”

“I was ready the day she said yes.”

“You’re not going to burst into song, are you?”

“Shut up, you prick.” The pair laughed as the music that was playing quietly in the background swelled and a hush fell over the guests. The officiant walked over to Sebastian and Ominis, a large smile on his face as he shook both of their hands and they waited for the bridal party.

Sebastian watched with bated breath as the doors to the castle swung open right as the enchanted instruments started to play the bridal march. The guests stood and turned to watch Anne walk out first, gently leading both of her twins down the aisle. Arabella threw flower petals at random intervals while Alexander clung to his mothers skirts, a toothy grin coming over the toddler’s face as he noticed both his father and his uncle waiting at the other end of the aisle. Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh as Alexander wrapped his arms around his knees while Arabella ran for her father, the rest of the flower petals forgotten. He scooped his nephew into a hug and pressed a kiss to his chubby cheek before passing him off to Anne who gave his arm a gentle squeeze before standing on the other end of the altar. 

Poppy and Imelda came out next, both of them looking beautiful in their bridesmaid dresses, with the former giving Sebastian an encouraging smile as the latter sent him a glare and mimed that she was watching him. He chuckled and pulled both of the girls in for a hug before they joined Anne, muttering to Imelda about how he knew she was secretly pleased they had finally decided to tie the knot. She flicked his shoulder, but there was an obvious smile on her face as she stood by Anne and Poppy. The music swelled and went quiet for a few moments before picking up again softly as Y/N appeared in the doorway.

Sebastian felt all the breath leave his lungs as she came into view and he unconsciously pressed a hand to his chest as she caught his eye and gave him a heart stopping smile. He felt his eyes burn as she started to walk towards him slowly and willed the music to play faster so she could reach him quicker and he could take her in his arms. Y/N had always been the most beautiful girl he had ever seen - even back when he had first met her - but the words did not do her justice in that moment as she practically floated down the aisle towards him. 

“Breathe, Sebastian.” Ominis nudged him gently and he took in a shaky breath and quickly reached up to brush away a tear before it could escape. He couldn’t look away from her even if he wanted to. He would never be able to put into words how absolutely ethereal she looked, her white dress almost glowing in the afternoon sun. Y/N (finally) neared him and took his hand and Sebastian was hit with a sudden moment of realisation at just how lucky he was. He was so much closer to spending the rest of his life with his best friend and he couldn’t wait. 

“Hey, you.” Y/N smiled shyly at him as she took her place by his side, his hand clutching onto hers tightly. Her gaze softened as she noticed the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes and reached up to brush them away gently. “Good tears, I hope?”

“Merlin, yes.” Sebastian breathed, his voice cracking slightly due to his emotions. “The best.” He resisted the urge to tug her against him and kiss her like they weren’t surrounded by their friends and family, and instead settled on standing a little closer than necessary and pressing his lips to her knuckles softly. “You are stunning.” 

“Look who’s talking.” Y/N’s gaze ran over his suit appreciatively and his grip on her hand tightened fractionally as he remembered that they needed to get married first before he could whisk her away and have his way with her. He was vaguely aware of the officiant starting the ceremony, sharing anecdotes about love and friendship that he couldn’t pay attention to as he stared at the woman standing in front of him. He didn’t know what he had done in a past life to deserve her, but he would spend every day of the rest of his life - the rest of their lives - showing her just how much she meant to him. 

“I love you,” he mouthed the words, his lips twitching into a smile as he watched her flush delicately. 

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.” He frowned playfully and shook his head as she continued to stare at him with pure adoration on her features. 

Neither of them could believe this day was finally here. If anyone had told Sebastian and Y/N when they first met all those years ago that they would be standing where it all started, surrounded by their loved ones, both of them would have blushed and stuttered in protest; but here they were, and Sebastian could think of nowhere else in the world he would rather be. He always thought his favourite version of Y/N would be her first thing in the morning, and that had been true from the very first moment he had woken with her in his arms two years ago up until that exact moment. Nothing would ever compare to how completely and utterly captivating she was, looking like his own personal divine being.

“...Sebastian?” Y/N muttered his name, a coy smile playing on her face. 

“Sorry. I’m here,” he offered the officiant a sheepish smile and shrugged one of his shoulders while tilting his head in Y/N’s direction as if to say, can you blame me? “Could you repeat that, please?”

“Do you, Sebastian Sallow, take Y/N Y/L/N to be your wife? To - ”

“I do.” The minister, as well as their audience, laughed as Sebastian interrupted with a cheeky smile on his face as he glanced at Y/N. He had waited so long for this moment and now that it was here he just wanted to skip forward to the most important part. He knew he should be a little more patient and show some restraint, but had been waiting for this for longer than he would ever admit. He wanted to be able to finally call Y/N his wife.

“Very well, then.” The preacher turned to Y/N, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “And do you, Y/N Y/L/N, take Sebastian Sallow to be your husband? To live together in matrimony, to love, honour, comfort and to keep in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” A tear slipped down Y/N’s face as she took in the look of pure devotion on Sebastian’s face. She had never been more sure of a decision in her entire life.

“You each have a ring for the other,” the officiant looked between the pair, taking note of both of their living smiles and unshed tears. “These are placed on each other’s fingers as a visible sign of the vows which you have taken today which have bound you both together as husband and wife. I hope they always remind you of your promise and love for each other.” He looked over at Sebastian, who in turn took the ring from Ominis’ outstretched hand. He thought his hands would shake during this part, but they remained steady as he slipped the ring on Y/N’s finger, his heart thumping in his chest as he did so. 

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” He brushed a stray tear from Y/N’s face and gently kissed the piece of jewellery before letting her turn to Anne so she could get his ring. 

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” She repeated the vow back to him, her voice wavering slightly as she slid the wedding band onto his ring finger, the metal gleaming in the afternoon sun.

“I’ve been told you have both been through many adventures together, but let us begin this one with a kiss. I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Sebastian was already tugging Y/N towards him before the words were finished, both of his hands resting on her waist as he dipped down to press his lips to hers. He thought his heart was about to beat out of his chest as she wound her hands up to the back of his head and pulled him in closer, the crowd fading out of his mind as he held onto her tightly. Imelda whistled loudly as their kiss lasted long enough to be indecent and Y/N broke away to laugh, her face flushing as Sebastian tried to chase her lips and pull her back into another kiss. She grinned at him and pressed a sweet, chaste peck on his lips.

“How do you feel about being a married man, Mr Sallow?”

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, Mrs Sallow.”

[neesieiumz]

venus ⸻⸻⸻ k.nanami

synopsis ⸻⸻ after five years of you being his lawyer, nanami shows you just how much he appreciates you

warnings ⸻⸻ smut. 18+ minors do not interact. lawyer!reader. mafia!nanami. black-coded reader. female reader. afab anatomy. praise kink. slight degradation kink. kento has a thing for your titties. starts off with him being arrested. slight open ending incase i feel like doing a part two. slight power imbalance (after all, he's fucking his lawyer.)

writer notes ⸻⸻ yes yes i know. *another one*. I'm in love with this man and you can't keep him away from me. will it surprise y'all that i started this a month ago and just finished it now? anyways, i hope you all enjoy it! see you in the next one.

wc ⸻ 4.5k

Who would have thought one’s life would be this way?

You remember the days, desk surrounded by coffee and energy drinks, books as thick as statues as you studied for your next exam in Legal Methods. Hair matted for days, not even knowing when your next shower is. Struggles while at Law school, to take the bar exam, every single decision has led you to this very moment in your life. 

You stood amid the officer, staring at you as if their looks will put you six feet into the ground, “If that is all, you have absolutely nothing to hold my client. Release him immediately.”

Blonde hair and brown eyes stare at you, as the officer in front of him glanced between the two of you. The man sighed, pulling his ring of keys. The detective standing not too far from you turned to glare at him, but he had already moved to take the cuffs of your client. Kento rose up, his figure towering above rest as he rolled down his sleeves, buttoning his cufflinks. Taking a deep breath, you moved out of the way, allowing Kento to leave first before following him. You walked towards the receptionist's desk, grabbing the release papers for him. He didn't say anything as he waited, leaning right near you as you filled out the papers. The smell of off-stale coffee and donuts soon permeated your senses as some stood right next to you. 

“How does it feel to represent someone who has killed people,” you felt someone whisper in your ear. 

You glanced to your left, the detective that was standing too far from you back in the interrogation room. She glared at you, hard as you finished signing the final line. Handing the papers to the detective herself, you gave her a smile, a cold one. 

“You forget the word allegedly, and on the 1000-thread silk sheets with the money, he pays me,” you whisper back to her, before looking over at Kento. 

With that single look, Kento stood up and followed right behind you. He pushed slightly in front of you, opening the door for you, allowing you to walk into the cold night. There stood a car, with a tall standing man right near the back entrances. Once Kento got close, he bowed before opening the door and gesturing towards it. You glanced towards Kento, who stood right behind you, taking your briefcase from your hands. A normal routine was what ran through your mind as you climbed into the low-rise small limo. You got comfortable as Kento took the seat in front of you. The man closed the door, before running around towards the front. The moment the door shut, you relaxed into your seat, sighing as you fell back into the comforting leather. You reached over, grabbing a rose champagne bottle, which was pineapple flavored along. Along with the drink, you grabbed a clean glass.

“Kento, you are probably my favorite client but please, never again get arrested like that again,” you grumbled, pouring out the drink, and filling it to the brim.

The car began to move at the same time he chuckled, the low rumble matching the roar of the car.

“Probably? You act as if it was my intention to get arrested like that,” he says, rubbing his fingers against his temples. 

“But still Kento,” you said, “if you’re gonna make big moves, let me know. If I have to jump out of my hot jacuzzi bath because you got taken down to the big house, I would like it to be known.”

He grabbed a glass from his side of the car, holding it out towards you. Leaning forward, you poured out teh rose for him. As you pour, glancing towards his eyes, seeing them linger along your chest, before looking away. 

“Thought you were more of a red person?” You asked, leaning back and taking another sip of your drink. 

“In the mood for just about anything right now. I feel sloppy, tired even. I haven’t been on top of things, that’s probably how they even arrested me.”

Shuffling in your seat, you stared at the man, as he swirled the rosé within the glass. His hair was ruffled, his eyes heavy with bags, and his eyes strained with red. He took a sip of the alcohol, taking a long one before pulling it away from his lips. A bit of it dripped down his lips, his tongue flicking, licking up the rest of his lips as well. Taking a deep breath, you looked away, taking another sip of your drink as well. 

“Well then, you’re lucky I’m very good at my job then,” you smirked, causing him to glance at you, “fuck up all you need to get your head back in the game Kento, I’ll make sure the law doesn't bother you.”

You glanced at the text once more. 

Come by Venus in an hour. Dress up a bit. Leave the pantsuits at home.

You could almost scoff at that last sentence in his sentence. This wasn't the first time you were invited to Kento’s clubs, one of his many places of income. Venus was one of his new places, which opened up a year ago. There were many times your own friends had invited you out to the exclusive nightclub. They knew of your relationship with the owner and hoped you would be able to get them in. You had only gone there for meetings with him concerning the legalities of his endeavors, but the way he texted you, he wanted you to come over for something more informal. It's been over ten minutes, and he’s probably seen that you’ve read his text. Walking around your penthouse, you glanced around at everything, massaging your temples. Heart pounding, you look around your place one more time. Glancing back down at your phone, you let out a sigh, before typing out a response. 

Fine. Don’t make me regret it. Kento

With that, you moved with purpose, going up the stairs to your room. With you already freshly showered, it wasn't a matter until you found something to wear. It was an impulsive decision, a red latex dress with a side split, showing off some cleavage. You pushed back your faux locs behind your ears and shoulders, showing off the amount of skin you were showing. Grabbing a red coat, draping it over your shoulders as well. You picked up a simple pearl layered necklace, with its matching earrings and bracelet, you are set. Grabbing your things and stuffing them within a red latex bag that matched the outfit, you head out. Before you left, you grabbed a pair of sunglasses, holding them right in your hands as you walked down the steps of your high-rise luxury place. 

The club was packed, lines stretching down the way. The moment you pulled up, a person came and opened your door, immediately prompting you to turn off your car. One of the valet people helped you out of your car, their gloved hand matching your own. You handed the keys to another person who handed you a ticket. As soon as you took another step, a man dressed in an all-black suit appeared right beside you. 

“Mr. Nanami is expecting you inside, ma’am,” he guided you towards the door with his hands. 

Saying no words, you nodded, the man escorting you inside as well. The interior was glowing a deep red color, an irony considering your chosen outfit for tonight. Money was everywhere, within every step you took. Velvet couches surrounded poles, dancers for parties twisting and folding themselves along the poles. The air smelled rich, expensive alcohol being seen at every turn, carried by different bottle girls. 

Taking a breath, you followed the club bouncer through the crowds, eyes not leaving all the different exotic dancers. He led towards the twisting stairs, cut off from the rest of the world by two other bouncers in matching uniforms to the one leading you and velvet rope. The man whispered to his coworkers, who glanced at you and at their tablets before nodding. The man to the right reached for the velvet robe hook, unhooking it and gesturing for you to go up the stairs. The man continued to lead you up the stairs. As you reached the top of the stairs, past the guards that were posted there as well, you found the area calmer, and more serene yet it was even more intoxicating than the ambiance on the lower floor. 

You swayed through the crowd, eyes drifting to those all around you. As you passed by a couch, you caught eyes with a certain blue, peeking from tinted glasses. Beside him, his usual companion, two peas in a pod people would call them. Kento would call them acquaintances, while they would call him “his closest friends.” Before the man could lay eyes upon you, you looked away and continued on your journey to the man who invited you to this very place. 

As you walked further and further into the crowd, the lights dimmed darker and darker, until you couldn't see barely two feet in front of you. There were not as many people around anymore, and it seemed they were standing around something. The bouncer sifted through the crowds, the people parting their way to let you two through. He soon approached a door, locked behind an ID scanner. The bouncer who led you here pulled his own out, pressing it against the small machine. The door unlocked, revealing a short hallway leading into some kind of private living room. Ahead was a couch, surrounded by a few people as well. And in the midst of them, was the man himself, Kento Nanami. He wore a white shirt, ruffled with its first few buttons unbuttoned. He was mostly alone on the couch, with two of his associates he often does business with. He was talking slowly amongst himself, taking sips from his crystal glass.

The bouncer soon stopped right in front of the couch, nodding to Kento before gesturing toward you. The moment his eyes landed upon you, he rose up from his lean position, eyes locking with you. The bouncer nodded one more time at his boss, before walking away, disappearing back into the real world. The blond man stared at you for a few more moments, before smirking right at you. The two people he was talking to also looked at you, but your focus was right on Kento. You took a couple of steps towards him, walking around the small table the men had amongst themselves. Kento closed his legs up, making even more room for you as you sat down right beside him. 

Kento glanced at his two associates, who looked amongst themselves before getting up at the same time. At the same time, the people who were also doing business within the room got up, without a word filed out of the room. They gave a slight head nod towards Kento before waving off into the crowd, probably up to the lower floor to chat up some poor girls. It was just the two of you for a moment before a girl came up with a tray. She placed down a tall wine glass, along with a bottle of wine, rosé to be more specific. It was your favorite bottle too, one of the more expensive bottles. One that you usually get when you’ve had huge wins. The girl nodded toward Kento, before holding the tray close to her body and walking off. The moment she was gone, it was just the two of you, as if the people around you dissipated. 

Kento grabbed the bottle of wine, twisting the top off of it with ease. You heard a pop, with slight steam flowing out of the bottle. He poured it out, filling it ⅔ of the way before placing the bottle down, taking the wine glass in his hands, and handing it over to you. You thanked him quietly, before taking a sip of the wine. As you sipped, Kento grabbed the bottle of whiskey on the table, refilling his own glass. Keeping your eyes on him as he finished poring, placing the bottle down, and taking another sip of his hard drink. You took another sip at the same time as he did, lowering your glass and looking over at him. 

“Why am I here, Kento?”

The man sighed, leaning back into his side of the couch, “I just wanted to have a celebration with you, a more private one.”

You said nothing, continuing to look at him with a knowing look. The man smirked, letting out an almost silent chuckle. 

“It’s been five years to the date since I officially asked you to be my lawyer.”

You blinked, sitting up a bit in your seat. Pulling out your phone from your purse, you glanced at the date under the time. May 14th. He was right, the anniversary of him officially asking to be your client. At the time, you were an overworked and underpaid lawyer at a big-time law firm. Your bosses were putting major cases on you, you did all the evidence finding and the hotshot lawyers above you would take your findings and use them in court. Using your hard work and they took all the glory for it. Kento saw how they took advantage, his previous lawyer being one of his bosses in fact. He offered you a deal, a way out. With that, you built your own law firm, with his support being the main backbone. Kento Nanami was your first client, and the reason you are as successful as you are now. 

You looked over at him, giving him a soft smile, “why, yes it is. Can’t believe you remember that to date. I didn’t even remember”

He nodded, taking another sip of his drink, “I tend to remember things important to me. You were an overworked, unappreciated lawyer and I was someone who had fired their own lawyer.”

You rolled your eyes at that, “yeah “fired” and right after that, you had to face a jury on whether or not you torched the man to death, Kento.”

Scoffing, you took another sip of your drink, looking away from him. 

“Yeah, but you can’t lie, you liked the rush.” You glanced over at him the moment he said those words. 

You couldn’t deny that you thought to yourself as you smirked. Taking another sip of your wine, looking at Kento as he placed his glass down. The two of you looked at each other for a moment, unresisting in the way your eyes glanced over his huge form once more. You couldn't lie to yourself, Kento Nanami was a desperately handsome man. 

“The rush is definitely a nice perk to the job but that check you paid me after was extra nice,” you winked at him, heart pounding away in your chest. 

The more sweet wine you took, the more your inner inhibitions cracked. You could feel the blood rush through your veins, feeling hotter and constricted within this dark area. You knew there were people around you, but the room was so dark that you couldn’t even see anyone around the two of you. Finishing the glass, you held out your hand with it, expecting more which he fulfilled with ease. He lifted his own glass in his hand, before tipping it towards you, clinking them together. 

“To a longer partnership,” he cheered, and you smiled a bit, cheering with him. 

“A long partnership.”

The both of you took a long sip, sighing before placing your glasses down on the table before you. You looked around in the low-lit room, the golden spotlights glowing against the golden-themed room. Feeling slightly cold hands rest upon your chin, you found yourself behind turned to face right back at Kento. Glancing down at his fingers before looking back at the man, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“What’s your game here, Kento?” Your voice lowered when you spoke his name. 

He shook his head slightly, “no games here for me, just appreciating what’s in front of me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “In front of you, you say?”

“you ask me to come to your nightclub, an exclusive nightclub at that. You ‘say’ you just want to celebrate our partnership, but I’m not an idiot, Kento Nanami. You know this.”

As you spoke, you leaned closer, your large red coat falling off your body as you did, revealing the straps of your glossy red dress. His eyes dropped down to your cleavage, revealed by the low dive of the neckline. Easily, you maneuvered the rest of your coat off your body, the huge fabric falling onto the couch. Reaching up, you placed your thumb right on his lips, and the feeling of his soft lips electrified you.

“Well,” he said with a softness you’ve never heard from him, “what exactly do you want me to say?”

Right after he said that his hand came up around your bottom, stroking it against the smooth latex. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him but the smile was still present on your face. His hand soon moved down to your neck, slowly wiping away the little bit of sweat that was dripping down your neck. The tension that had always built between the two of you was reaching an all-time high as your own hands found their way to his collar, fumbling with the ruffled collar. 

His large hands found their way around your hips, lifting you up with ease before placing you right on his lap. With no more words that could be said, you rested your hands against his chest before he captured your lips into a hot heavy kiss. The force stumbled you back for a moment but you kissed back immediately, gripping at his pure white shirt. You could feel his hands slide to your hips before scooping up around your bottom, grabbing at the rubber-like material on your body. 

You could feel yourself grind against him, desperate for some kind of feeling. Hands gripping his shirt, they fumbled against the crisp fabric, trying their best to unbutton the dress shirt. His own hands come up to your zipper, quickly unzipping it, a cool air breeze against your open back. Frustrated, you took the top of his shirt, before ripping it, buttons flying all over the place. Feeling him smirk, hands shifting underneath your dress, grabbing at bare skin and the matching red lace panties you wore underneath the dress. His hands guided you, lifting and resting your hips against him. He commanded your every movement, your pussy dripping against him as he did so. Placing your hands on him, hands resting on top of muscular pecs. The sudden cool air you felt dissipated, heat rising between the two of you. 

Letting go of the kiss, you braced your arms around him as his hands moved up from your ass. He grabbed at the rest of the dress, slowly peeling it off your body and revealing your breasts to him, no bra. The dress began to pool around your hips as he lifted you up into the air. Immediately, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you towards another room, one with a bed in it. Barely paying attention to what's around you, he basically dropped you onto the soft bed, before climbing right on top of you. With a quick motion, he removed the rest of the dress off you, leaving you in nothing but your thin lace panties. He tore off the scarps of a shirt before slowly unbuttoning his pants, and sitting right on top of you. Kento grabbed the back of your left leg, slowly pushing back as he sunk further and further down toward you.

Once he was close enough, he captured you into a heavy kiss, his free hand coming to your titty, giving it a quick squeeze. You gasped into the kiss as he did so, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer. He soon let go of the kiss, giving you a quick and light kiss all down your neck before dipping into the valley between your breasts. Once he reached one, he wrapped his lips around your nipple, eyes closing as he sucked away at it. His other hand rested on your other titty, massaging within his heavy hand. Back arching, clenching around nothing as you hissed in pleasure. He hummed against your warm skin, tongue swirling around the sensitive tit. Slowing down his massages, he wrapped his thick fingers around your free nipple, slowly pressing down and adding pressure. 

Moaning, you couldn't help but say, “I always knew you had a thing for them.”

Inhaling sharply at the sudden pinch of pain that shot through you, you narrowed your eyes at Kento who smirked as much as he could against you before lifting his head up. His lips wet with drool, he immediately switched between the two, sucking away as well. You were soaked, pussy dripping away within your panties as he did this. Soon he let go before immediately moving down, resting his hands around your hips, and maneuvering his fingers underneath the lingerie. He pulled them off your body, throwing them onto the floor. His eyes stared right up at you as he lowered his head, before glazing down and focusing on what he was doing. 

“Oh fuck—” your loud voice cut through, and your head was thrown back as you felt his lips wrap around your clit, sucking away harshly at it as well. 

You could feel his fingers rubbing circles into your inner thighs licking and sucking away at your pussy. Feeling his thumb, parting your inner labia before placing his lips right back on your sopping cunt. Your body squirmed, yet his firm hold on your thigh could only get you so far. He was a madman, sinking two of his fingers within you as he continued to eat away at you. Kento brought you to depths you had yet to understand yet, and the highlight of the night wasn’t even here. 

“So wet,” he mumbled against you, leaving wet kisses against you. 

You cried, curling into him as he continuously devoured within you, sinking another finger into you “want more, please, please, fuckfuck, gimme more! Fuck!—!” 

You screeched, back arching towards the sky as you came unexpectedly, clenched tightly around his now three fingers still moving deep within you. Your hands suddenly weaved themselves within his blond hair, pulling harshly as your arousal dripped all over him. Your sudden orgasm deterred nothing from him, Kento still lapping away at and within you as if you didn’t reach your peak of the night. Your body began trembling unconsciously, your clit feeling the effects of overstimulation. 

“Oh wait, fuck fuck fuck too much! Oh my GOD!”

Still, he didn’t stop, his ministrations leading you to another, much shorter orgasm for the night. Breathing heavily as you felt him slowly remove himself from you. Arms stretched across your face as you caught your breath, peeking from behind as you caught a glance of him slowly removing his boxers. Once he tossed his boxers to the ground, he reached out towards you, screeching as he grabbed at your hips before pulling down towards him a bit. He wrapped your legs around his own waist again, lifting right up off the bed. Cursing, you immediately hold onto him across his neck, so you don’t fall. About to speak, before feeling sudden pressure right against your cunt. Slowly, he lowered you down, his thickness stretching you out in different ways. 

“Kento, oh, oh my fucking god!”

His loud heavy grunts and groans resonated through the room, vibrating especially in your ear. Your grip on his was tight as he lifted you up and down his cock. 

“Fuck— don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he groaned in your ear. 

Gasping, you moved your face to look at him as he spoke to you. 

“My pretty little lawyer, all fucked out, look at you,” his tone had a twinge of condescension. 

“You’ve been so good to me these past five years,—fuck— “

His words had you clenching around, unable to say anything as his thrust got quicker and quicker, hitting deeper and deeper inside you. His lips soon began pressing harsh kisses on your neck, feeling his hot breath blow against your sensitive skin. 

“Taking me so fucking well,” he mumbled again, his tongue lapping up the sweat dripping down. 

“Kento,” you moaned, “oh my god, ohmygod ohmygod,” was all you could say as you convulsed within his hold, feeling his mushroom tip kiss up against your cervix. 

“Hmm, you gonna come for me, you gonna come all over me?” His own thrusts were erratic, his short hair falling over his forehead. 

Throwing your head back as your body let off a violent tremble, “yesyesyesYES!”

With that final shout, your orgasm came crashing down, spilling all over him. Your shaky movements didn’t stop Kento, his thrusts still as heavy as your cum dripping down your thighs. His actions consumed you all over again, before letting out a heavy groan, slamming into you for the final. Gasping, feeling the way he filled you up, his grip on your thighs having the possibility of leaving deep-dark bruises all over. 

“Fuc…” gasping, your head dropping onto his shoulder. 

You could feel him carrying you towards the bed, before slowly laying you across the comfortable sheets and blankets. Slowly regaining feeling within your limbs, you began to sit up as you felt the space beside you sink down. You pulled the blanket up to you, relishing in the soft feel as you saw a movement towards your right. Glancing over, you found a hand holding a glass with ice within it. Thanking him softly, you took the glass before taking a sip, the drink cooling your body down. It allowed you to move up, sitting up fully, bringing the comforter with you. 

“Feeling better?” His voice was slightly hoarse as he asked you

You nodded your head, not saying anything as you finished the glass, placing it on the nightside table. You could feel the comforter move right under you before feeling warm arms wrapped around, squealing before feeling pull you down into the bed. You couldn't help but giggle, squirming a bit as you felt his warm breath brush up against the hairs of your neck. 

“If only your men knew how much of a cuddle buddy you are,” you mumbled against him, feeling his arms wrapped around your waist and hips. 

You placed your own hands underneath your head, right on top of his chest. 

“Well then, looks like it's another secret for you to keep then.”

You laughed at that, before slowly closing your eyes, a heavy tired feeling falling over the two of you.

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[frankthesnek]

♡ sharing a kiss before going in for work (but make it accidental first kiss due to sleep deprivation)

Normally, I only do each prompt once, but since this is so different from the other ask for this one I'll do it again! Thank you 😘

Coming in Hot

Rated G

Prompt: a kiss before going to work

900 words

Steve stood next to the toaster, tapping his fingers on the counter as he waited for his bagel to be done. It was early, and the tower was calm. He'd seen Clint and Natasha preparing for their sparring session an hour or so earlier, but otherwise, it was a ghost town. The toaster finally finished, the crisp pop and ding of it shutting off startling him in the quiet of the kitchen. He plopped his breakfast onto a plate and checked his watch.

It wouldn't be a ghost town much longer, he would bet. Pulling the cream cheese from the fridge, he settled at the breakfast bar and finished preparing his food as he waited.

“Watch it Cap, Stark's coming in hot,” Clint drawled with an amused tone as he entered the kitchen a moment later.

“You don't say?” Steve asked, unsurprised and dry sounding.

The archer just nodded, looking far too happy as he poured the last of the coffee into a mug. 

“Fuck I'm late!” Right on cue Tony entered the space, tie hanging undone around his neck as he fumbled with his cufflinks. “Why does she keep scheduling meetings so early? She knows I'm not a morning person.”

“This wouldn't happen to be the meeting Pepper already rescheduled twice because you keep missing it?” Steve asked, the casualness in his tone giving away that he already knew the answer. 

“Maybe,” Tony grumbled as he picked up the empty coffee pot and frowned. “Barton, I'm gonna kill you,” he promised, glaring at the other man's steaming cup of coffee.

In response, Clint deliberately took a slow drink, holding Tony's eye while he did. 

“Definitely gonna get you. I swear your next batch of arrows is gonna blow up right in your smug little face,” Tony cursed and made a grab for the nearly full mug.

“Extra coffee for you on the bar,” Steve said, pointing to a thermus he'd filled earlier. “Better hurry, if you don't leave now, you'll be late.”

“Thank you,” Tony nearly moaned and picked up the travel cup.

“Uh-huh,” Steve drawled and held up half of his bagel before Tony could try stealing it from his plate. 

“Thanks,” Tony repeated with a sigh, taking it gladly. “Why do you know my schedule better than me?”

“Tony, the hotdog vendor in Central Park knows your schedule better than you do,” Clint piped up with a snort of laughter.

Steve chuckled, and he watched Tony hold the bagel in his mouth as he quickly did his tie. Nimble fingers tugging it into a knot that had no right to be as neat as it was for how fast it had been made. 

“I refuse to acknowledge the truth of that,” Tony spoke around a mouth full and held the thermus up towards Steve. “Is it—”

“Cool enough to drink? Yes.” Steve supplied, taking a bite from his remaining half of the bagel.

“You're an angel,” Tony said blissfully. Then he leaned over the bar and pressed a fast but firm kiss to Steve's mouth before rushing out, already calling the elevator via Jarvis before he left the room. 

Steve's bagel fell from his lax fingers, plopping back to the plate cream cheese side down.

“Did he just?” Clint asked, looking over at Steve with wide eyes.

“Uh…yeah,” Steve muttered, dumbstruck, his lips tingling from the surprise contact.

“And you guys aren't?”

“Nope.” 

The two men stared at each other for a moment in confused silence. Steve felt his cheeks grow hot. Tony, his friend and long-term crush, had just kissed him. Lips warm, soft, and real against his mouth. Clint was giving him a knowing smirk but was thankfully holding his tongue. A moment later, the quiet was broken by the buzzing of Steve’s phone on the counter.

“It's Tony,” he said, looking down at the smiling picture of Tony in his purple sunglasses that was set as the man’s icon. The heat of flush skirted down his neck and settled in his chest.

“Speaker, put him on speaker,” Clint demanded, coming to stand next to his friend.

Swallowing Steve swiped the call open and tapped the speaker function. “Hello?”

“I can't believe I'm even going to ask this but I'm rushed, suffering from a caffeine deficiency, and am severely sleep deprived so the last fifteen minutes are a blur—did I just kiss you?”

“Um, yes?”

Tony said nothing, only the quiet shuffle of him still rushing to his car coming through the phone.

“Hey playboy, this is the part where you ask him out,” Clint supplied, flinching away before Steve could swat him. 

“Do you have me on speaker?” Tony questioned, his tight voice sounding more flustered than angry.

“Maybe?” Steve hedged.

“Oh for Christ—” and the line clicked off.

“Wow, if that's how smooth he normally is, I can't imagine how he used to snag all the ladies. Must be the money,” Clint chuckled, picking up his coffee and heading off. 

Sighing and shaking his head, Steve poked his sad upside down bagel. Just as he was starting to think it truly had been an accident and meant nothing, his phone buzzed with a text from Tony. Steve smiled as he read it. 

‘Free for a lunch date after my meeting?’

Steve started to type out that, yes, he was free when a new message popped up, turning his smile into a joyful grin.

‘And that does not count as our first kiss!!’

[ariqxwz]

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦

Pairing: Christopher Sturniolo x fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend rents a hotel room, and you spend the night there.

Warning: oral sex (fem receiving), face riding, praises, princess treatment, unprotected sex, doggy style.

We had just left Tara's party and were now heading to a hotel Christopher had rented not far from here.

His hand glided effortlessly over the steering wheel while his gaze remained fixed on the road.

I clenched my thighs and looked ahead again. Christopher seemed to notice and gave me a quick glance before placing his hand on my thigh and stroking it gently.

"We'll be at the hotel shortly" he said softly.

I nodded, but doubted he saw it.

Minutes later, we arrived at the hotel and went up to our room, a luxury suite.

I closed the door behind me and entered. I surveyed the room carefully; it had large windows overlooking the city, a beautiful view.

I watched as my boyfriend tossed his suit jacket aside and unbuttoned his cufflinks.

I bit my lip as his shirt fell to the floor and looked away, feeling my cheeks flush.

"Do you like what you see?" Christopher asked, approaching me.

I looked back at him and nodded.

"I'm glad, because I like what I see too," he said, giving me a playful smile as he looked me up and down.

When his gaze returned to my face, he leaned in, pressing me against the nearest wall and grabbed my wrists, placing them above my head, leaving me totally vulnerable to him.

"I've been waiting all night for this" he said before attacking my neck.

I tilted my head, granting him more access, and closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of his lips against my skin.

He released my wrists and trailed his hands down my body, leading me to the bed as he moved.

When he reached the edge, he sat down and looked up at me.

"Ride my face, princess, please" he requested.

A shiver ran down my spine at his words, but I didn't refuse.

Since I was wearing a dress, I simply took off my panties and tossed them somewhere in the room.

Christopher leaned his body back, his back hitting the mattress.

I straddled him, positioning myself over his face.

He placed his hands on my hips, lifting my dress slightly as he looked at me, as if admiring.

After a few seconds, he flattened his tongue and ran it through my wetness.

"All wet for me" he growled and attacked again.

My hands went down to his hair, gripping it tightly as my hips moved.

Waves of pleasure flooded my body, until I started to feel that swirl in my stomach.

My hips began to move faster, unconsciously smothering my boyfriend, but he didn't complain.

"Christopher!" I moaned one last time before the swirl washed over me.

I lifted my body and sat beside his head.

He sat up and looked at me with a smile, his lips stained with my fluids.

I got up from the bed and went to the bathroom to clean up. I stood in front of the mirror as I grabbed a towel.

Christopher appeared behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing my body against his.

"We're not done yet, princess" he said before pushing me against the sink and lifting my dress.

I could see through the mirror as he unfastened his belt.

I closed my eyes, waiting for him to be ready, but when I heard the sound of his pants falling to the floor, I opened them again.

He pushed his hips against mine and started moving them quickly.

The bathroom was filled with moans and groans from both of us. I doubt the person in the next room would be sleeping tonight.

"Open your eyes" he grabbed me by the hair and lifted my head.

I opened my eyes again, as he instructed.

"Look at yourself in the mirror" he growled, "see how beautiful you look while I fuck you from behind."

I bit my lower lip and rolled my eyes back into my head.

"You're doing so well, princess."

His breath quickened as he moved.

"I'm about to cum, let me cum" I pleaded, looking at him through the mirror.

"I've never left you unfinished, why would you think I would now?" It was all he said.

Christopher groaned when he felt my walls tightening around him, he knew what it meant.

"Cum all over my cock, come on princess, you can do it."

Those words pushed me over the edge.

I rested my forehead on the sink, breathing heavily.

Christopher gave a few more thrusts and pulled out of me. I didn't move, I knew what he was doing.

I lifted my head and looked at my boyfriend through the mirror. He had his eyes closed and his head thrown back.

Not long after, I could feel a liquid on my butt.

"You did it perfectly, princess" he slapped my butt and left the bathroom.

I followed him and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.

"Do you want me to give you a massage, my love?" I grunted in response.

I could almost see Christopher's smile.

“We should come to hotels more often” he said playfully, positioning his hands on my back.

[busterswritehand]

You're Timeless To Me

-

Roughly 180 years after the events of ACOSF, Lucien looks up to find that he is surrounded by strangers. Meanwhile, Nesta realizes she has stayed still while the world around her keeps moving. Misery loves company, but these two can hardly make small talk.

-

Part 15

-

Lucien sat on the edge of Nesta's bed, fiddling with his cufflinks. Normally they would not be an issue. This set, however, was a gift from the Summer Court, and they were a very intricate shape. They took on the image of seashells. It was nice in theory, but very frustrating in practice.

He could feel Nesta glaring at him through her mirror. His eyes followed her as she stood from the vanity and approached him. Without a word, she took his wrists and secured his cufflinks. Lucien smiled, amused. He could tell by her furrowed brow that watching him was driving her up the wall.

"Can't you mess with these in your room?" She met his eyes lacking any humour he had.

"I got bored waiting for you." If he was being honest he just wanted to see her, but this was not the time for honesty.

"I don't take that long."

"You do."

He smiled watching Nesta hide her own. Her lips were pursed together to keep a straight face. She rolled her eyes and sat back down at the vanity, her dress trailing behind her. The back of the dress plunged from the neckline to her mid-back in a deep v-line. The sleeves split from the shoulders, exposing her arms. Her skin was sunkissed from the day prior. The dress's fabric was satin with an intricate spiraling pattern, a summer court fashion. Its color was a dark teal deeper than any jewel. Nesta looked like she emerged from the ocean itself.

Lucien fell onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. He was still exhausted from yesterday, but whether that was from the beach trip or his sleepless night who could tell. He spent the entire night running through the day's events over and over again. He kept recalling the way she looked at him at the restaurant like she could see right into his soul. He also thought back to them walking on the beach. He thought of how her hair danced in the breeze, how her damp clothes hugged her body, and how he wanted to hold her hand.

"If you're going to bother me," Nesta said, disrupting his thoughts, "could you give me a hand?"

He sat up to see Nesta struggling with her necklace. Lucien slid off the bed and approached her. He took the clasps of the necklace from her, his fingers brushing the back of her neck. Holding his breath, he locked the clasps together. He did not dare to look in the mirror.

"Thanks," Nesta cleared her throat. She smoothed her dress as she stood up. "Shall we?"

Lucien nodded and followed her out the door. He stayed behind Nesta, keeping her out of reach. It was wrong to want her, he knew that. She was mated, after all. Not only would it disrupt her life, but it could mean war in the worst of cases. Against who, he wasn't sure. Lucien was alone, except for when he was with her. But that did not matter. Nothing good could come from how he was feeling. In spite of that, he wondered if just maybe she felt the same.

Nesta paused, looking back at Lucien. Moonlight spilled between the pillars of the exposed hallway, illuminating her.

"I thought you didn't want to be late." Her sharp tongue never failed to humor him.

"All I said was that you take forever to get ready."

He hesitantly approached her. As if holding himself back, Lucien walked with his arms behind him. They approached the reception hall, and he took note of all the fae mingling outside.

Nesta nudged him with her elbow. "Look who it is."

She nodded over toward the entrance where Amren and Varian were people watching, As they reached the entrance, Nesta exchanged pleasantries with Amren. Lucien gave Varian a polite nod who returned it. They entered the reception hall to find it bursting at the seams of people.

Jovial music filled the entire hall. Performers entertained guests on one side of the room while a dancefloor was open on the other. It was truly magnificent. He looked over at Nesta to find her beelining towards the performers. Lucien walked to the center of the room where a spread of food and drink was open to the guests. He grabbed two glasses of sparkling wine.

He spotted Tarquin from across the room entertaining a small group. The two made eye contact. Lucien raised a glass to his host. Tarquin raised his in return. They both took a sip before turning their attention to their respective tasks. Lucien weaved through the crowd until he found Nesta watching on the outskirts. He approached her and handed her the other glass without a word.

Nesta took it, not breaking her attention from the performers. They were in the middle of a fascinating aerial routine filled with silks and ribbon. Lucien's focus was not on them though. Instead, he watched Nesta. He studied her reactions. Her eyes sparked with delight at complicated tricks that must have made her heart skip a beat. They stood there like that until the routine was finished.

Afterward, they mingled with those passing by. Lucien used the opportunity to introduce Nesta as the Night Court emissary. He could not deny that a part of his was proud of her. Once she caught on, Nesta started to beat him to the punch. It took about an hour for them to find their way back to the refreshments. Nesta picked around at the table.

"Enjoying Summer Solstice?" he asked.

Nesta nodded, looking around. "I think I'm one inspirational speech away from buying a summer home here."

"Don't let your high lord hear that."

"Or my high lady," she added while biting into fried ta'ameya. "Cauldron help me, this is delicious."

Lucien chuckled. His ears perked at the melody of music. Looking over to the dance floor, he saw it slowly fill with more and more people. He turned back to Nesta, offering his hand.

"Would you care for a dance?"

"You don't know what you just agreed to." The gleam in her eyes was downright devilish as she quickly accepted his hand.

He led her to the dance floor where they fell in with the other dancing pairs. Nesta was an excellent dancer to the shock of Lucien. He had heard she was good, but he was genuinely impressed. Thankfully, his years at court allowed him to keep up.

"Not bad," she commented. "Where did you learn to dance?"

"I had a teacher when I was young. What's your excuse?"

Nesta shrugged, "Some odd bars here and there."

She must have recognized his shock because she gave him a smug grin. Without warning, Nesta kicked up her dancing a notch, her footwork in time with the music. Lucien did not falter for a second, he even managed to lead her. He had more free time than his brothers to practice and it certainly paid off.

Lucien was about to make another sly remark when their eyes met. Her eyes gleamed as they searched his. And with that, there was nothing else he could say. He could not even think clearly. Lucien tightened his grip on the small of Nesta's back. Nesta slid her hand down his shoulder to his bicep. He could feel her hand through the fabric separating their skin.

Every movement between them became a threat of action. He could feel how both of them fought every reflex to tear at the other's clothes. Between spins and steps, he could hear Nesta's breath hitch when he touched her. They lost themselves in that dance. When it was over, Lucien was still mesmerized by Nesta's icy blue eyes. He was pulled towards her, called by the need to feel her lips against his.

His attention was broken by someone else's eyes on them. Lucien's eyes darted around the room until they landed on Amren and Varian. He turned his head to meet Tarquin's gaze from across the hall. They all watched him and Nesta intently. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The conversation he had with Feyre at Starfall, Nesta's abrupt exit at the Spring Court, her fear of her mind being invaded, Feyre's hovering — it all pointed back to him and Nesta. They were worried about what they might do.

Lucien quickly let go of her. He didn't even look at Nesta as he left the dance floor. He felt Nesta's eyes on him as he hid in the crowd. Weaving through the crowd, he found Tarquin. Lucien stood by his side.

"I haven't gotten a chance to thank you yet, High Lord."

Tarquin looked Lucien up and down. "Feyre is a good friend of mine." Lucien's fought the tension in his body. "But her court is none of my business."

"You've put together an admirable celebration."

Tarquin smiled, facing the crowded room.

"May I offer you some advice?"

Lucien nodded.

"Keep a careful eye on your surroundings. Even the shadows have ears."

Tarquin left him there in a sea of people without another word. Lucien was glued to the ground where he stood — frozen in place. He knew he had to tell Nesta, but he did not know what he would say. Would it be worse for her to find the whole scenario preposterous or for her to be holding onto the same feelings that plagued him? Lucien shook his head. That did not matter, not right now.

He took one step then another until he was in the thick of the crowd. There was no sign of Nesta. She must have gone back to her room. Without wasting a second, he snuck out of the reception hall. Lucien walked down the hallways as fast as he could without raising suspicion. Once he was out of sight, he rushed up the stairs to Nesta's bedroom. He stood at her door for a moment just staring at it. Finally, he mustered the courage to knock.

There was a pause before the door slowly opened. Lucien stood face to face with Nesta. Her hair was undone, falling past her shoulders. One of her sleeves had fallen off her shoulder. He looked into her eyes. They had a shimmer to them like she had been fighting back tears. Something broke inside him seeing her so disheveled.

He could not help but think: if the Night Court's inner circle was worried about what they would do, did that mean Nesta might feel something for him?

Lucien cupped the side of her face with his hand. Nesta opened her mouth but said nothing. He had no idea what he was doing. He could barely even think straight. All of his thoughts were on her.

He had to tell her.

"My deepest apologies," Lucien managed to whisper before kissing Nesta.

[mochie85]

Congratulations!!🎉🎈🍾

Could you please do fluff prompt 48 You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen” with Tom and shorter reader?

Falling Star

1K Masterlist One-shot Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: It's Hollywood's biggest night and Tom is hoping to win more than just an Oscar. A/N: Part of my 1k Celebration and @the-slumberparty week 3 writing challenge: Something New. I've never written short-reader trope before. Thank you to @lokisgoodgirl for being my BETA reader and @michelleleewise for some great ideas. I don't know how I could continue to write without your ladies' endless support 😘😘😘. And thank you to @huntress-artemiss for the request. Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Fluff Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Tom looked into the mirror as he rinsed the suds off his hands. Shaking off the excess water, he reached for a towel and dried them. He looked straight into his eyes, trying to keep the nervousness at bay.

It’s a big night for you. You’re going to do fine. You’re probably not going to win anyway, Tom sighed. Just focus on one thing and the rest of the night will go smoothly.

He ran his hands through his hair and pinched his bow tie one last time before he made his way out into the lobby. Focus on one thing, he repeated in his head.

These award shows always leave him a nervous wreck. He never expects to win. When he does, of course, it’s great, but then it brings on a whole new emotion of excitement and anxiety.

When he doesn’t win, it tends to be worse. He has to find that right balance of remorse and humbleness so that the media doesn’t portray him in an evil lie.

Oh, he could read the tabloids now, “And the Oscar goes to…, not Tom Hiddleston.” Or “Hiddles angry that he didn’t win his Oscar. Pictures and commentary on page 3.” He laughed about it internally, a smile on his face as he fixed his cufflinks.

“Come on man. Took you long enough,” Chris exclaimed patting his back. “I think they stuck most of us in the same row.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. It’d be nice to see some familiar faces again.” Tom recounted the last time he saw anyone from The Avengers movie. The movie that brought together and cemented the friendship of seven individuals.

“I think Scarlet wants you to sit next to her.”

“Oh no. Does she?” Tom fretted.

“What?” Chris wondered.

“She’s been trying to set me up with one of her acquaintances,” Tom rolled his eyes.

“She can be quite persistent,” Hemsworth laughed.

Tom sighed as he accompanied Chris across the massive lobby. The plush red carpet matched the dramatic drapes hung from the ceiling. At the end of the hall was a grand staircase leading upstairs to the auditorium's main entrance.

The two friends stood in line waiting to ascend the stairs as photographers and reporters lined the banisters calling out their names, hoping to get an interview. Tom tried to drown out the noise. He tried to focus on one thing before he went crazy, and his anxiety took over. Tom took a deep breath. Just focus on one thing, he chanted in his head.

He opened his eyes and focused on the first thing he saw, an intricate design of beadwork and crystal that was in front of him. Tiny gold stars were scattered on a black sateen gown. They clustered at the top hem of the dress and sporadically fell towards the bottom. The back of the gown was secured by a beaded pin of a crescent moon, gracing your bare lower back. The whole gown looked like star fall plummeting in the night sky.

“Chris,” Tom whispered. “Is this whom I think it is?” Tom stared hard at your graceful figure. Not once taking his eyes off you. Chris gazed hard at you trying to see whom Tom was talking about.

“Ayee...yup. Yes, that’s her.”

“Didn’t she win the Oscar last year for…”

“Yes. I believe she did.” Chris mused.

“Is she up for anything tonight?”

“I think she’s presenting, actually.”

You gathered your dress, preparing to walk up the imposing staircase. Looking around you making sure you were not going to trip on your own outfit, you held your left hand out to steady yourself as you took that first step.

Tom, sensing you needed help, took your outstretched hand. “May I escort you up the stairs?”

The sudden voice and unexpected contact must have shocked you. You looked up at him with a startled expression and a blush on your face. A small smile graced his lips as he noted the sparkle in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you whispered, as photographers flashed their cameras at your interaction. Tom held your hand firmly as you gathered the rest of your dress in your other hand. Focused on making each step, Tom held on to you tightly, becoming the anchor you needed in such a cumbersome gown. “They must have altered this dress three times already just for me. But they can’t seem to get the length right. Even with me in heels,” you admitted shyly.

Tom laughed, finally noticing the height difference between you two. He was so used to towering over everyone, he never really gave it much thought.  “Well, it looks lovely on you. You look beautiful tonight.” You looked up suddenly at his compliment. Heat radiating down your skin. Your eyes arrested his thoughts and hitched his breathing, making him at a loss for words.

“The…uh…the dress. The dress is quite beautiful. Oh, not to say that you’re not beautiful. You are! You’re beautiful. In the dress. Oh, God. Please tell me I haven’t botched this up completely?” He stuttered, hiding his face in his palm. You laughed and squeezed his hand.

You almost fumbled at the top step, if it weren’t for him holding on to you so securely. “Thank you,” you said once again, and he reluctantly let go of you. “Good luck tonight. I hope you win,” you said, cheering him on.

“Thank you. You, too. Me too. I-I mean I hope so,” Tom stumbled on his words. You smiled at him once again, heading inside, leaving him to stare after you.

“Smooth,” Chris said, clapping Tom on his shoulder. “Real smooth.”

“Ugh, I’m a complete knob!”

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry about it. I don’t think she noticed,” Chris said laughing.

Inside, the auditorium was stuffy and pompous. Two hours of everyone with their forged smiles and mock interests. Scarlet did manage to get Tom to sit next to her. She mentioned a friend of a friend who’s a writer for a late-night talk show in Los Angeles. Tom tried his best to be courteous but not commit to anything serious.

Minutes. Hours. They seem to drag by as the night continued up until it was time to announce Best Female Performance in a Leading Role. Tom knew you weren’t nominated for anything tonight, but that didn’t stop him from wondering where you were.

Were you sitting somewhere in the audience with other nominees? Or perhaps you were backstage mingling with some of tonight’s winners. It wouldn’t be long now till they got to the category he was nominated for, which made him nervous.

The heat in the room suddenly increased tenfold and the noise of the audience started to echo in his mind. Their clapping died down as the winner was announced and accepted her award. Focus on one thing. Focus on one thing. He closed his eyes as he took a lungful of air in. Breathing slowly.

Exhaling, Tom opened his eyes and suddenly everything else disappeared. Every sound went silent. Every light dimmed, focusing on a central spotlight on stage. And all he could see was you.

You walked out, unaccompanied, to the soundtrack of your award-winning movie. Tom watched you carefully, knowing full well that you were anxious about your dress and stumbling. With a cool look and a smile on your face, you hid your anxiety about tripping. You demonstrated exactly why you were worthy of that Oscar last year. Carefully taking a calculated step toward the podium and ignoring your long, imposing gown.

“Last year, I was very fortunate to stand up on this very stage and accept the award for Best Female Performance in a Leading Role…”

Tom tried to focus on you, instead of the nagging anxiety that was wracking his brain. Your gown had taken on a different hue under the bright spotlights. It had turned to a rich navy blue. The sequences on the stars shone brighter, glittering to gather everyone’s attention.

“This evening will be another night of firsts for me as I present the award for Best Male Performance in a Leading Role.” Tom was awestruck as he watched you on stage. Your smile was charming, and your laughter was contagious.

Tom heard you say his name twice that night. Once when you were reading the nominees. And the next, when you announced that he won. Chris and Scarlett patted him on the back and tried to wake him from his stupor.

“Mate, you better get up there,” Chris whispered, hugging him on his way. Tom was mesmerized. He couldn’t believe that he won. His nervousness threatened to eat him up whole as he stood up and made his way onstage. He remained focused on you instead, clapping for him as he made his way up more stairs.  You handed him his statue along with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

All at once, he faced the audience and didn’t know what to say. “I- uh…” Tom held on to the statue tightly and looked back at you.  You gave him a reassuring smile and he found that your calming presence helped alleviate his anxiety. “I wasn’t expecting to win tonight. Forgive me, I had no speech prepared,” Tom continued as the audience laughed.

He concluded his speech with thanks to the Academy, other nominees, and his friends and family for all their support.  

After a rousing applause, he made his way to follow you off the stage. He’d hoped to escort you like earlier and have another intimate moment with you. As you turned, your foot caught on the front of the dress causing you to fall forward.

In a heroic move, Tom sprinted to your side and caught you. His arms wrapped around your waist as you turned right-side up. He lunged forward before you fell to the floor, cradling your head.

There was a collective gasp from the audience as they watched the scene unfold. A heated blush spread throughout your body.

“Are you all right?” he asked, alarmed.

“Oh, my God. Yes! Thank you,” you stuttered, holding onto his lapels tightly.

“Of course, darling,” he said as he helped you stand back up.

“You seemed to be saving me a great deal tonight,” you gave him an apologetic look as you ran your hands over your dress. Tom offered his arm, and you gladly took it, hoping you wouldn’t trip again. “Oh, God. I’m so embarrassed. I must’ve looked like an idiot out there.”

“Nonsense, you look magnificent,” Tom replied, kissing your hand.

Tom sat in the dining area of the hotel room. Bright morning light shone through the windows as he read the newspapers and magazines sent to the room, along with the room service. It seemed that all anyone talked about was your tumble from last night and how he caught you. Rumors began to spread as everyone gave their opinions on the matter.

“Did Hiddleston win more than just an Oscar last night?” “Secret Relationship: How long have they been together?” “Was it staged?” These were not the headlines he was expecting to read this morning. A small smile crept on his face seeing all the pictures from different angles.

A soft moan stole his attention as you wrapped your arms around from behind him. “Come back to bed.” You gently kissed his neck, and he could still smell the lingering perfume in your hair.

“I ordered breakfast for us, darling,” he said with a soft whimper.

“How very thoughtful of you,” you teased. Tom grabbed your arm and pulled you around to sit on his lap. He noted that you were wearing nothing but his dress shirt from last night. The sleeves were rolled up and the tails sat just at your knees. You were swimming in his shirt, a look that he was starting to like more and more. Your tousled morning hair reminded him of the carnal way you both took each other last night.

“…Unnhh…” you moaned as he hoisted you against the wall. “Take this infernal dress off me. Please.” “With pleasure,” he snarled.

You sat with your legs over the handrest of the chair as you picked up the papers and read them. A scowl formed on your face the more you read. “I’m sorry, Tom. All this over me falling. I didn’t mean to take away from your big night.”

“That’s quite all right darling. As far as I’m concerned they can keep reporting it all they want.”

You looked at him through your lashes. His tall frame and long arms surround you, cherishing you.

“Why?” you asked coyly.

“Because in every picture, I get to see that mesmerizing look on your face.”

“What look?” you provoked.

“The same look I had on my face when I caught you.”

“And what was that?” you giggled.

“Like you were the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

@emarich7 @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallows @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @gigglingtigger @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @loopsisloops @muddyorbsblr

[keepingupwithshinra]

Rufus, in tears: My diamond cufflink fell off! It's in Junon Harbor!

Lazard: Rufus, there's people that are dying.

[sashaisready]

Your Heart Belongs to Me - Part Two

Sheriff Lee Bodecker x Female Reader (The Devil All The Time)

In late-1960s Knockemstiff, your husband Lee has been neglecting you for so long that you're starved of affection. Trapped in your domestic prison, could the young handyman working on your house be your ticket to freedom?

Warnings: smut/sexual references (light), angst, extramarital affairs, alcohol and drug use, alcoholism, some rough handling of female character by male character. Lee is quite dark in this story so please use caution.

Story Masterlist

Part 1

You sighed as Lee asked you again who H might be. You weren’t going to keep up the pretence any longer.

“You already know. He just had a little crush, Lee. It was nothing. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d act like this” you told him defiantly, your exasperated tone masking the fear you felt underneath.

“Is that so?” asked Lee as he inspected the paper.

“Yes” you replied sourly, drying the plates and putting them back in the cupboard.

“Then why’d you keep the note?” he asked coyly. “Why did you hide it in your dresser? Imagine my surprise when I was tryin’ to find my cufflinks and stumbled across a love note to my wife from another man”.

“Like you give a shit” you spat.

His hand gripped your wrist and he span you around to face him. “Look at me” he growled.

Your heart was pounding when you saw his face, his eyes were ablaze with anger and his jaw tight. His nostrils were flared as his chest rose and fell. He was incensed.

But so were you now. You’d had enough.

“You’re hurting me” you replied calmly.

“When did you fuck him?” he muttered through gritted teeth.

You were frightened of him, but you also had nothing left to give. Your energy reserves were depleted. Finally, you’d had enough.

You dropped his gaze and coolly wrenched your wrist from his firm grip before spinning on your heel and heading to the stairs.

He grabbed your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. “Don’t fuckin’ walk away from me” he barked as his fingers dug hard into your arms. “Answer the question”.

“Let go of me” you told him bluntly, staring at him audaciously. Your body trembled and blood thumped in your ears but your anger was fuelling you.

“You gonna hit me, Lee?” you snapped as you looked into his dark eyes. “Huh? Just get it over with. I don’t care anymore”.

He’d never hit you before, but you’d had many close calls.

He snarled, easing his grip off you and then staring back at you in horror. He had never seen you like this. It had completely caught him off guard.

This wasn’t how he thought this was going to go, he couldn’t understand how you’d managed to turn this around on him.

You took this moment of confusion to run up the stairs. You pulled your suitcase from the closet and began to pack.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Lee yelled as he stormed in behind you.

“I’m leaving you, Lee” you told him sharply as you chucked random clothes into the case. You didn’t even know what you were packing.

“You’re leaving me?” he scoffed. “You fuck another man and you’re leaving me??”

You silently continued to pack, ignoring him. He suddenly wrestled you onto to the bed, pinning you hard against the mattress as you began to scream.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetness” he bellowed as you struggled against him. You tried to kick and hit your way out of his grip but it was no use, he was too strong. His heavy body straddled you and pressed your wrists into the sheets.

“Tell me, now!” he shouted in your face.

Finally, drained from fighting you began to sob, wailing and allowing yourself to go limp. “Please, Lee…I can’t anymore. I can’t”.

His expression changed from anger to confusion as he watched your tears fall. “Wha-”

“I’m not happy, Lee. I can’t do it anymore. Please just let me go, please. I know you’d be happier without me too”.

“What??” he exclaimed. “Honey, I love you”.

You shook your head from side to side. “No…no you don’t. You’re never here” you uttered between sobs. “You would rather prop up the bar than be with me. Or be with whores. Don’t deny it again Lee…I’ve seen the lipstick marks, found the stains on your underwear. I’m not stupid”.

His eyes widened as he stammered to find words but you continued. You couldn’t stop.

“You don’t talk to me. You don’t pay attention to me. You don’t FUCK me. Y-you broke my record player and didn’t even replace it, and you know how much my records mean to me. I’m all alone by myself most of the time and I can’t even dance anymore” you cried. “You took my music from me”.

Lee gasped, unhanding your wrists as he lent back onto his knees. You trembled between his thighs. Everything had just come tumbling out and you couldn’t stop it.

“Jesus...honey” he said softly.

“Just let me go, please” you pleaded.

“So Harry was…” he trailed off.

You nodded as your bottom lip wobbled. “It only happened once. I’m sorry, Lee. I’ve just been so lonely. He was so attentive, he listened to me. He even danced with me. Y-you…haven’t done any of those things in so long” you whispered.

His expression was impossible to read but you flinched, covering your face in case he lashed out. Instead, he just climbed off of you and began pacing the bed. He looked shellshocked.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he spluttered.

You shook your head, cowering on the bed as Lee’s face fell into his hands.

“Oh fuck. Oh Jesus” he mumbled. “Was it here?” he asked calmly.

“No” you whispered. “We went for a drive in his truck, when you had poker night” you said sheepishly.

Lee pressed his head against the wall. “Fuck”.

“C’mon, you don’t get to act all high and mighty - you cheat on me all the goddamn time” you growled at him, finding your anger again.

He turned to you, aghast. “Not like this” he said weakly. “I know I’ve fucked up before sweetness but it never meant anything. It was just sex. This wasn’t just sex” he said venomously.

“You’re a hypocrite” you spat. “You fuck whores in your car all the time. You won’t even fuckin’ TOUCH me. You don’t get the moral high ground here”.

Lee stared at you, he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He knew you were right.

You sprang off the bed and continued packing.

“Stop that” he growled, yanking the case from your hands and flinging it to the floor. You shoved him and snatched it back again.

He was panting now, his rage building.

You paused for a moment as a glint of metal from his pocket revealed his car keys, your eyes darted to them for just a second, but he spotted it.

“Don’t even fuckin’ think about it” he warned.

But you were so far gone now you didn’t care. All you felt was anger and contempt, your fear had dissipated. You no longer had anything to lose.

You managed to snatch the keys from his pocket and made it halfway down the stairs before he caught you, tackling you to the ground as your body slumped across the steps beneath him. You howled as he tried to rip the keys from your clenched fist and you pushed your other hand’s outstretched fingers against his face to move him away. He responded by restraining your wrists against the stair and locking your hips between his strong thighs. You squirmed and flopped uselessly beneath him, he grunted as he held you in place – his teeth bared.

Your furious eyes met, your faces so near that your noses were nearly touching. You realised you hadn’t been this physically close to him in a long time and took a second to inhale his familiar scent. His weight on top of you was stifling yet you couldn’t believe it transported you back to happier times when you had been closer, when all was better. You gasped as you realised his erection was digging into you.

His breaths were short and urgent and before you knew it his tongue was in your mouth and you were writhing against his crotch. He freed one of your arms to undo his fly and push your briefs to the side and suddenly he was inside you and you were both crying out. You told him that you hated him and he told you that he loved you and that he would be better now and suddenly your orgasm was approaching. His mouth was on your neck and you were clenching hard around his cock as you came undone. He was deeper than he’d ever been before and he filled you to the brim as he came, spilling out onto the stairs beneath and you loudly cursed knowing you’d have to clean it.

You stayed like that for a while and he held you, he wouldn’t let you get up but just sealed you in his strong arms as your back pulsed from lying awkwardly on the hard stairs. He told you that he couldn’t let you go because then he’d lose you forever and so you sobbed gently on his shoulder until you fell asleep.

He carried you to bed and you slept all night, even late through the morning – waking up at nearly eleven. You crept downstairs and he wasn’t there, but he’d left you a note saying he’d be home by five. He had left several things out on the kitchen table for you.

A brand new record player, pristine in its box.

The Your Heart Belongs To Me vinyl, snapped and broken. A stack of shiny new records next to it.

A single cheeseburger, cut perfectly in half.

You sighed heavily, retreating back up the stairs to unpack your suitcase.

[earls-wife]

The reposts have begun! The Wife and Earl have been married for a few years in this one.

As always female reader only!

Warnings: aesthetic appreciation of body parts, memories of sex, mentions of claw marks/bites and hickeys, stripping, possible food reference, the Earl speaks French to you

Mon bijou- my jewel

Tarts

"Why are you so anxious Mon bijou? Did that head of yours start telling lies again?" The way his voice caressed me was a blessing, as was the way his gloved hand traces my back in gentle strokes.

Poised over a letter I had ruined yet another piece of paper with dripping ink from a quill he had gotten me.

Crumpling the mess I threw it to the side haphazardly to join the others. "Yes and no, it's difficult to say really." His gentle smile and sapphire eyes met me with comfort when my head rested on his stomach to peer up at him.

"I understand. We both are cruel to ourselves are we not?" His soft lips and sharp jaw move eloquently as he speaks.

"Indeed. We should learn to do better."

"And we will, in time." In a fluid motion I'm lifted from the chair and into his arms, skirts billowing about us. "As you tell me, a break will do you good, so let us spend some time together away from our minds."

I laugh cupping his cheek to kiss the prickled skin. He would need to shave soon, for appearances sake. "And what does my lord have in mind? We are creatures of habit after all, our minds are our palaces."

"A primal practice."

"Primal?" My brow lifts wondering if he was insinuating what I thought he was as he carried me to the day room. There I found tarts of different delights to welcome me.

Setting me down on the lounge he leans over me, hair falling in his face as he chases each breath I take. "Did you have something else in mind?" He purred.

"Not at all." I smirk, brushing our noses along each other while a hand strokes his white cotton sleeve. His arms weren't bulky like most men I saw work the kitchens or garden where we stayed. His arms were lean and precise, chiseled from marble with great care by a master carver. Those cufflinks at his wrists were an enemy to my wandering fingers. He knew this of course, delighted in the games we played despite the many years we had known one another.

"Pity. I was so excited to eat these off you." He challenges my bluff, pulling away to serve himself a tart of a deep red. The red I wore for him across my lips.

Those lips pursed as I had been had by him. Again. Most of the time he won our games since he was so smart. Intelligent really, more so than any man I'd known.

Watching his posture relax an idea came to mind and I acted.

"Indeed what a pity. After all, I do believe it's your turn to be my plate." Bracing myself on my arms I smiled as he stilled and looked over. Setting his current pastry down he spoke.

"Is it now?"

"Yes."

The word came out boldly and his eyes widened. For a second I wondered if I had gone to far, his past always a gorge between us.

To my surprise I watched him wipe his hands on a wet towel and start to loosen his clothes. Lucky, lucky me.

His fingers sliding against a tiny button forcing it back through the shapely fabric of his shirt drawing my eye. I could get lost in those fingers. I could recall their taste on my tongue when he stuck them between my lips. His praise as I cried out in ecstasy when he'd been pounding into my core. Those fingers prying music from me that even I hadn't heard before. But he was ever expectant to pull me down into the throws of passion with him everytime we made love.

That porcelain skin, I knew the texture of it. Reveled in it when it caressed my own. Never rough, no facet of his body ever was despite the sharp lines his structure created. That stark white shirt fell away to reveal the supple muscles beneath. Tongue longing to lick the divets of each shadow cast, the pink healthy glow of his skin reminded me of a blossom in spring. Untouched and ready to be devoured.

The bite marks across his neck and collarbone make me smirk. Still bold and bright as the claw lines down his spine from the night before. Mine.

"Distracted already?" He teased undoing the buttons on his pants knowing where my eyes lingered.

I lick my lips. "Not at all. Just eager to eat."

[angel-inked]

Bet I make you smile

This is part of a one-shot that I have in my notes app lol, basically Tommy and !reader are preparing for a formal event. What kind of formal event, you ask? Well, you'll have to wait for that 😉

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @inkwolvesandcoffee @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons

You stepped back to assess your work, Tommy's stoicism still relayed the miserable feeling in his eyes. "Bet you ten bucks I make you smile before the end of the night." You smirked playfully. Tommy grunted quietly, "you've got a better chance in hell.." he grumbled bitterly, his soft voice trailed off as he fidgeted with the gold cufflink that bore the US marine core emblem on his right wrist. He turned to face the bed, glancing at Brendan and nodding toward the door. Brendan narrowed his eyes, you recognized his confusion. "He wants you to leave so I can change." You explained, unzipping Tommy's duffel bag that you had stuffed both yours and his clothes in and gestured to the faded ripped blue jeans and the sage green tee-shirt you currently wore. "Of course," Brendan nodded awkwardly, "you do look very nice Tommy." He added on his way out in a vague attempt at pleasantries with his younger brother. Tommy nodded but offered no other reply. The room fell quiet after the door shut, the only sound being the ruffling of fabric as you dug around in the duffel bag, Tommy loyally and silently stood guard as you changed.

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: Sourcherryjam

Group: C

Prompts: Siren's song, full moon. Landlord troubles. Challenges.

-

The Siren's Call

Rent day usually meant an empty shop, everyone avoiding their landlord until Mr. Gold made the rounds himself to collect payments.

Then, fourteen months ago, Belle French had accepted the librarian position and moved into town, and suddenly, every rent day, she was in on her lunch break with a check and a smile. 

Of course, Gold didn’t care that she came. What did it matter to him if someone actually sought him out to pay him on time, in full? Sure, in doing so, she ensured that he took every maintenance complaint seriously—he’d even once gone himself to fix her garbage disposal. He didn’t care that she’d smiled at him, offered him a cup of tea, and engaged him in conversation about his antique cufflinks. 

He didn’t care about the librarian.

The only reason he made sure to be in at lunchtime on rent day was to avoid confusion, that was all. He only checked the clock every few minutes to see how much of his time she wasted. 

Today, it was fifty-five minutes. Fifty-five minutes he’d spent polishing a silver tea service instead of collecting rent. She usually came within half an hour, chatted for ten or so minutes, and then left, for a total of, at most, forty wasted minutes, but now it’d been fifty-five and he hadn’t even seen her yet?

This was why he didn’t care about Belle French. Ultimately, she would turn on him like everyone else.

It was a full seventy-two minutes before Belle French staggered into the shop like she’d been shot.

“Morning, Mr. Gold,” she slurred, eyes half closed as she wobbled toward him. Was she drunk?

“It’s past one, Miss French.” He set his cloth down, watching her ping-pong across the floor, hand pressed to her forehead. “What is the matter with you?”

She slumped into his counter, pressed her eyes into her palm, and slid a check to him. He pried it out from under her finger, and even the familiar Alice in Wonderland pattern didn’t please him.

“This is blank.” It took fourteen months, but the librarian was finally trying to get a favor out of him.

“Just fill it in,” Belle said. “You know how—” She groaned, sinking further into her hand. “—much it is.”

That was a new tactic. It soothed his ruffled feathers. “It’s fully blank, Miss French. You didn’t even sign it.” 

“What?” She peeked between her fingers and he showed it to her. “Oh god. Mr. Gold, I don’t know what to do.”

“What’s going on?”

She dropped her head to the counter, and he squashed down the urge to stroke her hair. He was her landlord. He didn’t even use her first name.

“It’s this headache.” 

“A headache?” His hand moved as if it wanted to touch her forehead, and he clamped his other hand over it. “Seems like a migraine.”

“I’ve never had a migraine before,” she said.  “And this one’s gone on eight days.”

Before he could stop himself, he’d walked around the counter to put his arm around her. “Eight days? What did Dr. Whale say?”

When he prompted her upright, she followed along, hanging half limp against him. 

“I didn’t go.” 

He slung her arm over his shoulder, supporting her with his across her waist, and half dragged her to the back. If anyone walked in, they’d think he’d drugged her.

“Why not?”

“Useless.”

They crossed through the doorway and just as he was about to scold her, her hand fell from her eyes and she straightened a fraction. 

“It hurts less,” she said. “What’s happened? What do you have back here?”

She plopped down on his cot, and he suddenly realized what he was doing. Without a second’s thought, he’d brought Belle—Miss French—the love of his life—fuck—back to his private room and led her to the cot he himself slept on. 

“Lots of things.” He stepped toward her, thumping harder on his cane than necessary. Just the librarian. Miss French. A tenant. 

She zeroed in on something behind him. “That. What’s that?” 

Before he could answer, she was across the room, grabbing a gilded conch shell off a cluttered shelf. He barely had time to marvel at her boldness before she let out a sigh he felt all the way in his toes.

“Oh my god.” She sank back onto his cot, clutching the conch. “I can hear my own thoughts again. What is this?” 

It was on the tip of his tongue to dismiss it as just a trinket, but the memory of polishing it teased at him. He’d been sitting at his table eight days ago, the night of the full moon, carefully working a rag over its bumps and crevices until it shone, thinking about how he’d seen Belle leave the library laughing on the phone. He’d spent all day trying not to think about it, but in the back of his shop, he allowed himself to dwell, to imagine that he’d been on the other end making her laugh. 

Then, he’d felt a tremor, assumed it was just the old building settling, and moved on with his evening.

“It’s a siren horn.” Thank god for his practiced confidence. “Legend says—what are you doing?”

Belle walked past him, clutching the shell. “I have to go this way.” 

He all but ran after her, grabbing the pistol out of its drawer on the way, and caught her as she was stepping off the sidewalk.

“Where are you going?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. This way.”

He couldn’t believe what was happening. He couldn’t believe himself. Who was he? 

“I’ll drive you.”

***

Gold wasn’t surprised that, after a lot of meandering and dead ends, they pulled up to the marina. He’d known all along that Belle was being called to the sea. 

The locked door wouldn’t stop her, but it stalled her long enough for Gold to limp out and around to her. 

“Do you hear that?” She clutched the conch, staring at the water with glassy eyes.

“No.” He could imagine what she heard—the siren’s song. That’s the last time he wouldn’t take a legend seriously. 

She kicked her shoes off as she strode to the shore, mouth sagging. In the car, she’d told him all about the internet hacks and remedies she’d tried, including submerging herself in a tub full of ice which he’d be imagining for eternity, but now she floated forward in silence, him thumping after her.

“Belle.”

“Yes?”

She shrugged out of her cardigan and dropped it into the sand. With no idea of what to do, Gold grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the dock instead of the water. It seemed like it would be easier to contain her there.

“Mr. Gold,” she said, allowing him to tug her. “It’s okay. You can let go.”

“No,” he snarled. “I won’t let you drown yourself.”

“She won’t let me drown. Can’t you hear her?”

They reached the dock, and if Gold stopped panicking, he could hear a distant melody calling Belle’s name. He took a step toward it, then shook his head. One of them had to stay clear or they’d both drown. 

She walked up to the edge and curled her toes around the wood, swaying forward. If he hadn’t been holding her, she’d have fallen in.

“Let go, Mr. Gold.”

“Belle, give me the horn.”

She clutched it tighter, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t destroyed it in his shop. Any idiot would have, but he was too busy mooning over Belle. 

“Belle.”

“It’s not mine to give.” 

She looked over the water and he saw it—a churning pool moving closer. No more time for thinking. He grabbed the shell, letting go of Belle as he did, and when she shrieked and scrabbled backwards for it, it rolled off the dock.

“Shit.”

He ripped off his jacket, waistcoat, shirt, and tie, tearing buttons and silk as he did. He was afraid of being weighed down by all his clothes, of having something for the siren to grab, so he kicked off his shoes and his pants, and as Belle slipped into the water, he dove in after her and the shell in his underthings.

Destroying the shell was his first priority, so he swam past Belle to retrieve it, then came up underneath her, pushing her up with his shoulder and a strength he was grateful he possessed. She fought him, dress billowing out around her and into his way, but he hadn’t become a rich old miser by giving up easily. He all but hurled her back onto the dock, and as she struggled to return to the sea, he smashed the conch against the wood.

A piercing, unearthly shriek rent the air, and they both clapped their hands over their ears. 

“Mr. Gold?” Belle asked, clear-eyed, and he breathed. She was back. “Oh god, hang on, I’m coming!” 

He floated to the dock, reaching for her outstretched hand when something gripped him like a vice and dragged him backwards.

“Mr. Gold!” Belle shrieked, straining for him, but the siren dragged him out of reach.

“Belle!” 

It pulled him under water, but he could still see Belle rummaging through his clothes. Was she robbing him? He deserved it. 

But then she stood at the edge of the dock, pistol pointed at him, and he understood. She and the siren were in cahoots. Did he have any oxygen?

Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear her anymore, and then the gun exploded and so did his shoulder, and so did the siren behind him, and despite the pain and blossom of blood, he was free. He kicked up, and when he reached the surface, Belle grabbed him and pulled.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” she said. “It just grazed you.”

“It’s fine,” he wheezed in between coughing up water. His undershirt was soaked and pink. “You can owe me a favor.”

“A big one.” She put her arm around him. “Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.” 

She helped him up, and he was freezing, soaking wet in his underwear with a bullet wound. He looked down at his discarded clothes, the shards of shell. Belle pressed his wadded-up button-down to his shoulder and  handed him his cane, but kept her arm around him as he transferred his weight to it.

“How does it feel,” he said as they limped, two bedraggled lumps, to the car, “living out the most popular fantasy in Storybrooke?” 

“What? Being saved by a dashing hero?”

“Shooting me.”

She snickered, and his mouth twitched in the closest thing to a grin he could manage. That was a real laugh.

“You’ll probably need someone to take care of you while you recover,” Belle said.

He wrinkled his nose at the thought of hiring a nurse to deal with a shoulder scratch. “I can manage on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

He looked up at her, and she was biting her lip at him, fluttering her eyelashes. Was he crazy, or was she flirting? 

“I suppose if someone owed me a big favor, I could use the help.” 

They reached his car and she turned to face him, still pressing his bundled shirt to his wound, hand speckled with his blood. 

“You know, I was sick all week, and no one even tried to help me with my headache,” she said. “I’d like to thank you.”

He couldn’t breathe, and it had nothing to do with the pain or the water. “It’s no matter.”

“Maybe this will do?” She licked her lips, and he had a second to fantasize about that before he didn’t need to, because she was pressing them to his, and he was just standing there, limp and lifeless as a fish. She pulled back and bit her lip.

“Well?”

He cleared his throat, trying to string together even one coherent thought other than Belle. “That’ll do,” he said hoarsely, and then he kissed her again.

-

[daes0]

Chapter 5: "I knew you had a bad day, so I made you some cookies."

Rafayel and all the ways he says he l̶̯̞̱̬̘̜̗̏͒̂̐̈͋̍̓ô̶̡͙̤̻̐̓͑̚͝v̴͕͖̙̦̩͚͓̠̌̄͂͒͜ȇ̵̪̆͐̒̈́͠s̶̬̬̼͆͛̚ you.

Pairing: {Rafayel x Reader}

Rating: {Teen and Up}

Word Count: {2.9k words, 7.9k for entire work}

Usually you were the righteous type. Something about your own decision left a sour taste on your tongue, but you didn't want to confront it.

liar liar lover

The victims' last words being Rafayel's name would usually be damning evidence, but you had the unfortunate luck of knowing the bastard. And you knew that he wouldn't do this, even if it was his painting. Normally, having a connection like this with anyone remotely suspicious for a case would have you removed from it, but you kept quiet for now. You needed to make sure that Rafayel was safe, that whatever happened wouldn't affect him.

And it's not like it matters. Rafayel is innocent. There was no doubt in your mind that Rafayel is a good person.

He wouldn't kill. Hell, he barely killed wanderers- it was usually you who dealt the final blow. And he is always so reluctant to fight, complaining on and on about how he might hurt his painting hand or how much he'd rather just lie down and let you deal with it. Your friend Xavier also had a tendency to complain, but at least he's permanently tired. Rafayel's only excuse is that he's a brat.

You can't help but secretly laugh, thankful the helmet covers your face as you drive your motorcycle. He can be so annoying sometimes. Even when he's not here, he still manages to bring a smile to your face.

Which is more reason to believe that he wouldn't do it.

You can feel your bottom lip shake. You're smiling, how weird it is that you're shaking. You tell yourself it's the motorcycle. A few tears form on your eyes, blurring your vision. You slow down the motorcycle until you can take a stop. You take off the helmet and rub at your eyes, bringing your tears down your face, to your neck, trying to rub them off. It's sweat. It's sweat. It's just sweat. You force your lips to extend into a smile, to keep it there, and you tell yourself that it never fell. You're smiling and it's just sweat.

You start the motorcycle again once you've calmed down. Zayne had once told you to be careful as a Deepspace hunter because of your heart, but that's not it. Your heart is fine when it comes to fighting wanderers. It's watching people die, unable to change their fate- that's what kills you.

You keep moving forward. You have to. You can't stop, not when Rafayel is almost a suspect. You need to protect him. You need to protect your best friend. You'll be fine… you just have to get this done first. Then you can cry. Yeah. Then you can cry.

~

"Are you suggesting that my client, Rafayel, intended to bring a wanderer into Mr Raymond's house?" Thomas asks, his gaze made of hard steel as he watches your every move.

Thomas is Rafayel's art gallery manager. He's mainly responsible for the gallery but his second responsibility is the sale and auction of Rafayel's paintings alongside other painters.

You meet his gaze, not backing down. "I'm looking for where the wanderer could have come from. The art, the studio, even your gallery could end up destroyed from the wanderers. We don't fully understand these creatures, hence why a Deepspace hunter such as myself is involved in this case instead of the authorities. Of course, Rafayel will need to be investigated as the creator of the painting."

Thomas nods, quiet.

"Please tell me everything you know," you say as you pull out a notebook, ready to write down everything he says.

Thomas fidgets with the cufflinks of his sleeve, nervous. "Raymond is a well-known art collector. He's the philanthropist type and often donated the art to museums, keeping his favorites within his home. He and my client had a good working relationship before Mr Raymond fell ill."

"Did anyone know what he planned to do with Sirenas?" you ask.

"Not until after the painting was done. This one in particular was sold to Mr Raymond afterwards. He was able to view it within the gallery before he took it home."

You hum in understanding as you write it down. "When was he sold this painting?"

Thomas looks something up on the computer. "About a month and a half ago," he answers.

"How many people have interacted with the painting?" you ask.

"Hmm… It's a long process. People have to arrange the painting within the Flux Arts gallery, then there's the display itself, and finally the sale. About a dozen people have come in contact with it. No one has complained about a wanderer."

You stop writing. "What about an energy fluctuation?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"An energy fluctuation," you repeat. "There's systems all around Linkon City to detect it, but they were all within the normal range."

"Then wouldn't the answer be no," Thomas quips, assuming you're naive or somehow new at your job.

"Except I'm feeling a heavier influx," you explain. "As if there was a wanderer here before. It's the same feeling I get within the No Hunting zones outside of Linkon City even when there's no wanderer around. Just because it was within the normal range doesn't mean that it wasn't still unusually high."

You tap on your watch, quickly accessing the details. You flick on it, moving the projector so that Thomas can see it. He looks at the fluctuations—while it's within the acceptable range, it skirts just under the bar that would trigger the Deepspace Hunters into an investigation. Almost as if something, or someone, was trying to prevent it from being caught.

"Did anyone report an energy fluctuation?" you ask, your eyes peering into Thomas'. "A heaviness in the air, a feeling in your chest that you can't quite place, this instinct that something is wrong? Did anyone, even as a passing remark or as a joke, mention that?"

Thomas hesitates, but finally relents and sighs. "Yes. Rafayel himself said that the gallery was feeling odd while bringing in the Sirenas, alongside a few visitors."

You can't help the smile that spreads on your lips.

"Rafayel mentioned getting a weird vibe from the studio while he was making that painting, whatever that means. I assumed he was trying to mess with me, as I'm not the most up to date with current slang."

Vibes, you couldn't help but think. My best lead away from Rafayel is vibes.

"Here's his studio's address," Thomas says, typing something out on his computer. After a moment you feel your watch buzz.

You almost say you don't need it, then remembering how your main mission is to clear Rafayel's name and the only way to do that is to maintain your connection to him a secret, you accept the link. "Thank you, Thomas."

You're about to leave when a thread of light catches your eye. There on the wall is a display case with… something in it.

"What are those over there?" you ask.

He looks over his shoulder. "Oh, those are coral stones. Rafayel uses them for his paint. Are you interested in them?"

You get closer, feeling the energy resonate with your fingers as you tap on the display case. The coral stones are a vibrant red, almost like blood. You try to remember if Sirenas made use of any red paint, but the only thing that comes to mind is the siren's red eyes. This is almost definitely a source of the energy fluctuation, but it might not have even been used within the painting that sent you down this rabbit hole.

Thinking it might be worth it to check further into it, you ask, "Is it okay if I take them with me?"

"Sure. And if you need help finding Rafayel's place," he says, walking towards the window and pointing at something.

You walk towards the window and see where he's pointing. There in the distance is a gorgeous ivory structure extending towards the sea.

"It's the giant white building over there on Whitesand Bay. That's where Rafayel lives." You nod and are about to walk out when he adds: "And can you tell him to hurry up on that painting he's working on? I already sold it to someone."

~

Rafayel greets you with an ecstatic smile. "_____! I didn't even have to invite you this time!"

You wince as you smile. "I'm here on official duty."

Rafayel's excitement drops in real time. "Oh."

"Can I come in?"

"What's the password?" he asks, putting on as much of a macho voice as he can.

"Princess."

"Spell it out?"

You glare at him. "R-A-F-A-Y-E-L."

"Access granted," he curtsies as he opens the door up to let you in.

You take off your shoes before coming in. Rafayel leads you to where he was currently painting.

"So, what brings you here, Miss Hunter?" he asks.

You smile at the cute nickname. "There's been reports of energy fluctuations coming from your paintings," you lie easily. If nothing else, you want to avoid Rafayel accidentally incriminating himself.

He blinks. "I had no idea there was something like that going on."

Dammit, Rafayel! you think to yourself. How do you manage to immediately incriminate yourself?!

"Actually, your art gallery manager, Thomas, said you made a comment about the energy fluctuation in the air of the Flux Arts gallery."

"Oh, that," he waves his hand, "That was like two months ago, and I thought you meant the fluctuations were coming from the art studio. I checked and it was within the normal levels. Why, did something happen?"

You feel your hunter training kick in before you can stop it. "I'm not at liberty to give you that information. Currently the case is within a need-to-know basis, so please cooperate."

Rafayel bursts out in laughter. "I've never heard you in work mode! Oh my god, that's hilarious!"

You make a face. "Focus."

"Okay, okay," he rubs away a tear from how hard he was laughing. "I will, I will… Wait, I remember something. I heard some weird noises while I was painting back then. I kept feeling antsy, like a wanderer was following me. It stopped about a month ago, though."

A wanderer following Rafayel around, you think to yourself. Maybe it was biting on the canvas?

"So, where are they?"

Rafayel furrows his eyebrows. "I dunno. It's not like I'm an animal that has a sixth sense about where their prey is. Could be downstairs, upstairs, somewhere else…"

You look around the room, trying to sense anything.

"I know it's your job to fight wanderers, but it's not unheard of for them to sneak into Linkon City," Rafayel goes on to say, propping one leg over the other. "Especially over here on the edge of the water."

Deciding that he's getting into a conversational mood and needs to be redirected back to the point, you take out the red coral stone. "Is this what you use to make your paint?"

"...Did Thomas let you have it? That's rare, y'know."

"Other than rocks, do you use anything else that's weird?"

He waves his hand around. "You've been in my studio before, you know that I like to use a variety in my paints. And nothing is weird if you can get color from it."

"Is there anything you think might be suspicious?" you ask directly. "Anything that could attract wanderers for example."

Rafayel takes the coral stone from your hands, inspecting it. You watch as the threads of energy comb through his fingers like a grasping hand. "You know, there's a theory that wanderers are lost souls that can't reclaim new bodies. People who were ripped out of their lives, detached from all realities. Do you think Lemurians can become wanderers?"

"I know you're a Lemurian, Rafayel," you roll your eyes. "You make it plenty obvious."

He smiles at you. "Lemurians used to create illusions. It was their version of art," he goes on to explain. "And the reason why I use coral stones."

He adds a spike of fire to the coral stone, and the flames form into a small fish that swims over his hand in circles.

"Kids liked making flammula illusions like this."

"Do you use illusions in your own art?" you ask, the first time you've thought of it.

"I like to use mild illusions," Rafayel explains. "I made an illusion within the siren. First, you're mistified by the art. And then it's supposed to stand out like a wanderer, to instill the fear of getting too close."

"What are you implying?" You can almost catch what he means, but you need him to say it.

"It's possible there was too much of an illusion within Sirenas. So, people reported it as energy fluctuations."

You take in what he's saying. It's a plausible theory, but you think about the blood on Mr Raymond, soaked through his clothes. You think of Zayne, how he was there in time to kill the wanderer but wasn't able to save Mr Raymond. You think back on the crime scene- a real, actual crime scene. The only other possibility is- is Zayne.

"That's certainly a good theory on what happened," you say as you get up. "I'll be taking my leave now."

With that, Rafayel seems to be just a bystander who got caught up in this. Since his painting was where the wanderer came from, it stands that Mr Raymond likely only accused him because Rafayel was the painter. He was just confirming who brought the painting to him. Considering Zayne was the only witness of the crime scene, he's more of a suspect than Rafayel. Even though Mr Raymond said Rafayel's name, he might've been under the influence of the illusion and not realized what really happened.

And yet his wounds seemed more like a wanderer's attack. Was it really more complicated than that?

For now, Zayne was your lead. Which isn't great, you'd prefer it if your friends weren't potential murder suspects, but for now this was all you had to go off on. You'll report Zayne as being the main suspect, report the painting as being an illusion, and further investigation will have to be made on whether the wanderer was real or not.

"Did something happen?" Rafayel asks, breaking your thoughts.

"Need-to-know basis," you remind him.

"You can tell me, though," Rafayel says. "I'm your best friend. Let's talk like friends."

You shake your head, refusing. "I need to go now."

"Give me a hint. Do that thing that hunters do where they tell you where to find the answer."

You think for a moment. "Keep an eye on the news later."

And with that, you leave.

~

Rafayel brings up the flask to his lips. He opens his mouth, greeted by the viscous liquid invading his senses. He cringes at the taste, but drinks it up.

His breath is shaky as he lowers the flask. His eyes are filled with tears, the disgust of what he's doing almost making him feel regret.

"My blood? You want my blood as payment?" Raymond had asked him.

"I want your soul," Rafayel had replied, a cheeky smile on his face. "Your soul is in your blood."

Raymond had laughed. "Sure. I knew you used weird materials for your paintings, but I didn't think you'd request it from your clients. But sure, I'll be a part of your painting. I'll give you a bit of my soul."

~

You're at home, tired from the day. It feels like you did so much. You're surprised at yourself for not taking a break after you saw a man die in front of you. If it weren't… if it weren't for Rafayel being named with the victim's dying breath, you wouldn't have.

The image haunts you. It's not the first time you've seen someone die. First there's that incident that happened fourteen years ago when Linkon City was attacked. Then there's the two times you lost your comrades to wanderers since you became a Deepspace hunter. This was the first time seeing a civilian death in recent memory, and it left you shocked.

But Rafayel. Rafayel's almost a suspect, and you have to make sure he isn't officially accused. You have to make sure that he doesn't get punished for a crime you know he didn't commit. You'll take the mental toll, force your body through the exhaustion, just to make sure Rafayel is okay.

You hear a knock on the front door, breaking you away from your thoughts.

When you open the door, a dismayed Rafayel is holding a huge bowl filled with cookies.

"I saw the news," Rafayel starts with.

"I'm okay," you say almost at the same time.

"No, you're not," he claims as he pushes past you. "I talked to Dr Zayne."

You wince. "You shouldn't have. This might complicate things."

"I don't care," he says as he puts the bowl of cookies down on the kitchen countertop and turns to you. "I'm here for you, _____."

You stare at him. And then you're diving into his arms.

"It's okay," he says in a quiet voice.

"I was trying to ignore it," you can't help the tears. You rub at them with the back of your palm.

"It's okay," he repeats as he hugs you. "You'll be okay."

"Why'd you bring cookies?" you say in between tears.

"I know you had a bad day, so I made some cookies for you," he says, kissing the top of your head.

You cry a little harder.

"Oh boy, next time I'll make cupcakes? Will that make you cry less?"

Why is he so sweet?

"Shhhh…" he can't help but laugh a little. "I'll treat you well, okay? You can cry all you want."

END OF CHAPTER 5