#and in turn she tries to GIVE it to him as a show of trust now that she has the freedom to do so 🥺🥺🥺

[rinsnumber1fan]

Where bf rin walks up to you and sees you in a MAID OUTFIT.

You were a staff member in Blue Lock. One particular day, you were exhausted because of all the work you were given, managing files, statistics, keeping up with the blue lock players. Since you didn't really ever get the chance to talk to the only female in blue lock, Anri, you decided that for a break you'd visit her dorm room.

You made your way in her room uninvited like you owned the place, and you jumped over her bed with a yawn. "I'm exhausted." You groaned and Anri had a tired smirk on her face with the whole being bossed around by ego thing. "First time?"

An incredible idea popped into her brain "you know I have an idea." She begins with a grin "I'll let you test out some of my clothes and you can see which one you like. And in exchange you give me that red satin dress you showed me the other day." You squinted your eyes, " That's a little unfair , you know. That dress costed me a fortune." You argued but she sighed.

"Alright atleast let me get the white one." You blinked twice, "deal."

And with that the two of you began rummaging in her drawer, looking for different clothes and you even tried a few. They were great.

Something peeked from the corner of your eye, and you pulled it out of the drawer and undid it while anri tried on your dress. "Woah what's this?" You titled your head.

It was a white colored dress with a blacks in it, and revealing cleavage. [Somewhat like the cosplay Marin Kitagawa did] it was really , really sexy.

So I tugged it back in. "You won't try it on?" Anris voice had an obvious grin on it. "It's way too- revealing.. and where would I even wear this?" But I feel like I shouldve asked why she had this in the first place...

She groaned "you're so boring." And I closed my lips together, "shut up..." But she forced me to wear it anyway.

"HEY- OI!!!" "Just trust me!!!"

-- meanwhile --

Rin was walking down the hallways of the night instead of sleeping. He needed his phone to make a call to his mother who was really worried about him being out there alone.

He was caught in between all the different floors and doors and couldn't find egos office. In the end, he decided to enter that one room which seemed like it had the most light coming from the inside.

He turned the door knob, opened it, stopped and froze.

Because he totally just saw his girlfriend wearing some weirdly cute sexy maid outfit. The words die in his throat for a moment, his eyes unintentionally linger on your frame for a few moments before he let's out the smallest of a sound from his mouth which sounded like a "u- a-..." like he didn't know where to start.

And you? You were a whole other being right now. You literally almost passed out when you see that man who was too shy to even hold your hand in public in your doorway- well it was Anris.

"R-R-RIN!!!! UHH THIS IS... NOT..." a few awkward chuckles escape your mouth and you step forward towards rin to stop him from misunderstanding anything but rin already broke. You turned to your left, to your right, where did Anri go?!

Rin clears his throat, "yeah... I'm sure." You almost smack him , "why do you sound so sarcastic?!" He paused for a brief moment before his eyes lingered on your eyes, his gaze slowly felt half lidded and lustful and it almost felt like he was undressing you with his eyes.

"I just," he walked closer, and you stepped back. "You're.. really pretty..."

Red.

He had a fucking nosebleed.

Trails of crimson dripped down from his nose to the tip of his upper lip, he froze - you froze. "RIN!!! YOURE DYING--"

"i- ill come back later--" and he steps back, trying to shut the door but not when you lean closer with those oh so very oblivious eyes, "No!! You're having a nosebleed!!" And he feels himself twitch when you get closer. "God, stop- that.." and he took another step back.

"Don't forget to change when you get back!" He yelled as he literally ran away from the situation. And maybe from the ever growing bulge in his pants.

You stood there for a moment with a confused, blinking expression and tilted your head to the side "Uh...i think i did something wrong."

Yes, you started a war.

A/N: LEAVE A COMMENT PSLPSLSPLSLSPLS I WENT BLUE THEMED FOR THIS ONE!!!

[lieran03]

Raising Their Voice

Love and Deepspace Fanfic

The usual calm and soft men who never raise their voice suddenly did so in front of you, and that's only to protect you

Genre: fluff/slice of life Pairing: Zayne x fem!reader Words: 2.017 Warning: none!

Writing commission || Ko-fi || AO3 acc

Xavier's || Rafayel's || Sylus' || Caleb's

Based on THIS request

Everyone knows how calm and collected Zayne is, especially when he is at the hospital, working and going through the operation he needed to. He never raised his voice, not to the doctors who did something wrong, not to the nurses, and especially to his favorite patient slash person, the Hunter, who has been his childhood friend. Although there might be times he raised his voice in operation when a mess occurred, he never really got angry.

Even when his dearest always tries to bring that kind of emotion to him, wanting to know how he will react and how he will act around, he always knows it first, and that ended up with him being the one to tease her. In the end, the one who got angry was her instead of him. He likes to see the way she raised her voice, getting worked up by her own pranks, and getting irritated at him which makes her look cute.

“Your check-up is done, nothing is concerning enough, except that you must have been losing sleep lately.”

“Yeah, I guess because a certain someone wasn’t there to lull me to sleep.” Zayne knew she was talking about him. With countless surgeries and patients he needed to tend, going back home was hard.

“I admit that I’m at fault for that, but aside from that, you push yourself again.”

“Okay, Doctor Zayne is in working full mode now.”

It was another teasing remark given to him that made him shut his lips. More words are coming from him, and she will probably tease him to death. A sigh to show his defeat can be heard before he rubs his temple, feeling dizzy just by thinking and imagining how the conversation will go if he continues. The smiles on her face made him feel better, and he started to act serious again.

“Wait for me downstairs, I will end my shift in a while and we can have dinner together.”

“Is this how you pay me for missing all the nights?” Noticing that the teasing had started back, Zayne also decided to do the same.

“I just thought that the dessert shop I haven’t been able to go to now has a new menu. Sharing is always caring, right? I wanted to share the dessert with you.”

The conversation ended fast when Zayne got a call from Greyson. Knowing that there wasn’t anything else he needed to check, he bid his goodbye, adding that she told him he needed to check the patient fast. Once Zayne was nowhere to be seen, she went out of his check-up room. Although it was night, the hospital was still as busy as it could get, filling the hospital spaces.

Before she could get to the place where she usually waited for Zayne, another doctor whom she knew very well called out to her. A small smile appeared on her lips, greeting the doctor quite excitedly. After all, before knowing Zayne, the doctor in front of her was the one to take care of her and always check her up, giving her the opportunity to push her limits so she could enter the Hunter Association exam.

“Are you here for a general check-up with your current physician, or did you have an injury while doing a Hunter job?”

“I think it’s kind of like the two,” she answered with a light tone. Knowing her previous doctor, she also knows that joking with them is a normal thing. Responding to her words, a chuckle can be heard before a pat was given to her shoulder.

This time, with a serious look, the doctor said, “I hope that there’s nothing wrong with your body now. Your current physician was Dr. Zayne, right? You’re in good hands. I trust you with him, and you better listen to him too.”

A short conversation that starts with just mere greetings turns into a story time. The doctor kept making sure that he didn’t have any patients he needed to tend at the moment, and he only handled emergencies after getting older. At the same time, she also knows that Zayne wouldn’t be around just an hour after their departure, giving her a moment to have a conversation with her previous attending doctor.

“I guess we have to part here. I’m taking your time, right?”

“It’s okay, I was waiting for someone too.”

The smile she gives to the doctor eases his worries before he bids his goodbye, meeting a resident along the way and going into a serious mood. Seeing that she didn’t have anything else to do and didn’t want to make Zayne wait for her, she went straight to the place where she usually waited for Zayne. Part of her was scared to find the man already there.

What kind of response would Zayne give if she appears a bit late?

However, before she could have gone too far, a resident who was running pushed her. Normally, when others bumped into her, she wouldn’t find any problem, nor would she get affected by it. Yet, with the most unexpected times, added to the amount of force given, she couldn’t help but push down to the floor, feeling a bit lost, and look around her.

The resident’s things from his hand were thrown to the floor, an indication that the collision had just now. Even though questions still filled her mind, she started to gather the things, not wanting to get the resident into trouble. A little pain can also be felt around her shoulder, but she decided to turn a blind eye to it.

What’s important is the resident didn’t get into trouble because of her.

“Here’s your things. Next time, be careful.”

It should be just a normal reminder, especially to the resident who must be tired of working endlessly. Part of her also imagines about how the resident would get scolded for being reckless and even bumping into a patient. Trying to ease the fear inside them, she offered a kind smile, hoping it would tell the latter that she was not angry at the accident. She was okay with it.

When she thought a kind response was what she would get after that, the resident was evidently looking at her up and down as if wanting to make sure that she was not hurt. Once they confirmed something, they harshly took the things from her hand, visibly glaring and giving a low, dissatisfied sound to her, a sound that succeeded in making her back down a few steps back.

“If you’re not a patient, why are you wandering around here?! It would be bad if the person who bumped into you was any other doctor!”

“I was …?” There were no words coming from her lips, trying to understand what was currently happening to her. Did she get scolded when the resident was in the wrong?

��See? You’re not even aware that you just made a mistake! Imagine if the person you just bumped into was a real doctor, they would probably get mad at you and … ah! Whatever, you’re in the way. I was in a rush, and you just appeared so suddenly that it disturbed my work.”

“I’m … sorry?” The apology came too abruptly, that she didn’t even know the reason for her apology. Is it because she didn’t look around? Or is it because she accidentally bumped into them? Shouldn’t the resident be the one to look around to make sure they didn’t mess up? “But, I think you should have watched where you’re going, too.”

Couldn’t accept the fact that she was being blamed, words to show her dissatisfaction can be heard. At first, the resident was ready to walk away, not talking or making the issue bigger. However, the words spoken just now made them stop and look back, trying to see if what they had heard just now was real. They didn’t like how suddenly it became their fault. The glare was prominent, making her feel uncomfortable once again.

“Did you just say that I was the one making a fault here?”

The tone given shows hatred, making the situation more intense than it should have been. “I’m sorry?”

This time, not trying to cover her feelings, she purposely let out the tone she has been holding back, hoping it could portray just how angry she is right now. Whoever this resident is, they must have seen anyone except a patient as someone annoying. Something common to be seen in some of the residents who could get to Akso Hospital.

“Ah … is it because you’re a Hunter that you think you’re almighty and important? I guess it’s quite dumb and ….”

The words were never finished, and in addition, she felt as if someone was standing behind her. Before she could turn back to see who the person was, a hand finally rested on her back, as if to show intimacy. At the same time, the person who came leaning down, speaking to her in a gentle voice, and showing concern.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

It was Zayne.

For a few moments, the resident could only watch as the renowned Doctor Zayne was putting his full attention to the girl standing beside him, making sure she was not injured or had any bruises uncalled for. Once he was sure, and he listened to the girl's plea that she was okay, his gaze finally fell to the resident in front of him, showing no amusement.

“She’s a patient here. Just because someone didn’t wear a hospital gown doesn’t mean that they’re not a patient. Is this how you would treat those who aren’t your patient?”

“N-no … that’s not ….” Zayne’s voice wasn’t shouting, yet it was firm, showing his dominance. “I’m sorry, Doctor.”

“You should have said sorry to her, not me.” There was nothing that came after Zayne’s words, leaving the girl to look up and see Zayne had furrowed eyebrows, not liking how the resident still denied he was at fault. “Did you hear me or not? That you should have apologized to her and not me.”

With the raised voice coming from the-collected-and-calm-Doctor-Zayne, the resident finally stammered and said his apology, running away before Zayne could say anything else, and before the girl could say it was okay. Once the resident was nowhere to be seen, she finally stared at Zayne, facing her body to him.

“You raised your voice, I guess it was the first. And it was for me, should I be happy or concerned?”

“You shouldn’t have let others push you like that … and I didn’t mean literally.” Zayne put his hand onto the girl’s shoulder, feeling around to make sure that she didn’t dislocate it by accident.

“They’re in a hurry, I can understand that.”

“Yes. But still, it was their fault. Running into a patient, blaming the patient—or not. Even after that, they still didn’t say sorry because they realized they’re at fault.” The moment Zayne assured there was nothing concerning, he finally held the girl’s hand. “I was on my way down to meet you when I saw them bump into you, I thought it was nice of you to help them pick up their things. however, from afar, I can show how irritated they are … that’s when I decided to step in. I hope I didn’t interfere with you.”

“A low chuckle can be heard from her before she swings the hands held by Zayne, finds it amusing how Zayne easily tells the story. “No, no. I was glad. If you didn’t come, I might punch them in the face, and I might get a warning for doing so.”

“I could imagine,” was Zayne’s only response, holding her hand tighter when they reached the parking lot.

“And anyway, Zayne.” Before Zayne could open the car’s door, his attention was brought to the girl who was waiting. “Your voice does sound sexy when you raise it like that. I wonder how it would sound if you got angrier than that.”

[miifu666]

Detective and Killer Househusband Au!

An idea thats been fermenting in my mind maybe because ive been rewatching brooklyn 99! Buttt Househusband Wukong and his detective wife hihihi. Took me a while to make this cause I was confused on which role would they have but some moots in discord helped me so! HOUSEHUSBAND WUKONGG. This is modern normal AU? Ish???

Detective! Suklha

A well respected detective who managed to have the most cases broken in her youth, yet somehow a new case stumped her. The motives are sporadic and unpredictable, there has been dosen of detective investigating the case before but eventually it was handed to her as a referral.

Her advice are considered to be the highest priority. Less anyone has a different opinion, Suklha is ready to drain them dry for any reason why, will went as far as chasing them at every corner. She will never let anyones opinion go to waste and accepts criticism.

Is known to be Cold and mysterious, some officers learnt she has a soft spot but only a few and is an obscured knowledge in her precinct. They never would’ve guessed she’s married to the neighborhood’s well known monkey.

Was offered promotion a couple of times but rejected it. Already comfortable with her position and reputation, she works for her passion rather than money. Fortunately shes good at money managing, and Wukong has a good way of using his knowledge to do household chores as cheap as he can but still effective.

Introverted, she strictly works alone without a partner. For her own purposes, less she gets overstimulated she claims. In truth, she just hates social interaction when its unneeded and has a lot of trust issues she wont work on. Has been in therapy for a couple of times but in the end showed no improvement due to her stubborn attitude.

Met Wukong during her therapy session, talked to him while waiting for her. Turns out they both had the same psychologist. A psychologist who specializes in addiction and behavioral issues.

Cant stop obsessing over theories and plans, although she makes this habit of her into a job. It also made her highly paranoid, to the point she’s afraid to work with a partner. This however died down after she got married, has been taking better care of herself or should i say a certain monkey has?

This bias towards her husband, someone she deeply trusts. Made her blind from making him a suspect, doesnt help that Wukong stalks every move on his own case.

People has seen her blush an occasional time, the day she had a fever while clocking in and when she had to introduce her husband. Which shocked a lot of officers, it was the first time a police department went silent.

Yan! Househusband! Wukong

Met Suklha while he was going to therapy. Lied about his issues to get on her good side. Kept it up since then. In truth, He has an obsessive disorder.

A househusband who is well known in the community especially to the elderly, very active in terms of community services and also kind hearted. He’s very extroverted and warm. Some elderly calls him “The monkey who’s equal to heaven” referring to the many good deeds he has done.

Has a habit of giving baked goods to new members of the community, occasionally gives out free food for Suklha’s precinct because “he accidentally made too much”

Wouldn’t it be funny if his Ruyi Jingu Bang is a folding staff that he disguised as a broomstick? The name comes from Suklha cause each time she tries to use the broom it always detached itself from the broom and so far only Wukong is able to use it? Its also very heavy lmao.

Gossips with EVERYONEE its his way of getting intel and he feels like it helps Suklha in a way besides stalking her throughout her work yk-

Has a large network of “someone i know”, Macaque is the only one who knows of his bad habits and what he’s fault for. Tried to tell Suklha before they got married, after that he kind of stays out of the couples way.

Killed some people because he thought he’s lessening his Wife’s workload, even went as far as making sure they’re considered “missing” butt when the case got onto Suklha’s hand. He realized it’ll only gave her more overtime and late night, he stopped for awhile. Till he started again when he found out some cops arent… able to keep their hands to themselves when its about his wife.

Got the name “Heaven’s Sage” because the internet has been blowing up about him doing “Gods work” only killing suspected killers and perverts so far. In a gruesome and bludgeoned way, notable trademarks of his victims are : Marks of blunt objects, fatal multi-organ inflammation, left barren without clothes or valuable.

VERY obsessive of his wife, its been going on for almost a decade now… he is NOT joking. He can tell if she walks funny or smells differently.

Taglist : @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @skymoral @tuskstudioart @whatisev04 @forge-the-idiot @masterqueso @monkieshad0w @lilchickie @mehiwilldoitlater @missrosiesworld @sleepingdramaqueen @epochal-oracle

[scorpioriesling]

Could you please do a Bodhi x reader where he is tried of constantly being in Xadens shadow/number 2 to him. The reader shows him why he is her number 1. (Can be fluffy or smutty) Please and all the thank yous:)))

Never Second Best

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Pairing(s): Bodhi x reader

Warning(s): angst, light implied smut at the end (pg-13)

Summary: After another particularly upsetting day, your boyfriend turns to you for comfort and reassurance -- in which you are more than happy to provide.

SR’s Note: Sorry for going MIA for almost two weeks -- I've had a lot on my plate! Also, big news: I'VE SURPASSED 1000 FOLLOWERS! Thank you all so so much! I never knew my writing would gain this much attention, and I'm so grateful for every follower, every like, comment, repost, and all the support overall. You are all truly the best! With that, I hope you enjoy this piece (it's my first one written in dual POVs and in first person)! xoxo

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @bookofriverr @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @freakishfandomfiend @littleemissperfecttt @loveofmychips @bodhidurrans (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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Bodhi

I watched as Melgren spoke, the lines around his mouth twitching as the words tumbled out. He spoke professionally, efficiently; yet, the words that were echoing against the stone walls beyond were anything but.

"As I stated in the meeting prior -- our relations with the other isles must improve," he said, voice thick with irritation. "When we go war -- and we will go to war -- we must have allies set in place preemptively in order to solidify our chances of making it through. Hedotis would be the primary target, and we need to get them on the same page as quickly as possible."

My mind races, thinking of all the ways this could go sideways. I glance sidelong to my cousin, only to find his jaw tense and eyes narrowed.

"I completely agree," Colonel Aetos replies first, always eager to earn brownie points. I have to physically withhold my eyeroll, I never understand how Xaden does it. The calm, unflinching exterior always concealing any thoughts he may have. His lack of reaction in situations like these; honestly, it makes sense that the title of Duke was passed onto him and not me.

"What steps do you reccomend taking to ensure proper footholds in an alliance with the other provinces?" Duvera's voice sounds from the other side of the round table, and I tune back into the conversation. Melgren sighs, and once again, Aetos speaks up.

"We could always send someone they'd trust, someone higher ranking," he suggests, his beady eyes sliding to my cousin. "Someone they'd be familiar with, anyway."

Xaden stiffens, the vein in his arm bulging as he registers the incinuation.

"You think sending me to Hedotis is really the best option?" The question comes out more like a statement, and he holds Aetos' gaze. The slimy fucker simply shrugs, not giving a damn about our family history or what would come from this.

"I mean, your mother does live there, doesn't she?"

I study my cousin, the closest thing I've ever had to a brother. Registering the glint in his onyx eyes, I can see it: beyond that thick skull of his, he is surely pondering killing the Colonel.

Instead though, he takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"I don't think that's the best course of action."

The Colonel laughs incredulously, and I can't help but glare at him.

"Well, it's not up to you or I, is it? It's up to him." He gestures to Melgren, who is rubbing a stressed out hand over his jaw. Duvera chews on her lip, trying to formulate another plan while Kaori shifts uncomfortably beside her.

Suddenly, an idea pops into my mind -- not a great one, but a more suitable one nonetheless.

"Whatever you're thinking," Xaden says quietly, barely moving his mouth as he speaks. "Don't say it."

I forrow my brows as I look sidelong at him, and he meets my stare with a cautios look. I ignore it: he can read my mind, so he surely knows what's coming next.

Melgren and Aetos have begun debating when I step closer to the table, clearing my throat loudly in an attempt to capture the group's attention. Melgren quiets, and Aetos looks my way in irritation.

Finding my voice, I speak as confidently as possible.

"I'll go," I offer, my eyes finding Melgren's. He looks to me in a resigned sort of way, almost as though he wished I hadn't brought it up. Colonel Aetos snorts, looking to me incredulously.

"And, how will you wage an alliance with the Hedotian kingdom?" He says it with a raised brow. I glare at him.

"Well, Talia is my aunt afterall-"

Aetos laughs incredulously, cutting me off.

"This is rediculous! You can't tell me you really think you'd be able to talk them into an alliance just because of your relation to their queen, do you?"

Melgren raises a hand at this, and looking across the table I observe Kaori glaring at the Colonel as well.

"Let him speak, Colonel," Melgren requests, and the flustered male sinks back into his chair with a huff. He goes to far as to cross his arms when I begin talking again.

"I just felt that, since I am familiar with at least one member of their leadership," I give the Colonel a pointed look. "I'd be much better suited for the job."

Duvera looks back and forth as though she's considering the option when my cousin speaks from behind me.

"I don't feel comfortable sending you across seas to deal with my mother," he says lowly. I shake my head slowly, hoping he's reading my thoughts and will shut up. Clearly he isn't, as he continues on.

"I'll go. I'm familiar with the Isle, how to get there, and I know Sgael will be able to withstand the journey." Aetos claps his hands loudly, rising from his chair once more in delight.

"Fantastic plan, young sir. Just fantastic!" He claps again, his barking voice and flapping hands reminding me more of a harp seal than military commander. Melgren looks to me once more, indecision in his eyes.

"I believe myself capable of completing this mission," I interject, and Kaori looks to me in encouragement. "I wouldn't want to put any of you at risk, and I believe Cuir would do just fine-"

"Oh, pipe down, boy!" Colonel Aetos shouts, shaking his head disapprovingly in my direction. "Riorson is obviously a better choice, having familiarity with the land and with his title, he'd be sure to clench an alliance as opposed to...?" He shrugs. Rage swells within me, but before I let it loose I feel my cousin's hand on my shoulder as he steps beside me.

"My cousin," he finishes for the Colonel. "Bodhi is my cousin, and therefore within the Tyrrendor family line. He'd be a great candidate for this trip, however..." he pauses, his eyes meeting mine for a split second before he clears his throat. "I wouldn't put him through that. He's a fantastic officer and leader, and I have no doubt in him. However, this is something I'm directly involved in, and-"

"So, it's decided then!" Aetos interrupts for about the millionth time, and I feel the rage swelling into something else. Something black, inky and distant -- a feeling so common during high-ranking meetings like these.

"Melgren? Your decision?"

The General sighs deeply, looking down at the table and shaking his head. When he looks back up, his gaze full of pity -- I know exactly what his decision will be, and his final answer sends me straight through the front doors without another word.

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Y/N

The rain is falling silently against my window, the gray sky providing a dull light as it fades through the space. I grin as I cap my pen, holding up the love letter I'd been decorating to view it before me. The small candle on my desk flickers its flame, and I lie my paper back down. The flame dances again, this time accompanied by a sudden rapping at my door.

I stand instantly, trotting over to the wooden panel in anticipation. Bodhi had his important meeting today, and with Sloane gone for the weekend, I'd requested he come by after. However, it hadn't been long since he'd initially left this morning -- I sure hope everything went alright.

I close my palm around the small golden knob, twisting and yanking it toward me. Sure enough, the handsome male stood on the other side.

I smile on instict, his presence always an excitement; but, that's when I notice his expression. His eyes are downcast, his brows in a permanent furrow. Small droplets of rain fall from his brown curls, and his arms are folded tightly across his chest in a way that seems unsettling. My face falls, I can feel it -- and I immediately feel more concerned than joyous.

"Bodhi? Is everything alright?"

He shakes his head slowly, barely glancing up to meet my eye. After a moment of silence, he answers back in a low whisper.

"No."

My heart sinks at this, the state he's in, the emotinoal turmoil. I step forward, my hand prying one of his folded ones from under his arm and I grasp it tightly.

"Hey, come on in here honey -- let's talk."

He barely steps forward, more of a staggering trip before he gathers me into his arms. My eyes widen in surprise as his head dips, his forehead resting on my shoulder as he bends down to reach me. He bares half his weight to me, sagging against me as his nose nuzzles my neck. He sighs heavily, his fingers clutching at my waist and pulling me as far into his chest as possible. I move to catch my balance, holding the both of us up as I wind my own arms around his neck.

"Oh Bodhi," I sigh, tears threatening the backs of my eyes. I hadn't expected the meeting to go so poorly, in fact, I expected good news -- he'd seemed to confident about it earlier this week. I can tell now as I run my fingers through his silky, chocolately curls that both of us were wrong to assume.

The threatening tears make their appearance as his body shakes softly against mine, and my lips turn downward. I try to force myself not to cry, especially when my boyfriend needs me in this moment to be strong for him. I sniffle softly, continuing to run my fingers through his dampened locks as he releases his emotions, the only sound in the room the soft patter of rain on the window.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Y/N

I wake three hours later, immediate gratification flooding my system at the body pressed against mine. The rain has since cleared, leaving a pale evening sky in its wake. Wiping the back of my hand across my eyes, I blink them open, happy when I realize I'm right. Bodhi sleeps soundlessly against me, his arms wrapped around my waist and his head resting against my abdomen. A thin trail of smoke wafts from my forgotten candle, my empty coffee cup sitting quietly beside it. My abandoned love letter rests atop the desk, the red lipstick prints glinting in the evening light. I'd be sure to give it to Bodhi later.

Turning my attention back to him, I smile softly, running my fingers through his hair once more. He stirrs, groaning groggily as he lifts his head.

Those eyes, those wonderfully brown eyes -- they meet mine in an instant, and a small smile curves the edges of his lips. His fingers give my waist a squeeze, and he nuzzles his face into my abdomen once more. His shoulders flex with the movement, and I can't help the involuntary heat wave headed straight to my core.

"Bodhi... baby," I tug lightly at his curls until he tilts his head, looking up into my eyes once more. He grins, and I can't help but giggle.

"Honey, we need to talk," I plead, and he sighs, his pointer finger tracing the line of exposed skin between my top and shorts. I chuckle, swatting his tickles away playfully. His hand reaches up, thumb brushing over my cheek and I can't help but blush.

"About what, baby?"

I roll my eyes, turning to press a kiss against the pad of his finger.

"You know what," I suggest, and he brushes his thumb across my lips once more. When he pulls it back, he examines the paint he picked up, marvelling at the color.

"About... how much I love this new color you've been wearing lately?" He asks innocently. I sigh, sitting up and retracting from his grasp. He moves to sit before me, and I give him a knowing look.

He runs a hand through his mass of curls, finally giving up.

"Ughhh... fine." He resigns, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. I sit quietly, expectantly, as he gathers his thoughts and presents them to me.

"So... I'm sure you gathered that the meeting went horribly today," he begins, looking down at his lap as he explains. He walks me through the meeting, and I suddenly hold up a hand to pause him.

"Wait -- Aetos said you shouldn't go because you're family, yet he was so quick to offer up Xaden instead?"

Bodhi throws his hands up, looking to me in laughter.

"Exactly! Makes no sense. Now, let me finish the story."

He finishes explaining his day responsible for his sour mood, and I listen intently, even when he gets to the point of simply ranting.

"I just never understand it, you know -- it's like nothing I do is enough, or will ever be enough to match my cousin." He sighs, ruffling his hair. "Every time I offer myself up, or try to do something useful, I'm always second best, and-"

"Hey hey hey," I interrupt, leaning forward to take his hands in mine. His fingers are cold, and I press them between my two palms. "You are never, second best. I can assure you of that."

He huffs, looking away again. "I am though, I'm not a Duke, I have no title, I'm simply the younger cousin, and-"

I cut him off, leaning forward to press my lips to his. He immediately stops talking, his skin melting into mine like butter. The taste of rainwater lingering there, his earthy scent -- it's damn near intoxicating.

I move my lips against his, and his hands tug from my grasp in favor of threading through my hair. I sigh against his mouth, only reaching up after a few moments to push back lightly against his chest.

"You're never second best," I reassure, my eyes meeting his. His brown orbs soften at my words, and I give him a small peck before continuing. "Not to me, and surely not to anyone else." Another peck, and it has him leaning in for more. I move to straddle his lap, hating how wet I've become in a matter of minutes. I'll forgive myself though; his bulge presses against the soft cotton of my shorts.

"You've always been number one in my book -- maybe I just need to give you a little reminder?"

He chuckles, grinning wide before tugging my lips back to his. He kisses hungrier this time, devouring my lips with his as though he could never get enough of me. The soft groan is confirmation enough as I purposefully grind my hips atop his, the pressure between the two of us mounting. His teeth playfully toy with my bottom lip, and I only push him back when his fingers begin to trail beneath my shirt.

His back hits the mattress, his darkened eyes gazing up at me in anticipation. I grin, reaching down to tug at the waistband of my shorts.

"I'm always happy to remind you, just how number one you are to me, Bodhi."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[graciecapital]

call your mom

pairing : jj maybank x older!sister!reader

plot : when you gave your nine-year-old brother a phone to call you with should he ever need to, he used to pester you with it- but, once the novelty faded, the calls came to a gradual stop.

foolishly, you took the peace for granted.

warnings : graphic description of child neglect

word count : 3,087

author’s note : this one is quite heavy- angst is my favourite to write, and i lay it on thick. just because i’ve written it, that doesn’t mean you have to read it. <3

(not proofread)

♪ ‘fake plastic trees’ - radiohead ♪

you collapse on-top of your boyfriend, breathing heavily; he grins something blissful, placing a hand on both sides of your head and manoeuvring it to his lips to press a firm kiss to your hair.

“i love you so much,” he declares, allowing your head to gently fall against his shoulder, resting his cheek against your forehead and allowing his eyes to close for a beat, releasing a long, slightly winded sigh. “feelin’ better, now, huh?”

you hum something noncommittal, slightly dazed, tracing light lines on the bare skin of his chest. “it’s hard not to, isn’t it?”

jj snorts, head flopping back against the pillow, eyes half-lidded and weary, an arm wrapping around your waist and squeezing ever-so-slightly. “i’m gonna get the best sleep known to earth, jesus christ. you know how to put a man through his paces, don’t ‘ya?”

“practice,” you muse, the corner of your lip quirking upwards.

“practice, huh? with who?” he asks, lifting his head to look at you mock-aggressively, tousled and slightly damp blond waves descending over his forehead. “you got somethin’ to tell me?”

“you’ll never know,” you tease in response- and he will never know, because it’s at that moment that your phone starts to blare on the nightstand beside you.

you groan exasperatedly, propping yourself up on your elbows to blindly tap around the wood surface for it- when you find it, the contact name is already greeting you, displayed in bold, unignorable white letters in the top third of the screen.

home.

you pick up the phone before jj so much as has the chance to ask who’s at the other end of it.

a few months ago, you gave your brother, max, a phone. nothing special- just one of your old, battered iphone 5s that for some reason you still had, with no wifi or internet because you point-blank refuse to give your nine-year-old brother unlimited access to the internet- just so he was able to contact you should he need to.

the oldest of your three siblings, he’s the one you trusted with it; eli’s six and lila’s only two, so you doubt either of them would really know how to use it, anyways. at first, after you showed him how, he abused it- calling you non-stop, day-in, day-out- but now, the novelty’s faded. he only calls you unless there’s a real reason for him to; and now, apparently there is.

typically, it’s to get information to relay to your mum when she needs it, or to ask when you’ll next be home, considering how often you’re out with jj and the rest of your friends- therefore, the last thing you’re expecting upon the call connecting is the sound of lila’s deafening cries, max’s voice, uncharacteristically feeble and timid, offering a small, “hello? are you there?”

you sit up instantly, tearing out of jj’s grip to swing your legs over the edge of the bed, sighing. “yeah, i’m here. what’s up?”

“sorry, is this a bad time? it’s just-” lila screams again, and max pauses, only regaining his voice a few seconds later. “we haven’t seen mum all day. we’re all really hungry, and i’ve tried ordering food but i can’t, and lila’s upset and eli’s not come out of his room for ages-”

“woah, hang on,” you say slowly, calmly, turning up the volume of your phone. “when’d you last see her?”

“last night,” your little brother responds instantly. “she left us some cash and a note saying to just order something in, but i’ve tried and i can’t, this phone won’t connect to the wifi and she’s taken hers with her, i think.”

shit.

“any idea where she’s gone?” you ask, turning back to jj and nodding towards the door- instantly, he gets the hint. he jumps out of bed, wriggling into his boxers as he jumps around the room in search of some clothes. you’re already picking a shirt up off of the floor, placing the call on speaker as you throw it on.

“nope,” max’s voice drifts through the room, popping the ‘p’. “she didn’t say anything, just… gone.”

and, like a fool, you’d never installed your mum’s contact on the old, battered iphone 5- originally, you didn’t want her to know that max had it.

you’d have told her yourself, if you’d been smart enough to consider a scenario like this.

lila wails again, and you can practically hear your brother’s wince on the other side of the phone.

“you said eli’s been in his room all day, yeah? is lila safe for you to go and check on him? where’s she at?”

“in her crib,” max says, and you can hear the creaking of springs, swiftly followed by small footsteps. “i’ll check on him now, give me a sec.”

the footsteps stop, and seconds later are replaced by muffled voices- max’s is still somewhat clear, but even though eli’s isn’t, you can hear the exhaustion in it.

“he’s fine,” your brother’s voice follows up a moment after, fully intelligible once more. “tired, though.”

“tell him he can take a nap if he wants to,” you say simply, shimmying into some shorts, jj doing the same behind you. “i’m coming, alright? we’ll be there soon, just hang in there. fifteen minutes, tops.”

“‘kay, thanks.”

“you’ve got nothing to thank me for, buddy. i’ll see you soon, okay? i love you.”

“love you too,” max replies, slightly steadier now. “i’ll- i’ll try to calm lila down.”

“good idea. i’ll be there soon, i promise.”

max is the one to hang up- for a second, all you can do is close your eyes and take a breath.

“she’s disappeared again, then?” jj’s voice comes, unfailingly determined, though you can hear a pinch of disbelief in it.

you sigh, opening your eyes and turning to look at him, something akin to exhausted exasperation swirling in them. “looks like it.”

“i’ll grab some chips for them, you get in the twinkie,” is the response you get, your boyfriend not so much as missing a single beat.

you can’t help but kiss him on your way out of the bedroom, sliding some shoes on your bare feet and snatching the keys for the twinkie off of the coffee table before swinging open the front door and bee-lining for the van, phone jammed in your pocket.

you’re years max’s senior, and even you have no clue where your mum is. you know things about her that they don’t- you know the sort of things she gets up to- but she doesn’t have a regular place to go. she just kind of… wanders. goes off with whatever man looks at her twice, doesn’t come back for hours- even days, when you’ve taken them off of her before, because you have. you’ve taken them to the chateau, time after time, and when she inevitably promises you that it’s her wake-up call, that she’ll change, you’re obligated to fold.

as soon as the circumstances are right, you’re sure you’ll get them out of there- but, until then, this is all you can do. be there when they need you- show max that he can and should call you, and that you’ll respond, you’ll show for him, them, when nobody else will.

jj joins you shortly after you put the keys in the ignition- as soon as the passenger door slams shut, you’re gone, flooring out of the land surrounding the chateau and veering off into the road.

you know full-well that you’re speeding but don’t care in the slightest; the speed cameras don’t work in this part of the cut, and police don’t patrol it. the road you live on is mostly quiet, just elderly people and the odd family, like yours, so there’s no reason for anyone to be over there- nobody to commit the crimes they police.

“i can’t believe her, man,” jj scoffs from beside you, practically vibrating in his seat.

one of the main things, if not the main thing, you love about your boyfriend is his love for your siblings. growing up an only child, he never really had anyone around, when he was young; nobody to bear it all with, nobody to even distract himself with by protecting. when you’re at work, or otherwise occupied, he’s the one picking up the slack- play-fighting with the boys, helping them with their homework as well as he can, getting lila to sleep, helping eli get into his pyjamas at night.

while you never plan on having kids- especially after all of this- if you did, you could see him being everything his own dad wasn’t to them.

“…ow many times has she said she wouldn’t do this shit again? just take off?”

“how many times has she promised she’ll change?” you snort bitterly in agreement, guiding the car down a corner, into a gravelly road a few minutes away from yours. “it’s bullshit. it’s all bullshit.”

“like, how can you even do that to your own kids, bro? i swear to god, i’ll-”

it all becomes white noise. you don’t mean to stop listening to him, but your ears take you back to that phone call: max’s weary little greeting, eli’s utterly drained voice, lila’s hysteria.

the last of which, you realise, is still continuing upon the front door of your house opening.

“hey,” you nod, smile something a little bit weak around the edges, bringing him in for a short hug. “told you we’d come, didn’t i?”

“hi- jj!”

“hey, big man,” jj grins, charming and outwardly unaffected as ever, as if he wasn’t just seething in the twinkie a mere forty-five seconds ago. “you holding up alright?”

you release max, ears turning up at the sound of your little sister.

“you guys go and pack some stuff and get eli, alright?” you call back to them, already stepping through the food wrappers and used plastic cups in search of her room.

as soon as you open the door of it, your heart breaks.

lila’s standing in the corner of her crib, wide and teary eyes rapidly darting around the room, as if perpetually searching- her eyes lock on you, and her face only seems to screw up further. she toddles as fast as she can to the front fence, omitting an almighty wail as she does, little arms outstretching as far as they can towards you, a new round of scalding tears pouring down her face.

you’re with her in an instant, lifting her by her sides and cradling you to your chest, her head instantly worming into your neck.

“hey, sweetheart- shh, you’re alright, i’ve got you. i know, it’s confusing, huh? you’re hungry?” you murmur as she cries, lowering a kiss to the top of her head.

poor lila can’t even speak, just gasp over another sob- you tighten her arms around her, rocking back-and-forth.

“i know, i know- shh, you’re okay. we’re gonna get you some food and new clothes, yeah?”

as carefully as you can with her still anchored to your front, you bustle around the room, grabbing a clean diaper, the last remaining clean pacifier and a single change of clothes- there are backups of everything else you’ll need at the chateau- and stuffing them into a small, pink rucksack in the corner of the room.

you sling the bag over your shoulder and press another kiss to her hair before swiftly exiting the room, eyes landing on eli, who’s currently fastened to jj’s back, your boyfriend’s arms with handles of bags hanging off of them looped around his knees; max stands just to the side, holding up the old phone.

“should i take this with me? or…”

“yeah, you should,” you nod, ruffling his hair. “you did a good job, calling me. i’m proud of you.”

max just smiles something slightly tired, and your heart promptly cleaves in half yet again at the expression. no nine-year-old should hold that much exhaustion, that much defeat; the curse that befell you is falling onto him.

“can we go now?” he asks, gesturing vaguely to the bags piled in jj’s arms. “we’ve packed, and everything.”

you take a look around the house- the slight smell of cigarette smoke permeating the air, the food boxes and other miscellaneous objects blanketing the floor- and nod again.

“yeah, we can. c’mon.”

as soon as you step out of the house, lights blind you- car headlights, specifically, and you quickly hand lila off to jj, who has by now gotten both of the boys secured in the twinkie and bags of chips in their hands, and request he do the same for lila before staring at the car as it comes to a slow stop.

your mum isn’t drunk when she steps out of the car- she learned that lesson around the time you turned fifteen- but it’s obvious that at some point recently, she has been.

“of course, you come back now,” you snort in almost incredulous disbelief, clapping sarcastically. “well done, mum. who’s this, then?”

you point to a man who’s gotten out of the car alongside her, all muscle and tattoos and outgrown hair; your mum rolls her eyes, black eyeliner smudged.

“it doesn’t matter who he is,” she says offhandedly. “where are my kids?”

“of course it matters,” you shake your head, wrinkling your nose slightly. “and they’re in the van. i figured that if you’re too busy to look after them, then i probably should.”

your mum seems to stop for a second, eyes roaming over you, as if she hasn’t seen you in years- and she hasn’t, you suppose. not for long, anyway.

and then:

“what, so you’re just going to take my kids?”

you hum, nodding. “pretty much. you can’t just leave them at home all day, mum, jesus. they’re kids. little fucking kids, and you just went off-grid.”

“i left them some money,” she protests, waving a hand, “to order food with. they were fine.”

“yeah, and how were they meant to order it, huh? with what phone?”

it doesn’t hold the fire that it used to; just the slight air of annoyance only achieved after repeating something so many times, and it not being listened to, that you don’t even have the energy to properly fight the point anymore.

“what, they don’t have one?” mum asks. “max is nine, i thought by now…”

“did you ever buy him one?” you ask, and after a beat of telling silence, “no, you didn’t, so they don’t have one. what, you think a nine-year-old is pulling a nine-to-five at the country club?”

max has an old, beaten-down iphone 5 that your mum doesn’t even know about, purely to be used in situations like these. that’s it. no wifi, no internet access in the slightest- just your contact and some games you had installed back when you were using it.

“i need to get them home,” you say when you get no response, sighing in bitter resignation. “they haven’t eaten all day, and lila needs changing. just… have fun tonight, yeah? with man number eighty-seven, or something, i don’t fucking know. no point in calling me asking for them back, i’ll decide on my own terms.”

you don’t even spare them another glance before getting in the twinkie- jj hands a now-whimpering lila to you, and you settle her on your lap, engaging her with the remaining chips in the small bag as your boyfriend begins to trundle out of the driveway.

the drive home is remarkably quiet. nobody really says much; eli’s dozing off, the side of his head smushed against the window, and max is just staring out of his own, face slightly clenched.

jj’s got a hand on your thigh, thumb stoking small lines into your skin, but it doesn’t do much- not when all that your little siblings have had to eat today is a bag of chips that two of them are still eating, lila clearly hasn’t been changed all day and your mum hadn’t been seen in so long that max had lost all hope in her returning and had called you as a last resort.

you feel sick to your fucking stomach.

eventually, though, the frame of the chateau comes into view. you step out of the twinkie as soon as it comes to a stop, grab lila’s bag and secure her to your hip, head inside- and, because food’s the top priority, you bee-line straight for the kitchen to make a placating sippy-cup of milk, giving it to her as you take her to your and jj’s bedroom to change her into something clean.

it doesn’t take long- you work with urgency- but, even then, you step back into the living room to the sight of eli and max sitting on the sofa, plates of leftover food on their laps- you press a kiss to jj’s cheek, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ as he hands you a bowl of berries for lila.

you sit on the sofa besides eli, watch with bitter pride as she progressively gets less and less fussy as she eats them, stare in exhausted awe at jj as he joins you and begins engaging eli in light conversation about his schooling, all casual and seemingly perpetually energetic.

later, when all of the kids are fed and changed into pyjamas, max grabs lila and places her between himself and eli, covers the three of them in a small, slightly frayed blanket- to which jj quickly rushes into your shared room and drapes the duvet of your bed over the three of them.

they fall asleep to you murmuring soft words to them, your hand slowly carding through their hair periodically; arms wrap around you from behind, and you turn your head into jj’s shoulder, sighing.

“they’re good now,” he murmurs quietly, placing a kiss to the curve of your neck. “you’ve got them, yeah? we’ve got them. they’re fed, they’re clean, they’re safe, they’re asleep. you’re done now, okay? you can rest.”

“thank you,” you whisper. it’s all you can say, really- he helped eli and max pack, carried eli on his back out of the house, had plates of food going into them within minutes of you returning; he’s there, a rock. “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“no need to thank me,” is all you get in response, his voice firm yet simultaneously gentle, kind. “they deserve it all, yeah? ‘n you’re giving it to them.”

and, like he has been the whole night, he’s there, a rock, as you inevitably crumble.

[rexscanonwife]

And by the way just to add some like...angst to my sea beast s/i I guess 😂 I was thinking about the research I did into old selkie folk tales and how they typically tend to go and how it applies to my s/i with Batterbie stealing her coat.

1. She did it when she was still just a child and had lost her whole family, so she probably holds that over her head by saying she's lucky to have had a place to stay and food to eat at ALL and 2. That she could have it...a LOT worse 😬

[unintentionalseductress]

Prescription For Pleasure

Warnings: MDNI, sex, masturbation, medical masturbation, use of vibrators, clit play, piv sex, use of latex gloves, oral (fem receiving), some praise, kinda slow burn A/n: I am not normal about this man in any way. Not really proofread. Please do not use my banners without permission.

You’re seated in Zayne’s office, trying not to squirm as he sets up your appointment. Although this was now the third time you were seeing him for this regular inspection, it didn’t alleviate your nerves the slightest. Each month, according to the Hunter’s Association regulations, every hunter needed to be seen by their primary care physician for 3 consecutive days for their health.

And although the association deemed it a necessity, it was an embarrassing requirement according to you. The Hunter’s Association had done a survey and discovered that many of their employees suffered from high levels of stress because they were isolated and lacked much-needed human contact. To combat this, they made it mandatory to get physical contact by a medical professional every month.

But when all the fancy jargon was pushed aside, all the hunters called it the same thing - medical masturbation. It had become wildly popular amongst both men and women hunters, eagerly marking the days on their calendar for when they could come in. When you heard about the rule, you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole. You had tried talking to Jenna to insist that you were indeed taking care of yourself in that aspect, thanks to your trusted vibrator, but she had shaken her head no. 

“We need documentation. I’m subject to it, and so is everyone else in my order.”  Defeated, you’d walked out of Jenna’s office before remembering another mortifying fact with a jolt. Your primary care physician was Zayne. 

Your childhood friend, your trusted cardiologist, stoic and calm, who remained reserved during your general checkups, was going to be your medical masturbator. You had almost turned yourself into a ball on the floor, tweaked out at the insanity of it all. Although Zayne was your general physician, you had a separate gynecologist, and apart from asking if you’d had your annual PAP smear, Zayne had left that part of your anatomy unquestioned. It didn’t help that you were attracted to him, and sure, if he’d asked you out on a date, you would have been more than happy to let him inspect you all he wanted down there.

But this clinical setting, enforced by your organization was a little too much to bear. Wondering how to tackle this situation, you wander over to Tara who was humming as she made her medical bookings on her phone app. “Isn’t this exciting?” she squeals as she sees you. “God knows the dating pool is thin right now. This is just what I needed!”

Tara’s primary care physician was a woman, and you wondered if that was a pro or a con. On the one hand, dropping your panties for a woman doctor seemed less unnerving than for a man. But if you had a preference for men, would it work against your arousal? You shook your head at your ridiculous musings and focused on talking to Tara. “Are you really that excited about this?”

“You have no idea!” Tara taps her feet as she talks to you. 

“And you’re ok about having a woman stimulate you?” You probe, trying to gauge Tara’s reaction. Tara giggles and lightly pats your shoulder. 

“I don’t know but the idea is kind of hot. I mean, getting it on in a doctor’s office? Besides if I don’t like it, I can change the doctor the next time.”

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. “You can change your doctor?”

“For this yes, the app gives you an option since it involves showing off a lot of intimate areas. You have to be able to trust your doctor right?”

You logged into the app, finding the little button to request a change in doctors, but for some reason, the page kept refreshing and crashing. With a sigh, you decide to get the worst of it over with and call Zayne, hoping he can make the change for you on his end. His voice is cool and professional when he answers your call.

“Yes?”

“So, you must have heard about…the new regulation?” you had put forth nervously.

“I am aware of it, yes.” 

“Well, for obvious reasons, I would like a different doctor.” 

Zayne smoothly says, “Of course. Patient comfort is always first. Do you have a doctor in mind?”

“Maybe my gynecologist? I tried doing it in the app but it keeps crashing.” There’s a moment of silence and you can hear Zayne’s fingers tapping away at his keyboard before a low hum leaves his end of the line.

“There appears to be a problem.”

“Problem?” you’d parrotted back.

“Yes. Because so many people are booking appointments at the same time, most of the available doctors are already taken. Including your gynecologist.” 

It felt like watching a bird crashing into a window in slow motion, that brief moment of hope that it wouldn’t hit the glass shattering in an instant. “Oh.”

There’s a pause before Zayne delicately says, “I’m sorry but it looks like you will have to make those appointments with me for this month. 3 of them according to the regulation. Hopefully, you can make the change for next month.” His voice sounded slightly apologetic.

“Won’t it be weird given that we know each other personally?” The question had fallen from your lips before you could stop yourself. 

“I promise not to treat you any differently than any of my other patients who are coming in for this inspection. I understand this may be a little unexpected, but I assure you I did a term of gynecology during my internship.”

A tinge of mirth carried over in his voice and you can’t help but make a noise of embarrassment. “Zayne, please!” His laugh was dry but not unkind, and you can’t help but want to hide your face even though he couldn’t see you. 

“Don’t worry too much. But I do advise you to make the appointments soon. My schedule is filling up rapidly.”

With those words, he’d disconnected the call and you were left wondering if an unknown god from another planet had cursed your existence. 

And changing doctors had proven to be more difficult than you’d thought. The entire organization seemed to be having a single thought. They had made appointments in the app almost halfway into the year, essentially blocking you from being able to do anything about your situation. Now on your third month with Zayne, you watch as he checks his notes from your last session, feeling like you want to scamper from the room.

The last two sessions had been incredibly stimulating, your arousal heightened by the fact you were attracted to Zayne. You’d never considered having someone watch as you touched yourself but found that you’d enjoyed it, at least, when it was him. He had remained professional, but you’d avoided him these last two months, save for when you had to get your monthly cardiac profile. He reads his notes from his computer as he prepares for your session. 

“Preferred device for stimulation still a vibrator, with a large, rounded, flexible head?” His eyes remain on his screen and you’re grateful for him giving you this smidgen of privacy. 

“Yes.”

“Preference for the doggystyle position still?” 

Your face burns. “Yes.”

“Still consenting for verbal stimulation?”

You nod your head.

“And still consenting for internal vaginal stimulation?” You make a noise of consent, squeezing your thighs together, your panties uncomfortably chafing against your already swollen pussy. 

“All right, I have everything I need.” He logs off and removes his lab coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his well-corded arms, and your mouth almost waters at the sight of them. Clearing your throat, you shyly reach into your bag and pull out the vibrator in question, which he takes from you and clamps into a stand, adjusting it over the examination table you’d be on. A bottle of lube awaits on the tray next to the table and you swallow as he finishes the setup. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says in that deep voice, and feeling like your fingers are wrapped in thick woolen mittens, you reach behind you to untie the hospital gown you’re wearing, and it falls to the floor with a swoosh, your nipples pebbling under the sudden chill. A small set of sensors were taped to your chest and on the sides of your forehead, essential medical devices to ensure your orgasm was satisfactory. Unperturbed, Zayne gestures to the table and you make your way onto it, letting your feet settle in the stirrups as he settles on a stool between your legs, pulling on latex gloves before gently spreading your folds apart. You stare up at the ceiling as he does his initial checkup.

“Labia look healthy, no signs of trauma or abnormal discharge,” he murmurs, then runs a finger down the edge of the fold that separates your inner and outer lips, causing your core to clench involuntarily. You hold still, knowing very well he saw the action, holding your breath, letting out a little sigh as he lets go. 

“Normal reaction to stimuli, already semi-aroused,” he says, trashing the gloves and making another note on his computer. He glances over at you, leaning back uncertainly on the table. “You may begin.”

You swallow, then carefully turn onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of lube and squeezing the viscous liquid onto the head of the vibrator, avoiding eye contact as your breasts sway under the motion, nipples painfully hard from anticipation. You could feel Zayne’s gaze but can’t bring yourself to look up. Even though this was the third time, it hadn’t gotten easier, stripping naked and pleasuring yourself in his office. 

Once the rounded head of the vibrator is slick, you turn, the chill of the lube against your heated membranes causing more blood to flow into your already engorged nub, and run your moist slit across the surface to spread the liquid onto your slickened folds. Your hand fumbles for the little remote control and with a buzz, the vibrator turns on at the lowest setting. You click the button a few more times until it gets to the speed you liked, then fail to hold back a moan as the sensations pleasurably begin to take hold in your clit. 

The first time you had done this, nervousness had made you set the vibrator on the highest possible setting hoping to get a quick orgasm and sprint out of the office. Unfortunately, the sensors relayed this information into Zayne’s medical record that your climax had been unsatisfactory, and you had endured being lectured by him with the medical gown loosely draped on your body, your rear open to the cold office air. 

His tone wasn’t unkind but it hadn’t helped you feel better either. “It helps neither of us if you rush this. The whole purpose of this examination is to ensure you’re relaxing. I know it’s embarrassing but if you fail to have a proper orgasm, I’ll have to make you repeat the process until I get data that says otherwise.”

“The sensors are-”

“The only way to measure anything. Without involving another person anyway.”

His words had left you gobsmacked and your retort had died in your mouth. After that incident, you had learned. Even with the chagrin of having him watch you, you had learned to take your time and let the feelings build, leading to incredibly savory climaxes that made your body squirm from the aftershocks. 

Your hips sway, setting up a rhythm to brush your sensitive slit onto the head, letting it vibrate from cunt to clit, the lube aiding the frictionless sliding and making your core drip. Quiet noises of pleasure leave your throat as help yourself, arching your back and changing the curvature of your ass to maximize the sensations, then when the perfect pattern emerges, you let out a keening sigh, and try to remain still, letting the vibrator work its magic. 

Zayne, who has been quietly observing the computer this entire time, observing the spikes relayed from the sensors, asks, “Have you found your optimal pleasure form?”

“Yes,” you gasp, the timbre of his voice sending an arrow of lust into the deepest parts of your clenching core. You knew what was about to come next. The sound of Zayne’s desk chair moving, followed by the snap of latex gloves as he pulled a fresh pair onto those beautiful hands. He approaches the examination table and takes the bottle of lube you had set aside earlier, a wet squelching noise issuing from it as he squeezes it over his gloved hand, gathering the fluid on his index and middle fingers. He leans over to whisper in your ears; the verbal stimulation has begun.

The humiliating reveal that you had a heavy praise kink had come up during your initial session and despite your insistence that it wasn’t necessary, Zayne, the ever-diligent worker, had made a note in your profile, and he’d been fulfilling it each time. A tickle of hot breath near your ear, before he murmurs, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

The hum of the vibrator in the background coupled with his voice makes your breath catch in your throat. You nod, knowing you didn’t have it in you to form coherent words. 

“That’s a good patient. Good patients listen to their doctors you know. And you’re doing a wonderful job.”

Your hips snap back to push your clit against the rubber pad, letting out a whimper of pleasure, the action pushing your ass up higher, revealing your pathetically drooling cunt, fluttering with the dissatisfaction of being unfilled. 

“Are you ready?” He waits for your consent and you manage a husky, ‘mm hm’.

“Good girl. Take a breath.”

You inhale, trying to relax, then let out an uninhibited moan as Dr. Zayne inserts his middle finger into your needy cunt, the ring of muscles offering no resistance to the probing digit. He gently thrusts a few times, before curling the tip of his finger up into the delicate patch of nerves on your upper wall, the smooth come hither motion awakening a new level of pleasure in your body. Your fingers tighten on the edges of the table, sobbing, trying not to scream at the feelings that threatened to explode from you. He keeps up the gentle assault before asking, “Are you ready for another one?”

“Yes…” your voice comes out shakily, knowing you desired more than just his fingers, but that you would never get to experience it. 

“Perfect. So well behaved, taking exactly what I give you.” Zayne’s sensual voice floods your ear before his index pushes into you, the thickness of both his fingers sending you into overdrive. Your walls clench welcomingly around him, inciting an exciting pull of liquid heat in your abdomen, the muscles tensing in anticipation for the exquisite release you knew was about to occur. 

Feeling your inhibitions abandon you as you are stroked closer to orgasm your self-control slips and his name falls from your lips as he pushes over the edge.

“Zayne…” some partially functioning confine in the back of your brain registers what you had just involuntarily purred, but the spasms rocking your core, those gratifying waves of delight flooding your body made it easier to ignore it as your being is reduced to a pliant mess of pleasure. His fingers ease up as the fluttering in your pussy calms down, your clit pulsating weakly as the final vestiges of pleasure are wrung from your body. 

With a wet noise, his fingers leave your moist hole, the glove coated with your juices and the lubricant. Awareness finally comes crashing around you as you realize what you had uttered in the throes of passion. 

“I…I didn’t…I wasn’t in control…” You try to find a way to explain, to let him know you had very little choice in the matter of sobbing his name as you orgasmed, but everything feels flat, almost on the fine line between explaining and insulting. 

“There’s no need.” Almost as if he’s read your mind, Zayne matter-of-factly redirects the conversation. “It’s not uncommon to blurt out things during climax. Some people swear, and others call out names. It was a very normal reaction considering I was the one in the room with you.”

He throws the gloves in the trash and goes to check the computer, to ensure the sensors had given him the information he needed before starting the second round of the appointment.

“Oh.” You say quietly as he sits at his desk, feeling dejected. Although relieved he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, you can’t help but feel disappointed with his reaction. Shouldn’t a man be flattered when a woman cried out his name when she came? Maybe he really was treating you strictly as a patient. And here you were, pussy exposed and spread after being probed by his dextrous fingers, mooning over him like a high school girl. Perhaps the limit of your relationship with him was in fact, doctor and patient, the childhood friends aspect fading. 

So there was no romance here at all. You had a crush on him, and he was doing his job. Reality sucks. You sniff and suddenly feel cheap, and get out of the doggystyle position and try to find the hospital gown to preserve some of your modesty. Zayne glances over at your sudden movements.

“Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”

“I’m fine.” You try to sound normal. 

“Your records show that you usually rest about 10 minutes before you are ready for the next round. Do you feel like that will be the case this time too?”

You find the gown and drag it up to your chin, covering your body as you lay back on the table. “Yeah. Actually a little sooner today maybe. I have somewhere to be.”

“You can’t rush these things. Your body will cum when it wants to. A forced orgasm doesn’t promote anything beneficial.”

“Well can we find a way for this to happen quickly and in compliance with the sensors?” You’re trying not to let your frustration show, the pleasantness of your orgasm fading. “I don’t think I have the patience to do two more rounds.”

Zayne listens to you impassively, but those amber eyes flecked with green had an underlying intensity you couldn’t place. “You don’t have the patience to do two more rounds?” He gets up and comes over to you. “You want to just leave then?” He approaches the edge of the table and there’s tension in his jaw. Perplexed, you look at him, his reaction unexpected. 

“No, I’m sorry, I know I can’t leave because of compliance and all that.”

“Compliance,” Zayne mutters under his breath before grasping your chin and forcing you to look at him, a gasp leaving your throat. 

“You’re getting frustrated because you have to do this a few times every month while being supervised? Do you have any idea what I have to do before you come in for these sessions?” His voice is a growl and you clam up, shocked by this aggressive display of expression from him.

“Every month I have to remain professional as you come in, pleasure yourself, and then leave. I have to endure seeing your beautiful body bare in front of me and control all my impulses to touch you, to not overstep my limitations as your doctor. I pleasure myself remembering the noises you make and ensure I’m well spent before coming in to do your appointments. You sit there, acting like it’s hard for you, but do you have any idea what you do to me?”

One of his knees is on the table, and he’s looming over you making you feel like a tiny animal caught in his fury. “It’s torture, to watch you. You’re not like the other patients I see. You never have been. Because with you, I always feel like I’m on the verge of losing control. Do you know how difficult it is to not do things to you that aren’t specified on your medical record? To have my fingers so intimately inside you, feel every little drop of pleasure clenching around my fingers, knowing at the end I can’t have you to myself? To hear you call my name and know that you only see me as your doctor?” 

Your face is a bright shade of red but you can’t look away from his face. His teeth are gritted, and when you dare to glance down, you see the noticeable bulge that has formed between his legs. He follows your glance and clicks his tongue, letting go of your chin. 

“I know I crossed a boundary today. It’s all right. You can go. I’ll reschedule you with another doctor. I know you didn’t want me in the first place.”

Your mind is a blur as you quickly reach out to grab his hand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. His admission was like a prayer answered, and you weren’t going to meek about this. His breath hitches as he feels you pulling at his hand and gives you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part but the words you want to say refuse to come out. 

“Damn it,” he whispers ferally before his mouth captures yours in a rough kiss. It was wild and demanding, a contrast to the reserved, patient man he usually was. You’re swept up in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the taste of his tongue, and the softness of his lips. When you break apart, his hand cups your cheek, his eyes searching your face.

“This isn’t just because of the session right?” He asks keenly and you realize what he’s asking you. He’d been aching for you before this whole stupid policy came into place. The same way you’d been longing for him. 

“No, it’s not. I had a crush on you back when you became my doctor to check on my heart condition.” A sigh of relief leaves him before he tenderly presses his forehead to yours, and you’re caught up in the sweetness of the moment. 

“I just had to be sure.”

Boldly, you raise your head, delighted when he meets you, pulled back into his kiss, your tongues sliding over each other, your fingers tangling into his hair, scratching the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

You gasp as he breaks the kiss to drag his tongue down the column of your throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the heated flesh, your blood humming in your veins as your eyes flutter closed. He pulls away the gown and pulls your perked nipple into his mouth, and you revel in the jolt of pleasure it brings you, each suckle felt in your clit which had already swollen up again in need. His fingers capture your other nipple, softly tweaking and pulling it and drawing little whines of desire from your throat. 

Your hand finds the junction between his legs and cups the heavy bulge, drawing a groan from him, palming him through his slacks, feeling it grow and tent the fabric under your ministrations. A low guttural sound leaves him and he gets off the table, and you almost protest until you see him dragging the small wheeled stool from earlier towards the table. He settles down on it, looping his arms around the tops of your thighs and pulling you closer to the table's edge until your feet find the stirrups again. 

“Stay open for me darling,” he instructs, his eyes glittering and you shiver as you feel his breath against your swollen folds. You squeak as he pushes your folds apart with his nose, inhaling your scent, his eyes growing dark with lust. “You smell delicious. I always wondered. Had to stop myself from sniffing my gloves after you climaxed. Not professional you know.” 

The musky tang of your pussy fills his senses, and his tongue darts out and dips into your slit, finding the swollen bud and licking it with just the right pressure that makes your toes curl and stars pop into your vision. 

Your hand rests on his head, tugging his beautiful dark locks, his name falling from your lips without barriers. Your hips rock against him, moaning, then let a sob as his lips suction around your clit. His fingers, free from the gloves at last, probe your entrance, scissoring inside to prepare you for what was to come before they curl up into that gummy patch that he knew too well. 

The sensations flood you, and the sheer knowledge of knowing you had Zayne touching you this way, unbound by the usual rules was sending you into a frenzy. Incoherent noises leave your mouth, crying out hotly as he teases the orgasm from you, your body shivering from the intensity. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and takes in your appearance, so soft and satisfied on his table, a dreamy look in your eyes.

“Are you prepared for the after?” he asks, you nod, more than eager to experience him. A sly smile crosses his face before he reaches over into the little chest of drawers by the table and pulls out a condom. 

“Hospitals have free condoms. It would be impractical to not use one when it’s on hand.” He explains seeing your questioning look and stands to undo his pants. You watch curiously as his cock is finally freed, eyes widening as it faces you, so impressive and veiny, standing proudly with a slight curve in its length. His pubes were neatly trimmed at the base, ebony curls visible behind the shaft. As he starts to roll on the condom, you feel your whole body heating up in anticipation. 

He leans down to kiss you before taking your feet and resting them on his shoulders, his cock at the perfect angle to enter you. As he sinks into your welcoming heat, you let out a sigh of longing, feeling the delicious stretch of muscle as he pushes up inside you, gasping as you feel his full length sheathe itself. As he bottoms out, his eyes close in bliss, hardly daring to believe that after all this time, he is finally getting to fulfill this private dream. 

Each stroke has him brushing against your gspot and kissing your cervix as he paces himself, feeling the primal urge to take you roughly and selfishly calling at his self-control. A growl leaves his throat as you whimper, straining towards him as the both of you struggle to keep a grip on reality. He feels the seductive way your walls clench around him, hears the soft noises you make, sees your face contort in pleasure with every roll of his hips. 

“Oh you feel so good,” he pants hotly, glasses askew, almost at the tip of his nose as he thrusts. “Clenching me so needily. Gonna milk me dry.”

Your response is a shuddering whimper, your back arching greedily to feel all of him, creating the perfect curvature to brush your clit against the base of his erection with each push of his hips. He feels the little bud on his heated skin, your combined fluids dripping onto his shaft, slickening the bundle of nerves with each stroke. 

“Be a good girl and cum on my cock the way you do on my fingers.” Zayne’s voice is husky as he tries to hold on, damned if he came before you. “I know you want to. I can feel the way your walls are spasming. They always do this pattern before you orgasm.”

The fact that he had memorized this knowledge of you was too much and you let go, your voice filling the room as you climax. Zayne’s hips stutter as he feels you around his length, pussy fluttering so him. His pace quickens, the sound of slapping skin becoming more and more urgent, his balls hitting your ass each time as he chases his orgasm. 

A shiver passes through his body as it happens and he buries himself in your warmth. You hum in satisfaction as you feel his cock twitch and pulse inside you as he spills his load. He pants, sweat on his forehead as he bends down to kiss you again, carefully lowering your legs which burn from the stretch as they settle on the stirrups. 

Threading your fingers through his hair, you brush your noses together, smiling shyly at him as he smirks, his eyes closing as he catches his breath.

“Can I see you outside of my office sometime?” he asks and you laugh at the invitation. 

“Are you asking me out on a date after having sex just once?” you tease as he grips the base of the condom and slides out, your pussy feeling the loss keenly. 

“I have been wanting to for a while. I was just wondering if I was misreading the signals. But I think I have a solid answer now.” He helps you sit up and cradles your body against his, idly stroking your skin, before gently removing the sensors off your body. 

“Let’s get dressed,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead after a moment of cozy silence, and the both of you hunt down your clothes. As he fixes his tie, Zayne passes by his computer and lets out an amused huff. 

“Something funny?” you ask as you button your blouse.

“The sensors definitely gave enough information to make anyone’s head spin.” You walk over and snort as you see the window, full of sharp spikes. 

“Well, at least I am guaranteed you had a good time.” Zayne’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“I’m not changing my doctor,” you reassure him as you pull away. There’s amusement in his gaze when he replies. 

“Oh, definitely not. I think if the Hunter’s Association ever sees this record, they’ll heavily advise you to remain with the same healthcare professional.” 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating support banner by @/ cafekitsune @theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @actuallysaiyan

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Found this while going through my fanfic files, and i absolutely had to share.

Danny: i want in

Red robin: …what?

Danny: your bat family. I want in.

Red robin, blinking in surprise: i dont know what you think you know about my associates, but we're not-

Danny: dont be obtuse. I know youre the smart one. And i also know that your all one big relatively happy family. I want in.

Red robin: …why?

Danny: because you guys are the first people ive found that are wealthy, intelligent and powerful enough to take on my fruitloop godfather and win AND are decent enough human beings that i can be assured that when all is said and done, my well-being will remain a top priority.

Orphan, appearing out of nowhere: new brother!

Danny: *stares in shock*

Danny: *sudden uncanny grin* well that's one convinced. How do i win over the rest?

Orphan: no need. New brother!

Red robin: *pointed glance of betrayal* fine. Who is your godfather?

Danny: vlad masters. He's a fruitloop.

Red robin: for real? B's been investigating him for years! Tell me everything! *genuinely excited for a new lead*

Danny: well, he's tried to murder my dad and marry my mom, gained his wealth illegally, committed voting fraud to become the mayor of my hometown, has a secret underground lab where he does unethical experiments, and he's abducted me more than a dozen times even before my parents disowned me to make me his evil apprentice or whatever. Now that im homeless, he's literally out to get me. Oh! And he's cloned me too! She's cool though, we're buddies now.

Batman, who just arrived but heard everything over comms: hn. (Translation: who are you?)

Danny: my name is Danny. No last name anymore, but im hoping itll soon be Wayne! *winking suggestively*

Batman: hn? (how much do you know?)

Danny: enough to know that youre a much better alternative to vlad.

Batman: …hn (i dont know anything about you. What if youre a spy for vlad?)

Danny, giving his salesman pitch: i was a teen vigilante in amity park before i had to run away from home for my own safety. Vlad is one of my rogues. I know how to fight and defend myself, how to minimize collateral damage in a fight, and ive gotten really good and escaping kidnapping attempts. Ive also managed to reform and/or make allies out of approximately half of my rogues and can talk down about 30% of all rogue confrontations before they turn into a messy fight. The other things i can bring to the table are: one, i can teach all of you guys proper liminality self care; two, i can probably minimize and possibly cure red hood's anger issues; three, i can get along with stabby robin because i consider fighting a friendly social interaction - he can even stab me and i wont be injured by it; four, i can be your go-to guy for supernatural cases so you no longer have to deal with that sad trenchcoat man; five-

Red robin: *blurting* youre hired.

Batman: hn (i am deeply concerned)

Danny: if youre concerned now, wait until i tell you about the anti ecto control act

Nightwing, who showed up in the middle of the sales pitch: ive never seen anyone crack B's grunt language so quickly

Danny: grunt language? He's just using ghost speak - which will be covered by the liminality self care lessons

Robin, who arrived with batman: what is a liminal?

Danny: all of you, of course! Otherwise you wouldnt need to learn about it, obviously

Robin: and why would we trust you?

Danny: did i mention i have a pet ghost dog?

Robin: …you drive a hard bargain

Danny, fist pumping: yes! That's three!

Nightwing: four, you got me when you could understand B's grunting

Red Hood, arrived with nightwing: five, assuming you arent lying about the pit rage

Danny, hand to his chest: i would never!

Orphan: honesty. Earnest. New brother.

Oracle, over comms: six. The anti ecto acts are legit and im terrified for his safety, assuming he's phantom, who is the vigilante of amity park

Spoiler, arrived with orphan: seven, as long as youre down for a few pranks

Batman: hn (ive been outvoted)

Batman: hnn (i dont wanna hear any jokes about adoption habits when you all forced my hand)

Batman: hn (that said)

Batman: welcome to the family

Duke, the next day: man, i miss out on everything exciting.

Duke, blinded by danny: and who the fuck told bruce he could adopt the fucking sun?!

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[woantohae]

Only you || The Void x reader x Bob Reynolds

Summary: Bob's dark, evil entity, The Void, appears when you least expect it. The rest of the team must be prepared to confront him and his prevailing malice. However, there is only one person on the team with whom he has a soft spot. And it's her.

Author's note: this is an anonymous request that i needed to write inmediately. So, here you go. Enjoy it!

《tags: fluff, curse words, the void having a soft spot for the reader, thunderbolts being kinda like a 'found family' trope》

Bob watched the girl from a distance while she prepared dinner.

It wasn't a secret to anyone that Bob was attracted to Y/N. The whole team used to tease him about it, until his ears turned red. John was more insistent on it along with Alexei, who motivated him to ask her out. After meeting them and fighting the group, they decided to put their differences aside and help the man who only wanted to control his powers. Or rather, control him. The Void.

The entity that used to control man when he least expected it or felt like it. He had dark desires and every time he appeared, the rest of the group had to confront him and try to bring him back. However, it was in vain. His powerful entity wouldn't allow a group of powerless people to lock him up like that. When he appeared, he stalked them through the corridors of the compound and often mock them.

Before it was much more chaotic. The first few days Bob tried to prevent the entity from invading him from the inside, but it was impossible. When he came back to himself, he was greeted by Y/N who tried to hold him by the shoulders to stabilize him, while she watched behind the girl's back how the compound was in a mess and, sometimes, on fire.

He didn't remember much of what happened when The Void consumed him. But it always happened that John showed up with a bleeding nose and Bucky adjusting his metal arm.

Somehow, they got used to it and prepared for the worst.

Alexei walks up to the brunette and pats his shoulder gently, scaring him away in the process.

"Shit," Bob says, turning to look at the bearded man, who laughs.

"Seriously, you should try to approach her," he says with an accent. "It seems like it's something mutual."

"Who? Bob and Y/N?" John joins the conversation.

Alexei nods "Oh, yeah. You should try it," John advises with amusement and mischief in his tone.

Bob takes one more look at the girl, who is chatting with Bucky and Yelena, animatedly. Although Y/N ​​had always shown him to trust him, Bob couldn't give himself the pleasure of approaching her so soon and in that way. He wasn't sure, and he didn't want to hurt her, especially if he decided to have The Void appear at any moment.

"You should do it before a certain soldier tries something with her," John scoffs, seeing if he gets a reaction from him.

An annoying feeling arises in his chest and he swallows as if this act will make it better.

"I've seen a lot of closeness between Bucky and Y/N." Bob frowns as he watches Bucky gently place his hand on the girl's arm.

"You should actually worry about your other... ugh!" Alexei receives a punch to the back of the head from John "Why did you do that?"

John rolls his eyes in annoyance and curses under his breath. Then, he looks at the brunette and sighs. "You should go for it"

He feels an evil sensation slowly invade his body, and he is aware of what is about to happen. He continues to look at the scene in front of his eyes and clenches his fists tightly. John watches the scene with amusement as he feels Ava position herself next to him and whisper to her, without her reaching Bob's hearing.

"Are we still with the bet?" Ava smiles with amusement and shows him a 20 dollar bill. "Only if it turns out that the other one always shows up when he sees that Y/N is close to Bucky. And of course, if he treats us like shit at the table while being soft for her"

"You bet," John says confidently.

Alexei frowns and crosses his arms.

"What did you bet?"

"20 bucks that Void treats us like shit while he treats Y/N so softly" Alexei laughs unamusedly and shakes his head.

He watches as Bob gets up from the couch to slowly but surely approach the rest in the kitchen.

"That's impossible. That thing is crazy, I don't think it's like that"

Ava raises an eyebrow. "Do you want to bet?"

Alexei just smiles.

Void was at the table with them.

It was no longer Bob who was in the room. The man's evil personality looked closely at each of them, who sensed a change in the environment. Void looked at Alexei who was happily eating his plate, and then turned his gaze to Y/N.

John cleared his throat and turned to look at Bob.

"Bob, aren't you going to eat?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. Void looks at him with seriousness on his face.

Suddenly he makes a grimace of disgust on his face that does not go unnoticed by the others.

"I don't feel like eating anything you guys have made," he spits firmly. He pushes the plate away and crosses his arms.

"Oh, what a shame," Ava intervenes. "Y/N spent a lot of time preparing this dish. It's one of her special recipes."

The named woman opens her eyes in surprise and looks at Bob. Y/N is looking at the man carefully, and realizes that it is not Bob's bright eyes that are watching her, but the other him.

"Shit" Yelena curses.

"We've got Void here, guys," Alexei announces, munching on his food.

Void narrows his eyes and looks at Y/N, asking:

"Did you prepare dinner?" Y/N nods her head.

"If you want I can prepare something else" she says. Yelena snorts and looks amused at the scene in front of her eyes.

"You better behave, Void," the blonde warns.

"This could get messy" Bucky gulps his drink.

Void with an automatic movement, brings the plate closer and takes the fork to bring the food to his mouth. Savoring the dish prepared by Y/N. He couldn't let them see him enjoy the dish, he wouldn't allow it. But seeing how Y/N's eyes looked at him expectantly, he allowed himself to nod his head.

"It's good," he says coldly. Y/N smiles and continues eating.

“Wow, who knew the monster himself could enjoy a meal prepared by Y/N,” John scoffs.

Void raises his hand and throws him away from the table, making him crash against the wall. Void continues eating, under the watchful eyes of the rest.

"If someone doesn't want to end up like the soldier, I would suggest you to keep eating," he warns.

"Whatever you say, pal" Yelena says, sipping her drink.

Alexei grimaces as he sees Ava's triumphant face.

Something tells him, he's gonna lose that bet.

Yelena and Bucky had joined the bet, while Taskmaster decided to stay out of the whole thing. As always.

The next thing the group saw was when they were fighting some smugglers of the Super Soldier serum.

Bucky was trying to fight against the leader of the gang, while Ava hit some men with precise and agile movements. Alexei was punching, enjoying the moment, while John and Taskmaster were in charge of knocking down everyone who crossed them. Yelena, Y/N and Bob were trying to take the serum samples that were hidden, but eight armed men entered the room.

"Take care of the serum, we'll keep them busy" Y/N says, occupying her powers.

Bob started fighting alongside her, trying to take them down and make sure she was okay. The duo was winning the fight, but without noticing the bullet that one of the bad guys had fired, it had grazed Y/N's arm, causing her to curse and stop using her powers, while receiving a punch from a man. The girl falls unconscious to the ground, while Bob grunts and feels Void's presence take control of his person.

He screams and feels it take over him, losing control. Void glares at the one who hit the girl, while with a wave of his hand, he sends the guy he was fighting with into complete darkness.

"You...." points to the man, who swallows nervously about what will happen next. "You shouldn't have done that." And he destroys him with his hand.

Yelena observes the scene as she returns with the serum case in her hand. Void doesn't look at her, his attention is focused on taking Y/N into his arms. When he takes her against his body bridal style, he raises his dark, dominant gaze to the blonde.

"Is she okay?" Yelena asks referring to the unconscious girl. Void clenches his jaw and walks past her while replying that the girl is fine now.

Now that he has her safe.

The rest of the group arrives agitated and they can see how Void doesn't even spare them a glance, he is worried about holding the girl tightly in his arms and then leaving through the balcony of the building and flying away.

John narrows his eyes and watches with an amused grimace as Alexei curses.

"It would be 40 bucks, Alexei," he pats his back, "I suggest you break your piggy bank."

When Void arrives with Y/N ​​at the compound, he immediately heads to "Bob's" room to leave her lying on the mattress. He watches as her chest rises and falls calmly, while he clenches his jaw and sees the cut on her temple.

He could have unleashed all his power to destroy the bastards who caused that, but he knew—as crazy as it may seem to him and he is against the idea of ​​controlling himself—that he could have killed the group, even Y/N. And he didn't want that to happen. Unlike Sentry, his dark side couldn't hold back and always got out of control, but when he met Y/N everything seemed to calm down a little for him. No matter how crazy it seemed.

Void observes Y/N's sleepy figure and crouches down to her level to bring his face closer to her hair, sniffing the scent of her shampoo. Vainilla with coconut. That seemed to calm him down.

A few hours pass and Void takes it upon himself to still maintain control of Bob's body to keep an eye on the girl. The rest arrived at the premises with injuries and barely walking, they stopped as soon as they saw the man's dark suit.

"How is she?" Bucky asks. Void crosses his arms and looks at him with his usual coldness.

"She's sleeping," he answers bluntly.

Yelena points her head to the door of the room. "Is she in Bob's room?" He nods his head.

Bucky sighs and takes a few steps until he walks into the room. "I should go check on her."

However, he is stopped by the other's hand, earning a confused and disapproving look. "

What's wrong with you? I want to go check on her" Void smiles coldly.

"It won't be necessary. She's with me." Bucky snorts and looks at him defiantly.

"She's my friend. I should check on her."

"Guys...." Ava warns.

Void laughs with amusement.

"Don't make it any harder, Barnes," he points out. "You know how this will end if you confront me."

Bucky sets his jaw and clenches his metal fist.

"Guys" a female voice is heard. Void turns around instantly and sees Y/N touching her head.

"Shit, this hurt" she complains.

Bucky looks at her and goes to her, while Void follows him without taking his eyes off the girl.

"Do you need me to bring you ice?" Yelena asks going to the refrigerator.

"Please," she asks.

"I'll do it," Void orders firmly. Y/N looks at the man and is surprised to see Void. Lately she has been seeing him more than Bob himself.

Alexei curses and goes to the room, thinking that he will have to pay more money to the rest.

"Shit"

Void takes the ice pack from the blonde's hands and Y/N walks over to gently hold it out to her. Ava watches the scene carefully as she sees how he acts with the other girl on the team. Yelena stands next to Ghost and arches an eyebrow as she holds the side of her rib.

"Who knew Void could have a heart after all" she says mockingly.

It was a rainy night and everyone in the compound was sleeping peacefully. Everyone except Bob, who wandered through the hallways without being able to fall asleep.

He didn't remember much from the previous days, only that he had worried that Y/N had a small cut on her temple. He sat on the couch and listened to the rain fall, while behind him Y/N approached with a smile on her face.

"There you are" Bob jumps and turns to see Y/N sitting next to him, a blanket surrounding her body "I was starting to wonder when would you come back"

Bob smiles nervously.

"It wasn't me. It was..."

"Void," she finishes, with a slight smile. Bob tenses.

"I hope he hasn't caused too much trouble," he murmurs.

Y/N shakes her head. "You'd be surprised, actually."

He frowns.

"Why?"

"He helped me when I got knocked out the time we went on that mission," she reminds him. Bob begins to remember and remembers that the last thing he saw that day was Y/N falling unconscious to the ground.

He looks at the girl's already healed cut.

"Are you better now? Do you need anything?" Y/N smiles and plays with her fingers under the blanket.

She moves closer to him and hears him swallow.

"Actually, i do. I needed you to tell me if..." she lowers her voice "you feel the same way"

Bob widens his eyes.

"What? I...."

"I know you have feelings for me, Bob" she confesses.

"Shit. I-I can explain it" he says hurriedly "I didn't want you to know, but the boys knew and...."

She interrupts him with a kiss on the lips.

Bob freezes for a few moments and then gently reciprocates. He raises his hands to the girl's red cheeks and lets himself be carried away by the kiss. He adores the feeling, and he doesn't want to stop.

They both separate and a shy smile appears on Y/N's face.

"Is it clear to you now that this is something mutual?" she asks him.

Bob nods his head eagerly, and dares to ask: "Could you make it clearer to me?"

She smiles and kisses him again. He gladly reciprocates, but within seconds he feels how the other takes control of him. Void is in charge of lowering his hands from the girl's cheeks until he slides them around her waist and sits her on his lap, an action that surprises the girl. Especially when "Bob" decides to bite her lips gently, making the girl moan. She separates instantly and notices how Bob's nervous face becomes confident and mischievous.

"What? I couldn't let him enjoy you all to himself" he says grimly.

“God,” Y/N murmurs, letting out a sigh.

"No, I'm just Void. But thank you" he pulls her close to his body and looks into her eyes "I must say that you captivated me to have me under your control, sweetheart"

She swallows and licks her lips. Void can't help but look at her.

"I'll have to get used to this, right?" she asks, leaning on the shoulders of the entity taking over the boy's body. He nods smiling.

"Promise me something"

"Anything, dear," he says against his lips.

"You're going to calm down with the others" Void rolls his eyes and doesn't like the plan, but seeing the pleading gleam in the girl's eyes, he curses and responds in disgust.

"Okay," he says, "Only because you asked me to. Now could we get back to kissing?"

She shakes her head in amusement and captures his lips in another kiss. Hoping that Bob will also enjoy this when he takes control again.

"Oh, c'mon!" Alexei exclaims.

[usedpidemo]

Savior (aespa Karina)

“Someone help me. Please!”

“Scream as loud as you can, no one’s coming to save you, princess.”

“That’s right. So just be a good girl and give us your money.”

“Help!”

It’s at this point where, against your better judgment, you stop dead in your tracks. The damsel in distress’s right behind you, backed into a corner by two bullies. Her possessions are strewn all over the floor, purposefully kicked out of her reach. There hasn’t been much physical harm done to the girl, but she looks to be the delicate type—someone who’s bound to crumble and break after a few hits.

Looking over your shoulder, the two students spot you and turn their attention against you immediately, recognizing you as a threat. “Hey,” says the first student, stepping forward to intimidate you with his burly physique. “This has nothing to do with you. Run along if you don’t want to join this loser over here.”

“Yeah. Don’t go around acting tough just cause you got two other guys with you. Just keep it pushing,” says the second thug, lankier in figure, in agreement with his partner.

Standing your ground, you steel your resolve, having no intention to run. In fact, it’s the complete opposite: you’re down for a fight. Your two companions also follow suit.

“So you wanna be a hero? You’re gonna regret it,” the first bully says, cracking his fists, ready to swing. “Oh, you’re so gonna regret it!”

That is to say, he’s the one who’s about to regret his life choices.

Like a raging bull, the thug lunges toward you, only for you to swiftly kick his legs from underneath, sending him flying across the hallway before he violently lands head first on the ground, most certainly giving him a concussion. He’s done.

The second bully tries to throw a follow-up punch, but you stop its momentum with one hand. Twisting it sideways, the bones crack loud, immediately followed by a screech of pain from his lungs. He drops to the floor in agony, holding his bent knuckle with his healthy arm.

“Oh—oh God—oh fuck—fuck—” Tears flowing from his eyes, he grovels in extreme discomfort, unable to stand before you. “What are you—”

“Now run,” you order, and he promptly complies, hopping off the ground, then fleeing in the opposite direction.

All that’s left is the girl. She had been watching the entire time. She’s overjoyed.

“Y-you saved me,” she says, tone relieved and her spirits held high. “How can I thank you—”

“Don’t push it,” you tell her, already walking away with your companions, waving her off. You don’t help her as she gathers her belongings. “Don’t get yourself in danger next time.”

Part of you already has second thoughts saving this girl. Jimin, the name written on her ID, is undeniably pretty, but you have nothing to gain from this encounter—or from her. She’s only studying in this university on a scholarship, and it shows in her appearance: she’s not the cleanest, nor is as well dressed as everyone else on campus. At best, you’ll probably get called into the office regarding this incident, as well as getting another target placed on your back by those bullies.

None of which are worth a drop of your concern. You can study anywhere else; you have the resources and the connections courtesy of your rich family, and the two companions by your side are your trusted bodyguards that have been with you since childhood. You can honestly live out your whole life without even lifting a finger. Generational wealth is the ultimate lifehack.

And yet, you’re in college at the behest of your parents, who spend more time abroad than at home. This is you going through the motions, looking after yourself.

After the next class, right as everyone’s packing their things and exiting, you spot her again. Jimin’s natural beauty is a lovely sight for the eyes. It’s only now do you realize you’ve shared at least one class with her. Maybe more; you’re too oblivious to the world around you to really notice. You only care about the bell that rings at the top of the hour so you can finally go home.

“Hey,” Jimin suddenly calls out to you, having noticed you glancing at her every now and then. You attempt to feign ignorance, but she approaches you and seizes your hand, catching you red-handed. “Can I speak to you, please?”

She sounds too nice to turn away. You’d be in the wrong to ignore her.

Still, you won’t fully look at her, the glint in her eyes blinding. You can only pray this is a brief exchange. “Sure. But make it quick.”

“I just want to say thank you—for earlier,” she says, her voice warm and sincere. She’s shaking your hand in appreciation; you allow her. “I’m not as rich as everyone else here, as you can see.” She looks down at her modest wear, apologetic about her appearance for some reason, “So—I don’t really have much. I’m only here on a scholarship—”

“Right.” You interrupt her, trying your hardest not to sound annoyed or bothered, though some of that impatience permeates through your filter. “Anything else you wanna say?”

Jimin becomes flustered, seemingly aroused by your low voice. A brief glance reveals her cheeks flushed red, her body trembling anxiously. She can’t have her way with words, either. “S-sorry. I just wanna say if you need help with schoolwork or anything, my services are available! My grades are good, I promise! That’s all. Again, thanks and see you around!”

Before you can even say a word or call her name, she already has one foot out the door, along with her belongings.

—————

One look at the student database proves her point: Yu Jimin, nickname Karina, might be what she advertised: an academic genius.

Her grades are mostly in the mid nineties across the board, if not low nineties. She’s only a year away from graduating—alongside you. The offer lingers on your mind, positively tempting.

“Sir, this just seems like a waste of money,” your one bodyguard turned hacker tells you, swiveling his desk chair around to face you. “There are more reputable tutors with better qualifications we can fly in from across the country if you really need a personal tutor. Also, your grades are good as they are. You don’t seem to be struggling with any specific major or subject right now. There’s no reason for this.”

“Yeah, and whose money are we spending?” you reply, annoyed at his admittedly sensible comment. 

“What will your family say about this?”

“Did I ask to be enrolled in this university? This course? Besides, they’ve never shown up for any of my graduations! I doubt this will be any different in a year or so. Go find her number so I can contact her.”

Sighing in defeat, he eventually acquiesces. They have to. “Of course, sir.”

—————

The next day on campus, Karina’s seated at the dining hall with her friends. Her eyes can only focus on one thing, or in this case, one man: the person that saved her yesterday. 

“You’re serious? Him?” Ningning looks concerned about her friend. She’s glaring at him with plenty of skepticism. They all know who he is. Not Karina, though. “That guy’s no good at all.”

“What are you saying?” she looks at her, puzzled at her comment. “He really did save me from those bullies. Don’t you believe me?”

“Yeah, but like—he’s not a good person!” Giselle frowns at the man, hiding the bottom half of her face behind her hands. “He’s a chaebol kid. He’s seriously no good! I’ve heard he gets into fights often; that's why he has bodyguards to intimidate anyone who tries to oppose him.”

“Rumor says he’s in cahoots with some crime syndicate—or at least his dad is,” Minjeong interjects, more trepid than anything. “That’s how he got his money. Who knows what kind of evil they might be doing!”

“But he was nice to me yesterday! If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have tried to save me, you know?” Karina stubbornly pays no heed, insisting her case to them, despite their growing frustration and fright. “You guys are overthinking this way too much.”

“It’s just so he can gaslight you into believing he’s a good guy. Please, Karina, he’s not what you think he is.” Ningning implores for her to listen, but to no avail.

“We’re not saying he’s truly bad, but there are signs,” Minjeong adds, agreeing with Ningning. “We just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Look—if he’s actually a bad guy, I’m running, all right? I’m ditching him right then and there, no questions asked.” Karina reassures them, hoping to calm them down right as the man approaches their table. “He’s coming right now.”

While the others silently avoid any form of contact or communication with you, hiding their not so subtle disdain, she happily waves. “Hi. Did you think about it?”

“Yeah,” you tell her, nodding. “I’m interested.”

“Really?” Karina’s eyes gleam at the opportunity. “What do you need help with?”

“Lots. I’ll tell you after class.” Knowing her friends are evidently uncomfortable with your presence, you simply walk past her and through the cafeteria door. “See you around.”

“Bye!” she waves at you again, delighted that you’ve taken up on her offer.

When it’s clear that you’re no longer in sight, Karina’s friends turn to her in utter disbelief.

“Please tell me you’re not going to—”

“I will.”

“Oh, God dammit.”

“Karina, please.”

—————

Later that day, Karina’s waiting by the campus parking lot, holding on to the promise of you showing up. It’s been almost an hour since classes ended and there’s no sign of you anywhere nearby. It looks like you’ll leave her out to dry, until—

“Miss Karina.” A man calls out to her from inside a luxurious car. As the windows roll down, she recognizes the driver as one of your companions. One of the rear doors automatically swings open. “Please step inside.”

Without a second thought, she enters the vehicle before it drives away.  

During the ride, the bodyguard asks her a question. “Does Miss Yu have a drink preference?”

She’s slowly taking it all in, flustered at how you’re treating her so generously. It’s overwhelming at times. “N-no. I’m not really a drinker. W-where’s—”

“He has already gone ahead. He’s preparing the house ahead of your arrival. When we get there, you will change clothes before meeting him. At his request, I have been assigned as your personal assistant and driver.”

“Y-you? Assistant?” She can hardly believe it. “Wow…”

Karina is rendered speechless for the rest of the ride. She’s taken aback at her sudden change in predicament. It’s a Cinderella story through and through. The only missing element is some antagonistic force threatening to end this fantasy abruptly, but that’s the least of her worries. What’s more concerning is how she’ll compose herself before you.

Especially when she sees the scale of your house upon arriving. She’s never seen wealth this exceedingly open and grand.

There’s no time to admire the opulence, however. She’s brought inside hastily by your bodyguard. Inside, a team of stylists are waiting, rushing her upstairs and into one of the bedrooms for a complete overhaul. They’re careful to measure her hair, her size, her everything. Everything is done on the spot, with next to nothing in terms of personal input from Karina herself.

—————

You hear it. The gentle, careful steps of heels clicking. Karina’s ready. So are you.

Turning around to welcome her, you’ve got this whole speech practiced and memorized, with a card hidden in your pocket for good measure. Instead, you end up tongue tied; her presence proves overwhelming to the senses. You can only stare in awe. All black dress and matching heels aside, she looks like an angel descended from heaven. Without blemish, without any sort of imperfection. She’s unreal. 

Any less of a person you are and you would have fallen to your knees on the spot, groveling on the ground when Karina walks forward, ignoring how nervous she is as you. She modestly smiles, carefully twiddling her fingers. She doesn’t recognize how pretty she is.

It becomes all the more embarrassing when Karina makes the first move. “I knew you were rich, but not this rich.” Her eyes are glancing around the expansive room, admiring all the little details, thankfully dismissing how speechless you are.

“Mhm,” is all you’re able to blurt out, unsure of what to say. In her sight, you’re her hero, her knight in shining armor that can seemingly do no wrong. Meanwhile, you’re overcompensating your lack of social skills by hiding behind a shallow enigma and as much vanity as possible. “Not exactly my money, to be fair. My parents raised me like this.”

You’re trying not to look anywhere in her direction—whether that be her pretty eyes, her warm smile, or her shapely figure in that body-hugging dress. It’s the only way you can function normally without completely falling apart.

“So—you’re gonna introduce me to them?” she asks, her tone saccharine and innocent. 

“I wish,” you reply, sighing wistfully thinking about their absence throughout most of your formative years. She’s unaware; you’ll let the insensitive question slide. Only for her. So you immediately change the topic. “Let’s go outside. Our dinner is waiting for us.”

You reach out your hand to her, and she takes it without hesitation. In your mind, you’re already jumping around, performing cartwheels in celebration, with fireworks blasting everywhere. For the most part, you’ve been punching up, failing to impress girls unimpressed with your wealth and are far beyond your reach. Everyone else in that campus would kill to be in Karina’s position right now, but something about her caught your eye that no one has. 

The purity in this girl’s heart is something else. 

Outside, a table full of hearty food is set before you two, a candle lit at its center. Sitting her down on one end before joining her at the other, it’s only background dressing for conversation. She refuses to eat, struggling to make sense of all this. The appeal behind all this luxury is wearing off at an alarming rate.

“What’s up? Not hungry?” you gently ask, already making predictions of her answer. Your designated assistant for her is on standby for anything she wants.

“Not really,” she says, her eyes staring back, wide, accompanied with her innocuous smile. A direct attack on your heart. “I’m—here for tutoring first. I don’t know what this is all for.”

“Yeah. You are here to help me,” you tell her, your mind racing with a hundred different thoughts, already in a state of panic. “I’m just—” you swallow a sudden lump in your throat, “welcoming you since it’s your first time visiting.”

“Like, I think this is really cool! I appreciate what you’re doing, but I can’t afford any of this.” Karina’s trying not to put any more pressure on you, but it’s really doing the exact opposite: you’re already seeing signs of a terrible end. “I just thought you were nice because you saved me from those bullies, you know? That’s it.”

“Yeah. I know,” you reply, looking down as the awkward air between you grows larger and larger. See, she has a point: it was never about asking for help, nor was it ever about improving your grades. It was always about her. Something changed overnight. You simply don’t know how to directly convey those feelings. 

“So—let’s just keep things between us simple,” Karina proposes. She rises from her seat, walking over with a hand on your shoulder. “I’m here to help you with whatever project, research, whatever—you only have to pay for my services. Is that good enough?”

“Wait. Karina let me ask one thing,” you say, finally mustering the courage to look her directly in the eye. 

“What is it?”

“Your friends,” you rapidly blink, “What did they say about me?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you that.” Her answer is delivered bluntly, straight to the point.

“They think I’m a bad guy, right?”

“N-no,” Karina stammers. That’s where you catch her. “They never said anything like that—”

Suddenly dragging her by the arm down to your level, you whisper in her ear, “Don’t have to lie, princess. I’m not gonna tell anyone. It’s only between us. Promise.”

Karina’s unsure of what to do. She’s quietly keening, lightly sweating, looking around for an out. The points her friends made are starting to make sense, but there’s nothing substantial—not yet.

After taking a moment, she folds. “They think your dad’s working with a syndicate. That’s it! There’s nothing else—”

You lightly shove her away, immediately concealing your face in the opposite direction. You didn’t expect her to catch on quickly. Karina’s utterly shocked by what you just did to her, cupping her cheek.

Empathy overrides every other thought.

“Sorry. I just—” You immediately approach her with a handkerchief, immediately assessing the damages, what little they might be. Karina takes a step back, trembling with fear.

“So, it’s true after all.” Her eyes widen. Gone is that sweet innocence; taking its place is a heightened sense of panic. “You’re really a bad guy—”

“Wait, Karina.” You raise a delicate hand, your voice as calm and little as possible. “Please give me a moment to explain.”

“Go on,” she says, cautiously wary, readying herself to run at any given moment. “But say it quickly,”

Stretching your body out to pursue her, examining her every move, every muscle. It didn’t have to end up like this. Surely, there are safer, more inconsequential ways to explain yourself. What a first date you’ve gotten into.

“It’s—not exactly what you think,” you tell her. Out of all the things to begin your justification, you’ve picked the worst possible choice.

“Really?” Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t buy it. “What’s with the reaction, then?”

Hesitating, you’re scrambling to find a believable reason, only to find just one option: the truth. “I—well—your friends are right, but—my dad doesn’t have anything to do with criminals!”

“So it’s you who’s dealing with them?” she replies, her brows furrowing, glaring at you.

“It’s nothing really serious, though. And I’m not involved with anything either! Believe me, I’m not going to get you hurt!”

Throughout this tense exchange, you’ve both made your way back to the house, one big step at a time.

“Trust me when I say: the only reason why I helped you was because I didn’t want to see you hurt,” you continue, your voice cracking. “Goddamn it—this is why I shouldn’t have stepped in, fuck—”

“You did that because—” she pauses, “you cared about me? For real?”

“I guess so,” you say, nodding vehemently, both your hands still raised high starting to ache. “I don’t do that for anyone! My bodyguards tell me to ignore what’s happening, but I just can’t stand someone as pretty as you getting hurt like that.”

“Y-you think I’m pretty?” Karina blinks, coming out twinkling and doe-eyed at the sudden revelation.

Secret’s out. There’s nothing to hide anymore.

Pausing, you admit, nodding much less energetically, silently cursing yourself spilling your innermost thoughts so casually, “Well, yes. I think you’re beautiful. All the more now.”

Karina stops moving. Her wariness is turning back to more open and willing caution. “So—this was really all for me.”

You continue to nod, this time in agreement. She still has so many questions. About you, your family, your income, your secret dealings. Clearly, her friends are onto something, whether by luck or by some past experience; not a hundred percent, but at least five to ten. It would be rash and irrational to completely trust every word you’ve said. No amount of kindness can possibly make up for the worry you’ve given her—

“Come here,” she says, lunging forward to wrap you in a sudden, tight embrace. Before you can comprehend anything else, her lips are pressed deeply against yours, sealing your fate with a passionate kiss. 

That’s where it should have stopped. A better person would have pushed her away, taken things slowly, spoken her through the terms of engagement. Even Karina said it herself; this is a transactional relationship. But seeing as you’re taking lease of her back, as well as her waist, tasting her saccharine lips—it appears as if she’s reneged on her word. 

You feel her tongue slip between your mouth, humming these incomprehensible delightful sounds your ears want to hear. It isn’t accidental; the taste takes you by surprise. Can’t show a little weakness, even if you’re close to buckling under the rapid growing pressure. The way she pours herself into the kiss, how she pushes you closer inch by inch—you can tell she’s wanted this. To be treated like a princess, to be treated right. It doesn’t matter if it’s coming from the wrong influence, the only thing she sees is your willingness to take her with open arms.

The only thing pulling you away from her is the ceaseless ringing from a phone.

Karina pulls a phone from her skirt pocket, her eyes tilting down, fingers moving with urgency, furiously typing on the screen. Her cheeks burn a rosy red, ashamed of having to put herself first in this situation. She’s smiling innocently at you, a sight you’ve grown to love even more. You understand if she tells you she’s leaving; you’ve already got her ride home on standby.

“Sorry,” she mutters, pressing buttons, hearing the ringer beep as the message is sent. “I’m still living with my parents, so—” Looking around, she’s shaking her arms loose. “I don’t think I can spend the night here, or come home looking like this—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you cut her off, confident, if not a little smug. “Neither of those things are gonna happen. I’ll get your ride ready and your clothes taken care of. But it’s still a little bit early,” you say, glancing at your watch, grinning at the time. It’s barely past seven in the evening. 

“I told them I’d be home by around ten tonight,” she remarks, putting her phone away, her gaze returning to you.

“That’s all the time we need.”

—————

Like the gentleman she thinks you are, you escort Karina up the stairs, hand in tow, leading her to your bedroom. Once the door is slammed shut and tightly locked, you immediately drop the act, and you’re back to kissing her passionately again.

You can’t be any less patient. Only a few minutes have passed, and you’re already dreading the end. The feeling of letting her go, of having to go back to your normal life the moment she walks through that door. You can’t imagine interacting like normal students again. Most importantly, you can’t imagine being the bad guy in everyone else’s eyes.

Karina brings out both the best and worst impulses from you. Abruptly breaking the kiss, you shove her onto the mattress, issuing a simple command. “Take that dress off.”

It’s been the only thing racing through your mind ever since. This divine, angelic figure straight out of heaven—effortlessly shining, effortlessly wearing the simple piece like she’s meant to be a canvas to be painted and used.

Gracefully rising from the bed, Karina looks you dead in the eye. Taking one strap in her hand, she pulls it down her shoulder, then the other. Reaching around her back, gravity does the rest. The garment smoothly rides down her body, revealing inch after inch of her skin, until she’s reduced to only her panties. 

Kicking the expensive fabric aside, along with her heels, Karina’s near naked presence demands worship.

“Fuck,” is the only thing you’re able to say, and it’s apt—fuck is the only thing you want to do to her. Hard. Fast. Without care for comfort or concern. 

Your eyes have no fixed area to rest on. When it comes to Karina, every little part of her is a treat for the senses, whether it be her slim waist, her tummy, her slender legs. But nothing captures and retains the attention quicker than her well-endowed breasts. So huge, so pliable, you can only wonder in amazement at how she’s been able to keep them secret for the longest time.

“Something wrong?” Karina asks, snapping you from your mindless daze, her tiny voice a contrast to the sheer sexiness she’s radiating just by standing there in the nude. God, she’s so blissfully unaware that you’re oh so obviously focused on her tits only; it’s endearing and sweet.

“Nothing. You’re perfect, actually.” Try as you might, you can only linger on her chest, watching them stare back, inviting you to come closer. Her nipples are taut and rigid, ripe for the taking.

The comment makes her face blush brighter. “Thank you.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, your pants already halfway down, shedding them along with your boxers. You’re imagining how they would feel sandwiched between your cock; you can’t help it. You’re stroking yourself to hardness, made substantially easier thanks to the image before you. “Has anyone told you you have perfect tits, Karina?”

“I’ve heard it here and there,” she says, delivered so casually, like it’s something she hears everyday—as she rightfully should. “I guess people sometimes notice through my baggy clothing.”

Pumping your shaft till you’re fully erect, you rid yourself of the rest of your clothes. Button up shirt and coat thrown away carelessly and readily forgotten. Karina takes the hint and slips off her panties, putting you both on equal footing. Creeping toward her, you press your finger on her chin, nuzzling your forehead against hers, setting the mood with a quick peck of her lips. There’s so much you want to do, visualizing all the possibilities with a body like hers.

“I want to touch you,” you tell her, tone low, sultry. Your hand traces down her collarbones, pointing out where they want to be: on her chest. 

“Go. Anything you want, but promise me one thing,” she replies, mimicking your inflection. Any request sounds so much hotter in her voice.

There’s zero hesitation. “Anything.”

“Promise you’ll pour all that cum deep inside me. I’ve been in relationships before. Just—give me a good fucking.”

“I will,” you say, kissing her passionately on the lips, your hands firmly pressed on her tits, watching Karina’s eyes close and open in slow motion. Going down, you leave kisses on her neck, collarbones, before reaching your intended destination: her chest. Burying yourself between her breasts, clamping down on her rigid nipple, forcing a sharp cry out of Karina’s saccharine lips. “I love these fucking tits, Karina. I love them so—so—much.”

“Please.” She coos up to the ceiling, grabbing you by the hair, pressing you further into them, intending to suffocate you—which is a demise you’ll happily go out on. Gasping, panting, struggling to keep herself steady, you both collapse onto the bed, allowing you to fully drink in her breasts. Darting your tongue, sucking on her stiff tits, sloppily leaving wet marks on her otherwise porcelain skin. “So—fucking—needy—”

Karina’s right. You’ve got her pinned down on the sheets like she’s prey, devouring her like a hungry animal. Giving her tits equal attention, going back and forth til you’re satisfied—which will never happen. Not with breasts as delicious as hers. Muffled by her bosom, you can only grunt and groan in appreciation, forgoing your ability to speak to keep satiating your unquenchable need. You love how her skin folds, how they crush in your hands. Squeezing them like your personalized stress balls, making her squeamish and erratic underneath you.

Meanwhile, she can only stick her head out, keening and mewling helplessly as you drown yourself in the heat of her breasts, without care for her personal comfort or yours. 

It’s always been part of you—greed. It’s what you were raised on. How you selfishly desire something and will stop at nothing until it’s in your grasp, no matter how little it has in value or how many resources are wasted. Not Karina. She’s one in a million—a diamond in the rough. A treasure worth cherishing over everything else, and you’d give up everything for her without a second thought.

Kissing down her rather tiny figure, her tummy, until you reach the depths of her aching core, already in heat. Looking up at her, so wrecked, so utterly incapacitated, you sink further—and she cries out in pain and in pleasure.

Propping her thighs up in the air, spreading her legs that extra inch wider, Karina cries, cries, and cries. Your tongue sucks away at her sticky nectar, her quivering core, putting immense pressure on her most sensitive spots. Soaking up just how wet she becomes with each passing second, you’ll happily drown in her skin. You love how she clenches, how she throbs and moans a pitch higher with every pass, every lap of your tip against her pussy brings her ever closer to her end.

Had it been anyone else, you would have finished right there. Make them unwind and cum all over your face as you indulge yourself with their juices, then leave them out to dry right after. Instead, you muster up the willpower to restrain yourself, reemerging from the depths of her cunt, before kissing up the path you’ve marked along. You can never grow tired of admiring and worshipping Karina’s breasts. 

Brushing loose strands of hair aside to get a look at her pretty face, glowing brilliantly even under duress. Whispering against her ear, you tell her, “Gonna fuck you right now.”

“Do it,” she says, breathless, gasping—and heaving—for air. “Please give it all to me.”

“Always.”

Slowly dragging your cock between her folds, your usually stiff expression gradually disintegrates upon vicious entry, unable to endure how tight she feels. The pulse and flex of her walls pulls you apart in every direction, her cunt threatening to snap you with one wrong move. Every little bit of resolve counts. Your fingers intertwine with hers, holding her down in place, even though she’s nowhere close to fighting back. In fact, it’s the exact opposite; she wants to be taken and used.

The cry of your name escapes from Karina’s lips, delivered like a call for help. A plea. It bounces around the room, echoing repeatedly in your head, the imagery instantly seared into your brain. 

“You fill me so fucking well,” she says, breath hot and heavy, her jaw agape as you hover atop her head. Her eyes snap wide open, on the verge of tears, “Does my pussy feel good? Does it feel so tight around you?”

You’re struggling to keep yourself together, showing signs of falling apart. You’re breathing heavily, only nodding back in agreement. The inability to move your body, desiring to stay inside her warmth out of fear it’ll prematurely ruin the moment speaks volumes. It’s a clearer response than any word can ever answer. 

Karina lightly rolls her hips forward, the friction far too great to remain still. You can only draw back in painstakingly slow motion, as if pulling a piece out of a collapsible tower. Even so, the feeling leaves you dizzy and lightheaded, the suffocating sensation quickly overwhelming the rest of your functional senses.

This little push is more than enough to set you snowballing further down. Thrusting back inside her heat, her fresh wetness allows you an easier passage in and out of her quivering pussy. Between calculated, deep breaths, you watch Karina take every inch of your cock without any resistance, letting these profanities and praises slip from her lips instinctively, punctuated by the growing echo of your skin slapping skin.

It becomes effortless rather quickly. The slide in and out of her heat. The pace more than enough to let all the ecstasy sink in. How she immediately relinquishes any semblance of control to you. Karina’s glued to the bed by your hands, her body rocking with every stroke, her tits jiggling in a hypnotic rhythm that captures your eyes. So perfect. So right. 

Unknowingly, she’s driving you mad. A little bounce isn’t gonna satiate you at this point. One poorly timed blink and you’ll be punishing yourself for it. There’s no going back. You needed more of her. 

As the bed violently creaks below, so does Karina’s tiny figure. As quickly as you’ve found the perfect rhythm to pound her, you just as quickly abandon it. Something about her brings out the best and worst in you, and you clearly see why. It’s the bounce—that damned ripple of her breasts, swinging up and down forcing your hips harder against her, threatening to break her. Her words turn to loud cries—of pleasure, of pain, and everything else in between. 

“More—oh, baby, please—” she keens, her eyes still completely shut, her lips twisting and contorting, struggling to find her words. Freely offering herself to you no strings attached, she takes it—and takes it all. “Harder—I’m so fucking close—please—”

It’s a request you’re more than eager to oblige.

Taking purchase of her back with one hand, lifting her slightly, and grabbing her breast with the other, you’re hammering away at her hot cunt, gasping. Squeezing her flesh, hearing her whine, turning her usually pale flesh red while her arms find solace on your shoulder—anything to keep your rapidly dwindling resolve from dissolving entirely. The end is imminent; you can only delay it by mere moments, minutes at best. 

Karina is so dangerously close, as she said—and as much as you hate to admit, so are you. 

It’s a race that you don’t want to win. As much as you want to keep it together for longer, your body says otherwise. You can’t stop fucking her, no matter how hard you wish to try—and even if you did, why would you even contemplate the idea; your thoughts mostly comprise of how incredibly good she feels around your cock, how they pulsate and grip you with every thrust. Moving inside her is second nature at this point. You eventually lay her back down, only so she takes every inch of you when it eventually happens.

“Don’t stop—don’t ever stop—” she pleads, as if your own mind wasn’t enough to invalidate the idea. Her nails cling to your scalp and neck, barely hanging on for dear life. She’s trembling, uncontrollably jerking beneath. Even she herself doesn’t want it to end. “So good—oh God—”

A handful of thrusts later, Karina cums, with your cock buried in the crevice of her cunt. 

Once again, her voice shoots up to the sky upon impact, screaming your name, her head tilted far back as the sheets allow her to. Jaw widely slack, her neck and collarbone exposed, she can’t stop trembling through her climax. Writhing in your grasp, she lets out a prolonged moan till her vocal cords flame out, her chest heaving for much needed oxygen. 

It doesn’t stop you from pounding into her pussy, even as it overflows with her slickness. If anything, it only accelerates your own demise. The wetness overload coating your cock proves to be overbearing for what little spunk you have left. 

“Me too, Karina—” you blurt out, hammering into her, gasping, bracing for impact as well. “I’m gonna—oh fuck—”

Your own peak overtakes you, rendering you speechless. Everything comes to a standstill. All you can do is bury yourself inside the absolute depths of her pussy, make her take every load, every drop. 

Filling the air with a harmonious moan as it hits you, your cock throbbing achingly, full of all that repressed need, and then—release. 

Spurt after spurt of hot, sticky cum you pour into her womb, not wasting a single drop. Karina cries and moans with every shot, while you can only groan a deep groan from your lungs. She takes it up, milking you of all your worth till you can’t anymore. Even as she drains you empty, you can’t stop pounding into her cunt, slowing your movements back to a grinded out pace till your orgasm dies, and so does your strength.

“That’s it—that’s all I needed—so, so good—”

Karina sighs, her fingers digging deep into your neck, dragging them across your shoulders, then sliding down your arms right after. She can barely open her eyes, only to find you slowly crashing into her, leaning your head to the side so you can rest beside her. Even your hips stop moving. You only have enough energy to wrap an arm around her tiny frame before you finally collapse under your own weight.

“You still have to take me home,” she whispers, mindful of your ear directly next to her, delivered in that oh so saccharine tone. 

“I know,” you mutter through the sheets, eliciting a gentle chuckle from her. Karina’s the one coming out of this in a better state. 

“Can you do something for me? Please?” 

She didn’t need to say the word, but it certainly helps her case tenfold.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I need you to drive me home.” Karina dips her head at an angle to face you. “Not your bodyguards. You.”

Tilting upward to get a good look at her, you lift a curious eyebrow. “I don’t mind—but why?”

“I just—” she faces away, pausing, breathing heavily. She’s about to say something she’ll regret. “Think it would be safer, yeah? Besides, I wouldn’t wanna be caught by my parents just being dropped off by people in suits.”

“Oh right.” 

“I mean this is nice and all but—” Karina stops again, lightly brushing your arm away. A reminder that wealth does not equate to relationship. “I think we’d be better off if we kept things strictly professional. You didn’t have to do all this. You were kind to me and that’s more than enough.”

You roll onto your back, staring up directly at the ceiling. You can only hope Karina is doing the same. She shouldn’t see how deflated you look—after you fucked her, no less.

“Karina, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

You don’t know exactly what to say. You’re only thinking about the what ifs and the what could, expecting the worst. So you look away, unable to face her a second longer.

Moments later, you feel the sudden tug of her embrace, a leg wrapped around yours. The softest kisses on your shoulder. You can feel her soft smile pressed against your neck. She’s cuddled up on you, intent on never letting go.

“Just keep being kind.”

—————

In the days ahead, it was about saving face. 

Karina’s wish has seemingly been lost in translation and disregarded, as you’ve been putting distance from her. Any little sign that she’s around is your signal to leave. It helps when you have two extra pairs of eyes keeping watch and alerting you at once.

All this to reinforce the same statement you’ve heard from her friends: that you’re no good whatsoever. 

Cautiously eavesdropping on their conversation through your unassuming bodyguards, you hear Karina’s distress over your earpiece, lamenting to her sisters about your absence in her life.

“I seriously don’t understand you. Are you deaf? Are you stupid?” says Ningning, vindicated about her stance. “He ghosted you. They always do that! Not just him! Believe me, I’ve been through worse.”

“Please trust us. Rina, we’re worried about you,” adds Giselle, her tone showing more empathy and concern. “There’s no use in worrying about a man after you did—that.”

“No no. I want to believe,” Karina replies, insistent on you, ignoring all the red flags being waved around. “He really appreciates the affection I gave him. I have to. He seems like a good person in heart—”

“Ugh—here we go again with that good guy shit,” interjects Ningning, frustrated at her friend’s stubbornness. You hear a powerful thud, presumably from a table getting slammed in anger. “He isn’t a good guy! God, Karina, this is why you get bullied—”

“Hey, Ning. Let’s not go that far,” Giselle interrupts, her tone low. “Everyone’s looking at us.”

Dead silence follows, seemingly lasting an eternity. And then—

“Good job, Ning. She left and you made us look bad in front of everyone else,” Giselle adds, breaking the vast stillness, huffing before the audio goes quiet again.

“All the girls have left the cafeteria,” says your first bodyguard, the one you’ve assigned to Karina the first time.

“That’ll be all. Great work,” you tell them over the earpiece before disconnecting. 

You’re not hiding anywhere inside campus. In fact, you’ve been resting in the comfort of your own home the entire time. On your phone’s screen is Karina’s number, having been registered in your contacts since last week. Not once have you bothered messaging her, let alone call—yet you constantly return to it. With each passing day, the temptation to press that button grows stronger and stronger. 

You place your phone down on the desk, as if that’s gonna change anything. Seconds later, it’s in your hand, still on those 10 digits. Calling to you, as if her very voice is somehow playing through those tiny speakers. It’s all in your head, yet it feels vivid through your senses.

It all but confirms your own feelings: you can’t move on, and neither can she.

You’re looking around, even though not a soul’s in sight, convincing yourself to turn back before you fall further down. Seeing as there’s not a form of opposition, whatsoever, you pull the trigger, consequences be damned.

In the few seconds between calling the number and her imminent responding, you’re hoping she doesn’t answer. That she sees her friends’ points, to prove that you’re in the right by leaving her to dry.

All it takes is a few key words.

“Hey. I missed you.”

—————

There’s a lot to take in, but first—you swallow your own pride. This is your own doing, after all.

Looking out the window from your couch, it’s already night. Last time you checked, the sun had only begun setting; that was four hours ago, apparently. Meanwhile, Karina lies flat on the bed, every part of her mindlessly used, mindlessly fucked. Her skin gleaming, blemished in a sea of fiery red and sticky white. Her clothes scattered all over the house, their purpose rendered obsolete the moment she walked back in. You were standing there—waiting, expecting. Along with her body, came a simple request, in her words:

“Take me like you fucking missed me.”

Delivered straight to the point, Karina is something else. She’s twisted and cruel in her own way. To make such a demand in the sweetest voice possible—you can only chalk it up to witchcraft. And to think she was the one who wanted to keep things professional.

Any intentions to study and help with projects and research was a complete lie—it was more of a roundabout way for you to get inside her, over and over again. If anything, her body was the primary object of interest. 

All the ways you can fuck her, how she wants it—anything to get you to cum in her pussy. And that’s exactly what you did.

Spearing your hips against her frame, you find that Karina is so flexible, malleable to your every whim. How she complies without complaint or moment of hesitation, propping herself in whatever position your mind thought of in the moment, and there’s a few you were dying to try. On her fours, with her legs spread wide, on her knees, making an example out of her. So utterly shameless.

And God, she takes it all quite effortlessly, like it’s second nature to her. Milking you dry with her cunt, with her mouth, making you cum with some friction from her tits—everything is a little too easy. Taking just one look at her perfectly sculpted figure, it makes a lot of sense. Yet, Karina has to explain to everyone else why she can’t walk properly in the morning.

A week’s worth of repressed desires and wanton needs, completely gone in a few short hours. It may as well have been a year, maybe two, since you last met. 

You can only watch from a distance, from your couch, as everything falls apart. Even a single second that you’re at arm’s length and she’d be burying your grave deeper. As if it’s gonna change tonight’s outcome.

Like a reanimated corpse coming back to life, Karina rises from the bed, assessing the damage. It’s quite a lot. She’s an absolute wreck.

“I think I may have gone too far in some places,” you remark, observing her take your cum into her mouth with her finger. 

“I don’t believe that,” she says, taking another scoop and savoring the taste, flashing her pasty white tongue. You instinctively avert your gaze, much to her amusement.

“Christ—Karina, what happened to setting boundaries?” you ask, genuinely concerned. Even if it’s for one night, that’s all it takes for everything to snowball out of control. “I don’t think we can do this on the regular, even if I wanted to.”

“True,” she tells you, matter-of-factly, before stepping on the ground and pacing towards you, limping, barely recovering, “But I got nothing else except you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You’ve genuinely changed my life,” she says, propping her hands to her knees to lean forward. “No one bullies me anymore. Because they think I’m your girl. I’m your possession.”

The way Karina calls herself yours gives you goosebumps. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

“This is what you’ve done to me,” she continues, tracing a finger down her drenched core, splayed and ruined—your handiwork—before rubbing her slick against your arm, eventually pushing it between your lips. You allow her. Her voice turns a pitch lower with each sentence. “I can’t express how much I need you right now.”

Sinking further back into your seat, you slowly tilt your face towards her, greatly alarmed. “You’re scaring me a little, Rina. We really should—”

She places that same finger between your lips, now to shut you up. Pressing herself forward, straddling on your lap, she makes sure her cum-soaked tits are directly in view of your face, threatening to smother you between them. Her smile is the cherry on top, inviting you to relax the senses and let yourself go in that familiar lust once again. “We can talk about this—on the other side.”

And before you know it, Karina’s riding you hard, with your face buried deep between her chest, worshiping her. You had no chance.

The next time you gain awareness, you’re back in bed, cuddled beside her. With her back against yours, she’s soundly asleep, despite the repeated calls from her phone and your supposed agreement to have her home by ten. 

It’s already half past midnight.

“Goddammit, Rina,” you mutter, eliciting a light shudder as your hot breath tickles her skin. “I can’t.”

“Just for tonight,” Karina tells you, as if you aren’t gonna be doing this again tomorrow—and the next night, and the one after. “My parents aren’t home,” she adds, clearly lying through her teeth.

“We seriously need to talk about this,” you tell her, rolling out of bed, scrambling for a fresh pair of clothes from the nearby closet. Meanwhile, Karina remains lying on your bed. She has no intention to leave. You have to reiterate again, “What happened to setting boundaries?”

Even the simple act of propping herself up draws your attention, more so in the nude, especially when she’s glistening in your sheen. The question amuses her; look at her teasing expression, ready to fire back. “You’re the one who called me here. So—”

“Jesus, Karina,” you sigh, working around the clock to get everything in order. Car’s ready, her clothes are in the wash. God willing, she’s actually telling the truth. “Why are you like this—”

She laughs—heartily.

—————

The next day on campus, you make it official. Sort of.

Karina’s friends are seated across the hall, their wary, foreboding gazes singling you out of the whole room. Intentions aside, you have no fight with any of them; it’s nothing personal. After all, it’s her choice. You’ll let them judge. You’re on your own for this one; you’ve told your bodyguards to leave you alone so as to make yourself look approachable in their eyes—even if there’s a negative chance they’ll ever buy it.

Then she enters the room, giving each one a kiss and a hug, as if they’re about to part ways for a long, long time. They’re overreacting; it’s not as though you’ll whisk her away and isolate her in some lonesome high castle.

You get a good look at her when she finally walks over. She’s wearing the new clothes you gave her last night. She makes your heart race with delight.

When she takes her seat directly opposite yours, you can’t help but silently remark, “They really don’t like me.”

She lightly chuckles. “Trust me. I’ve tried.”

“Yeah, I’m not asking them to like me,” you tell her, smiling from ear to ear, reaching out your hand, which she accepts. “I’m just—hoping they’ll see me one day as you do.”

“Sure they will. I believe deep down, you’re really a sweet guy.” 

You lower your head, unable to face her, but your face tells it all.

“Just to be clear, you’re not gonna make me actually sign a contract?” Karina asks, puzzled about the need to meet up on campus specifically to set your boundaries. The truth is, anywhere else that wasn’t school would be a distraction.

“Of course not,” you say, baffled at the idea yourself. “Dad usually did the paperwork, and that seems really weird.”

“So is having sex shortly after saving the damsel in distress,” she says, smirking through each word, mentally patting herself on the back for that remark.

Shaking your head in disgust, she laughs at your annoyed expression. That never gets old.

“Right—so what are we then?” Karina leans forward, grabbing your stretched out hand, her eyes widening. She’s looking to kiss you—at least that’s what her face is doing.

Ruminating through your next words carefully, occasionally giving the corner behind her a glance, her friends running through your mind, you reply, “Let’s just say I’m your benefactor for now. I don’t really want anyone to get surprised, and let’s just say, I’m not ready to handle everything just yet. But I want to stay close with you.”

“So we’re friends?”

“Yeah, if that’s how you want to see it.”

“Then there’s no need for this. Aren’t we already close?”

“Well I’m giving you money and clothes, in addition to letting you come over to my place once a week, so—”

Karina tugs your hand forward, interrupting you. “I don’t really need any of this. I just want you to treat me like anyone else. Like a friend. Just do that.”

You end up choking on your own words. Even when she’s admonishing you, Karina remains gentle in tone. And she knows how to bring the conversation around gracefully.

“So, what do you say we go out and have a snack later? After class?” 

With a lovely face and smile like hers, you’d be foolish to refuse her offer.

As the bell rings, you’re nodding in agreement when everyone stands up in unison, heading off to their next class. Karina leaves to regroup with her friends, but not without giving you a kiss goodbye as she walks through the door. You can only stare back—smiling.

Then you get a notification on your phone. A text from an anonymous number, seemingly demanding something urgently in all caps. Something about delayed shipments, but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

Paying no heed to the message, you’re cancelling your plans for today to make room for your first date with Karina.

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! Was supposed to drop around Christmas, but then the holidays got busy, and then literally the day after Christmas, my dumbass just had to get food poisoned and hospitalized. Oof. Just poor timing all around, damn.

Fun little prompt, I was feeling a little edgy writing this, not gonna lie. Definitely left some clues for when I wanna revisit it. Karina is unfathomably hot, and I'm starting to like aespa a lot lately. They've probably had the best year of any girl group, and it's well deserved. Thank you for reading!)

[plethorawrites]

Can you please write headcanons for other batboys+ Bruce when they turned into a cat like you did for Jason? Thank you ❤️

Absolutely!!! (This is a long one, so settle in!)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who was attacked by some crazy scientist trying to create mutant animals but instead changed him into a Lynx with giant ears and massive paws.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who, of course, attempted to micromanage everyone as they tried to help him— walking over the batcomputer and messing up Tim's research, sitting on top on the batmobile when one of the kids tried to take it, knocking things off whatever table he perched on while still trying to feel tall.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who Alfred tried to calm down but ended up antagonizing further until he started meowing so loudly for so long they were all sick of him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who Jason had to carry upstairs since he was the only one big enough to wrap his arms around Bruce, throwing him in his bedroom while he protested (but refused to use his claws) and locking the door.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who paced back and forth until he heard the door open and saw you walk in, having already been told what was happening, and immediately grumbled, hiding under the bed so you wouldn't have to see him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who watched you lay on the floor, staring at him, telling him it was alright and they would figure it out, until he eventually became comfortable enough to come out and sit in front of you, staring at the floor in protest.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who ears perked up the second he felt your hands run through his fur, petting him and wrapping your arms around him, kissing the top of his head.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who had to eat deer for dinner and hated it, but was starving so he finished the whole bowl Alfred gave him, still humiliated, even if he was fed with a porcelain bowl.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who tried sleeping at the foot of your shared bed, curled up in a tight ball, but couldn't get away with it because you hauled him back to the top of the bed, clearly struggling to lift his weight.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who was hesitant but eventually stretched out, reaching nearly four feet from the tips of his tall ears to the bottom of his paws.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who let you wrap your arms around his enormous size, scratching his ears while he yawned, bearing his sharp teeth that would terrify nearly anyone except for you.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who purred like a regular cat, even if he had paws bigger than most dogs did, and used them to knead on the mattress while you cuddled him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who licked your face, his tongue tougher than sandpaper and immediately stopped purring, feeling ashamed of himself until you began laughing and kissing his head and cheek again, finding it funny even if it hurt a bit.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who went back to purring the second he knew you weren't upset or mocking him for his unusual state, and kept doing so until he fell asleep with you holding him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who woke up the next morning with his head pressed against your stomach, and his arms wrapped around your waist and immediately nuzzled your warm skin, grateful to be back to his regular self, even if his kids would give him hell at breakfast.

---

Cat Dick Grayson: Who got turned into a sleek, blue eyed, Siamese cat when one of Raven's spells went wrong and panicked at first when she said she didn't know how to turn him back.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who was incredibly vocal, meowing at his entire team before realizing they couldn't understand anything he said and he wandered off to find you instead because he knew he was utterly useless to them.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who you immediately recognized as him when he showed up at your door, pawing it until you opened it and ran inside, rubbing his head against a picture of the two of you on the kitchen counter.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who was grateful when you didn't seem freaked out about him being a cat and trusted you to take care of him for the time being.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who had no shame when it came to sitting on your lap, or brushing his head against your legs while weaving in and out of them and following you everywhere you go.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who actually found himself enjoying how agile he could be and how stretchy his vertebrae suddenly was, giving him even more flexibility than he was used to.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who pawed at the television every time an ad for a cat toy at PetSmart came up until you caved and bought a laser pointer and electric mouse so he could hunt to keep entertained since there wasn't much to do as a cat.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who chose to perch on your shoulder, even though it was inconvenient for you, because he missed being tall and liked the challenge of balancing on you.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who missed being able to tell you how beautiful you are without his voice coming out a dry croak of appreciation for you, and wanted to hold you instead of having you hold him, but couldn't, so he'd settled for curling up next to you on the couch and in bed, pressing his cold nose to your cheek.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who you're petting while you lay on the couch, watching a movie when you suddenly feel his fur turn back into his soft, slightly wavy hair and look down to his head in your lap.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who sits up and stretches, making his muscles ache before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a laying position while you finish the movie.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who can't decide while nuzzling your neck that night, if he wants to chew Raven out or thank her.

---

Cat Tim Drake: Who was messing around with an ancient artifact getting cataloged in the batcave when he accidentally turned himself into a slim Abyssinian cat with a long tail.

Cat Tim Drake: Who refused to give his family, especially Damian, the satisfaction of seeing him as a cat, and ran off before anyone could find out.

Cat Tim Drake: Who ran to you and scratched at your window to get in, carrying his utility belt in his teeth to show you it was him.

Cat Tim Drake: Who listened to you tease him for a full five minutes before nipping you with his teeth, not to hurt you, even though it did sting a bit, and simply held your hand between his teeth for a few seconds looking up at you in shock over his own actions as if surprised he did it.

Cat Tim Drake: Who you fed roast chicken to when he refused to eat any actual cat food because it looked gross.

Cat Tim Drake: Who ran back and forth from the batcave to your apartment bringing documents to you about the artifact so you could help turn him back.

Cat Tim Drake: Who micromanaged, pacing back and forth on top of the kitchen table while meowing and pawing at papers trying to get you to see the connections he did.

Cat Tim Drake: Who got tired after several hours of work because he didn't have any energy drinks to keep him awake and he knew from listening to Damian yap about animals that cats usually slept like 16 hours a day.

Cat Tim Drake: Who reluctantly curled up in your lap and napped while you continued to work, but bit and tugged at your sweater before he did so you would take it off and cover him in it for extra warmth.

Cat Tim Drake: Who lost all track of time and slept for so many hours he didn't even know what day it was (damn cats had to have different senses of time) when he woke up, finding you hunched over the table, sleeping in a way that was sure to give you an ache in your neck.

Cat Tim Drake: Who woke you up, pawing at your cheek gently and meowing in your ear quietly and saw your eyes flutter open, immediately causing him to start purring when he felt a rush of affection for your willingness to help him.

Cat Tim Drake: Who is sitting on the dining room table when you finally turn into a human again and he's suddenly staring at you with his sweet blue eyes, his legs dangling off the side of the table.

Cat Tim Drake: Who pulls you into the biggest hug, resting his head on your shoulder as he apologizes for making you help him and tells you he loves you for all you do for him.

Cat Tim Drake: Who is so exhausted from being a cat and stressing so much he shed all over your couch that he falls asleep at a reasonable hour for once, clinging to you tightly, humming instead of purring as a way to show his affection.

Cat Tim Drake: Who tries to lie to his family when he gets home, telling them he had spent the weekend with you, but is immediately caught when Bruce pulls up the security footage of him hissing at one of the mice in the batcave before trying to catch it.

---

(He's like 15-16?)

Cat Damian Wayne: Who is turned into a Bengal with bright green eyes and dark spots by some wizard from another dimension during a fight and runs away shortly after his family gets back to the cave after scruffing him to bring him back.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who knows his family well enough to know he wouldn't get a moment of peace with them poking him and making fun of him for his form while trying to fix him, so he goes to you instead, showing up at school in between your classes.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who jumps in your locker, rubbing his head against the picture of him you keep taped to the back of it and watches your eyes widen in realization as you reach into the locker to pull him out of it, slipping the rest of your classes to take him home.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who grumbles slightly when you shove him under your coat to sneak him past your parents, and to your room, but relaxes once he gets there, being dropped on your bed and immediately turning in circles before laying down for the first bit of calm he's had all day.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who kind of enjoys watching you pace and panic more than him, because in a weird way it's nice to know you care so much.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who already knows so much about cats that becoming one is a piece of cake, and he can pretty much control his feline self as best he would his normal self....aside from occasionally purring when he doesn't want to.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who jumps on your desk as you fret, bumping his head against your hand to get you to look at him instead of worrying and meows softly as an attempt to comfort you.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who allows himself to be pulled into your lap if that's what you need and doesn't try to escape, even though he easily could, because you are, he'll admit, pretty warm and soft and you smell quite good.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who hides under your bed when your parents come up to check on you when you choose to eat dinner in your room and share your steamed veggies with him because you know he doesn't eat meat, even as a cat.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who doesn't want to go home to face his family's ridicule so sleeps in your bed, maintaining a respectable distance... until he gets sick of sleeping at the foot of your bed and having you accidentally kick him. Then he moves to lay by your head on your pillow.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who jumps in your bag the next day, desperate to not stay here or go home and after some sad, pathetic meowing (that he'd lie about making if you ever brought it up) you allowed it.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who is so predictable that his family knew he'd be with you and sent Dick to wait outside the school after your classes were over because they found a way to fix him.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who scratches his brother when he tries to take him and has to be carried back to the cave by you instead.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who hears exactly one joke out of Timothy before his father gives him a glare that shuts him up, suggesting they had a conversation before about not doing that when he came back.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who finally turns back into himself again and the first words out of his mouth are "I handled the situation better than you did, Drake." Shortly followed by a quietly mumbled "Thank you, for taking care of me." In your direction.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who watches you shrug and act like it's no big deal but can see the blush creep onto your cheeks and walks you out, giving you a proper kiss once away from his family.

[08luvmailz]

𓇼 ME MISS YOU . . ਏਓ !

summary 𓍯 which he followed you because he missed you ꒰ 🧾 ꒱ fluffy life with husband

The eerie silence and the harsh wind whispers weaving through the cool night air, though it's only 5:30 in the afternoon. Crouching low, I fisted my hands through my victim's hair and chopped his head off as my breath steadied, eyes locked on the faint rustle of the bushes—a promising sign of tonight's catch.

It's been almost a year of this endless cycle, by day cuddling and having a blissful life with Mr. Crawling as you give him endless affection, or he will whine to death, and by night- killing humans to feed him. As your eyes wandered through your vision toward the unmoving dead body, your mind wavered toward your husband even though you weren't married officially.

You two are together and bonded by our souls, obeying you and listening to you even though there is a gap in speaking, never ceases to stun you every day. He waits at home, is always patient, and is always trusting. The thought of his joy warms you as you tighten your grip on your crowbar and knife.

Back at the apartment, it feels unbearable still. Mr. Crawling gazes through the door—waiting for your return. His fingers relentlessly tapped the tatami board as it echoed through the room. It's been almost an hour since she left him, she always does every day for him.

He still remembered her voice firming when she told him to stay.

He watches her moving to gather her things, his legs tucked close to his body. He knows her too well—the same command she gives every time. Stay. He doesn't think about it but wants more of her touch, only about the moment before her absence, and he clung to her as his large frame wrapped around her waist. He chirped in a low tone, full of worry and protest. His grip tightened slightly, enough to make his point without holding her back.

He pressed his face into your legs, his arms curling towards your leg, "stay" he told her as he snuggled to her, not wanting to let go, “ you’re so stubborn” she murmured, stroking his head. The gesture was a silent reassurance for him to stop worrying though she knew it wouldn't stop him from worrying.

She turns to face him as his face is still smothered to her thighs, his cold lips puckering into her skin. He doesn’t need words to tell her how he feels; the way he clings to her, his body trembles faintly, caught between his instinct to obey and his need to protect her.

As her warm fingers tangled into his hair, brushing it calmly, she told him, " Me back soon; I find food. " she promised, her voice softer now. “You don’t have to worry.”

With a final sigh, she gently pries him off, his cold finger reluctant to let go. “Stay here,” she says, her tone firmer now, though her heart aches at the look he gives her. He didn't move and obeyed her, as she smiled one last time and crouched to his level to kiss his forehead, " I'll be back soon. I Promise," She said one last time to open and lock the door, leaving him in a trance with determination to follow her.

He was hesitant to disobey her requests and always did, lowering his head in submission. But now, in the suffocating silence, he feels the weight of her absence like a stone in his chest. He tried to wait, his attempts to distract himself with television, watching shows that helped him understand her language more, but as soon as his face glimmered when he saw the heroine with her lover cuddling in a scene. It was no use. missing her so dearly that his pull to follow her was too strong, an instinct older than obedience.

She is his world, his reason, and the thought of her out there alone, facing whatever dangers the night might bring, fills him with unease. Even though he knew she was capable of handling herself well, killing those people for him joyed him. He knew she loved him as much as he loved her.

Making his decision wasn't easy for him, he knew he would face the consequences of her ignoring him though he shook his head, he wanted to see her, he needed her now.

He moves swiftly to the door. His movements are precise and quiet, the art of going unnoticed. He knows where she has gone—he’s watched her enough times at the window to remember the path she takes. He follows her scent, a trail as familiar to him as the rhythm of his footsteps. With every step, he feels her grace like a taut thread, pulling him closer to her.

Its darkness yawned wide like the mouth of a beast. He hesitates for a moment, hearing her voice in his mind, Stay. Wait for me. But he presses on.

He moved carefully, his body blending into the dark foliage as his fingers gripped the pole lamp. He saw her gripping tightly to her crowbar and massively hitting her victim, he watched in awe as pride swelled in his chest at the sight of her—strong, capable, everything he admires.

Though he knows the facade she's been growing through back there in his world, he saw her unreality in a tick of time, and by the hanging thread of webs-he had been with her, and he knew she was close to insanity. Was she close? Or she's already been insane nevertheless, he will always be there with her.

She didn't notice him at first, focused on the task ahead. But then a chitter of a familiar voice captivates your attention as you whip your head, your coat shadowing your expression of bloodlust to confusion. There he is, his head tilted with his adoring smile. She shook her head with a giggle, he never listened to her as she pointed him to get closer to him.

He lowered his body as his smile creeped out to his ear, he skitters toward her, his movements quick but careful as he came faster to her and clung to her lower body as his face smothered to her bloodied coat "I miss you, I love you. " he said with a chitter as his cold hands hold her bloodied ones and directly placed into his head.

You sighed in intent and ruffled his hair as you looked down and cupped his face with our bloodied hands "You didn't listen to me, But I forgive you. " You crouched to his level as his hands wandered to your body and cupped your face and smothered a messy kiss on your lips, his cold lips puckering your bottom lip leaving a chitter from him. "Me love you, " he told you as he came closer to your body, his large frame almost hugging your smaller ones. You giggled to him as you corrected his grammar, always forgetting the "I", " I love you, too. "

He chirps, leaning into her touch, his body vibrating with relief, he clung to her like a baby as his face looked at the bloodied streets. "Food?" He questioned her, as his hands never left hers. "Yeah, food for you. " As she pointed to the dead body beside them.

As she stands up to place the chopped meat in a plastic bag with blood, "Let's go home." her hands directing him to hold her, he stands up, his towering silhouette blending with the shadows of the city. His mind is clear, his resolve unshakable. He is with her, the love of his life, and with every consequence they will face, he knows she will be there with him as she is with him.

[mari-positas]

flutter

Jackson! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner. 

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair. 

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?” 

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten. 

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home. 

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains. 

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[timmydraker]

During a patrol in Gotham one night, Red Robin comes across a strange sight.

A young woman stands over a crumpled body with a sling shot primed and ready, aimed a man with a rather large hand gun. It’s clear she’s protecting the woman who looks like she’s been hit over the head and had her bag nabbed, as it’s ripped and contents are spilled everywhere.

The girl sits shaking, she isn’t scared at all, standing strong with a shard of glass aimed at the man’s crotch.

Tim jumps down and disarms the man smoothly before turning to the young girl, who upon closer inspection seems to be around thirteen years old.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head and stares at him for a moment with awe in his eyes before her eyes widen and she turns to the person behind her, “But she is! That guy was cornering her and I tried to help but he hit her and-“

“Alright, I understand. Would you like to help me get her to the ER a few blocks away?”

The girl nods with a determination Tim remembers seeing in Dick and Jason in their Robin days and he smiles.

He doesn’t ask her what her name is because side he knows he’ll follow up and find something to feel guilty about, but the girl seems to have her own plans.

She shows up a couple of days later, standing on a tall building with a cheap Robin outfit on.

Tim is confused before he drops down and she gives a big grin and mock salute, “How can I help?”

Tim smiled a little before shaking his head, “Taking the title of Robin, are you?”

She nods, now more bashful, “Well, I want to help people. I don’t want to fight exactly, but… well, sometimes you bats are too busy with the villains to notice the little guy and- bro to say you’re a bad hero-“

“You’re right, it’s okay. We can only do so much and sometimes preventing more damage being done saves more lives, but there will always be a cost.”

She smiles, bright orange, and impressively curly, hair getting in her eyes and sticking to the poor quality glue of her fake domino.

“I want to help. I… can help, please.”

Tim answers after a solid minute of silence, “What is your name?”

She frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to have a secret identity?”

He smiles in answer, “Yes, but I know what you look like and I can find out, I’m asking out of politeness.”

The girl looks like she could pout and Tim feels strangely old at the sight, even if he’s still got a few months before he can even legally drink.

“Carrie. Caroline to be specific.”

Tim smiles, “Well, Carrie, here’s the deal. I will meet you here or somewhere like here every night and until, and only until, you can land a hit on me will I agree to let you help.”

While Carrie doesn’t look pleased she nods, a clear sense of hope in her eyes even as she looks nervous.

She looses the first fight, and the second and third and fourth, but she gets better and better.

Tim doesn’t tell anyone about Carrie Kelly, nor does he tell her that he does end up doing a back ground check and finds two dead beat parents more focused on weed than their incredibly skilled daughter.

When she proves to be relentless in her desire to save lives he sends her to a teacher to help her stay hidden and safe. He’s not like Bruce, he doesn’t send her overseas to some dangerous people, but close by and to someone he trust to not hurt her nor tell anyone else about the strange young girl whose managed to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Selina Kyle is more than happy to take in the girl when she watches her sling shot fire crackers at muggers.

When Carrie comes back and meets Tim on a rooftop, she not only manages to hit him but knocks him off his feet.

Tim grins at her, pride filling his mind and making him understand Bruce just a little more.

But unlike Bruce, he isn’t throwing her into the fight at all.

Tim Drake is the one who pays for her school pills while her yippie parents refuse to work or spend money on her, and sends her real time footage of medical lectures in various collages across the country.

Carrie doesn’t become Robin, nor did she even wear that suit after the second night and he gave her a basic training outfit that properly covered her eyes and hair, but she does become something else.

She becomes Cardinal, the vigilante that swoops in to save civilians and provide the medical care that saves hundreds of people and allows the ambulances and hospitals to have a chance.

When she makes her debut the other bats worry about a new kid making bad choices, probably inspired by them, but Tim ignores it if only because he’s actually proud of her and trust her in a way he hasn’t trusted teammates in years.

After a year of this, a young girl asks for a meeting with Mister Tim Drake at his company and, purely so he wouldn’t have to do more pointless numbers, he lets her in after she passes the security check.

The girl who comes into his office is barely ten, cute little clips in her dark bob hair and a big book bag almost half her size behind her.

Tim recognised her instantly once he sees the bright yellow shoes she’s wearing.

This little girl, name Mia Mizoguchi, has been stalking him and Carrie for a few months now.

After he enrolled Carrie at Gotham Academy, the young girl nicknamed ‘Maps’ had been asking Carrie a lot of questions. Carrie had been good at avoiding incriminating answers, but had fallen for the younger girls clever trap as she casually spoke out infomation that could help with cases and Carrie delivered it back to Tim.

As soon as he realised that Maps had done exactly what he had done and figured out who Carrie was he was impressed. Because even if Carrie was new to the game, she had a skill for tricking people into looking away from her and had done well to stay low.

Maps had made the connection back to Tim, apparently.

Luckily, unlike Bruce, he wasn’t ignorant to their little stalker and actually knew her family from a few galas and charities. To be fair, Tim also wasn’t clouded by grief, but as he lets the girl explain how she totally doesn’t know who Red Robin is but if she did know who he was she would want him to know that a new drug trade route was actually being covered by a cotton candy company and she has over sixty pages worth of proof.

When he shows up to The Nest (named by Carrie) with Maps behind him, he finds Cardinal waiting with an excited gleam in her eyes.

Due to her being so young, Tim doesn’t allow Maps to go into the field until she’s the same age as both he and Carrie were, but she’s quick to show her worth taking over coms and doing an insanely detailed level of detective work that Tim can’t help but be a little jealous of.

Just like Carrie, who has been trying with Selina about only becoming Catgirl if Catwoman stops being a criminal for a few weeks now, he sends her to someone else for mentor ship.

Maps is a sweet girl, but she loves to talk and has a lot of friends who have most of the same interest, so he sends her to the one bat member he trust most.

Cassandra Cain immediately tells Tim that he has to adopt both of them and can’t quite understand why them both having living parents matters.

It’s Cass who gives Maps her vigilante name, Sparrow.

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Art of Surrender | LN4

❀˖°𓍼♡ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N, dealing with back pain, reluctantly lets Lando, give her a massage. As his hands work through her tension, an undeniable chemistry builds between them. The massage becomes a turning point, revealing unspoken emotions and desires.

❀˖°𓍼♡ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❀˖°𓍼♡ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.1k

❀˖°𓍼♡ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The evening air was warm as Y/n sat on her couch, wincing every time she shifted. Her back still ached—four days later, and the damn furniture delivery was still haunting her. She’d tried everything: hot showers, over-the-counter painkillers, even a heating pad. Nothing worked. The thought of calling for help crossed her mind, but who would she call? Her friends were busy, and her family… well, they were miles away. She sighed, leaning back into the cushions just as her doorbell rang.

She frowned. Who could that be? Groaning, she pushed herself up and shuffled to the door, peeking through the peephole. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him standing there, his signature lopsided grin and those piercing blue/ green eyes. Lando.

“Hey, Y/n,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing as always. “Miss me?”

She opened the door, trying to keep her expression neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, holding up a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other. “Thought you might need some company. And, let’s be honest, I missed seeing your face.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She stepped aside to let him in, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered. Stop it, she told herself. He’s just being nice. Lando had been nothing but persistent since they met a few months ago, always finding ways to show up in her life, always making sure she knew how much he liked her. But she couldn’t let herself believe it. Not really. Someone like him? It didn’t make sense.

“You look tense,” Lando said, setting the wine and snacks down on her coffee table. “Everything okay?”

“Just my back,” she muttered, sitting back down on the couch. “I had to move some furniture the other day, and now I’m paying for it.”

Lando’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you call someone for help?”

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Didn’t think of it.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly. “You’re too stubborn, you know that?” He moved closer, sitting next to her. “Here, let me help. I can give you a massage.”

Her eyes widened. “What? No, that’s—”

“Come on,” he interrupted, his tone playful but insistent. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Besides, I’ll go get some massage oil or cream. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Before she could protest further, he was already heading for the door, leaving her gaping after him. “Wait, Lando—!”

“Be right back!” he called over his shoulder, disappearing into the hallway.

Y/n groaned, flopping back onto the couch. This is ridiculous. But deep down, a small part of her was relieved. She trusted Lando—maybe more than she wanted to admit. When he returned, she hesitated again, but the determination in his eyes made it impossible to refuse.

“Fine,” she mumbled, leading him to her bedroom. “But just the back.”

He laughed softly. “Sure, just the back.”

Y/n disappeared into the room, shutting the door behind her. She stood there for a moment, her heart pounding. What am I doing? Slowly, she undressed, leaving only a pair of short shorts on. She glanced at herself in the mirror, biting her lip. This felt… intimate. Too intimate. But she climbed onto the bed anyway, lying on her stomach and burying her face in her arms.

“Ready?” Lando’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly.

The door creaked open, and she heard him step inside, the soft rustle of the bag he carried. Moments later, she felt the bed dip as he kneeled beside her. His hands, warm and gentle, pressed against her back, spreading the cool massage oil over her skin. She shivered, not just from the temperature, but from the way his touch seemed to ignite something deep inside her.

His fingers worked expertly, kneading the tension out of her muscles. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. It felt incredible—too incredible. Gradually, his hands began to wander lower, skimming the sides of her waist, brushing dangerously close to her breasts. Her breath hitched, and she felt a warmth pooling between her legs.

“Relax,” Lando murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Let me take care of you.”

She nodded weakly, unable to form words. His hands continued to roam, moving toward her hips, then down her thighs. Each touch was slow, deliberate, sending jolts of electricity through her body. Her shorts felt damp, sticking to her skin, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice.

But of course, he did.

Lando’s fingers paused near the hem of her shorts, his gaze fixed on the thin fabric clinging to her. He swallowed hard, feeling his own arousal building. Fuck. He hadn’t expected this, but now that he was here, all he could think about was how badly he wanted her.

“Turn over,” he said suddenly, his voice husky.

Y/n blinked, lifting her head to look at him. “What?”

“Your front,” he explained, his eyes dark with desire. “If you want, I can massage that too.”

She hesitated, her heart racing. This was crossing a line—a line she wasn’t sure she was ready to cross. But the way he was looking at her, the heat in his gaze… it was impossible to resist.

Slowly, she turned onto her back, her cheeks burning. Lando’s eyes scanned her body, lingering on her chest before meeting her gaze. Without a word, he applied more oil to his hands and began massaging her stomach, his touch feather-light yet electrifying. Every brush of his fingers sent shivers down her spine.

Then, without warning, his hands drifted higher, cupping her breasts. Y/n gasped, her back arching instinctively. Lando’s thumbs circled her nipples, teasing them until they hardened beneath his touch. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to escape.

“Look at you,” Lando whispered, his voice thick with desire. “So beautiful.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. For the first time, she allowed herself to truly see him—the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered, the way his body reacted to hers. Her eyes flickered downward, noticing the obvious bulge in his jeans.

Lando followed her gaze and smirked. “Like what you see?”

She blushed, but there was no hiding the truth anymore. “Yes,” she admitted softly, surprising even herself.

His smirk softened into a genuine smile, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good. Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as Lando’s fingers traced the hem of her shorts, his touch feather-light yet deliberate. “Should I stop?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his lips still close to her ear. His warm breath sent shivers down her spine, and she could feel the heat pooling between her legs.

She shook her head, barely able to form words. “No.”

His smirk returned, and his fingers slipped under the fabric, grazing the sensitive skin of her thighs. Her body tensed momentarily, but then relaxed as his hands moved higher, massaging the curve of her hips. “You’re so tense,” he whispered, his voice laced with concern. “Let me help you relax.”

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the sensation of his touch. His fingers worked their magic, kneading the muscles in her lower back before trailing down to the small of her back. She could feel the wetness between her thighs growing, a testament to how much he was affecting her.

Lando’s hands paused, and she heard him draw in a sharp breath. “Y/n...” he said, his voice husky. “You’re soaking.”

Her face flushed, but she didn’t open her eyes. “I know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gently tugged at her shorts, and she lifted her hips slightly, allowing him to slide them off. The cool air brushed against her exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from his gaze. She felt vulnerable, yet completely safe in his presence.

His fingers grazed her inner thighs, and she trembled. He continued his exploration, moving closer to her core, his movements slow and deliberate. When his fingers finally reached her wetness, she gasped, her hips instinctively arching towards his touch.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He circled her entrance with his fingers, teasing her without giving her what she truly wanted.

She whimpered, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. “Lando... please...”

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her. “Please what?”

“Touch me,” she pleaded, her voice trembling with need.

He obliged, sliding a finger inside her slowly, watching her reaction intently. She moaned, her walls clenching around him as he began to move his finger in and out. Her breaths came in short, uneven gasps, and she could feel herself spiraling closer to the edge.

But just as she was about to reach her climax, he pulled his hand away, leaving her yearning for more. She opened her eyes, glaring at him. “Why did you stop?”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. “Because I want to taste you first,” he whispered before capturing her lips in a searing kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, mimicking the way he wanted to explore her body.

When he finally broke the kiss, he trailed his lips down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses along her collarbone. He paused at her chest, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing until she was squirming beneath him.

But he didn’t linger there for long. His lips continued their journey downward, kissing a path across her stomach before reaching her inner thighs. He gripped her hips firmly, holding her in place as he positioned himself between her legs.

She could feel his breath on her most sensitive area, and she shivered in anticipation. “Lando...” she breathed, her hands tangling in his hair.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust. “Relax,” he said, his voice soothing yet commanding. “Let me take care of you.”

And then his tongue was on her, licking a slow, torturous path up her slit. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through her veins. He lapped at her hungrily, savoring every drop of her essence, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her from squirming away.

His tongue flicked over her clit, and she saw stars, her entire body trembling with the intensity of the sensations. He alternated between swirling his tongue around her sensitive bundle of nerves and thrusting it inside her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

She couldn’t hold back anymore. With a final cry, she came undone, her orgasm washing over her in waves of ecstasy. He didn’t stop until she had ridden out every last tremor, his tongue continuing to tease her even as she collapsed back onto the bed, spent and breathless.

He crawled up her body, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “You taste amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

She smiled weakly, still recovering from the mind-blowing experience. “You’re incredible,” she replied, her voice hoarse.

He grinned mischievously, his hand trailing down her body once more. “And we’re just getting started.”

Y/n lay on the bed, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Lando hovered above her, his eyes dark with desire, a small smirk playing on his lips. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension between them so thick it was almost tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” Lando murmured, his voice low and husky. His fingers traced a slow path down her arm, sending shivers rippling through her. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, but she still hesitated, her walls firmly in place despite the intimacy they had just shared. “Lando…” she started, unsure of how to respond.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a tender kiss that made her head spin. When he pulled away, his eyes locked onto hers. “Don’t overthink it, Y/n. I know you feel it too. This.” He gestured between them, his hand trembling slightly. “It’s real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

She swallowed hard, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his sincerity. “I… I do feel it,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it scares me. You scare me.”

His expression softened, and he cupped her face in his hands. “Why?” he asked gently, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Tell me.”

Y/n took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “Because you’re you. You’re this amazing, successful, larger-than-life person. And I’m just… me. I don’t want to get hurt if this doesn’t work out.”

Lando’s eyes searched hers, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. “Y/n, you’re everything to me. Don’t you see that? It doesn’t matter who I am or what I do. When I’m with you, I’m just a guy who’s completely and utterly in love with this incredible woman.”

Her breath hitched at his confession, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You mean that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Every single word,” he replied without hesitation. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

For the first time, she let herself truly believe him. Let herself trust him. Her hands moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together. “I’m in love with you too,” she whispered, the words feeling like a release after holding them in for so long.

A wide grin spread across Lando’s face, and he kissed her deeply, pouring all of his emotions into it. When they finally broke apart, he chuckled softly. “Took you long enough,” he teased, his tone playful.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. “Shut up,” she said, smacking his shoulder lightly.

He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips to place a kiss on her knuckles. “Make me,” he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes. Slowly, she shifted beneath him, her hands sliding down to his waist. She could feel the hardness pressing against his jeans, and it only fueled her courage. “Maybe I will,” she murmured, her voice sultry.

Lando’s breath caught as her fingers grazed the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, Y/n,” he groaned, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily.

She smirked, enjoying the effect she had on him. With deliberate slowness, she undid the button of his jeans, then the zipper, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his boxers. He hissed through his teeth, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as she slid her hand inside.

Her fingers wrapped around his length, and she savored the way he shuddered at her touch. “You’re so hard,” she whispered, stroking him slowly.

“Only for you,” he managed to choke out, his eyes blazing with need.

She pushed him off of her with a playful smirk, watching as he landed on the bed with a soft bounce. Sliding between his legs, she locked her gaze with his, the intensity in her eyes making his breath hitch. She smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into her mouth. Lando let out a strangled groan, his hand tangling in her hair as she began to move. Her tongue swirled around him, teasing and tasting, driving him wild.

“God, you’re perfect,” he panted, his hips bucking slightly. “So fucking perfect.”

Y/n moaned around him, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through his body. Her hands roamed over his thighs, her nails digging lightly into his skin. She could feel him twitch in her mouth, hear the way his breathing became ragged.

“Y/n…” he warned, his voice strained. “If you keep going like that, I’m not going to last.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “And what if I don’t want you to?” she asked, her tongue darting out to lick a stripe along his length.

Lando cursed under his breath, his grip tightening in her hair. “You’re killing me,” he groaned, but he didn’t stop her when she took him back into her mouth.

Her movements became more fervent, her lips sucking and her tongue caressing him in ways that left him utterly undone. He could feel the pressure building, his entire body tensing as he teetered on the edge.

“I’m close,” he gasped, trying to warn her again.

But Y/n didn’t stop. Instead, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with devotion, and in that moment, Lando felt his control shatter. With a guttural moan, he came, her name on his lips as she swallowed every drop.

When he finally regained some semblance of composure, he pulled her up to him, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. “You’re incredible,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands roaming over her body. Lando’s chest heaved as he pulled her up, his hands trembling against her skin. His voice was rough, still catching on the edges of desire. “I want to fuck you so bad, Y/n. But I need a minute to get hard again.”

Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as she shifted her weight, her thighs pressing against his hips. She leaned down, her breath warm against his ear. “I can wait. It doesn’t matter how long—whether it’s seconds or minutes—as long as in the end, I get to feel you inside me.”

His eyes darkened, a low groan escaping his throat as her words sent a fresh wave of heat through him. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer.

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against his chest. “Good. Then we’ll go out together.” Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light but electric. “Take your time, Lando. I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled sharply, his body already responding to her nearness, her words, her touch. “Fuck, Y/n,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her gaze locked with his, unwavering, filled with a quiet intensity that made his heart pound. “Show me,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his. “When you’re ready, show me exactly what I do to you.”

Lando’s hands tightened on her waist, his breathing uneven as he felt himself hardening beneath her. “I won’t make you wait long,” he promised, his voice rough with urgency. “Not when all I want is to be inside you.”

She smiled, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him. “Then take me, Lando. When you’re ready, take me and don’t hold back.”