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anniebeemine · 1 month

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you didn't come- s.r x reader

based off of this post by @hereforhalstead

warnings: alcohol consumption, allusions to sex if you squint and flip it upside down

The evening had started off lighthearted enough. After wrapping up a particularly tough case, the team decided to unwind the way they often did—by hitting a local bar. It was meant to be a chance to decompress, to shake off the heaviness of the past few days and enjoy each other's company outside of the office.

Spencer had been quieter than usual, but that wasn’t uncommon. He often retreated into himself after difficult cases, especially those that hit too close to home. Tonight was no different; he nursed his drink quietly, offering small smiles when the conversation around him called for it but not really engaging. The others noticed but didn’t press him, figuring he’d open up when he was ready.

The bar was loud, filled with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The team talked about everything and nothing, trying to push the horrors of their work to the back of their minds, if only for a little while. They stayed for a few rounds, catching up, telling stories, and enjoying the brief escape from reality.

As the night wore on, they eventually decided to head back to Penelope’s apartment to round off the evening with something more relaxed—movies, board games, or just lounging around. It was their tradition, a way to wind down together, like a family.

No one really noticed when Spencer’s mood shifted. He had stayed on the edges of the group, quietly sipping his drink, his mind clearly somewhere else. It wasn’t until they were at Penelope’s, the mood turning quieter and more intimate, that someone realized something was seriously wrong.

Spencer had withdrawn even more, his eyes distant as he stared at nothing in particular. JJ was the first to notice, her instincts kicking in. She saw the glassiness in his eyes, the way his hands trembled slightly as he set his drink down. She moved closer, asking softly if he was okay, but he only shook his head, a forced smile on his lips. And then, without warning, the tears came. Silent at first, just a few that slipped down his cheeks, but it quickly became clear that this wasn’t something he could control. The dam had broken, and Spencer, usually so composed, so in control of his emotions, was unraveling in front of them.

The room fell silent, everyone’s attention turning to Spencer as he sat there, struggling to hold himself together. No one asked why he was crying; they all knew.

The arrangement with Spencer had started off innocently enough. You were friends, good friends, who shared an undeniable chemistry. Late-night conversations had gradually turned into something more—a mutual, unspoken agreement to meet each other’s needs without the complications of a relationship. It was simple, or at least, that’s what you told yourself in the beginning.

For a while, it worked. You both understood the boundaries, the rules. No emotional attachment, no expectations, no strings. Spencer had made it clear from the start that he wasn’t looking for anything more, that he couldn’t be what you might need him to be. He had his reasons, and you respected them, even if they stung more than you let on.

“Don’t fall for me,” he had said one night, his voice soft but firm, as if he were trying to protect both of you from the inevitable. You had laughed it off at the time, joking that you weren’t the type to get attached. But deep down, you knew you were lying to yourself.

As the weeks turned into months, the lines began to blur. The late-night rendezvous, the stolen moments of intimacy, the way he’d hold you just a little too long afterward—it all started to chip away at the walls you’d built around your heart. It became harder to separate the physical from the emotional, harder to pretend that you didn’t care.

And you did care. You cared more than you should have, more than you wanted to. The realization hit you like a freight train one night when you found yourself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, your mind replaying every touch, every kiss, every whispered conversation. It was the kind of realization that left you breathless, your chest tight with a longing you knew would never be reciprocated.

That’s when you knew you had to end it. As much as it hurt, as much as you didn’t want to, you couldn’t keep lying to yourself. You couldn’t keep giving pieces of your heart to someone who had already told you he couldn’t take care of it.

So you broke things off. Spencer didn’t fight you on it, didn’t try to change your mind. He simply nodded, his expression carefully neutral, as if he had expected this all along. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a word. Maybe that was what hurt the most—that he didn’t ask you to stay, didn’t give any indication that this was anything more than what you’d agreed to in the beginning.

You’d put yourself out there, as much as you could, and he hadn’t given you any reason to believe he felt anything more than what you’d already agreed to. If he didn’t want you then, why would he want you now?

The phone rang, jolting you from the movie you’d been engrossed in. You glanced at the caller ID and saw it was Penelope. With a sigh, you ignored it, hoping she’d leave a voicemail and you could deal with it in the morning. Your thoughts quickly returned to the movie, but they were soon interrupted again by the phone ringing, this time more insistently. With a growing sense of unease, you picked up the phone on the last ring, your voice trembling slightly as you answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” she started softly. “I have Spencer here and he’s asking for you.”

You checked the caller ID again. “Spencer?”

Penelope hummed. “Yeah. He… he’s a little bit of a mess and he wants you to take him home.”

You thought about it. You hesitated, feeling a tightness in your chest. As much as you cared about Spencer, this didn’t feel right. “Penelope, I— I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you said carefully. “It’s not my place, and I’m sure if he were sober, he wouldn’t want me to be there.”

There was a pause before Penelope sighed softly. “I understand,” she replied, her voice tinged with sympathy. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll take care of him.”

“Thank you,” you said, your heart heavy with the decision you made. After hanging up, you couldn't help but worry about Spencer, but you knew you had to respect his boundaries, even if it hurt.

You tried to focus on the movie, but the images on the screen blurred together, losing their meaning. After a few minutes, you gave up, turning off the TV. The silence that followed was almost too much to bear, so you reached for your crochet project, hoping it might distract you. Your hands moved automatically, the yarn slipping through your fingers as you worked on the simple pattern. But no matter how much you tried to concentrate on the stitches, your thoughts drifted back to Spencer. You couldn’t shake the image of him, vulnerable and in need, reaching out to you in a moment of weakness.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You blinked them away, trying to keep going, but the weight of everything was too much. A quiet sob escaped your lips, and you bit down hard on your bottom lip, forcing yourself to keep working, relying on muscle memory to guide you. The repetitive motions of crocheting were soothing in their own way, a small comfort as the tears silently streamed down your cheeks. You weren’t even sure what you were crying for—Spencer, yourself, or the situation that had left you feeling so helpless.

The rhythmic motion of your hands eventually lulled you into a restless sleep, the crochet project slipping from your fingers as you dozed off on the couch. It was a fitful slumber, haunted by half-formed dreams that left you feeling even more drained.

A loud, heavy knock startled you awake. Disoriented, you sat up, wiping at your tear-streaked face as you tried to shake off the lingering fog of sleep. The knocking came again, more insistent this time. Your heart skipped a beat, a sense of unease settling in your chest.

You stumbled to the door, your breath catching as you looked through the peephole. Spencer was standing there, leaning heavily against the door frame. His eyes were red and puffy, his face streaked with tears that had dried on his cheeks. He looked completely shattered, more vulnerable than you had ever seen him.

You hesitated, your hand hovering over the doorknob. A part of you wanted to open the door immediately, to pull him into your arms and comfort him. But the other part, the one that still remembered why you had declined to pick him up earlier, held you back. But as you watched him sway slightly, barely able to keep himself upright, you knew you couldn’t leave him out there. With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and opened it slowly.

"Spencer," you said, your voice trembling as you took in the sight of him up close. He looked at you, his expression a mixture of pain and relief.

Without saying a word, he stepped forward, his legs almost giving out beneath him. Instinctively, you reached out, catching him as he leaned into you. His body shook with silent sobs, and you could feel the weight of his emotions pressing against you.

"You didn’t come," he choked out, barely able to get the words past his tears.

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Gently, you pushed him back just enough to look at his face, your hands trembling as you held onto him.

"Spencer…," you began, your voice thick with emotion. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the words came tumbling out before you could stop them. "I didn’t come because—because I’m hurt."

He blinked, the confusion and pain in his eyes shifting as he pulled back slightly, standing up straight to give you space. You could see him trying to process what you were saying, his tear-stained face softening as he waited for you to continue.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. "I’ve fallen for you, Spencer," you admitted, the confession tearing at you even as you said it. "I’ve fallen so h-hard, and I know you don’t feel the same way. I know that. But it hurts… it hurts so much because I’ve been telling myself that I’m not good enough for you."

His eyes widened slightly, the guilt and sadness in them deepening as you continued.

"And if I’m not good enough for you, who could I possibly be good for? I thought so lowly of myself, Spencer. I’ve been tearing myself apart because I can’t measure up to what you deserve." Your voice broke, the tears finally spilling over. "You’re kind, brilliant, compassionate… and I’m just—" You shook your head, unable to finish the sentence.

But you didn’t have to. His lips were on yours in an instant, cutting off your words with a desperate kiss. The shock of it froze you in place, your mind racing to catch up with what was happening. You stiffened, your hands hovering uncertainly in the air as you tried to summon the urge to push him away, to tell him this wasn’t right, to tell him it wasn't fair for him to show up on your doorstep like this.

But you couldn’t.

The longing you had buried deep inside, the ache of missing him, the hope you had tried so hard to suppress—it all came rushing back, flooding your senses. Your resolve crumbled, and you found yourself leaning into him, your hands slowly lowering to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer as if afraid he might slip away.

He kissed you like he was drowning, and you were the only thing keeping him afloat. There was nothing gentle or hesitant about it—only raw emotion and need, as if he was trying to communicate all the things he couldn’t find the words to say. But just as suddenly as it began, Spencer pulled away, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was trembling, his eyes wide with something between fear and desperation.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking, “tell me to leave. Tell me this was a mistake and I’ll go. I’ll never bother you again. Just… please.”

You stared at him, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and emotion. He was practically begging you to push him away, to end whatever this was before it could begin. But you couldn’t find the words to do it. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to leave, even though you knew how complicated and painful this would be.

So you just stood there, staring at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. His expression crumpled as he realized you weren’t going to say anything, his hands dropping to his sides as if he didn’t know what to do next.

But you still couldn’t let go.

tags: @donttrustlove , @migueloharasbbm @mortaci

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst

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plscallmeeren · 1 month

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H E A D C A N O N S

Loki Laufeyson / Odinson x Reader

Request: no just feeling in love

Summary: completely mixed batch of romantic headcanons including fluff, smut and some toxic things that would probably come into play at some point

Warnings: some general sexual stuff but nothing rough lol; mentions of extreme jealousy etc

Word Count: about 1K

He loves recommending books to you and talking about them afterward. It used to be him accidentally gushing about a book (usually poetry or fairy tales) and at some point you just started reading them without him knowing. Eventually he gave up on keeping the titles secret.

At first he was put off when you weren't too submissive during sex, but he adopted the "treat her like a Queen" idea and now, without diminishing his own pride, he looks forward to worshipping you every day.

He loves dancing - spinning you around the room, slow steps, but very close - anything. If you are in a room filled with of people he can show you off, but alone it is just as intimate.

When he's insecure, he can revert to considering himself superior. You generally let him be aloof for a while before addressing the problem directly, but it's a struggle every time to make him admit why he has low self esteem.

He has a treasured copy of Nordic fairy tales with beautiful illustrations that he shows only you. He lets you tenderly flip the pages, in awe at wonders like forest fairies, nymphs, glamorous witches and hags alike. Not like Thor, that 'oaf'.

One night, you sat on the edge of the your shared bed, legs bare, teasing him for how desperately he wanted you. He knelt before you, whispering "please", kissing his way up from your ankle to your thigh on one leg.

Loki hates it when she is a woman and is handles awkwardly at first. You have a habit of immediately talking to her or circling an arm around her waist when she enters the room so that she can't worry to the point of turning back into a male body.

He loved hearing his name from your lips as he pleasures you: "Loki, Loki, Loki". It is only right for a god to be subject to whispered prayer.

He makes fun of/critiques Thor a lot, but in quieter moments he loves telling childhood stories and Thor's adventures. On darker days he will ask whether you're sure you wouldn't prefer Thor - after all, everyone else did.

He lives to kiss you. It sounds dopey, but anywhere, anytime, in front of everyone - kissing you on the lips, on your neck, hair, chest, arms, especially hands. Anything to taste you, to feel as close as possible.

She feels particularly sound in her own body when you fuck her as a woman. When she's spread out before you, bare, there's no hiding who she is, and you are more than happy to ravage her as much as their common body.

Loki doesn't need much sleep. At night, he sometimes feels lonely and yearns for the halls of Asgard. He cries quietly in bed, careful not to wake you. Some days, he retreats to the library and sobs, cries absorbed by surrounding stories.

Tea. Tea. Tea. Always. And every time he makes a cup for himself, you get one, too. He knows your favourites and which ones you like at what time of day.

He writes you letters. Love letters full of poems - some of his own hand and others quoted - and confessions. Every swooping letter is drawn with careful precision, every reference a new find from the library in honour of you. Such a hopeless romantic. When you write such letters back, leaving them with him before he wakes, he almost sheds tears of bliss.

If you have tattoos or scars or burns - anything of the like - he will trace them, stare at them as he comes, turned on endlessly by every unique mark on your body. All his. No one else knows every freckle like him.

He is possessive. He always has been, and as much as you try and calm him and prevent jealousy... sometimes he yells at you for talking to someone else too much. Sometimes he whispers that you have betrayed him like his father. Sometimes you find him searching through your things; what for, you will never know.

Loki loves your laugh, and he will do the most ridiculous things to earn it. Before knowing you, he would have considered every antic and joke beneath him and embarrassing, but he hardly cares anymore. That is, until Thor laughs so loud from beside you that he can't hear anything at all.

Stargazing. He points out every constellation, knows every myth - some are inspired by people he knows.

He reads to you. He takes you on surprise picnics and plans fancy evenings.

He loved how you see through his lies and tall tales, but take him seriously or laugh anyway. Every one of them has a grain of truth, after all, and it doesn't make him untrustworthy.

He doesn't really swear, but secretly likes it when you sound harsh talking to others.

Loki will talk about your future all the time, especially after making love, rambling on about your house, lifestyle, garden, parties.

You talk for hours at once, incorrigible.

No one can calm him down like you. The moment you touch his arm when he's yelling at Thor or anyone else, it ceases, but he sometimes pretends to be angry a bit longer, just enough to get to your room and keep his pride in front of the others.

Loki loves you. Selflessly. Eternally. Insatiably.

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sp00kymulderr · 3 months

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stretch

Dieter Bravo x gn!reader x yoga instructor!Joel Miller

Warnings/Tags: M for mentions of sex. AU in which Joel is very flexible. Dieter is a menace. Daydreaming about a threesome. Reader is able bodied/takes part in a yoga class. No use of pronouns for reader but they are called babe & baby.

Words: 890 words

Summary: Dieter introduces you to his yoga instructor.

A/N: for my love @ravensmadreads. idk where this came from. You mentioned something about trainer!joel and being told to bend over and my mind went to yoga so??? Consider this a little offshoot of gym crush Joel. An au of the au.

Dieter had been insistent on your coming to his yoga class today.

He was practically dragging you along through the luxury gym floor to the studio - an intimate set up with space for just the two of you and the instructor. Perks of being an actor, Dieter didn't have to work out with strangers.

He'd never been that into yoga before he'd gone off to film Cliff Beasts 6. But he'd come back particularly enthusiastic about it. Something about a mirror. Someone called Kate. You weren't sure you particularly needed to know the rest and frankly, the sex had been even better since he'd gotten more flexible and active so who were you to say anything.

He's happy, giving you an excited nudge as you both sit down on your fancy mats, sitting cross legged as you wait for the instructor to show up.

"You're gonna love this, babe" He mutters, giving you the kind of smile that is all mischief.

"Dee, I love your enthusiasm but I really don't think-"

You stop, words scrambling just like your brain cells as another man joins you two in the room. He pads quietly over to the mat in front of you both and greets the two of you. Where Dieter's energy is very 'bouncing off the walls', this man seems calm and gentle, in a way.

It doesn't hurt that he's gorgeous too. Beautiful brown eyes that seem to tell a thousand stories at once, greying brown hair, scruffy grey-speckled facial hair that accentuates his handsome features. He's…gorgeous isn't even really the right word. Breathtaking feels more like it.

Well, you understand why Dieter has been particularly keen about this class.

He introduces himself as Joel before sitting down on his mat facing the two of you and mirroring your crossed-leg stance.

Your mouth feels dry. It's a little embarrassing how quickly you're affected by the man. He's started talking but you're zoned out, hopefully subtly scanning eyes over him; the way his t-shirt is just a little too tight around the biceps, the tiny sliver of skin when it rides up as he raises his arms.

Dieter, thoroughly amused, nudges you back to reality. For a moment you stare from him back to Joel and then, "Oh right" you awkwardly say, raising your arms up with a deep breath.

If you thought Dieter was flexible now, he was nothing compared to Joel. He made every flow look easy, and showed his strength with a quiet grace that you were finding very difficult to not continue to be struck dumb by. Your mind was definitely going to places it shouldn't…specifically to Joel in bed with you and Dieter…how that might go. Hearing him tell you to bend for a different reason might drive you completely overboard.

As the class continues you're wondering what positions he could put you in, lost in thought right as his hands gently meet your hips to help you into a pose you might not be struggling with if your mind wasn't in the gutter. The touch of his hand makes your breath hitch. And not subtly.

"You okay?" Joel asks, his voice low and quiet, fingers giving you a little reassuring tap on the hip. You nod back, waiting for the floor to open up and take you away. Dieter gives you a knowing look and you glare back at him, now fully aware why he'd so badly wanted you to join the class.

It's either a blessing or a curse that you have the same taste in men.

It's a relief when the class ends, when the 45 minutes are up and you can hopefully get out of the small studio and clear your head of dirty thoughts about a man just doing his job.

You look over to Joel as he's clearing away mats, give him a little smile and say your thanks and pray that you aren't somehow giving away the things you'd been thinking about him for the whole time. To your surprise he gives you a smile and a wink as you're on your way out.

"Give me a couple minutes, baby" Dieter says mysteriously. Maybe you should be worried about that particular glint in his eyes as he approaches Joel when you exit the studio.

You're checking your phone when Dieter comes back out, taking your hand and walking with you back to the car.

"So?" He asks, looking at your like an expectant puppy.

"Hm?"

"You liked it? What'd you think of Joel?" He says, his tone telling you he's much more interested in knowing your thoughts on the other man.

"He's very…" You start, not sure quite how to describe the things you felt about him in that short amount of time "bendy?"

"Yeah he is" Dieter sighs happily, pulling you towards him out by the car and turning you around to face him. His arms nake round your middle, holding you close. "You liked him, right?"

You sigh, returning his embrace. He always looked for a reason to be as close to you as possible. You would never complain about that.

"Yeah, I like him"

His smile lights up the entire parking lot. You knew he was up to something.

"Good" He kisses the tip of your nose before pulling back.

"Cause he's coming over tonight to give us a special session"

#Dieter Bravo x reader x Joel Miller #Dieter Bravo x reader #Joel Miller x reader #joel miller x dieter bravo #pedro pascal character fiction

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astaroth1357 · 2 years

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Most to Least Likely to Cry After Sex

Okay so, this might be a personal thing on my end, but I have long kept a running list of characters that I believe would cry after having sex. It is a perfectly natural response and there is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about if it happens ... though it is surprisingly entertaining to think about in terms of fictional characters. And of course, I have a list for OM as well.

Contents: Nsfw/suggestive, depending on your definition, but not explicit. Emotional vulnerability explored.

~♡♡♡~

Levi

I think anyone could see this coming. Levi almost certainly has cried or would cry after sex. And depending on what you're doing, he may even cry during sex too.

Bless his little heart, it is 100% because he is always riding an emotional rollercoaster of the highest highs and lowest lows. The realization that somebody out there actually wants to be intimate with him would send his whole body into a meltdown. Have patience.

Mammon

Also kind of a no-brainer. He's only a little less likely to cry than Levi because he's better at putting up a front when he really wants to.

Unlike others on the list, Mammon gets super embarrassed if he gets overwhelmed and cries after sex but he rarely tries to hide it. It's kind of his way of reaching out for more affection, he wants to be coddled and reassured that his partner accepts him no matter what. He thrives on unconditional love like that.

Satan

Hear me out. Satan is canonically a kinky little fucker, I don't think he would cry after an especially "playful" rendezvous. It would be the really soft and intimate moments that get him everytime.

We have to remember, he's still a little new to this whole "experiencing feelings" thing. An emotion as overpowering as love is going to flatten him like a steamroller. He won't even realize that he is crying until his tears start staining the sheets. Be gentle. Talk him through it. Again, it's perfectly natural if it happens.

Belphie

I think Belphie will cry for bratty purposes more than anything else. I am wholly convinced that he will cry on demand if it gets him what he wants.

Lord forbid the MC tries to go anywhere before Belphie is ready because he may just grab onto them and start the waterworks. If you could withstand the full force of a pouty, teary-eyed Belphie begging just "5 more minutes" of cuddling, you're a stronger person than I am.

Simeon

Only lower than the other guys by virtue of having quite the stranglehold on his inner emotions, but he will let them out if he's comfortable to do so.

Let me be clear, Simeon wants to cry everytime. He wants to lose himself completely in his partner and let it all wash over him. It's just the social and moral questions surrounding what's happening that keep him from doing so. (Poor thing #1)

Asmo

Another person who can cry on demand or just get overwhelmed, but it won't happen often.

Put quite simply, Asmo's been around the block. He has a pretty good handle on himself even during his come downs. However, he knows how much it could mean to your partner if you're willing to show that side of yourself to them. So if MC says/does something that genuinely touches him, he will cry without shame.

Diavolo

Would almost certainly get misty-eyed if he was with someone he truly cared about. He may not cry, but he'll have to rub his eyes some.

Make. The. Prince. Feel. Loved. The realization that he has someone that he doesn't have order or trick into staying around would floor him. He's far, far too well-versed in maintaining a certain image to fully breakdown, but those feelings would all still be there regardless.

Lucifer

Also gets misty-eyed, particularly after make-up sex.

He would rather sheath his own nails into the skin of his palms than get caught crying, but if he really screwed something up (and was willing to admit it) then he would get a little vulnerable in the moment. It would be fleeting, though.

Solomon

It can get to him a bit, he's a pretty lonely guy, but he's more likely to make a joke or say something out of the blue just to hide from his feelings.

I don't think Solomon quite lets himself ponder or self-reflect on things that genuinely upset him. He's very goal-driven and future-focused, so indulging in these softer moments would be foreign to him. If he ever feels like crying, he'll immediately try to distract from it rather than letting the feelings out. (Poor thing #2)

Beel

I just don't see him crying. He's very comfortable with himself, he doesn't really repress his emotions, and he knows he's well-liked and well-loved. Beel would be just fine.

It's not a Solomon situation, of course. Beel does self-refect and he genuinely engages with others. I just don't think this would be a shocking level of intimacy to him. He already loves others about this deeply to start with, so just expect a really smiley Beel!

Barbatos

To be clear, Barbatos can cry and he has cried before in his life. It just won't ever be after sex.

Similar to Solomon, I think Barbatos lives his life with a certain level of detachment from the world around him. He wouldn't get overwhlemed after sex because he can't. It's not that his mind is elsewhere, it's that he blocks himself from getting too emotionally invested in such things to begin with. (Poor thing #3)

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alyslittlehaven · 2 months

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First Time, First Rite. Azriel x OC A part of my 'Moonlight Weaver' Series I am making, during one of the annual visits to moon-haven, Azriel finds himself intertwined with the towns lady, the moonlight weaver Ezme, to help her with the fertility rite.

Warnings: Soft sex, Giggling, cutesy smut. very vulnerable Azriel, Sex in a pond, sex that magically fuels the land. "Are you staying, Shadowsinger?"

Azriel felt his words die in his throat as he looked at the woman, her back turned to him as she undid her dress. Ezme was ethereal—a true otherworldly type of beauty he was so drawn to. Her careful words and gentle touches fueled his days when he had come to see her on 'business.' Like he always does. His eyes raked down her body. A small breath left him as he walked up behind her and carefully untied the laces.

"You want me to watch?"

She let out a thoughtful hum before looking at Azriel from over her shoulder, his eyes finally finding hers again as he finished untying her corset. Her body visibly relaxing as she felt the tension around her waist and chest fade away. "I wouldn't mind some company for the rite." Her voice carried confidently as she turned away from him, her hands moving the straps and slowly letting the dress fall off of her shoulders, a warm smile quickly taking her features.

Azriel's attention lingered on her figure as she fixed her hair; he was a simple man, after all. He turned his head away, gently clearing his throat as he let her have her privacy. His eyes widened slightly as a wisp of moonlight swirled around him, his eyes staying on the moving tendril of white light before it swiftly moved up and curled under her chin, forcing his gaze over to Ezme. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared, wide-eyed, at her. The softly glowing tendril slowly retreated to move around her frame.

“I wouldn’t mind if you participated.”

Her baby blue, almost white eyes now had a hint of yellow swirling in their depths. Her arms were wrapped around her chest to hide her breasts. The moonlight practically seeped into her skin and the lake, just like the stories had said about her and the moon. It's one child—its walking embodiment. Azriel finally let out the breath he was holding as the shock suddenly left his system. The notion of participating in the rite was intimate enough in general, but to actually complete the ritual with a woman like her overwhelmed his senses.

It was no secret that the moonlight weaver was a dangerous woman , that she could kill you with the simple swipe of a hand. Simply trying to provide a haven for the people who needed it. Which had been created in the somewhat large town they stood on the outskirts of, their most sacred ceremony.

And she was offering to have him perform it with her.

Years and years of searching for someone to want him, to need him just as much as he needed them, practically fell apart as he watched her let her fingers dip into the water, treading across the ponds surface as she walked towards the waterfall. The body of water glowing a bright white, the color seemingly the same shade as the moon that reflected off of it.

Azriel's wings shuddered behind him as the milky tendrils brushed through and around them, his eyebrows shooting up in confusion as he looked from her to the bundle of moonlight wisps. "You would let me?" His gaze flicked back over to her as the wisps practically purred in his presence, the words coming out more confused than he would have liked. Completely smashing his ego in the process. Ezme's frame, walking deeper into the pond, said, "I am asking, aren't I?" The water was now about up to her belly button, the ends of her hair flowing in the water behind her as she spoke. Her careful words were chosen, particularly not to spook the man behind her. To say he intrigued her was an understatement. Rhysand had been right to send him in hopes she would find him interesting all those months ago.

Azriel couldn't bear to tear his eyes away from Ezme as she stood, treading water. The glow from the pond bathed them both in an almost angelic light. His gaze slowly traveled down her figure, his breath nearly hitching in his throat when she reached up to put her hair in a ponytail. Her eyes remained locked on his, capturing his thoughts completely.

Any woman or man who she attempted to bed would simply be a fool to turn her down. And Azriel was a lot of things, but he would not let himself be a fool.

"Clothes off before you get in..."

He found himself undoing his fighting leathers, taking his time as she slowly turned back to the waterfall, calmly waiting for him there, basking in the cool air from the water. A small spark ignited in his brain as he got his top off and started to work away on his trousers. Eventually, when his clothes were reduced to a heap on the floor, He carefully stepped into the water, making his way to her until they were standing side by side.

He watched as she leaned forward, cupping her hands above her head as her eyes closed and she drank from the falls. The water around them suddenly glowed much brighter than before, the magic seeping off of her like the water fell off of the cliff in front of them. Its overwhelming presence is soothing to Azriel. He took a minute before he tore his eyes away from her and let himself drink from the water as well, letting out a small laugh and cough at how warm and tingly it was. Ezme let out a small giggle as she took him in, her eyes looking at every line, curve, and scar that was on display in his naked form. A small huff left her before she took a couple of steps into the waterfall. Her arms now lifted above her head as the water cascaded over her, accentuating every curve yet hiding what exactly he wanted to see the most. He watched as she waved him in, a small laugh leaving her again. Axriel carefully folded his wings behind his back and took a few tentative steps forward, feeling a sudden rush of anticipation run through him. His eyes fell on the way she fixed her hair, the water falling over top of the two like a shower.

"Does the water hurt your wings?" Her calm voice broke him from his trance, his eyes now focused on her as a smirk tugged at the end of his lips. Shaking his head no at her question before quickly stretching them out for demonstration. A relieved smile formed on her face as she noticed he was fine. Her eyes flicked to his wings.

Illyrians had been a common thing in her town, the many families who chose to leave their camps and save their children from the pain they had gone through. not wishing to continue passing down that torment. But these wings had to be one of a kind, their large form was bigger than any wing type she had seen. Not to mention how sharp the talons were. Eze took a step towards him, still staring at the membranes as her left hand came up and pressed against his chest, the other on his shoulder as her gaze moved from his wings to his face. A small breath left her figure as their eyes met. "Your wings are beautiful..." Azriel blinked a couple of times, his eyes a bit wide as he registered just how tender her voice was when he spoke to him. His expression softened as she cupped one side of his face with her hand.

"Thank you, I grew them myself." Ezme let out a laugh, shaking her head as his smile widened into something borderline dorky. She giggled, brushing her thumb against his cheek. "Oh, really? I thought you bought them from the market." He shook his head no, feigning offense. "How dare you!" He chuckled, looking down at her with a gentle smile. Hearing the thundering sound of the waterfall making contact with the water in the pond.

Or was that his heart? He couldn't tell the difference in that moment.

Azriel's hand moved down her sides and rested on her hips, pulling her a tad bit closer to his chest. His smile slowly fell as he stared at her. Both of her hands finally cupped Azriel's face, and she leaned up, capturing his mouth against her own. Their lips moving slowly in tandem. Azriel's hands pulled Ezme impossibly close, their chests pressing against one another as they leaned more and more into the kiss. His tongue swiped over her lips, silently asking for permission before he deepened the kiss. Her hands running down from his face to his chest as she looked up, his own hands flowly moving down and quickly picking her up. Holding her thighs. She let out a small noise of surprise as he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to hold her up. His lips never left her own as he let out a groan.

She let out a small gasp, chuckling into the kiss as he lifted her up without warning, taking a couple steps till she felt the cold stone pressing into her back. His lips never left hers, even as her legs wrapped around his waist. Their giggles fill the small space underneath.

Azriel thought maybe he was in the heavens and he had died during the last battle, that perhaps the mother had finally given up on keeping him alive and sentenced him to an eternity with her, with lady moon. He was wrong though; he was well and alive, his skin practically burning with desire as she moaned into the kiss, a small fire lit in his belly that hadn't been there in years. She let a hand slowly move out and stroke his wing, feeling the massive things unfold and widen for her touch, a shudder wracking through his body at the soft touches. A low moan escaped his mouth as she gently squeezed the membrane of his wing, the other hand finding itself tangled in his hair, her fingers gently tugging on the wet curls.

Azriel tensed slightly as the hand that was on his wings slowly traveled down and took him in her hand, letting his head fall down to the crook of her neck as she stroked his length a couple times and lined him up with her entrance. His hands finally rested on her hips as he stared down at what she was doing.

"Cauldron boil me. . You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you?" Azriel's voice was low and husky as he looked up at her, watching that slightly ajar mouth slowly form into a beaming smile at his words. Her hand finally left his member, reaching back up for his face and capturing him in another slow kiss, her lips perfectly slotted against his as he pushed his hips forward. The desperate need to be inside of her, to be as close as physically possible, ran through his veins as he heard her let out a little gasp. His wings flared out behind him. Their usual calm and still reactions now traded for a wide stance with a hint of trembling as they stayed there for a moment.

The back of her head rested against the wall, her body no longer feeling the slight pain of the stone pressing against her back. Her mind stalling for a moment as he pushed himself into her, a gasp leaving her figure as she closed her eyes. Thanking the mother that he gave her some time to adjust to him.

'I suppose the rumor that Illyrian wings and lengths are proportionate is proven true now.' She let out a little giggle, and confusion started to bubble up at her reaction.

Soon enough, Azriel began to move his hips. The slow, almost gentle rhythm he had started completely making him forget about the water that continuously fell around the two of them, adding just another thing to forget the world inside of. His touches were gentle as his hands roamed her skin, and she did the same. Her hands moved from his face to his shoulders, and then eventually down to his waist. Soft moans leave them both and fill the air around them.

The two of them were completely lost in the pleasure, their lips barely leaving one another unless it was to gasp or to place them on another body part. The two of them were more focused on the pressure building up in their guts than the world around them, completely forgetting about the rite, the people at townsqare who waited for them. Completely forgetting about their duties to their people. A soft smile tugged on Azriel's mouth as soon as he pulled away from her lips, panting as he listened to the constant stream of soft, pure moans that left her. His hips continued to rock into Ezme at their previous pace.

She couldn't even imagine what the two of them must look like on the outside of this waterfall. Azriel the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster of the Night Court, his hands on her thighs as the moonlight weavers legs wrapped around his waist, holding her up against the wall as the water fell around him. His lips were all over her neck, breasts, and face as he rocked into her. His wings spread on full display behind him, with one of her hands running along the membrane. Their entire world was completely reduced to the feeling of her wrapped around his cock in one of the best ways possible. His breath left him in hard, ragged pants and groans as he felt the familiar knot building in his stomach. His hand traveled down so he could brush his thumb over her clit. His thrusts slowly picked up the pace as his wings shuddered behind him at her gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders and back as his hands gripped at her hips in an almost painful way.

They just stared at each other for a moment, moaning out and holding one another as their eyes locked. Azriel's mind was completely fogged over with pleasure. The only thoughts running through his mind were how good she felt and how beautiful she was looking down at him like that. Like he was the only man in the world for her. His heart clenched in his chest as her body started to tremble lightly, and his forehead pressed against hers as he continued to mindlessly rock into her. Ezme could hardly think, her thoughts buzzing with the shock of all of this and how good he felt inside of her.

Azriel shifted slightly, making a small change to the angle he was taking. Her moans grew louder, legs trembling around him as he hit just the right spot, desperately clinging onto him as he sped up his normally gentle pace.

Her lips crashed into his, and a few moments later she came undone around him, moaning into his mouth and twitching slightly with her orgasm, her pants leaving her mouth as he continued to push into her. Her head fell, her forehead now pressed against his shoulder as her nails dug into his back. Most of the noises leaving her now are just gasps and a word or two. Azriel let out a hiss, and his hips stuttered slightly, pushing up into her with a small curse and holding her hips down against him as he spilled into her. White-hot pleasure burned through his vision as his hand moved to the stone wall behind Ezme. The two of them stayed there for a moment to catch their breath. Azriel's head perked up at the sound of her giggle.

"that, Azriel. Is the fertility rite." Her smile was as bright as the sun, a small, tired twinge in her voice as he just chuckled, carefully pulling out of her and wrapping her legs around his hips again. Leaning up and kissing her passionately, slow and tandem with one another.

Cassian let out a small hum, looking around as the townspeople danced and laughed amongst each other. His eyes tried to find the very quiet male who usually stalked behind them. "Rhysand, do you know where our dear shadow singer went?" Rhysand let out a small sigh, twirling around the stick of fruit inside his cocktail. Humming.

"No, I haven't seen him since we arrived; maybe he's off dancing; Cauldron knows he needs this Cass." Cassian nodded, letting himself relax before a startling roar left the crowd, his eyes quickly looking around for what they were cheering at. Cassian slowly reached over, patting Rhysand's arm, who tore himself away from the paper in his hands.

A small giggle left Ezme's lips as a bunch of women screamed when she walked back into the square, her presence meaning the rite had been completed. What surprised Rhysand and Cassian the most was the soaking-wet Azriel, who smiled next to her. A group of men whisked him away with a bunch of knowing smirks.

Cassian cleared his throat. His eyes were still wide as he looked over at his brother Rhysand.

"Well...now we know where Azriel went."

#acotar #fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel supremacy #azriel x oc #fiction #soft smut #azriel smut #drabble #oneshot for a series im making #cassian acotar #rhysand acotar #HE DESERVES SO MUCH LOVE #Fluff #oc x canon #Pond stuff #magic

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jeonginslut · 1 month

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how riize lost their virginities

- anton , he didn’t… he’s either waiting till marriage or he just has no plans too anytime soon, he has no reason too but i heavily feel like he is, he gives off virgin energy im sorry

sohee - he experimented with boys but he hasn’t actually lost it yet

wonbin - he prolly put it in someone but he didn’t like the experience (wonbin asexual king),

sungchan - def had sex multiple times prolly even did it with other idols, he’s too bad

eunseok - he prolly only did it once or twice once he was like 20 but he doesn’t see the need to constantly have sex more than a few times. year, only when he’s rlly rlly rlly horny

seunghan - he’s def fucking girl he prolly fucking RIGHT NOWWWW… i feel like he the type to make u do crazy things just bc the dick is thatttt good like

shotaro - it’s obvious he’s had sex. it’s nothing wrong with duality like ik he has a cute personality but like he’s wayy too skilled with every part of his body (esp his hips) to not be putting it to good use

i’m screaming like this made me laugh out loud when i was checking this blog on my break.. oh this made my day in the best way possible. let’s talk about it. i definitely got a bit off topic in most of these!

content warning: talking about sex, loss of virginity minors dni

anton… well yes! i just think he might not have found the right person to have sex with. i dont think marriage is something that he’s particularly waiting for. if it’s how that works out, for sure! i think that he’s just waiting for the right person that he can trust with something so intimate. i dont think he would be the person to slut himself out, but also i think that would be super yummy if he did. i love thinning about anton with a huge dick and doesn’t know how to use it. he’s definitely a hands on learner so it would be quite interesting having sex with him. he probably would accidentally push all the way in because he got lost in pleasure and apologize for it. 100% virgin but after he loses it… a bitch in heat!

sohee… THIS ONE MADE ME LAUGH IN A GOOD WAY LIKE OH I GET IT SOOO BAD. sohee has definitely experienced sexual interactions with boys. make out with a boy? hell do it. go down on one of his members? yeah he’s done it! but fucking a girl? not yet! they make him soooo nervous. i think sohee has plenty of girls who wanna fuck him… he’s just probably super nervous thinking about it because he wouldn’t know what to do even if it was in his face. i think once he found somebody who would takes their time and guide him through it, he would be ready to sleep with a woman! but it just hasn’t happened yet.

wonbin… i fear that i have to disagree. i think wonbin be fucking just not that often! he gets these spurts of where he wants to fuck any and everybody, but after he feels satisfied, it’ll be a good little bit before he wants to have sex again. i think wonbin is a bisexual king who isn’t picky about gender when it comes to sexual or romantic partners. just my honest opinion about it though! i personally just think that he does fuck a lot of people when he feels up to it! well.. i dont think he has to put it in to have fun. he lovesss foreplay. fingering & oral (giving & receiving), dry humping, handjobs, literally tweak his nipples, sloppy make out session and bite him.. that’s probably what he prefers more so than actual sex.

sungchan… definitely think he’s experienced. i’m not saying he’s easy but if you’re pretty and ask him to fuck… he’s definitely not saying no. sungchan lost his virginity and didn’t look back since. the first time he had sex, his partner was genuinely surprised because she thought he was a virgin? he was!! sungchan is just naturally good at sex and probably also took some notes from amateur porn on twitter. sungchan is definitely a man of pleasure and would prefer to take care of his partner before he takes care of himself. a selfless lover if you will.

eunseok… mm i fear i have to disagree slightly. i think eunseok gets down because he’s a freak nasty bitch. however, i think he prefers to keep it to one partner like anton. eunseok started out as a freak weirdo loser (in a hot way) so when he lost his virginity, he was completely lost and the girl definitely was confused because she thought eunseok would know what to do! looks can be deceiving. however now, i think because he knows what he’s doing, he definitely does fuck somebody frequently!

seunghan… definitely gets down the most out of all of them. i think seunghan is like eunseok & anton in regards to having just one partner instead of sleeping around / seeing multiple people. i think he’s also a freak nasty guy who knows how to use his dick. definitely has girls crazy over him because of how good his dick game is. while i think he has fun fucking, i definitely can see him like wonbin where he likes foreplay. i also think he can be a bit of a selfish lover! sometimes he focuses more so om pleasure than his partner , but when he realizes that’s what he’s doing hell definitely make up for it!

shotaro… FREAKKKKK. FREAK. NASTY. FREAKY NASTY. shotaro gets DOWNNNNN. shotaro has bitches lined up for every day of the week if he feels up to it. his cute persona is a TRAP. you think he’s super goofy and silly, which he is! but in bed he’s fucking nasty as fuck. gag on it! choke on it! cry! hell spit in your mouth and choke you out. shotaro gets down and always leaves somebody wanting more. too bad he doesn’t really see the same person more than twice if he can help it!

end!

#riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours #riize x reader #riize smut #riize imagines

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anitalenia · 1 year

Text

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 ₊˚⊹♡

⋆˙⟡♡ SYNOPSIS ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑓, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑦. ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛… 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡. 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: how he acted 𓂃⊹ the beginning of how it started. a part detailing how Batman initially treated you and handled the relationship.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: how it happened 𓂃⊹ how Batman fell in love with you and all the things that happened leading up to it. all the signs and actions that made him love you.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒙: how it was 𓂃⊹ how Batman handled the reality of being in love with you and all the things he did to try and hide from it. better yet, his confession.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈: how it all fell together 𓂃⊹ yours and Bruce’s relationship and how he was with you. some relationship headcanons for fun.

⋆˙⟡♡ PAIRING ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ battinson x fem!reader

⋆˙⟡♡ CONTENT INCLUDES ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ mentions of sex, mentions of fighting and threatening, rough kissing, mentions of sad!Bruce / undertones of depression, mentions of alcohol & insomnia, bad words, sweet kisses, tears, hair pulling, love confessions, not really a whole lot of sexiness just headcanons mostly

⋆˙⟡♡ WARNINGS ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ mature content, emotionally tortured Bruce Wayne, maybe not my best story telling :(, mentions of blood and fighting cuz this is Batman, alcoholism

⋆˙⟡♡ AUTHORS NOTE ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ thanks to @diavolosbaby for requesting this!! Hope you enjoy and it lives up to your standards 🩷

OTHER LINKS ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓸𝓷 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ He told you what this was before he even started it. Told you this was strictly business, no feelings involved; you knew who he was during a chance encounter and you were the only one he could really come to after that. It was simple, straight forward; you needed his dick and he needed your pussy.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: how he acted 𓂃⊹

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce came to you a lot, which was a little odd compared to how you perceived him to be. You thought he was a very busy man, always fighting crime or hiding away in his mansion, always too busy to bother with someone as unimportant as you. But no, you couldn’t have been more wrong. He was there at least three times a week, standing by your window in that black suit of his with his cape blowing with the wind, waiting for you.

⋆˙⟡♡ He was always quiet, head filled with whatever torturous pain lingered in the shadows of his mind, brimming with the secrets he never told you and you never asked for. He never spoke, unless it was a command spoken in a gentle gruffness. He never smiled, tried not to grunt or make too much noise, but some nights he couldn’t contain himself and the sounds just escaped him. Those were the nights he was particularly frustrated.

⋆˙⟡♡ He never let you take off his mask at first, he’d leave it on and you were left grasping at leather and air. He didn’t like affection, having you touch his scars and his body, it was too vulnerable, too intimate, for his liking. So, naturally, he didn’t stay to cuddle afterwards. The business was over, your job was done, he’d slip out the window as you’d bask in the aftershocks.

⋆˙⟡♡ His heart was cold but his body was warm, always warm. He was like a furnace when he’d be flat against you, fucking into you with his head in your neck and his hands gripping your jaw, your waist, your thighs. You’d always get so hot, craving his warmth like a bug to a bonfire.

⋆˙⟡♡ He never bothered to ask you anything about yourself, but you had a suspicion he had to have done some research on you during those long lonely days in the darkness of his home. He was too cautious not to, too curious. And he did. He found out everything about you but didn’t share a single detail about himself. He was Bruce Wayne, rich son whose parents died by day, and then Batman, vengeance personified by night. That’s all you needed to know.

⋆˙⟡♡ Batman only came to you in the middle of the night, sometimes bloody and beaten, your fingers running over tender bruises that would make him grimace. A part of him liked the pain, figured he deserved it. Sometimes you worried for him on the nights he was particularly beaten up, but he didn’t give you time to ask questions before he was shoving you against your dresser and pressing himself against you.

⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t like being in the light, being too seen. He liked it with all the lights off, your room glowing with the dim light of the moon and the streetlights, your face pressed into his neck or shoved into a pillow so you couldn’t look at him.

⋆˙⟡♡ In the beginning, he liked it when you just submitted to him; he mostly cared about his own pleasure at first as he told you what this was, why he was doing this. That didn’t stop him from making sure you came at least once though. He couldn’t help it, didn’t want you to feel completely used.

⋆˙⟡♡ You noticed he always had this way about him when he touched you, almost like he yearned to hold you closer but knew he shouldn’t. His hands were rough, long fingers and hot palms, lingering on your skin before he’d move them away, never touching one place too long before he’d move on. It was almost a tease.

⋆˙⟡♡ He spied on you, a lot actually, would watch you from his spot on a roof top, stare at you through your big office window. He didn’t know why, just bored and curious, he always told himself. He’d see you stress yourself out, fill out paper after paper while your boss did nothing but throw more at you. You took it anyway and Bruce was confused by why. But he never asked, didn’t want to make a connection with you and risk losing you.

⋆˙⟡♡ He remembered sneaking into your house, waiting for you, but you were late coming home from work and he wasn’t sure if he should leave or not. He felt wrong about it, but he looked through your photos and your notebooks, saw a glimpse into your real life outside of him and work and he quickly put everything back the way it was and left. He didn’t want to see, he didn’t want to see you as anything different than what he already did.

⋆˙⟡♡ He would lie to Alfred about where he was going at night, why he would be so late coming home. But Alfred knew he was lying, he wasn’t sure about what exactly, but Alfred knew Bruce would come to him in time.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce tried hard to keep his and yours personal lives outside of your mutual situation, he really did. He didn’t want to know you, hear you talk about your problems and your dreams and fears and learn what made you you, from your own words. He was alone and knew he was meant to be alone, planned on being alone forever. Being with him would only put you in danger, a bigger target on his back he didn’t need. It was for your own protection, for the sake of both your lives and both your hearts.

⋆˙⟡♡ He vowed to himself to keep it that way, strictly professional, a hobby almost. He really didn’t plan to fall in love, he really really didn’t…

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Your living room was dark when you came home from work, later than usual because of your infuriating boss; he was lazy, relied on his employees to do his work while he sat in his office and ate his donuts. You hated him, loathed him, absolutely couldn’t stand him, but you understood he was just another obstacle, a milestone you needed to get through before you reached where you needed to be. So, you didn’t make a fuss, you didn’t complain, didn’t speak up. You did what you were supposed to as you were supposed to do it, just another hamster circling the wheel of business over and over until you finally got the balls to break the cycle.

Unfortunately, your ambition was almost too much for you sometimes, tonight was evidence enough.

You set your keys in the ceramic bowl by the door with a tired sigh, soft rain pattering on your windows, furniture lit up with a dim orange glow from the street lamps outside. All twisting shadows and rain drops. Your nose tickled with the scent of vanilla bean and raspberry, remembering the candle you had forgotten to blow out before you left. Oops.

Your hair was damp, gray suit littered in dark spots from the rain outside. Your limbs were sore and heavy, eyes burning and fluttering for a semblance of rest. Your heels were sore from the heels you’ve been prancing around in all day, your whole body exhausted in general. This was normal for you though, you always came home lagged and tired. You regretted being such a hard worker, but knew it would ultimately pay off in the future.

You walked to your bedroom, your heels clacking on the floor unevenly, dragging on the wooden boards as you navigated your way through the darkness. You held your purse loosely in your left hand, a shiver crawling up your spine as an unexpected gust of coolness swept up your legs and down your neck.

Your foot stuttered, lingering by the doorway in your bedroom as the rain seemed louder, less dull, wind whistling your black bed sheets. You furrowed your eyebrows at that, knowing you left your window closed before you left. Your eyes strained to see anything in the darkness as panic blared in your chest like a fire alarm, trying to make out any figure in the shadows of your room. You slowly crept forward, preparing for the worst, your exhaustion melting into hot fear that made your bones go stiff.

You swallowed, eyes immediately going to the open window to see the empty street below, the sound of a car alarm in the distance overpowering the rain that seemed to just pound harder. Your window was wide open, sheer purple curtains flapping from the breeze like a set of violet wings. Your eyes narrowed at that, hearing nothing but buzzing silence ringing in your ears. Then, it just hit you.

You couldn’t describe it exactly, but you felt a sensation of calmness wash over you as you let out a hefty breath, fear gradually melting away as your body relaxed and hands unclenched. It was like your body knew it wasn’t in any real danger, that there was nothing lurking in the shadows besides what was supposed to be. This was all too familiar to you; a setting you’ve come home to many times before. The open window, the darkness, the buzzing calm.

You felt excitement spark through you in recognition as you felt your neck tingle, a barely there whisper of a breath wash over your neck and tickle your hair.

You felt a smile quirk on your lips, turning around slowly, sucking in a sharp breath when you were met with the large bulking figure of the man in black standing just an inch away from you, a shadow hiding in shadow as he stared down at you with those black soulless eyes. He was big, a thing you liked about him, dirt encrusted on his suit and so out of place in the cozy warmth of your home. He was big and bulky, comically large for your small bedroom.

You looked back up at him, your purse dropping to the floor as instinctual arousal flooded your belly at just the mere sight of him. You couldn’t help it, your body knew what he was capable of and yearned for it. Your throat became dry, you swallowed once more as his eyes, those dark blue gems of his, looked over your face with a certain pained look in them, calculating and tortured, covered in black face paint that hid the beauty of his raw skin.

His pink lips were set in a firm frown, a faint scratch on his chin, breaths slow and even, calm. That damned mask of his covered his face, the fluffiness of his brown hair you seldom ever felt run through your finger tips. He always wore this expression, always so serious and somber like he was going through a dreadful ordeal every second he continued to live. You were always curious as to why, but knew he’d never answer, nor appreciate your nosiness.

You let your thoughts drift off, looking back up at him with a false confidence.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight…” You mumbled quietly, losing any conviction in your voice as he took a small step forward, closer to you, his heavy boot thudding on your floor. You took a small step back, crumbling under him way too easily, as always. He always loved to completely invade your space, but never let you do the same to him.

You looked up at him, he looked down at you, breaths mingling together as a dark look washed over his oceanic eyes, his strong jaw clenching as he ran his eyes over your face like this was the first time he’d ever seen you. You felt your thighs tighten at the look in them, at the way he looked at you.

You were being honest though, you didn’t expect him tonight. You had seen him two nights ago, expecting not to see him for another few weeks at least.

“Shhh…” He shushed you gently, voice gravelly but gentle, tired but awake, undertones of desire.

He leaned down towards you and you found yourself holding your own arms back from wrapping around him and taking him already, just as he always took you. His gloved hands reached for the edge of the dresser behind you, trapping you between his strong arms and chest, completely invading your senses as your eyes looked into his, almost begging. His cape flowed down his shoulders and shrouded around you both until all you could see was black, the heady smell of smoke and rain tickling your nose, captivating.

He pressed himself against you, a brick wall, the mahogany’s edge digging into your lower back as your breath stuttered. You found yourself looking at his lips, his nose, his eyes, his closeness overwhelming you as you couldn’t figure out where to look, your skin feeling hot and stuffy, the confidence you had previously now a pile on the floor as your stomach twisted.

You could see the rain on his black suit, dripping down all his gear and heavy armor he wore and down to his waist, some falling to the floor in soft drips. You licked your lips, minding the mess, feeling lightheaded and fluttery as you looked back up at him with sparkling eyes.

He cocked his head at you, dark eyes running over your lips before looking back into your own, “Take your hair down.”

He always used such a gentle, tired voice, like he didn’t want to scare you and he could never find enough sleep, but the demand was obvious in his tone, eyes dark and predatory as they stared down at you intently. He didn’t need anymore command, knowing you’d do as he said just like you always did.

You didn’t dare disobey, sensing his need sizzling in the air just as strong as your shared want. You managed eye contact as you brought a hand up to the back of your head, taking out the black hair clip holding your hair together, the rain pattering on your roof almost too loud in your ears. He stared as your hair fell down your shoulders, cascading down your back in silky waves and framing your face. You swallowed, feeling the need to clear your throat as you put a hand through your hair and brushed it over your shoulder.

You saw his eyes run over your hair, the way it fell around your cheeks, his jaw clenching once more. He brought a hand up, big and heavy, running your locks through his fingers, imagining the softness of it as the sweet smell of apricot and citrus filled his nose, the signature flavor of your favorite shampoo.

You sighed at the pleasurable sensation on your scalp, head titling back as your eyes drooped, your hair clip falling to the ground noisily as you brought your hands up and grabbed his forearms. You might’ve been a little dramatic at just a few touches, but you were so needy, needy for this dangerous man you knew absolutely nothing about besides the obvious. He was a stranger in a suit, a stranger to you, but he somehow knew how to touch you better than any man you’ve ever been with.

He took note of your reaction, his own body twitching to touch you as he noticed the look in your eyes. He felt an intense need spark through him, his hand grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back. He remained calm looking, but his eyes gave it all away.

Your head was yanked back, a pleasurable gasp leaving your lips as you squeezed his arms, looking up at him with your lips parted and breaths heavy. Your head stung, hair being pulled on in just the right way that had a familiar wetness pooling between your thighs, your body buzzing alive with feeling.

Bruce looked down at you, pressing the broadness of himself against you even harder, your breasts smushed against his suit, completely at his mercy. He looked down at you with an unraveled look in his eyes as he tilted your head up towards him.

He kissed you then, rough and hot, groaning into your mouth as his tongue played with yours, teeth clashing and breaths hot against each other. You couldn’t help but moan against him as he finally granted you what you’ve been wanting for so long now, scalp burning from his hold on your hair as your hands flew up and gripped at the leather of his mask, arms wrapped around his neck.

He was forceful and rough, his other hand crawling around your waist and lifting you off the ground with such ease it almost caught you off guard. You gasped into his mouth, his hand tightening on the hold in your hair as you grimaced at the pain.

You didn’t break the kiss, stuck on him as your heels fell off your feet and hit the floor. In two big strides you were suddenly lied flat on your bouncy mattress with Batman himself between your thighs, still holding your waist and head against him as he kissed you fervently.

Your skirt slid down around your thighs as you wrapped your legs around him, pressing him harder into you as all you wanted was him, him everywhere and him all over you. You moaned against him, helpless and desperate, as the ridges in his suit dug into your stomach, his lips movingly hotly against yours as he grunted against you. His cape flowed around you, thick and smooth, trapping you underneath until all you could see was blackness, unable to discern the space between his body and yours.

You knew this was going to be quick; he was too rough, too impatient and needy. It must’ve been a bad night for him, but you didn’t pry no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much the questions bubbled in your throat and ached in your chest you knew you were in no place to ask. A part of you liked it that way, liked that this was strictly this. You liked that you didn’t have to answer to him, that you weren’t bound to him and he wasn’t to you. It was just simple, secrecy for a night of shameless lust-filled sex in return.

You both got what you wanted and that was enough. You appreciated that he didn’t go beyond that just as you didn’t. Outside of this room he was Batman, a dangerous vigilante some trusted and some hated, he was Bruce Wayne, an orphan child with more money and pain than he needed. But in the shadow of your bedroom, under the covers with you, there was no identity, no obligation, just two strangers seeking each other out in search of the one thing they both wanted, blessed with none of the other drama that followed a relationship.

With Bruce on top of you in this very moment, his hands gripping your body for no reason other than pleasure, you knew he would be gone before the night was over, and you’d be alone in your bed with bite marks and handprints on your skin to serve as a reminder of the man who gave them to you. You knew he would silently leave, slip away when he thought you were sleeping, you knew he wouldn’t talk or tell you any of his problems. He’d give you what you wanted and then slip into the shadows… you had to admit, It was the most perfect arrangement.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: how it happened 𓂃⊹

⋆˙⟡♡ Batman didn’t plan on ever falling in love with you, but when he did, it had happened after a couple of months of doing what he did with you. But before he did, things had been going so well. You never intervened in his life and he never intervened in yours. Just as he expected, just as he preferred. It had been perfect, but somewhere along the way he had gotten too involved, started to trust you without even realizing it.

⋆˙⟡♡ At first, it started with him staying in your bed longer than he used to. You didn’t argue, comfortable with the heat his body gave you in the coldness of the night. He found himself dozing off after you would, your fluffy blanket soft on his skin and the mattress like a cloud for his broken body. He’d always be gone before you woke up though. You didn’t want to say anything about his little sleepovers, scared you’ll frighten him and he’ll stop. So you let him do as he pleased, enjoying his company albeit his silence.

⋆˙⟡♡ He never cuddled with you though, ever (don’t worry, he lets that slip too). Always stiff like a board on his side of the bed, expression crumbled with pain and peace. Sometimes he’d flinch, nightmares you never questioned him about but always noticed. Still, he’d wake up after about an hour, slip out your window, but not before giving you one last look, seeing how the moon shined down on your soft skin…

⋆˙⟡♡ Then, it was following you home after work, making sure you got home safe on those dark nights where it seemed like every shadow was following you. He’d be on the rooftops, claiming he was just curious and bored, cape flapping in the wind, when in reality he just needed to make sure you got home safely.

⋆˙⟡♡ You didn’t know, but he was watching you much more than you’d ever suspect. He watched your home on the nights Gotham was quiet, his body knowing you were so close but oh so far. He thought about you when he wasn’t thinking about you, thought about the routine he had found in you, the unfamiliar closeness, the comfort he had found between your body and your bed sheets.

⋆˙⟡♡ He started kissing you more, flinching less when your fingers would graze his back. He let you look at him, look deep into his eyes when he was inside you, have your hands touching his face and his back without the security of his suit to hide him. You loved when he did that, feeling him under your hands, skin to skin as it should be.

⋆˙⟡♡ He let you see his scars in the light, didn’t care when he took off his suit and your bathroom light was on, shining down on his body and the sculpted muscle of it. He had learned you wouldn’t judge him, but he was still hesitant, suffering inside when he looked down at the floor as you gazed at him in awe… you thought he was so beautiful.

⋆˙⟡♡ He would watch you when you worked, watch as your boss would storm in and demand more from you. Bruce didn’t like that, would clench his fist and grind his teeth when you’d get scolded like a child, told to work harder when all you did was work. He’d have to control himself when your boss would walk past him on his way home every night.

⋆˙⟡♡ He started conversing with you more, holding you against his chest when you two were done. He’d ask you profound questions as you two stared up at the ceiling, you’d tell him your answer. He didn’t talk a lot, just liked to listen. It would be intimate, almost romantic. He’d listen to what you’d have to say and he’d learn, learn more about who you were, where you came from, and he’d find himself not wanting to leave, a dull ache in his chest every time you’d fall asleep and he’d have to slip out your fire escape.

⋆˙⟡♡ He never admitted it to himself, but he started to look forward to seeing you, found comfort in your small bedroom and the absence of life’s problems that came with it. He started to enjoy the smell of vanilla bean and raspberry from those candles you always forgot to blow out before work. He started to pick up on your little quirks.

⋆˙⟡♡ While gradually falling in love with you, Bruce would deny, deny, deny. He acknowledged that he was starting to feel things he didn’t want to, and he’d be incredibly disturbed and moody, more than usual. Alfred would even be a little peeved with him.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce would find himself asking you how work was. He would be concerned about the bags under your eyes and the wrinkles in your clothes, not outright concerned but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. He wanted to hear your voice.

⋆˙⟡♡ He would be very hesitant around you, scared he was doing too much when he’d touch you now. It wasn’t like before, when he would just grab and control. Now he was really touching you, trying to feel you, every dip and curve of your skin under his fingertips.

⋆˙⟡♡ He had gotten way too comfortable with you now, even he knew that. He relied on you and the comfort you gave, a feeling he’d been without for so long. He was like a cold soul lost in the woods, searching for something, anything, hollow, a warm body to bring him back. He found that with you, and he didn’t even realize it until he started to feel pain when he wasn’t around you, a pain in his chest like a knife was stabbing into his heart. He missed you but he didn’t want to…

⋆˙⟡♡ He stared at your face a lot, too intensely for your liking, thoughts behind those dark eyes of his he’d never tell you about if you confronted him about it. He just liked to look at you, watch you giggle and smile. He’d do it without realizing how intimidated it made you feel, how you’d have to blush and look away, pretend you didn’t notice. He just liked to look at you, soak in your expressions before he’d leave again.

⋆˙⟡♡ The signs were all there when you thought about it. The lingering touches, the admiring stares, the countless nights he’d watch over you. He felt like a creep, following you around so much, but he couldn’t help it. You were a pleasant distraction and he was a fool, easily succumbing to those feelings he had for you without even knowing it. They had been growing inside of him like a blooming vine… they started out small but grew into so much more, and he ignored it, until he just couldn’t take it anymore…

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ It was a quiet night in September, it had been raining for days and the coolness of autumn had just started to blow into the city. The trees danced with orange and red leaves, strewn all over the road and sidewalks, getting stuck under peoples rain boots and car tires. Your window was cracked, letting a cool breeze into your room that made you shiver, the savory smell of someone’s cooking wafting into your noses from the apartments across the way. You looked at your tv, black screen shut off but reflecting the blurred forms of your mingled bodies on your bed, arm outstretched on Bruce’s stomach, head lying on his chest. You could hear his heart, slow and calm just as he always was, pumping in your ear and lulling you to sleep.

You wanted to stay awake though, listening to the sounds of cars driving in rain puddles and horns honking, the occasional laughter of a passerby. A candle was lit on your dresser across the room, with the faint scent of vanilla bean and raspberry in the air just as Bruce liked. Your legs were a little sore, thighs tender from where Bruce had gripped them so hard, lips puffy from where Bruce had kissed them so much. You felt satisfied, pleasant even, comforted by his presence, the knowledge of his identity absent in your mind as you didn’t register him as a millionaire, or as a crime fighting vigilante, you never really did.

He was neither of those things to you. He was… he was Bruce, just Bruce, your Bruce. Not Bruce Wayne or Batman, and that was enough for you. You took him as he is not as he was, never questioned him about his parents or how Batman was even created. He appreciated that, didn’t like answering questions about himself he wasn’t comfortable with. He was comfortable with silence, but he didn’t mind hearing you.

He was awake too, didn’t want to fall asleep before you, something in his mind telling him he should leave already, not sink into the mattress any further and let himself relish in your warmth. He had responsibilities, duties, people he needed to save and crime he needed to stop. It was Gotham, something was always wrong and someone always needed help. But he couldn’t think about any of that stuff around you, his thoughts always either empty or crowded with your smile.

His suit was a mess on the floor, scrambled just like his mind, bat mask clear as day in his vision, lit up in a red glimmer from the light outside. It stared at him with its blank eyes, watching, the buzzing of a neon light loud in his ears. It’s like it was mocking him, patronizing him. He frowned at it, turning his head slightly away from it, like it was a reminder of what his true purpose was, where he should really be this late other than here in your arms. He knew he should go, felt his arm twitch like he was about to get up and unwind from you.

“Don’t you have somewhere you should be? Or are you gonna stay?” You mumbled sleepily, voice so quiet and sweet he almost didn’t hear it.

His eyes drifted to you, rubbing his fingertips on your rib cage and savoring the feeling of your smooth skin underneath him, against him. You were so unblemished, unlike him. A few scratches and scars here and there that held stories and memories, none like his. His were ridged and pale, covered his skin, they held memories but none of them good. Memories that served as reminders of why this was so wrong, of who he really was and who he needed to get back to once he left these four walls.

He thought about it for a minute, frowning at the ceiling fan.

Did he have somewhere to be? Yes, yes he did. He always had somewhere to be, that was the problem. He couldn’t be everywhere at once, he could be somewhere else, but he was here instead. He was here with you, here with you. He had somewhere to be, could be anywhere else, but he was here. Everyone always expected him to be where they were, expected him to save everyone. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t save everyone and he couldn’t be everywhere they wanted him to be. He was with you but he shouldn’t be. Guilt settled in his gut as he swallowed, hands itching like it was wrong to touch you.

His eyes, dark and somber like storm clouds, especially just as captivating, looked over your frazzled hair like he could see your face, knowing how exhausted you must’ve been from work and sex, how it was so late already and how you’d have to leave so early. Your breathing was slow and even, warm breath brushing over his chest from your parted pink lips, all cues of how you’ve already fallen asleep. He thought about your question, yes, yes he had somewhere he needed to be, he always did.

He didn’t bother speaking, just turned his head back and looked at the ceiling as his arm held you just a little tighter against him, hearing the splash of a car racing through water from somewhere outside.

He’ll stay for a little while.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒙: how it was 𓂃⊹

⋆˙⟡♡ When he realized he was in love with you he left, he left for a long time. He refused to let those feelings blossom into anything more, grow into something more… dangerous. Love was dangerous, he was dangerous. He isolated himself from you, in a worse mood than usual. Alfred had picked up on it, knowing there was more going on than Bruce wanted to say. You couldn’t help the disappointment as the days turned into weeks, weeks of hope being crushed on with every night he wasn’t there.

⋆˙⟡♡ He told himself it was for the best, heartbreak was something you could heal from, death was something you’d never come back from. With his life, you would die. He couldn’t lose anyone else, he couldn’t. He couldn’t subject you to that same fate his parents had.

⋆˙⟡♡ Still, he couldn’t stop himself from watching you when you’d walk home, still sitting outside your job, your home, watching you from a distance to make sure you’d be alright. He couldn’t sleep if he didn’t.

⋆˙⟡♡ He couldn’t sleep anyway. Eyes a dark purple and the ache in his chest getting so much worse. It was because of you he couldn’t sleep, bed empty and cold without you, mattress hard and firm unlike yours. His nightmares consisted of your death and his inability to save you. He was better off seeing nothing with his eyes open than your blood with his eyes closed.

⋆˙⟡♡ Alfred was concerned. Confronted his Master Bruce during breakfast when Bruce was silent and gloomy. Yes, Alfred knew he would confess eventually, just needed a little shove. “I can’t stop thinking about her, Alfred.”

⋆˙⟡♡ You couldn’t stop thinking about him either… work was slow and long, your thoughts muddled together as you couldn’t stop racking your brain for a reason, any reason, as to why, why he left. Did you do something wrong?

⋆˙⟡♡ You didn’t want to say you missed him, you didn’t want to admit that to yourself. You felt almost stupid, like he had used you and discarded you, but wasn’t that the whole point? You were a mess, confused and feeling a different kind of lonely only a sad heart could bring you. You felt abandoned.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce would hide up in his room and think, read books but not pay attention to the words. Alfred would bring him his tea and advice whenever he could, but it seemed nothing could cheer him up. Bruce felt a different kind of loneliness now than he had his whole life. When his parents died they were taken away from him, he didn’t choose to give them up like he did you. He felt like he had lost yet another person.

⋆˙⟡♡ He really thought about moving on from you, a part of him arguing thats what was best for you. But the thought of fully giving you up to anybody else angered him. You weren’t his but you’d always been in some way, his. He yearned to be near you again, an itch in the back of his mind only you could scratch.

⋆˙⟡♡ He drunk, a lot. Spent his free time as Bruce Wayne drowning in whiskey and scotch, heavy liquor bottles empty and discarded on the floor. He almost felt like crying, but he’d just pass out on his bed, too drunk to crawl under the covers. Sometimes he’d pass out in the common room, leg hanging off the couch and hair unraveled, Alfred cleaning up the mess and putting a blanket over him.

⋆˙⟡♡ He drowned himself in his work to distract from you. He was frustrated, angry, weeks having gone by without you having set him on edge. He was beating petty criminals to a bloody pulp, sending them to Gordon barely conscious. He needed to take his anger out on something, anything. Alfred would just sigh when a bloody Bruce would storm past him, ensuring his suit was cleaned before the next day.

⋆˙⟡♡ It was a late Friday night when Bruce let his anger take control of him. It was some petty thief thinking he’d run off with the bags of cash he’d stolen. Bruce didn’t let him speak, anger taking over him like thick ropes of lava in his blood, anger that had festered in his black heart for weeks, simmering under his skin waiting for the moment it could boil over.

⋆˙⟡♡ He was bloody and dirty when he came to you in a blur of anger and love, adrenaline running through him with a determination boiling in his bones.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ It was a dark cloudy night when you saw Bruce standing outside your window; you lay in bed, cozy and under the covers, bathed in the dim golden light of your lamp. You were pretending to read a book you’ve meant to finish with a frown on your face, mind full of memories and the fruitless desire to have it all back. It was a melancholic pain that throbbed under your skin, sharp and persistent like a plant rash, the memory of forgotten things plaguing your mind and wishing it could just all go back to the way it was.

You almost didn’t see him if it wasn’t for the thud on your fire escape; you jumped and the book flew to the floor with a thud. Your eyes widened and you felt a wave of excitement and relief flourish through your veins as you scrambled off your bed. You couldn’t believe it, heart pounding as you rushed over to your window and swung it open like an eager baker opening an oven door. It was a big window, one with a giant view of the street below and the park across the ways, big enough to fit a grown man in a heavy suit.

Your hands were almost frantic, eyes wide in disbelief to just see him standing there in all his glory, back to you like he used to be all those weeks ago before he left, left you, left you behind. The memory of his loss and betrayal flashed back like a pull to reality, all those sad feelings you pushed away coming full frontal in your head like a tidal wave in your fragile brain.

Bruce’s heavy stare burned through you and it was like you could feel it on your skin, like a million microscopic bugs crawling all over you, your body buzzing with electricity and your hands almost shaking. You felt a flurry of difficult emotions coursing through you that all muddled together in one big mess in your head; anger and happiness, relief and irritation. You couldn’t pinpoint on one, feeling everything all at once when you opened your window and Batman was stood on the other side of you in all his threatening grandness.

You hated that he looked so good despite the grime.

You were left stunned as all you could do was stare at him. This was a moment you’ve only dreamt about, wished for for days and countless weeks, fantasized about for hours on end. How you would react, what you would say, how it would all go… and especially how he’d apologize on hand and knee for you, atone for his sins and plead for your pardon. It was all meticulously planned and carefully thought out, and now here it was, the moment you’ve been waiting for for so long; it was finally here, staring at you in the face. And it was so funny how all those ideas and all that confidence you had just seemed to vanish now that it was time to confront them; you were frozen as you stared back at him, unsure of what to do next and too tongue tied to formulate a thought. All that planning, pointless in the face of its precipitant.

Bruce stared back at you longingly and painfully, breaths hard and heavy and knuckles bruised and sore. His eyes were smeared in that black paint he always used, thick with an unspoken emotional torture, like he was being tormented in his own mind at the mere sight of you. He was in a way; you were his reminder of why he left, the catalyst of his destruction but at the same time his anecdote. It was all very confusing and contradictory; all he could understand was that it pained him to look at you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to look away.

Blood was splattered over his cheeks and suit, his heart pumping in his ears as he looked you over, putting all the pieces of you back in his mind; from your face, to your pink pajamas, to the black socks on your feet, then back to your cautious eyes. You were all right, you were okay and he was so relieved. He felt a weight drop from his chest, knowing you were in no certain danger but he always worried for you if he couldn’t see you, a consequence of everyone he cared for always getting hurt some way or another. Bruce felt what he could only describe as happiness, a feeling he only got with you, hit him full on like a train, smacking into his heart as his throat closed up.

He had missed you.

He had missed you a lot, more than he ever wanted to admit, but he would gladly do so for you. He had missed your pretty eyes and sweet voice, soft hands and smooth skin, and your voice, calming and rich like honeyed pastries. You were beautiful to him, so beautiful, and he couldn’t believe he had shown up here once more, that he would risk ever putting it in danger. But he had to come, he couldn’t take it anymore… and if his love for you was that perilous then his soul be damned.

He noticed the subtle way your face crumbled as your initial excitement died down, settled into pain and sadness and concern; your eyes running over the blood on him, wondering if it was his, really looking at him and realizing that he was really here, back on your fire escape. He couldn’t believe it himself, but here he was and he didn’t plan on leaving, not unless you ordered him to. You were nervous, eager to touch him, feel the suit under your palms like you used to, but you were also too stubborn to welcome him back into your home so easily, hurt once and not wanting to be hurt again. He understood that notion all too well.

Bruce felt an unfamiliar form of courage jolting through him, a type of courage so different from the one he used to fight criminals every night. This was a type of boldness that made him just want to grab your face and kiss you, hard, make up for all the lost time between you and spill all his confessions in the space between his lips and yours, make you taste the apology on his tongue. All he wanted was to be here again, here in your room; his nose was already filling up with the smell of vanilla bean and raspberry, his muscles relaxing instinctively at the sweet smell of it, knowing he was safe here. He wanted so badly to be here again, but now that he was he didn’t know what to do.

Bruce admitted that he was a little disappointed at your reaction to him, that you didn’t welcome him back in with open arms and gleeful smiles, kiss him and hug him and show him how much you missed him. But he knew that was too optimistic. He knew your antipathy was to be expected; he could only imagine the amount of hurt he’d put you through if it was anything compared to his own. He could only imagine how many nights you came home hoping he was there, waiting for you like he always did, how many days you kept looking at the clock, wishing it would hurry up and you could just go home already, how many days you hoped it would be different from the one before, how much hope he must’ve killed.

He felt horrible, regret and guilt spinning in his stomach as his muscles twitched, itching to touch you again; you were a drug coursing through his veins, and after two months of withdrawal he could say he was positively hooked once more. But, he knew he couldn’t just grab whatever part of you he liked like a greedy child in a toy store. He needed patience, he needed to wait for you to warm up to him on your own terms, no matter how long that took.

So, Bruce just stood on your fire escape with his hands holding the frame of the wall, blood and vanilla heavy on his nose as he stared at you, breathing hard but calm, waiting for you to make a move, any move or semblance of invitation.

Your eyes ran over the blood on him, the awkward silence deafening with all the unspoken words and yearning you both wanted so badly to address. Your eyes narrowed at the red spots and stripes on his suit and face, dripping off his gloves, worry shooting through your buzzing veins. You took a step back away from him in discontent, curious as to why he has suddenly appeared after so long away, eyes looking him over like the situation has really dawned on you. It had been weeks, two months even, since you’ve seen him, seen his black eyes and pointed ears, seen the vague Batman symbol on the chest piece of his suit.

Memories were coming back wave after wave at the sight of him, ones that wanted you to embrace him, ones that were gradually persuading you to give up this act and just be thankful he was here again, back to you. But you knew better than that, knew better than to just simply overlook a mistake as monumental as the one he made. You needed to have some damn pride.

Despite that…

Were you happy to see him? Yes, yes you really really were. You wanted him to just take off his mask and kiss you already, hell, you didn’t care if he left it on because you just wanted him to kiss you again. You wanted to feel his big arms around you once more and feel his warm palms on the dip in your back. Have him lift you up and smile into his kiss and say those magical words you yearned to hear. You could try to act tough all you wanted but at the end of the day you were still just a girl, a sad girl who wanted to be held by the man she missed so much… but your anger was still so present, lingering cold in your veins and greatly overpowering any positive emotions you had.

You wanted a damn good reason for why he did what he did.

“What are you doing here, Bruce? I thought you had moved on.” You licked your dry lips, crossing your arms and glaring at him with distaste and a false sense of confidence, a faux act of strength and apathy to cover up the real pain you felt. Your tone was anything but friendly, standoffish and disinterested, conveying the anger you felt almost perfectly; if it wasn’t for the waver in your voice and the glimmer in your eye you would even believe yourself.

You frowned at him, a cruel part of you hoping he was feeling any kind of hurt, any kind of hurt like the hurt you’ve felt. But at the same time, you just wanted so badly to hear that he came back for one reason and one reason alone. You. You wanted to hear him say that he missed you dearly, that he was so sorry for what he did and that he’d never do it again. If you heard that, then maybe, just maybe, you’d forgive him. No, you definitely would.

Bruce almost flinched at your tone, but knew it was well deserved. He looked at you with guilty eyes, like he’d committed the most heinous crime (which in his mind, he did), frown deep on his lips where a cut was on his skin, swallowing down the nerves in his throat at the look in your eyes.

A string of fear curled in his chest and made him nervous, made Batman nervous, a fear of being rejected, of him telling you how he really felt and you not reciprocating it. He couldn’t bear it, the uncertainty. But he was also afraid of hurting you any more than he already has, arguing with himself that he shouldn’t have come. But he was already here and he couldn’t leave now, couldn’t disappoint you any more than he already has. He looked up at you, his chest fluttering when he looked into your eyes.

“‘Could never move on from you…” Bruce grumbled in that deep voice of his, sounding pained and earnest and genuine, pulling at your heart like a trained harpist and making your eyes burn with brimming tears. He meant it, meant it more than you knew, staring at you with so much emotion in his eyes it almost scared you to see it; it was so unlike him to be so emotional, a part of you grateful that he trusted you enough to show it.

You felt a tingle on your skin when you looked back at him, a spark of joy peeking through the dark clouds around you. I could never move on from you…

Bruce’s dark eyes flickered between yours, gauging your reactions, intense and brooding as they always were. They bore into you like he was laying your soul bare in front of him, seeing deeper inside of you than you thought was possible. It made you feel flustered and agitated at being examined so fiercely. His voice, my god his voice, so soft but so gravelly, made you flustered, especially hearing it again after so many weeks of going without it. It washed over your skin like a warm blanket and made goosebumps pop up on your arms, a chill going through your spine that made your heart spike. You were trying so hard to fight it, fight that feeling inside of you that wanted him so badly.

You almost scoffed at his proclamation, looking at him offended, almost too theatrically, too rehearsed.

“Well it seems like you did, so.” You shrugged stubbornly, not knowing what else to say, really, not wanting to speak too much or else you’re afraid he’d hear the longing stutter in your voice. You shook your head incredulously and looked at the wall besides the window, where he stood outside in the cold air still. Secretly, you wanted to bring him inside already, bring him between your arms and hold him against your chest until he was one with you, unable to leave and bound to you forever, souls entwined and breaths shared. That may be a tad dramatic, but that’s what you felt; you knew he needed to cross that barrier on his own… you also knew that the moment he stepped back into your sacred space, the moment his heavy black boot stepped onto your wooden floor, you wouldn’t be able to keep your composure anymore, and you’d collapse in his arms like a dying bride.

Obviously, that couldn’t happen. You needed resistance, strength, a reason.

You couldn’t look at him, didn’t want him to see the tears welling in your eyes and the vulnerability staining your face. It was too embarrassing and too real; you didn’t want Bruce to see how easily you got worked up because of him. You didn’t want him to see all of you just yet, wanted him to feel guilty for what he did to you. He hadn’t even said much, just a single sentence, and you were already a desperate mess hiding under a false security. It was always so easy for him to get to you and you wished you were stronger for it.

Bruce knit his eyebrows at that, subtly shaking his head with a frown as his eyes still searched for yours. He wanted you to look at him, to see the honesty in his words and the sincerity in his blue eyes. He wanted you to see that he was hurting too, just as much as you.

“I didn’t… I just needed some time away… I needed to think.” He confessed vaguely, his voice gentle like he didn’t want to spook you, quiet but just loud enough for you to hear. Bruce always treated you like you were so fragile, a slippery glass vase between his clumsy hands. He never wanted to drop you, hurt you and watch you crumble into a million pieces… but he already did, and now he was trying to glue them all back together, put you back together, but only if you’d let him.

That was something you had come to appreciate about him; his gentleness, so opposite of the image he represented, what everyone believed him to be. He wasn’t just Batman, vengeful and harsh and dangerous. He wasn’t just bloody fists and sharp edges. He was incredibly genuine and tender, complex and multilayered; he was more than the bat, the symbol, the orphan, the millionaire. He was intricately sewn together with all different threads, and over the course of the year you and Bruce shared together you’ve managed to pluck and pull them all, see the warm center inside his cold shell.

Those were sides of him only you got to see, only you got to witness, only you got the privilege to marvel at and cherish. It might have been foolish to think, and you certainly think so now, but you had thought that made you special, that you were the only one he trusted enough, cared for enough, to show that side to… that there was more affection sizzling between you than you both wanted to say… but that just made it hurt so much more when he left, it just convinced you that you were too gullible for love, too naive to tell the difference between love and infatuation. When he left, he made you feel stupid.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his response, your face twisting into an anger Bruce didn’t want to see. Your eyes flashed to him immediately, burning and piercing and blazing, his words bouncing around in your head like a twisted game of racquetball. To think? He left, for months, because he needed to think? It sounded so phony, a simple excuse to disguise the truth, a simple excuse that only angered your unspoken pain.

“To think? To think about what? You’ve been gone for weeks, Bruce! You just left, didn’t tell me anything, didn’t tell me why, but now you’re telling me it’s because you had to think? That sounds ridiculous. I think I deserve a better explanation than, you had to think.” You mocked him, scoffing in his face. You were frustrated and lonely, wanting, deserving, a better reason to justify the pain you went through when he left. You couldn’t believe he couldn’t at least grant you that, a credible reason why.

Bruce grimaced, eyes closing like the sting of your words had just stung him. He slouched, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get the words out that he wanted to. They were stuck in his throat, itching his tongue and wanting so badly to get out, but he was mute, could only try to explain himself. Besides, there were no words to express just how sorry he was, but he knew how right you were. You were always right. You did deserve more than that, you deserved a better explanation.

Bruce swallowed down his dry throat, clenching his jaw as he looked back up at you, aching to step through the threshold of the window and grab your face between his broken hands and kiss your tears away. He felt hot coils of guilt and regret wrap around his heart and squeeze, his chest collapsing in on itself.

“I-I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. I needed to think… and to do that I had to leave. I just needed to understand why.” He spoke raspy, voice gritted with anguish and sincerity, looking at you with such desperation it made your foot itch to step towards him, made your heart yearn to comfort him. He was downright pitiful, fingers holding onto the brick so hard it could crumble under his strength. He was slouched down, looking up at you with sunken eyes, begging and pleading without an ounce of shame.

You stared back at him, clenching your jaw so hard your teeth hurt. God, you really did just want to hold him again, kiss him again… the need was too much, burning inside you and crawling under your skin. You had your hands crossed over your chest like you were physically trying to hold yourself back, like you were trying to protect yourself against his woeful whims of persuasion.

You frowned at his statement, the rational part of your brain that was still logical and loyal to you making you want to question him more, learn more, find out more. Your shoulders slumped as you looked back at him confused, lips pulled in a frown.

“Why what? Think about what? Can you stop being so vague!” You said exasperated, wishing he would just say what he meant and stop being so damn secretive all the time. Especially now, especially here. He was the one who showed up here after all this time and now he was trying to just sneak by with it. You refused to let him, forced him to confront his own dilemma. You couldn’t see it any other way, blinded by your own rose colored rage that needed an explanation.

Bruce grit his teeth, working up the nerve to answer you as he looked down at your feet, looking physically pained. He wanted to tell you why, he wanted to tell you why so badly, but just as soon as he wanted to say it he was found at a loss for words, struck with that same fear again that made his words stutter. That same fear of being rejected, ridiculed, that fear of putting his heart on his sleeve and having you pierce it with a silver dagger. He was Batman, the shadow of shadows who dealt with worse pain than you could ever imagine. He’s been shot, stabbed, cut up, pushed out of a window, and any other horror you could ever imagine but somehow… none of that hurt would ever compare to the pain caused by your rejection.

You had the power to destroy him and you didn’t even know it. You didn’t know how much of him you carried with you, how easily you could make him fall. Against Gotham he was the Dark Knight, relentless, strong and menacing, capable of things you didn’t want to think about. Against you… he was nothing, powerless, a twig in your hand you could crush without a thought. He was weak against your beauteous thrall and he just wished he could’ve admitted that to himself so much sooner.

Bruce felt his heart constrict, his palms suddenly clammy and his throat suddenly dry; he swallowed roughly. His own heart pounded in his ears, beating under his hot skin, the reality of what he was about to say hitting him full force and he felt like he could pass out, right here on your fire escape, light headed and heavy chested.

He let out a big breath through his nose, gripping the wall between his bloody gloved hands, mustering up the confidence he needed and pushing his fear down, down and deep so it couldn’t be acknowledged anymore. He smothered his insecurities and doubts like a candle wick, clenched his jaw and cleared the smoke from his mind. Bruce looked up at you, eyes glimmering like fire light as they looked over your form once more. He looked up from your socks and your feet, up to your smooth legs and pink nightgown, up to your face, where he focused intently on your lips and nose and eyes.

You looked back at him, where he was staring at you with a type of ferocity and intensity it had your breath stuck in your throat, chills going down your spine.

“…Why I was in love with you.”

You swore your heart stopped.

╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈: how it all fell together 𓂃⊹

⋆˙⟡♡ Of course, you loved him back, and Bruce couldn’t have been happier about it. But, during the actual relationship he was very much still the same, but you could see that he was trying to be closer to you, it was just hard for him. You helped him, made him feel not so scared.

⋆˙⟡♡ You were patient with him, never judged or pushed him to do things you knew he had a hard time doing. He always wanted to talk to you about his parents but he would stop himself before he went in depth about it. That was something he needed time with, and you understood it.

⋆˙⟡♡ He was always doing small things for you that you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so focused on him. He would always smooth out your pillows for you, make you breakfast and be shy that he made something you didn’t like, he would even blow out your candle for you if you ever left it lit. He would give you small gifts, sometimes expensive, a bracelet or a necklace, a set of earrings his mother adored. You loved them all.

⋆˙⟡♡ You had to buy him those vanilla bean and raspberry candles you had. He set them up around his home because the smell reminded him of you and your house, his safe space.

⋆˙⟡♡ He still didn’t like to talk, but he loved to listen. He’d ask questions that were deeply intimate and personal because he wanted to know everything about you. He’d apologize for prodding but he really had no shame about it. He wanted to know you more, learn everything.

⋆˙⟡♡ He loved holding you in his sleep, you made his nightmares go away and made him feel less lonely. He would still flinch sometimes, keep his hands at appropriate distances away from your precious parts. He was a gentleman, that was for sure.

⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t sleep a lot still, so he’d always stare at you when you slept, brush his hand on your cheek when he’d leave in his Batman suit for the night. He hated leaving you, but knew he had responsibilities to his city he couldn’t abandon.

⋆˙⟡♡ He introduced you to Alfred, rather, Alfred went to clean up Bruce’s room early in the morning and found you two in a rather compromising position. He just chuckled and walked out while Bruce awkwardly scrambled to compose himself. You were mortified.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce liked to draw you a lot, most of the time from memory when he was bored on a late night, sitting on a rooftop with charcoal scratching on ripped paper. He didn’t show them to you, but you found them anyway.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce was soft, gentle with you, but sex was a different story, just depended on his day. Most of the time he was sweet, making up for leaving you and hurting you. He always carried so much guilt about it, even when you told him you were over it and understood why he did it.

⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t come out with you as a couple to the press, as Bruce Wayne. He didn’t want them to badger you and question you, make you feel uncomfortable. He came to you a lot, his house was always under constant scrutiny from the public.

⋆˙⟡♡ He threatened your boss when you refused to quit your job. It was late, he was Batman, and your boss just so happened to walk past him. Bruce threw him against the wall with promises of pain if he didn’t treat you right. You had a sneaky suspicion your boyfriend had something to do with your now positive work atmosphere and sudden raise, but decided not to question him.

⋆˙⟡♡ He was always touching you, or kissing you, hesitant to show outright affection so he was subtle when he did it. A hand on your lower back, hovering over your jacket or gently pressing into it. A hand on your arm, a peck on your forehead, a kiss to your cheek when you’d fall asleep.

⋆˙⟡♡ He told you he loved you every night, rarely ever during the day. It was in his bed or yours, when it was silent and cozy, he’d whisper it in your hair or against your skin, and you’d smile and tell him the same.

⋆˙⟡♡ You never expected anything from him besides his love, but he always felt like he owed you something, grateful that you gave him this chance to be with you despite what he did.

⋆˙⟡♡ He was constantly worried about you, on edge when you would be out by yourself or come home later than usual on the nights he couldn’t see you. He would always think the worst, think you were dead and he was too late, someone found him out and was using you to blackmail him. All the worst scenarios to prepare himself for the worst outcomes.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce is constantly having negative intrusive thoughts. You’ll leave him, he doesn’t deserve you, he should’ve stayed gone. He’ll go quiet and try to isolate himself when that happens, so you always try and support him and reassure him in any way you can.

⋆˙⟡♡ He still has such a hard time being vulnerable and talking about his past, but he tries with you. He’ll get tongue tied sometimes or a sentence will drift off before he can finish it, but he’ll try.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce is always so busy he forgets to eat. You’ll constantly remind him food is good for you. So, some days he’ll go eating nothing at all, despite you and Alfred’s insistence. But when he does, it’s a big feast Alfred prepares for him.

⋆˙⟡♡ He is very sweet, a complete gentleman. He has the best manners. He always says his pleases and his thank yous. He’ll follow a question with, when you have a chance, if you can. With Alfred though he’ll be so distracted he’ll just walk away. He doesn’t mean to, just makes sure he’s extra gentle with you.

⋆˙⟡♡ He likes black and white films to play in the background when he’s not doing anything. Or slow, almost gothic music to really set the tone. He’s emo like that and I just know it.

⋆˙⟡♡ He goes to Alfred a lot for relationship advice, scared he’ll mess up and you’ll leave him. He wants to avoid making mistakes with you, so he’ll ask for help or reassurance on what to do.

⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce has a tendency to ignore any problem until it goes away, especially to avoid a fight with you. He’s confrontational when it comes to you, so he’ll let you have your way a lot of the time. He doesn’t like to fight with you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Bruce was sweet and shy, always making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed. He never judged you when you’d tell him your stories or your past, he never accused you of things, and he never raised his voice at you when things would get frustrating. He loved you too much, appreciated you too much. You had no idea how happy you made him even if his face didn’t show it.

He was still wary, scared you’ll leave him, scared one of his enemies will find you out and take you away from him. But he was always there, watching and protecting, hiding in the shadows, being the shadow, on the nights you didn’t know. He may have been Gotham’s protector, but he was also yours.

He loved you and was grateful for you, so grateful he met you when he did and that you trusted him enough to let him see every lovely part of you. He vowed to protect you, to cherish you, and he made good on that promise. Even going as far as to blow out your candle every day before you’d leave for work. Couldn’t have you burning your house down, now could he?

Honestly, I could go on and on about this man so I think I have to end this here. But thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed, especially @diavolosbaby who requested this. I really hope you like it, and if you’re not satisfied or I didn’t answer your ask correctly then don’t be afraid to tell me 💕💕 constructive criticism isn’t bad mmkay ☺️💕

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violetsiren90 · 1 month

Text

New Rules | Don't let him in.

Table of Contents: Teaser (Prologue); Don't pick up the phone; Don't let him in

Pairing: f*ck boi!Jisung x f!Reader; Jisung x Minho

Genre: choose your own adventure; drabble/vignette series; angst and smut; f*ck buddies; college/post grad

Summary: Jisung has had you wrapped around his finger for the last half-decade. You know good and well that it's time to move on…but you can never seem to follow your own rules long enough to shake him.

*Based on the lyrics of "New Rules" by Dua Lipa

Content warnings: 18+ (minors, dni) Explicit smut; toxic relationship; characters commit sexual acts after having partaken in controlled substances (themes continued from previous chapter); Minho touches reader intimately without asking for consent (not against her will, but still, no check-in); masturbation; flashbacks/backstory; lust and resentment; possessive Minho; cum on a character from a previous sexual encounter; super brief spanking; cursing; name calling: slut - sexual, derogatory(?); subby Jisung; kissing/making out; oral sex (f. receiving); face-sitting; female orgasm; lots of conflicting and negative feelings; drunkenness and vomiting; are we in some unhealthy territory here, folks.

Word Count: ~1700

Author's Note: Well, things are getting darker and messier. 🖤 I want to ask that any readers please review the content warnings before partaking! Thank you for everyone who's voted so far!! I absolutely love that you all chose to involve Minho in this, because the dynamic brewing here is something else. Remember to vote in the pole at the bottom of the fic if you'd like to help decide where these characters go from here! 😊

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

You'll have to kick him out again.

Three dragging raps against the door of your hotel room pull your head from the pillow and the rest of your body follows lethargically, weighed down by champagne and dejection. You bumble into a pair of sweat pants and sag against the door momentarily before pushing up on your tiptoes to press an eye to the peephole.

Mother fucking asshole.

“What do you want, Jisung?” you bark venomously, not reaching for the lock.

His brow furrows and he steps back, stumbling. Clearly, he’s made equal use of the open bar.

“Howdya know it was me?” he slurs, eyes wide in slow-witted confusion.

“I can see you through the peephole, moron,” you sneer.

His lips tug down into a pout, the kind that makes him look like a sad, injured puppy. You know them all, the manipulatively emotive masks of expression. It’s been a while though, and you can’t be sure this particularly somber scowl isn’t genuine. No, you know. It doesn’t matter if the offense he’s taken is real, the things he’ll say once he crosses the threshold won’t be. And you can’t fucking do it again. Not tonight.

You slide down the door onto flat feet and turning to press your back against the glossy eggshell paint of its surface.

You’d known he’d be at Chaeryeong and Changbin’s wedding, and you had been tempted to just send a gift out of the sheer desire to simply avoid this moment. But part of you wanted to see him. Wanted to see if he had found someone new - or if the hand that had once kept him just out of your reach still held him in its grasp. You wanted…closure, if you were being honest with yourself. A reason to move on. But of course, he’d come solo, and refused to make eye contact with you for the for the entirety of cocktail hour. Then, significantly later into the evening, you’d felt a familiar gaze burn into your breasts, your ass, the back of your exposed neck. So you’d left before you could get drunk enough to backslide onto his cock; which, should history prove exemplary, would be two shots of tequila from where your BAC currently stood.

You feel a thump against the door, and you hear his voice, closer now, like he’s leaning against it.

“Miss you.”

“No, you don’t,” you counter, with a heaving sigh.

“You don’t…hey…”

“Get out, Jisung.”

You hear him push himself off the door and shuffle over the carpet, then he thumps back against the door hard enough to jostle you.

“Just let me…use your bathroom. I’ll l-leave.”

But he never leaves. He stays, poisonously yet addictively parasitic until you carve him out like a cancer, taking so much of you with him every goddamn time.

Jisung was still panting against Minho’s chest, cum slipping slowly down his heaving belly when he opened his eyes and saw you that night all those years ago. He didn’t speak or move, jaw hanging open and eyes locked on yours as Minho leaned up to murmur whispers onto the shell of the his ear. You watched as Jisung’s eyes slid to down your body, a delicious pulse shuddering through you, and suddenly you became aware of your own fingers against your clit. You blinked down through the haze of heat and substance, to see your skirt lifted and your hand pressed to your messy cunt. You pulled it away to steady yourself against the edge of the bar.

Minho licked his lips as they stretched into a smirk, hitching the younger man up by his hips and onto his feet, pants still shoved around his thighs and his wet cock growing soft above their open waistband. Minho slowly stood, his palm sharply cracking against the bare flesh of Jisung’s ass, spilling a whimper from his lips and causing him to stumble forward, his shirt falling down over cum-slicked skin as he fumbled to tug up his jeans. The senior stalked toward where you swayed on your feet, crowding you as his hand grasped the side of your waist. As his eyes bored into yours you felt like a little quivering creature in a jar - his gaze searing past your retinas and into the dark recesses of your being where he dissected you bit by bit. His cold, steady hand slid down your hip and over your thigh, pushing your skirt up to impassively cup your sex. You let out a shuddering moan, your eyes squeezing shut. Minho chuckled darkly.

“Hmh - such a needy pussy. All puffy and wet…” he purred condescendingly above you. “Hannie baby will take care of that, right?” his hand dragged up your body to take your jaw in his pretty, powerful fingers, still damp with your arousal. Your trembled in his grasp as he pulled back to regard you with a smirk. “Remember, though - sweet, stupid little slut - you can play with that cock all you want…but I own it. Capeesh?”

You sucked in a breath and he released your chin with a hum, patting your cheek before slipping his hand into his pocket and strolling around you. You heard the sliding glass door open and shut. Jisung glanced up at you, running his hand through his hair.

“I…Jisung…”

“You’re not wearing panties,” he muttered with a swallow, his eyes on the rumpled fabric obscuring your sticky want.

“What?” you breathed.

His eyes darted up to yours.

“You liked it - watching. Didn’t you?” His voice shook as he asked. It was such a raw question - not taunting, like Minho’s had been. He was hoping. Begging.

As you watched him shuffle forward, still fumbling with the button of his jeans, you remembered his face as he came. You remembered Minho’s eyes. A fragrant, poisonous hunger bloomed to life in your belly. You surged toward Jisung, daydreams forgotten - shoving him and causing him to stumble back, eyes going wide with surprise. Alarm bells sounded somewhere in your skull, and you look down at the tremor in your hands. You didn’t recognize them. You didn’t recognize the voice that came out of your mouth.

“You’re pathetic.”

He froze, lips parting as he drank in the venom of your tone.

“Baby…” he murmured, stepping toward you cautiously.

“Don’t call me that,” you clipped, your lip quivering as your heart thrummed like a frantic hummingbird trapped inside your chest. “He called you that.”

His brows knitted, as if unsure if your words held accusation or question. He didn’t ask. Just as well. You didn’t know. Some thorny thing weaving its way around your soul tore at the innocence of your longing.

His pupils were swallowing his irises as he raised his hand to touch your cheek. His brows drew together again, but this time with a desperation so intense it was erotic. You were soaked. He leaned in and kissed your lips, and you let him. You moved your hands up to grip the sides of his shirt. He was a needy, messy kisser, and it fed the thing burning inside you that loathed and lusted with equal relish.

He dipped his hand between you to brush his fingers over your drenched folds and he groaned into your mouth. Someone stirred on the loveseat off to the right and you choked on a moan.

“Not here…” you shoved him off.

The next thing you knew your knees were kissing the harsh chill of the downstairs bathroom tiles as his mouth kissed your cunt. Your nails pressed dully into the palm of your hand through the barrier of your bunched up skirt, pulled away to afford your eyes the sight of his face between your thighs. Your other hand gripped the edge of the counter for dear life as you fought to stay upright through the overwhelming pleasure of his languid laps against your sex.

“Fuck…oh, fuck…” you whined and he whimpered against you in response, sending a buzzing vibration through you that had your body screaming out for more. You tucked the hem of your skirt into the band and reached down to part your folds with your fingers, presenting him with your flushed, swollen heat. Immediately latching onto your clit, he sucked as though his survival depended on it, and you wailed up to the ceiling, grinding down over his greedy lips and tongue.

You came against his mouth, but that wasn’t what you remembered on feverish nights thereafter. You remembered the churning in your stomach and the burning in your thighs and the drug of his gaze, heady and addictive as you smothered him, injecting itself into your veins.

You push to a stand against the hotel door, legs shaking. You want it. You need it. Just one more time.

You open the door but he pushes past you, stumbling into the bathroom and collapsing in front of the toilet.

You let out a hissing sigh, leaning against the door frame as he wretches. Perhaps this memory of his body rolling to its back on a tile floor will push away the one that’s haunted your fantasies. Perhaps. But that’s now how it’s seemed to work thus far. He raises himself up to vomit again and leave him there, tossing yourself back into bed.

Pulling the door open to a gentle knock, you recognize Changbin’s best man.

“Hi,” he grins at you sympathetically as you open it further, “One of the groomsmen said there was someone who needed a helping hand back to their room?”

He’s effortlessly handsome in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, tie discarded in favor of an open neck. The smile he’s sporting which presses a dimple into his cheek could likely melt tungsten at ten percent intensity. Your mouth goes a bit dry and when you swallow, it tastes like shame. You glance at Jisung laying in front of the sink.

“Uh, yeeah..” you blink, shuffling back to grant him entry.

He ambles in and peeks his head into the bathroom before turning back to you with a little furrow between his brows.

“You okay?”

You wish this stranger would immediately stop looking at you with those brown eyes - the kind that seem to scan you for weaknesses without a single predatory intention. You cross your arms over your chest and duck your head. You wish you liked it, those eyes on you - a gaze that promised nurture and healing. But you know who you are, what you crave.

“It’s been a long night. Thanks…”

“Chris,” he offers as he pulls Jisung up to a stand. You think he smiles again, but you’re not looking.

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joshym · 1 year

Text

Let's Share (full version)

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!Reader x Josh Kiszka

Summary: You're undeniably Danny's but, he doesn't mind sharing.

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: (18+ MINORS DNI) Unprotected sex, rough sex, little bit of m!dom/f!sub roles, serious praise kink, a little spitting, pussy slapping, squirting, a teensy bit between Danny and Josh, perhaps a tinge of jealousy, a little cum play and breeding kink mixed in there.

a/n: This is pure filth, ya'll. And I'm not sorry one bit. ;)

ENJOY. 🤍

Danny has always been so good about making sure your every need, want and desire is met. You’ve never once questioned his devotion to you. He never denies you a single thing. He’s wrapped tight around your finger, doing any and everything he can to ensure your every happiness.

The two of you have talked about adding a guest to your most intimate times for a while now. A little fantasy of yours, if you will. You’ve always relished in the thought of Danny sharing you with someone while making it undoubtedly clear that you belong to him, and only him. Danny quite likes the idea, too. The idea of showing you off, of showing off what’s his. It turns him on endlessly.

As far as who would be joining you, there wasn’t much question for either one of you.

You’ve always been a little flirty with Josh. A little handsy, too. The two of you have always had this understanding that it was purely platonic. But…you’d be deceiving yourself if you didn’t acknowledge your deep desires, if you pushed down your undeniable attraction to him. You know that sometimes you take it too far, you push your limits a little further each time he’s around. Danny never seems to mind too much. He’s rest assured in the fact that he’s the one taking you home every night. His name is the one you’re screaming over and over again in the mix of your bedsheets.

No, he never minds. Well, except for this one little incident a few months back. You, Josh and Danny had been driving around all day in Danny’s convertible, enjoying the wonderful springtide. You were sitting in the backseat directly behind Josh while Danny manned the wheel. Josh was in charge of playing the music, but had to use Danny’s phone to play it from. You were feeling particularly risqué, and decided to send a slew of raunchy text messages to Danny’s phone, knowing good and damn well that Josh would be the one to read them.

You will surely never forget the look on Josh’s face as you watched him in the side view mirror. His smug, lazy grin that crept on the side of his mouth deliciously as he read each dirty thing you sent. He had to shift himself in his seat a few times for what you can only assume was due to a growing issue in his lap. You had him right where you wanted him.

Each text you sent grew more and more vulgar, until Danny finally caught on as he happened to catch a glimpse of one of your little messages while sitting at a stoplight.

He turned to look at you, glaring eyes making heated contact with yours. He was pissed. And you got the exact reaction you wanted.

He fucked you absolutely senseless that night. Your vulgarity towards Josh brought out his dominant and possessive side.

Soon after the little incident, you both had decided it was time to ask Josh to join. Of which, he happily obliged.

---------------------------------------------------------

Tonights the night you’ve been anxiously awaiting. You have no idea what to expect, and that’s the fun part.

You’re standing before the two men in your black lingerie set that leaves very little to the imagination.

“Come here.” Danny says, his finger wagging you towards him.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that? And you’re all mine. But tonight, I’m going to share you. Because sharing is caring, isn't that right, sweetheart?” His lips meet your neck, leaving you breathless both at the feeling of his wet lips and his words.

“Y-yes, Danny…”

“Good girl. Just one more thing.” He lightly grabs your throat while summoning Josh over. “You know what you’re supposed to call me, and it isn’t Danny. Let me hear you say it.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Ah, there you go. And what are you going to call Josh?”

“Sir.”

“Good girl.”

His lips come crashing into yours, his hand wrapped tightly in the hair at the base of your neck while the other moves gently up and down your arm.

You feel a presence from behind as Josh makes his way in. His lips lightly peck the exposed skin on your upper back and shoulder as he sweeps away the hair falling out of Danny’s grasp, moving the strap of your bra down to gain better access.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this, y/n.” His kisses move up as Danny maneuvers your head to expose your neck to Josh. “I’ve thought about this for so long…” he whispers between kisses “…only been able to dream about you…how you taste, how you feel, how you sound…”

Danny suddenly spins you around to face Josh, his body pressed firmly against your back.

“Give him some attention, baby.”

You lock eyes with him as you smile and bite your lower lip. He smiles back at you, his golden sunrise eyes now darkening to a dusk.

“Hi, y/n. M’gonna kiss you now, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” A hint of desperation present in your voice.

His soft lips collide with yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth. He hums and whimpers at the taste of you while he steals the breath from your lungs.

Danny moves the other strap of your bra still covering your shoulder as he leans down to lick a long and slow stripe up to your neck, ending at your earlobe that he pulls between his teeth, eliciting a moan from you straight into Josh's mouth that he happily swallows.

Danny's hands move down the expanse of your back and stop at the waistband of your panties. He plays with them a bit before slowly pulling them down your thighs. He bends down to help you lift your legs to take them off all the way, kissing the backs of your thighs on the way down. He stands back up and grabs your throat, pulling you away from Josh's mouth.

“Let’s show him how pretty you are.”

He leads you back to the bed where he sits, pulling you down to his lap facing forward. He lifts your legs up and holds them open, feet planted on his knees, leaving you fully exposed to Josh.

His hands slowly rub up and down your thighs. You’re trembling, shaking. You’re desperate for him to touch you. For Josh to touch you. You’re not above begging, and you’re almost to that point.

Josh is watching you with lust gracing his features as he palms his massive erection through his pants.

“She’s…she’s unbelievable, Danny..”

“Mmhm. She’s dripping, isn’t she?” His nose brushes up against the side of your head. You’re hardly breathing. You’re making a mess of Danny’s lap without hardly a single touch.

“Pretty girl need her pussy played with? Want Josh to watch you cum?”

His hand is hovering just above your soaking wet core, barely brushing over where you need his touch the most.

“Please sir, please..”

“Please what, doll?”

“Please make me cum…let Josh watch..”

You buck your hips to chase his hand. You’re trembling almost uncontrollably.

He pity’s you and wastes no more time. The pad of his finger begins tracing delicate circles over your clit.

“Look how pretty she is, Josh. All spread open like this. Her gorgeous, throbbing cunt…”

Josh is staring at you, bottom lip tucked in his mouth, eyes heavy while he continuously gropes his clothed cock that you want freed so badly as Danny’s toying with you.

“Fuck…you’re fucking perfect. Danny making you feel good, sweetheart?”

Danny’s fingers pick up in intensity, causing you to try and close your legs.

His palm comes cracking down on your aching pussy, driving out a yelp from you.

“Uh uh. Keep them open. Let him watch.”

He quickly drives his middle and ring fingers inside of you, your wetness making it an easy glide.

His fingers quicken to a breathtaking pace. The lewd sounds coming from you, Danny whispering, huffing and groaning in your ear, the beautiful indecency of Josh watching you get finger fucked, it's all becoming too much. You feel your stomach tightening, your skin tingling and heating, your imminent release creeping closer and closer when suddenly he pulls his fingers out. He scoffs and lands another slap to your throbbing core.

“What’s the rule, baby?” he says while placing far too gentle kisses to your temple.

“Ask…I have to ask to cum.” You're gulping in small breaths of air, trying to come down from what you know would’ve been an intense orgasm.

“That’s right. And what were you about to do?”

His fingers have returned to rubbing soft and slow circles around your clit. Your breathing becomes more and more hitched.

“I was about to cum, sir.”

“That’s what I thought. You’re going to ask me next time, got it? You ask Josh, too. And we’ll decide together if you can cum.”

“Yes, sir.” Your words are slurred whispers as you’ve become lost in the slow movements of Danny’s finger.

“Oh, poor baby. Her poor little cunt needs a kiss, Josh. Come over here and make her feel better.”

Josh eagerly makes his way to you, bending down, face level with your quivering and helplessly soaked cunt.

“Pretty, pretty girl. So pink. So lovely.” he says while kissing the insides of your thighs.

Danny’s fingers hold your dripping pussy open while he keeps you still on his lap, giving Josh full access to your most delicate spots.

Josh leans in, giving your clit an open mouthed kiss.

“She’s so swollen, Danny. I think you were a little rough on her.” He looks up at you with a wink as you smile back at him.

He delves in with his tongue, adding small flicks just under your clit. The sensation is nearly overwhelming in your exposed position.

Danny’s fingers create a v around Josh’s tongue, rubbing up and down your center until they meet your entrance. He pushes them in while Josh laps and sucks at you.

Here it is. You’re back in the throes of your ecstasy. Your body tremors as Danny keeps you still.

“F-fuck…sir, I- can I please cum?”

“Hm. What do you think, Josh? Has she earned it?”

Josh's tongue joins Danny’s fingers that are pounding into you without relent, simultaneously fucking into you with his tongue as he takes turns with Danny’s coated digits. He brings his thumb up to continue his attack on your sensitive clit, adding the missing touch to your impending peak.

“Cum for us, angel. All over my face and Danny’s hand. Make a beautiful, fucking mess.”

You’re instantly pulled into the trenches of your release, shaking uncontrollably, feeling your orgasm become all consuming. Every muscle in your body tenses as Danny continues to hold you still. You can’t speak, only strained wails manage to escape your lips. Josh works you through it, licking and kissing you to bring you back to this plane of existence. You look down at him to see that you had, in fact, made a fucking mess. His face is drenched with you, his mustache gleaming in the low light. All you can hear are mumbled praises from Danny.

“Ah, that’s my good girl. So fucking good, doll.”

“Oh, Danny…” Josh looks at you with the most loving admiration, marveling at his shared work “…we have to make her do that again.” His lips ghost over you, a slight overstimulation that you can’t escape from. His tongue works diligently to catch every drop of you that is covering your body, humming as he savors the taste.

He leans up, closing in on Danny, resting against the mess of sweaty curls plastered to his forehead. “She so fucking sweet, Danny…”

“Give me a taste..”

Danny holds his mouth open wide as Josh spits, then brings him in for a deep kiss as Danny purrs against his lips.

You watch them in sheer awe as this is turning you on beyond belief, but admittedly you’re missing their touch as you writhe against Danny’s lap.

“I think she’s feeling left out, Joshy..” He’s hardly speaking above a whisper. His voice is but a tantalizing, sultry tune.

“Come here, beautiful.” Danny leans in to you, tongue darting in your mouth. You taste the remainder of yourself mixed with the sweetness that is purely your Danny.

“Doing so good for us, y/n.” Josh says as his fingertips grace your neck.

Danny lifts you off his lap and lays you down on your back. His body travels down yours slowly, his mouth hovering just above your heated skin. He kisses just above your clit before leaning away from you completely.

“You know, Josh, she likes it a little rough,” He’s unbuckling his belt at an agonizingly slow pace. “likes to be fucked stupid. Her tight little cunt can take it…” He finally removes his pants completely, revealing his ridiculously hard, beautiful cock. “...can’t she, baby?”

Fuck. You love when he talks to you, about you, like this. And talking to Josh about you, no less. It’s lewd, it’s nasty, it’s fucking sexy. You’ve envisioned this more times that you can count.

Josh has followed suit in removing his clothing. His body is beautifully sculpted, a bit different from the Grecian god physique of your stunning Danny, but an image of mythology, nonetheless. You’ve seen his body before, but never like this. You can’t help but stare at his gorgeous, thick cock, thinking of all the ways you want him to use it with you.

Danny takes notice if your gazing as he sits on his knees next to your head, fist full of his cock.

“I think she likes what she sees, Josh.” He grabs your chin to point your gaze in his direction. “Like what you see? Want him to fuck you?” The tip of his cock slides ever so gently against your lips. All you can do is nod in agreement.

“Use your words, sweet girl.” Josh says as he begins to line himself up with you. “Tell me you want me to fuck you while you suck Danny’s cock. Tell me. Let us hear you say it, then we’ll give you what you want.” Josh's dominant side has finally emerged. You clench hard around nothing as he teases you with his dick and his words.

“Yes, please…fuck me, Josh. Need to feel you inside.”

You leave a chaste kiss on Danny’s cock, letting him know you need him just as badly.

“Need you in my mouth, baby.”

With that, Danny pulls your hair back and sinks inside of your mouth, going all the way to the back of your throat. Before you can even react, Josh slowly slides inside of you, all the way to the hilt.

The stretch from him is different. He feels so wonderfully different.

You feel so full with them both tucked away inside of you. You’re sure there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Josh gives you a second to adjust to him before pulling out completely only to plunge into you with much more force this time.

You gasp around Danny as he takes the opportunity to fuck himself deeper in your mouth. You gag and whimper around his length as Josh picks up his pace to a vigorous one. His hand is splayed out on your belly while the other has a tight grip on your hip, adding to the intense pleasure creeping from inside. You feel him everywhere inside of you. Deep inside of you.

“God, you’re taking us so well, y/n. So fucking well. So good, baby.” He decorates each word with hard, deep thrusts into you.

Danny is buried deep in your throat, going from warming his cock to fucking it deeper. “You look so beautiful with a cock in your throat and your cunt, baby girl. Doesn’t she look pretty, Josh? Tell her how pretty she looks.”

“Fuck-she looks so goddamn beautiful.”

You feel the levees beginning to break, your skin on fire as your body is on the brink of overflow.

Danny pulls out of your mouth, staring down at you with a smirk gracing his beautiful face as he huffs out a smug laugh.

“Think I don’t know when my baby is about to cum? I can see it in your eyes, y/n. Go on, ask us permission.” His hand is cupping your face, whipping away the tears that have fallen on your cheeks.

“Pl-please, can I please cum, sir?”

Danny points your attention to Josh who’s watching you intently, ready for your request.

“Fuck! Sir, please, can I cum? I-I need it so, so bad, sir, please!”

Josh grins widely at you, realizing the power he holds with one simple answer. He waits a moment, tormenting you with his silence as you’re creeping closer and closer to your break.

He leans down to suck love marks in your chest and neck, edging you along even further. It’s becoming almost unbearable, his dick feels so good. You’re not sure you can hold it any longer.

“Go ahead, sweet girl. Give it to me. Let that sweet pussy cry all over my cock.”

Fucking finally.

Your body convulses, your vision blurred with ecstasy as you’re at last met with your release. You’ve covered Josh, coated him with your juices.

“Need to cum, love. Where do you want me?”

Still coming down from your high, you manage to say the word “mouth” while in your completely fucked out state.

Josh moves to the other side of your head as he lazily strokes his cock.

“Tongue.”

You eagerly open for him, tongue out and ready as he pumps himself a few times before spilling completely in your mouth, not a single drop of him wasted. You swallow him down instantly.

“Good, sweet girl.” He leans down, kissing your lips softly.

Suddenly, you feel strong hands grab at your hips, flinging you on your stomach so quickly that you hardly have time to register whats happened.

You feel Danny’s presence as he hovers his body over yours, lips tracing your upper back, nibbling and biting at your shoulders, his hands lifting your ass in the air.

“Miss me, baby doll?”

Fuck, did you miss him. You loved having Josh, but nothing quite compares to your Danny.

“Yes, sir.”

He lines himself up with your entrance. You start to lift up on your elbows, but Josh's palm lays flat on your back to keep you down.

“Wanna watch you, just like this.” He says as he brushes your messy hair from your face, eyes fixed on your kiss swollen lips.

Danny begins pushing himself in….fuck. Something about him, about how perfectly he fills you, stretches you….no matter how many times he’s fucked you, you still have to adjust to his size. You’re almost screaming at the feeling, so ready for him to ruin you.

He finally fills you up all the way, his stomach resting against your ass. “Ready, baby?”

“Fuck….yes, yes sir I-“

Before you can finish your plea, he pulls out and slams into you. He reaches a brutal pace.

“Josh fucks you so well, doesn’t he? But this…” he plunges as deep as he can go. “…this is mine. You’re mine.”

He’s right. Josh is fucking incredible. But Danny…your tall, broad lover…nothing, no one, will ever take the place of him. You're his. And he is yours.

Your wails of pleasure fill the room. With every yelp, every moan, Josh is praising you.

“Doing so good…taking him so well. He’s fucking your sweet pussy just how you like, huh? His big cock feel good in your tight little cunt?” Words are impossible. You’ve simply lost the ability to verbalize any coherent thought. “Yeah, it does. Fucking her so good she can’t speak, Danny.”

Danny lands a swift crack to your ass, making you gasp as Josh smiles at you.

“Isn’t this pussy fucking perfect? Takes it so well. Fuck, doll. You’re squeezing me so tight. Ask Joshy nice and sweet and maybe he’ll let you cum all over me.”

You’re trying your best, but you can’t seem to muster up the words. All that's able to escape your lips is a quiet whisper. “Please…”

“Oh, I can’t deny you, beautiful. Cum. Make a mess one more time. Let’s see it, honey..”

Danny fucks you faster and harder as your cumming hard around his cock. You're soaking the sheets, you're soaking your beautiful Danny. Whimpers and mewls leave your mouth. Danny’s tight grip on your ass and hips is the only thing keeping you up. You’re on the verge of collapse from experiencing the most mind numbing pleasure.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. So good, making such a gorgeous mess of his cock.”

Danny’s beautiful grunts and moans tell you he’s nearing his peak. His pace becoming more faltered, his cock twitching inside of you.

“Gonna cum, doll. Gonna fill you nice and full.”

With that, you feel him empty deep inside of you, slowing his pace but not stopping completely. The feeling of his release mixed with yours…it’s entrancing.

He slowly fucks his cum into you, watching as a little drips down your thighs.

Josh is wiping away the sweat from your forehead, brushing his thumb over your cheek and giving you praise after praise.

Danny pulls out slowly, leaving you missing him almost instantly.

You fully collapse on the bed, your hips falling on Josh's body. Danny lies down on the other side of you, sandwiching you between them both.

“You okay, doll?” He says as he plants soft, sweet kisses on your shoulder.

You manage to be able to lift your upper half up, meeting Danny in a slow, loving kiss.

“I’m…I’m more than okay. That was-that was fucking incredible. We have to do this again…”

Danny smiles against your lips. “Hm, what do you think, Josh?”

Josh huffs out a giggle. “I’ll do this as many times as you want.” His hand moves up and down the curve of your body. “As long as Danny’s okay with it.”

“Yeah, I’m okay with it. Just remember…” the palm of his hand lands swiftly on your ass as he winks at you “…she’s still mine.”

Masterlist

#danny wagner x reader #josh kiszka x reader #danny wagner smut #josh kiszka smut #danny wagner fic #josh kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #danny fic #josh fic #greta van fleet smut #let’s share

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