#be warned writers

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: You tend to remember the smallest things and dates which are of you and Chan, so you decided to surprise him with a homemade dinner on the date of when you both met for the first time. Except for, you didn't expect Chan to forget it, let alone react the way he did.

Warnings: Couple arguments. Use of strong language, a bit of angst & tears, Smut🔞, unprotected (make-up) sex, intimate, oral (f.receiving), pet names, brief mention of a tummy bulge (so size kink if you squint I guess?). Use of Y/N (but only twice).

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: I think I'm going through a phase rn, somehow I am ADDICTED to writing angst and tears— LMFAOOO @mrs-hwangh what have you done to me???

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 5.6k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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Your soft hums of your favourite song echoed quietly in the living room, smiling to yourself as you fiddled with a silver bow, wrapping a small box that contained a gift you bought for your boyfriend a few days ago.

Today was the day when you both met for the first time four years ago, in the same college, at the same coffee shop where he accidentally bumped into you and spilled his drink all over your notes and you never would have imagined that moment would lead to this.

To love. To Chan.

Your heart swelled at the memory, a fond chuckle escaping your lips. You had planned a simple evening, nothing too extravagant, just the two of you, sharing memories over a homemade dinner and the gift you picked out so lovingly. You knew how busy he was, but today mattered to you. It was the day everything began.

Once you had everything set, you waited for Chan to return home from work, your leg tapping on the floor and fingers playing with the hem of your dress.

Minutes passed to hours and you hadn't received any calls or texts from him, but you waited patiently. Maybe he was caught up at work. Maybe he forgot to check his phone. Still, you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

The sound of the door unlocking cut through your thoughts, and you quickly stood up, smoothing down your dress. Relief and excitement flickered in your chest as Chan walked in, rubbing the back of his neck, looking utterly exhausted.

His bag slumped onto the floor as he kicked off his shoes, barely glancing up at you. Your heart sank ever so slightly but you tried not to let that disappointment settle in.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, stepping forward. “Long day?”

He nodded, letting out a tired sigh. “Yeah. I’m drained.”

You swallowed, suddenly nervous. “I… I made dinner. And I got you something,” you said, gesturing to the neatly wrapped gift on the coffee table.

Chan barely spared it a glance, his brows furrowing slightly. “What’s the occasion?”

Your heart dropped, but you put on a soft smile. You couldn't get mad at him if he forgot it, even though you wished he didn't. That he didn't forget the date or not acknowledge the effort, the way you had been looking forward to this all day.

"You don’t remember?” Your voice came out quieter, trying to mask in a playful tone.

He sighed again, rubbing his forehead, looking as if he'd been asked questions in an interview. "Um no, why don't you tell me?"

The way his voice sounded made you feel like you got slashed with a blade, but you shoved that dramatic thought aside and walked closer to him, biting your lower lip in order to swallow the hard lump that had formed in your throat.

“It’s the day we met.” Your voice wavered slightly, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on you but you continued smiling softly. “Four years ago today.”

Chan exhaled, running a hand through his hair, frustration creeping into his features. “Babe, I’ve been swamped with work. I barely know what time it is.”

You blinked, his words stinging more than you expected. “I get that you’re busy, Chan. I really do. But this was important to me.”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come on, don’t do this. It’s just a date. It’s not like an anniversary or anything.”

You took a small step back as if he had physically pushed you. You blinked up at him, trying not to let his words form the tears to gush up your eyes.

Your arms wrapped around yourself, hoping that would keep you steady. "I just thought this would mean something to you too."

His brows furrowed deeper, irritation creeping into his voice. "Of course it means something to me. But I don’t have the luxury of remembering every single date when I’m drowning in deadlines."

Your heart clenched, his words cutting deeper than you expected. "So, what, I'm just supposed to understand that I come second to everything else in your life? That it’s okay for you to forget something that mattered so much to me?"

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. "That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. It’s just a date."

"Just a date?" Your voice cracked, a slight tone of anger and heartbreak mixing in your chest. "It’s the day we met, Chan. The day everything started. I planned this for us. I waited for you, and you didn’t even think to text me back? Or check your phone?"

"I was working! I don’t have time to be glued to my phone every second!" His voice was sharper now, making you flinch hard, his frustration spilling over. "I come home exhausted, hoping to relax, and now I have to deal with this?!"

The venom in his voice made you shiver and you hugged yourself tighter. "Chan, please don't shout..."

"No, I mean you always do this. I get it, that you remember small things, but I just want an evening of peace after a long day at work."

Chan had rarely raised his voice, your throat tightened at his words, a dull ache forming in your chest. You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to stay calm even though his tone made you feel like you were drowning.

“I’m not asking you to drop everything for me, Chan,” you said softly, voice trembling. “I just thought—” You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the fabric of your dress. “I thought maybe today would matter to you too.”

His jaw clenched, and he ran a frustrated hand through his curls, exhaling sharply. “Sure you did,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “You always do this, Y/N. You put so much weight on things that I—”

He stopped himself, hesitating, but you already knew where he was going with this.

“That you what?” You challenged, your voice barely above a whisper. “That you don’t care?”

Chan looked at you then, eyes dark with exhaustion and irritation. “That I don’t have the mental space to deal with every single date, every little detail, every expectation you set for me without telling me.”

His words cut deeper and deeper, the sting of them making your eyes well up. You blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.

“I never asked you to be perfect, Chan,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I never expected you to remember every little thing. But this?” 

You gestured weakly toward the dinner table, the untouched meal, the small, neatly wrapped gift that now felt like a stupid afterthought.

“It's the day we met for the first time, so it just meant as much to me as our anniversary.”

Chan’s lips parted slightly, his brows furrowing, but he said nothing. That silence, that hesitation, hurt more than his words.

Your fingers wrinkled your dress, feeling a chill despite the warmth of the apartment. “You know, I wasn’t even mad that you forgot. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

Chan let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You think that I don’t want to spend time with you? Do you know how exhausting it is to juggle everything, to be everywhere at once? And now, I come home and instead of just relaxing with you, I’m being guilt-tripped over a date I forgot?”

The sharp sting of his words left you breathless.

Guilt-tripping? That was what he thought this was? Your efforts, your love, your excitement, had all of it been reduced to you being an inconvenience to him?

Your lips parted, your throat constricting as a wave of emotions surged through you. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Chan,” you said, your voice wavering. “I just wanted you to remember. I wanted you to want this too.”

His expression flickered, something unreadable flashing across his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a heavy sigh. “I’m tired, okay? I’m so damn tired. I don’t have time to remember every little thing—”

“Every little thing?” you cut him off, your voice suddenly louder, cracking under the weight of your emotions.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t say it wasn’t important, I just—damn it, I forgot, okay? I’m human! I make mistakes!”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, eyes stinging, heart breaking. “Forgetting is one thing,” you said, voice thick with unshed tears. “But the way you’re acting right now? Like I’m just another problem you have to deal with?”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands clenched at your sides. “That hurts more than you forgetting.”

Chan’s eyes widened slightly, the anger in his expression flickering for a brief moment. But the damage was done. The silence between you was heavy, suffocating, the walls closing in around you.

You shook your head, backing away from him. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Y/N…” he started, but you turned away from him.

“No. I get it. You’re tired. You need space. And I’m obviously asking for too much,” you said, your voice hollow. “So I’ll make it easy for you.”

With that, you turned on your heel, took your keys that were sitting on the coffee table and walked toward the door, grabbing your coat. Chan’s eyes darkened, his hand wrapped around your wrist. “Where are you going?”

You untangled yourself off his grip and slipped in your coat, brushing away the tear that slipped down your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Somewhere that doesn’t make me feel like I’m begging for your attention.”

His face fell, and for the first time that evening, you saw a flicker of realization in his eyes—as if he finally understood just how much he had hurt you.

“No, wait, please,” he said, reaching for you, but you pulled away before he could touch you.

You turned away and closed the door behind you, walking away as fast as you could to your car, driving back to your apartment.

Behind the door Chan grabbed fistfuls of his hair, grunting and growling under his breath as he fell on the plush couch.

His eyes caught the small, neatly wrapped gift that was sitting on the coffee table, he hesitated for a second but then opened it, his heart sank like a stone thrown in the ocean when he saw what was nestling inside.

His favourite bracelet he lost when we went on a business trip a few months ago. It was the exact same design and brand.

His fingers trembled as he picked up the bracelet, the silver catching the dim glow of the living room light. His throat tightened painfully as he turned it over in his hands, his vision blurring slightly.

And you… you had remembered. You had gone out of your way to find it, to replace something that meant so much to him, because that’s just the kind of person you were.

Chan exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Fuck,” he whispered, the weight of his words from earlier slamming into him like a truck.

What had he done?

***

The next morning you woke up, exhausted, your vision blurry, nose stuffed and what felt like a dull headache creeping up your forehead. You groaned softly and walked into the bathroom, to find your state in a mess.

Disheveled hair, puffy cheeks with stained mascara, swollen eyes and lips. You had barely stepped inside your apartment before the dam broke, tears spilling freely as you sunk in your bed.

You didn't know at what time you reached home or when you had fallen asleep.

You hated arguing with Chan. 

Sure you had a few disagreements once in a while but they were different. But this kind of argument; where it wasn’t just a misunderstanding, but something way deeper, made you question if you were the only one holding onto the pieces of your relationship while he let them slip through his fingers so easily.

You fixed yourself into the shower, letting the water wash away the fresh set of tears that began to run down your face. After a while you stepped out and changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and grabbed your phone, only to see a dozen calls and texts from Chan.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, heart pounding as you scrolled through the missed calls. Channie <3 (12).

The unread messages blurred together, but you caught glimpses of them as your breath hitched.

Channie <3 [1:12 AM]: Please, baby, pick up. Channie <3 [1:13 AM]: I know you’re mad. I know I fucked up. But please, don’t shut me out. Channie <3 [2:03 AM]: Are you home? Are you safe? Just… let me know you’re okay. That’s all I need right now.

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled further, his messages growing more frantic, more desperate.

Channie <3 [2:45 AM]: I can’t sleep knowing I hurt you like this.

Channie <3 [3:20 AM]: I love you. I love you so much. I don’t deserve you, but please tell me you’re okay.

Your chin wobbled as you closed your eyes and kept your phone face down on the nightstand, not knowing what to respond to him. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face him yet, if you could talk to him and not break all over again.

You walked out of your bedroom, to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee when the front door bell rang. You glanced at the clock hanging on your wall, wondering if you were expecting anyone in the morning, you sighed heavily and walked to the door, only to be greeted by someone that made you feel like you got pulled into the floor.

Outside stood Chan, his face masked with exhaustion and faint hints of dark circles under his eyes and messy hair as if he had been running his hand through it the entire night. He was holding a bag, what looked like it was from your favourite bakery and bouquet of flowers, his gaze locking in with yours, pleading you for a chance and forgiveness.

You attempted to close the door but Chan held it, interrupting you from shutting him out. “Sweetheart…” He started but before he could say anything, you left the door hanging and walked into the living room.

Chan hesitated at the doorway, gripping the bag and flowers tightly as he watched you walk away. He took a shaky breath and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

The quiet of your apartment felt heavier than usual, like an invisible barrier had formed between the two of you. He placed the bag on the kitchen counter, setting the flowers beside it, before slowly following your retreating figure.

You kept your back to him, your arms crossed over your chest as you stood near the window, staring outside as if willing yourself to be anywhere but here.

“Baby…” Chan tried again, his voice softer this time. Apologetic.

You tensed but didn’t turn around.

He took a careful step forward. “Please, just—”

“Don’t,” you said, your voice a whisper, but it carried enough weight to stop him in his tracks.

Chan swallowed hard. He wanted to reach for you, to hold you, to tell you he was sorry in a way that would make up for last night. But the weight of the argument hung so heavily between you both, without sparing a glance at him, you went inside your bedroom.

The soft click of the door shutting behind you echoed louder than it should have, and Chan exhaled shakily, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

He had messed up. Badly.

His gaze flickered to the neatly wrapped pastries and the bouquet he had brought. He had stopped by your favorite bakery the moment they opened, hoping—praying—that it would mean something, that it would show you he was trying to make up for the way he reacted.

But he knew better. A box of pastries and a bouquet of flowers couldn’t, wouldn't erase the way he had hurt you.

With a tired sigh, he sank onto the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. He didn’t know how much time had passed, only that the silence in the apartment was suffocating.

He glanced toward your closed bedroom door, debating if he should give you more time or if he should go to you now.

But his heart won over his hesitation.

Slowly, he pushed himself up and walked toward your door, his footsteps hesitant but determined. He paused just outside, lifting a hand to knock, but stopped himself at the last second.

Instead, he carefully turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

You were sitting on the bed, your back facing him, silent sobs filling the room. As much as you wanted to hate him for the way he behaved, you simply couldn’t. His presence alone was enough to pull you over, but the heaviness of your emotions made it hard to think. 

Chan’s heart ached at the sight and the sound of your sobs. You heard his footsteps, with a choked voice you said, “Chan, go away.”

He couldn’t go away like that. Not until he tells you how sorry he is and how much he regrets last night. 

“Honey…”

Your shoulders shook harder with each breath, Chan made his way towards you and sat next to you, hesitating for a fraction of a second before his arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush to his chest. You couldn’t react, just stayed frozen in his embrace.

“Baby, my love, I’m so sorry…” He exhaled deeply. “I hate myself for the way I was last night. I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t important to me because, God, baby, you are everything to me.”

“I messed up,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret. “I was stressed, and I let it make me forget what really matters. I forgot us. And that’s not okay.”

You swallowed thickly, your body still stiff in his hold, unsure if you should let yourself sink into his warmth or resist the comfort you so desperately craved. His arms tightened around you, his heartbeat pounding in a frantic rhythm under your ear.

“I should have come home and held you,” Chan murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “I should have kissed you and told you how much I love you instead of making you feel like you were asking for too much.”

Your lips parted in a shaky exhale, the weight of his words pressing against your fragile heart.

“You never ask for too much,” he whispered, his voice raw, filled with self-reproach. “You only ever ask for me,” his throat flexed, “and I failed you.”

A fresh wave of tears spilled from your eyes, but this time, you weren’t alone in your grief. Chan pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, as if he was trying to kiss away the pain he had caused.

He gently turned you in his embrace, urging you to face him, his hands cupping your cheeks as he tilted your face up to his. Your vision was blurry, so you closed your eyes, unsure if you could look at him.

His thumbs brushed away the tears clinging to your skin, his touch featherlight, reverent. “Please look at me, sweetheart.”

And then you did. And what you saw made your breath hitch.

Pure, unfiltered love—wrapped in sorrow, wrapped in desperation. His dark eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, rimmed with exhaustion and regret. His lips were slightly chapped, parted as if he had a thousand apologies to spill but didn’t know where to start. He looked just as broken as you felt.

His mouth brushed on your forehead, lips trembling as he whispered, “There is nothing in this world that matters more to me than you, baby.”

Your chin trembled. “Then why did I feel like I was alone in this?”

Chan inhaled sharply, his expression crumbling. “You’re not,” he said instantly, his voice urgent. “I swear, you’re not. I just—” He exhaled heavily, his fingers trembling as they traced over the curve of your jaw. 

“I shouldn’t have taken out my stress from work on you, when you only wanted to spend time with me on a day that I should have remembered too. I’m really sorry baby. I can’t lose you over this.”

Your gaze dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes, searching, wavering. His words poured out so thick with emotion, unfiltered and raw, it made your chest tighten so hard, it hurt.

“Tell me now,” his fingers brushed away the faint tear stains from your face, “Do you want me to go?”

Your breath and words were stuck in your throat. Part of you wanted to let your pain fester a little longer so he could understand just how much last night had hurt. But the way he was looking at you, so full of remorse, it broke through the wall you had tried to keep up.

Chan was here. And he was trying.

The sincerity of his voice and his presence thawed the ice that built around your heart overnight, you couldn't stay angry at him for another moment longer. Because you knew the love you had for him could overshadow any kind of pain.

Your fingers reached up, hesitant, before threading through his soft curls. He sucked in a breath at the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, his grip on you tightening.

Time was frozen, breaths were stolen and before you could stop yourself, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. “Don't hurt me again…” You chokingly whispered.

“Never sweetheart. I won't ever do that again.” He let out a shaky breath against your neck, his hands running up your back, molding your body to his like he was terrified you’d disappear if he let go.

“Let me make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice so low and vulnerable that it sent a shiver down your spine.

His lips brushed over your cheek first, barely there, as if he was asking for permission. Then he kissed the corner of your mouth, lingering and waiting. “Please.”

And when you didn’t pull away, he finally pressed his lips to yours.

Soft and hesitant.

Not demanding, not rushed, just a quiet plea wrapped in tenderness.

His lips molded against yours like a silent confession, staying there as if he wanted to memorize the way you felt against him.

His hands moved up your sides, thumbs tracing absent patterns over your skin. He wasn’t taking, he was giving, pouring all of his love into every press of his himself, every stroke of his fingertips.

Your body melted into his instinctively, your hands tightening in his hair as you deepened the kiss, letting yourself drown in the warmth of him. 

He made a quiet sound against you, almost like a sigh of relief, as if he had been waiting for this, for you to accept him, to let him back in as he laid you on your back and toyed with the waistband of your pants.

He had barely touched you and you were already on liquid fire. Blood coursed through your veins when he pulled them down, the chilly air making you shiver at the contact of your heated skin. 

“Chan…”  Your voice came out in a breathy whisper, half moan and half command, when his lips danced over the soft skin of your thighs. 

“Hmm?” when he pressed there, you couldn't help but sigh completely. “What is it honey?” He coaxed, the huskiness of his voice that made it hard to think. Did you want him to stop? Or did you want him to go on?

“I…,” He smirked against you as he made his way up, a path that he knew like the back of his hand. He spread your legs apart, the glistening sight before him reawoke a rush of possessiveness in him. 

“I hate fighting with you.” Chan whispered against your flesh, voice raw and aching. 

Your fingers found his hair, tugging him closer as if that alone could answer him. His breath fanned over your core, and his thumbs rubbed soothing circles into your thighs.

“You’re my world,” he admitted, looking up at you, eyes dark but filled with something deeper than lust. “And I want to give you everything. I'm sorry for ruining last night baby.”

The words sent a warmth spiraling through you, melting away the remnants of your argument.

He brushed a kitten kiss right on your swollen clit, and your body responded instantly, arching toward his touch. He took his time, tracing delicate patterns with his tongue, exploring you with a reverence that left you breathless. 

His hands kept you steady, but the way he worshipped you made you feel as if you were floating. You couldn't help but squirm, soft moans spilled from your lips, and when you murmured his name.

This wasn’t about just sex. It was about him making up for every harsh word he said, erasing any distance that had carved its way between you both over the past 12 hours.

His mouth moved over you like he had all the time in the world, savoring every reaction, every soft gasp that spilled from your throat. His hands, rough and calloused, held you with the gentleness of a man afraid to break something precious.

“Cha—nhg,” You whimpers didn't slow him down. It only made him go faster and faster, tongue flicking and licking with an agonizing pressure. 

He groaned against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. You attempted to pull his head away from your pulsing core but he wouldn't budge. 

“I'm not done.” He looked up from your pussy, chin and lips swollen and glistening with your arousal. 

He dove back in with a renewed, hungry pace, his nose nudging against your clit, the warmth shooting up to every inch of your body. He couldn't get enough of how you tasted, how you moaned and screamed only for him. If he could, he would stay right were he was forever.

The band in your lower belly knotted tighter and tighter, had you writhing and bucking your hips, it was on the edge of snapping

And then you surrendered to him. Your orgasm left you gasping, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes and only his name escaping your lips, Chan held you firmly as he helped you ride it out. 

He didn't let you go for a second as he sucked and licked your pussy splurting with arousal like he was on the verge of starvation, until he left you boneless but content beneath him.

Slowly, he made his way up your body, removing your top and his mouth hovering your hips, across the plane of your stomach, up the valley between your breasts. Each of it was an apology, a whispered promise against your skin.

“Baby,”—smooch—“fuck you're so sweet when you,”—smooch—“come on my face.” He said between kisses and gentle nipping on your sensitive, peaking buds that rebuilt the anticipation.

Soon enough every piece of clothing was discarded until it was only the fiery sparkles of your sweat misted bodies flying between you both. He shifted, positioning himself between your legs.

The tip of his cock nudged your nub softly before entered you slowly, filling you inch by inch, watching your face for every reaction. You gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Chan let out a shuddering breath, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close as he started to move. His pace was slow, deliberate, each thrust sending a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, but it was more than that. 

It was a silent conversation, an absolution, a way of reminding each other that no fight, no disagreement, could ever take this away from you.

You pulled him in deeper and deeper, his cock twitched hard inside of you, the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, sweat and groans soaked the air. 

His eyes fell down to where you both joined, what he saw drove him out of his mind. A soft but visible movement in your tummy. 

“Shi— fuck.”

Your eyes fluttered open when he held your hand and brought it over your tummy where you felt the bulge that was moving in and out of you.

“Feel that?” He pounded into you that made you arch your back, digging your nails into his skin. “D’you feel that baby?” 

You nodded, out of breath, mouth falling open until the cries of pleasure consumed you whole, the feel of the bulge just spurring you on more. 

His hands roamed your body, mapping familiar paths, his lips never straying far from yours. He whispered sweet nothings against your skin, words of love and devotion, apologies and reassurances.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but steady.

You smiled softly for the first time after the long hours, tilting your head to kiss him once more. “I love you too.”

And just like that, the fight was forgotten. Not because it didn’t matter, but because what you had together was always stronger.

“You're squeezing me baby,” his orgasm rushed fast and threatened to take over him, climbing up his spine and snapping his restraints. 

“Chan I'm… I'm going to come,” 

And your release finally crashed over you again, it wasn’t just pleasure—it was catharsis. 

A loud cry tore off your throat as you flooded around his cock, shaking and moaning, Chan followed seconds after slamming into you in one last thrust, burying himself deep with a breathless groan, his body caging over yours.

The post sex high lingered but he didn’t move or pull out. He stayed wrapped around you, pressing lazy kisses to your temple, your shoulder, anywhere he could reach. His fingers traced slow patterns on your skin, grounding you both in the quiet aftermath.

“Do you forgive me?” He asked softly, his fingers brushing away a few strands of hair. 

You smiled cheekily, fingers running through his damp sweat hair, “No,” you said lowly that made his eyes widen in disbelief.

His reaction made a laugh bubble up your throat, you pulled him down onto your mouth letting your tongue slip past his lips and had him melt all over again.

“Yes, I forgive you Chan.” You said pulling back, chest heaving and content. 

He chuckled deeply, hugging you tightly, the lingering amusement from your playful teasing was still evident in the crinkle of his nose. 

Then, with a slow, deliberate exhale, he shifted, reluctantly pulling away from your warmth.

You watched him as he retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom, wiped you clean before he reached for his pants, discarded somewhere on the floor, and retrieved something small from the pocket. 

When he turned back to you, he held a tiny velvet box in his hands.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Chan hesitated, his thumb brushing over the soft fabric of the box as if gathering the courage to speak. Then, with a slow inhale, he flicked it open.

Inside, nestled against the velvet lining, were two delicate rings, a simple silver band with a tiny, shimmering stone embedded at its center. It wasn’t flashy, nor extravagant, but it was beautiful in a way that felt so intimate and personal.

Your eyes flickered from the ring to his face, your heart hammering against your ribcage. “Chan…?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, but you could tell he was nervous. His free hand found yours, fingers lacing together as he held you close.

“I’ve been carrying this around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. And I—” He sighed laughing, shaking his head. “I guess last night was the moment but…”

Chan took a steadying breath, his fingers tracing the edge of the velvet box. “I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes,” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I push too hard, tease too much. And when we fight, I say things I don’t mean.”

You shook your head, reaching out to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief second before continuing.

“It’s not… a proposal,” he clarified quickly, though his lips curled into that familiar teasing smirk. “Not yet, at least. But it’s a promise.” He squeezed your hand, eyes searching yours with a raw kind of vulnerability. 

“A promise that no matter how much we fight, no matter how many times I mess up… I’ll always choose you. I’ll always come back to you. If you’ll have me.”

Your throat felt tight, emotions swelling so intensely in your chest that you could barely breathe. “Oh Channie,”

His smirk faltered, concern flashing across his face. “Is it too much?” he asked hesitantly. “I know we just—”

You shook your head quickly, cutting him off. “No,” a shaky laugh escaped you . “It’s perfect.”

Relief flooded his features, and for the first time, you saw the nervous tension completely drain from his shoulders.

“Then… will you wear it?” he asked softly, lifting the ring from the box.

“Of course, I will.” You nodded, biting your bottom lip and holding out your hand, he slipped the cool metal onto your finger, the fit perfect, like it was meant to be there all along.

You took the other one from the box and slid it onto his finger with the same reverence, looking up at him through damp lashes.

“This is my promise to you,” you echoed, voice soft but sure. “That even when you’re a pain in the ass sometimes, I’ll still choose you. Every time.”

Chan let out a breathless chuckle, his head tilting slightly as he gazed at you like you hung the stars.

“God, I love you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

You didn’t get the chance to respond before his mouth collided with yours again, slow, deep, and filled with a devotion that made your heart flutter in the best way possible.

And as you fell back on the mattress, tangled in each other yet again, the silver bands glinting under the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the window, you knew; there was no one else for you but him.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[blkbbyprincess]

wutiwant arcane!vi x blk!reader nsfw

*creakcreakkkkkkcreakcreakcreakk*

yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking; sounds of such could be heard coming from your bedroom located in the firelights’ base where your big brother; ekko built sanctuary for zaunites who were struggling to have purpose in life and needed a bit of help and hope to get to a better place in it.

ekko was now well aware of you and vi’s “entanglements” as he would call them, because he’d usually find you two tangled up in your sheets late at night, giggling and breathing a little heavier than usual.

imagine the awkward first conversation between you and your elder brother after he finally connected the dots to find out you two were fucking each other.

it wasn’t even really surprising to him though, he knew you were into girls; and it was obvious considering vi was your first crush, but he just wished you guys wouldn’t go at it while he was trying to sleep.

back in the day, you and vi would always find ways to sneak off with one another back in your early teen years and sit atop the rooftops on zaun and hold hands while swinging your feet off the tallest building you could find. a few more instances of this, and that’s how you ended up with your first real kiss.

you two never really ended up together though; fearing a relationship could make things complicated in the future.

because living in zaun meant that your life wasn’t guaranteed for a long time, so you both decided to push back stronger feelings for one another emotionally, and instead started to mess with each other in other ways when you got older.

little sloppy makeout sessions in vi’s bedroom turned into her eating you out until you saw stars for the first time in your own room.

you don’t even think your rose had ever given you an orgasm like that before.

after that time, it seemed she was getting a bit comfortable coming in your room, that she’d pop up unannounced after doing gosh knows what in a day. maybe she liked the fact that your room was decorated with cute homemade fairy lights what were just bright enough to illuminate the room in the dark and capture your twisted facial expressions while looking you dead in your eye to make sure she was fucking you right.

this time, she was holding your left leg up from the underside of your knee joint, as she fucked you on your side, so pathetically slow and passionately with a cute dark pink strap that you picked out; dragging her toy in and out of you so deep, that you could have sworn you could feel it touching your liver.

“y-yesss, -hgnnnnn mama pleaseee keep going.”

she began to kiss you up and down your neck as she had her hand intimately intertwined with one of yours above your head.

your whimpers and gasps were nothing you could control at the moment because of the intense intimacy. you’re sure vi definitely wanted to hear a little more than that, but shut you up to avoid yet another noise complaint. without even realizing it, you were back to being loud again, so she hushed you with two of her thick fingers that touched your mouth in a “shushh” motion before pushing them in your mouth, making you gasp and clinch around the length.

“doin’ so good for me mama, ‘m i making you feel good, hmm?”

she temporarily removed her fingers from you mouth to allow you to respond as best as you could, but you were getting fucked so good, you were a bit delayed at first; because you couldn’t even tell that she was talking to you before you moaned “y-yesss m-ma’ammm-oh fuck.”

this look on your face was making that so hard for her, you were trying to look back at her innocently while reaching back with your free hand; arching your back a little more.

she momentarily took her hand that was in your mouth, and grabbed the back of your head to push your head into the sheets a bit more to get a better view of your arch; smudging your mascara.

guess it was a little too much for her, because all she could think in that moment was; “babies, babies, babies.”

so much for trying not to cum too quick.

“ah, s-shittt, you’re about to make me cum cupcake, keep doing that and i’ll make you a m-mmh momma.”

realistically you both knew the closest thing you’d get to a child from her was a baby doll, but it was fun to imagine you being pregnant because of her.

her pace sped up inside you with the strap, but you weren’t even realizing because you were too busy trying to keep up with how she was rubbing your clit at the same pace with the hot, wet fingers she had previously stuffed in your pretty mouth.

she could see your pretty, pink painted toes curling up and your face convulsing in all sorts of ways, letting her know it was about that time you were about to let it alll out.

“o-ohmygodddd vi, s-slow downnn, i’ts tooo m-muchhh.”

“i-i can’t baby, fuckkkkk- this pussy’s too good.”

a few more thrusts and you’ve made a hugee mess everywhere, and vi is kinda pissed she didn’t even get to see your face while doing it because she had her head thrown back with her slitted eyebrows furiously furrowed; accidentally cumming at the same time as you.

“shit, i think we gotta start over, ‘didn’t get ta’ see you cum.” she mumbled to herself.

you were too fucked out to even respond back; your pussy was still sore and sensitive from your recent orgasm, yet you found comfort in vi’s strap that was still in you afterwards, before she carefully slipped it out.

vi tiredly tossed the strap to to ground to deal with at a later time; but for now, she damn sure wasn’t finished. she was determined she made sure she saw you cum this time.

vi pressed her lips against yours, as she gently scooped her arm underneath your waist and flipped you with ease onto your back; getting a good view of your pussy.

vi grabbed your thighs and hiked them up to your chest so she could get a better view; and gosh did she have one. without a second thought, she slid a finger in, and then dragged it out; repeating the motion.

“look mami, she’s already making noi-.”

*knock knock*

with two quick knocks and no warning whatsoever, a swift motion of the door opened to your room to reveal your brother; ekko, who was dressed in a ribbed white tank top with a pair of fuzzy shorts and was holding a plate of your favorite dish; cheese toast.

“sis, you’d never guess what heimerd-“

there wasn’t even enough time for the two of you to properly react and get yourselves covered; as if he hadn’t known you two messed around, but that wasn’t the point, it was still embarrassing to have your brother walk in on you at a rather vulnerable time.

“s-shit!” you slurred; trying to sit up as vi’s fingers were still in you; mimicking a scissor cutting motion. vi whipped her head around to the surprise of your big brother at the door with genuine disbelief in his face as he had walked in on you two “handling” each other.

again.

vi slid her fingers out of your sopping hole and pulled your legs from your chest with a groan; she was just getting started again and was irked that she was rudely being interrupted. she pulled the cover up over your legs, and you instinctively lowered your legs down.

blocking your frame with her intricately tattooed back facing your brother, she gestured her head to somewhat face ekko’s way, with her body towards you still; eyes flickering between you and him.

“we’re a bit busy, little man.” she said with a slight smirk. you could hear it in her voice that she was a bit amused at how embarrassed you got as soon as he walked in; it was kinda cute seeing you all worked up over something that you knew she’d take care of.

“im already knowin’, considering you two cant seem to stay out of each other’s beds.”

“and it seems like you can’t seem to mind the business that pays you.” vi responded with a laugh.

“touché, i’ll have a comeback later though, it doesn’t seem like now’s the time to get to cooking on y’all.”

“i heard they’ve got good ones on google, now close the door; and if i were smart, i’d put some headphones on.”

“and if you were smart, you’d stop playing and date my sister already.” ekko said with a smirk; already having known about you two’s “arrangement” to only be fuck buddies, but with tension like that; there was no way you two didn’t want to be together.

vi damn near had to pick her jaw up off the floor, but she knew that he was right; oh how she wanted to call you her girlfriend, but didn’t want to rush your or make you feel like you had to change your mind on a mutual agreement.

“might have to strangle you after that one ‘ko.” she tried her best to keep a playful composure, when she knew good and well what he said seriously got her thinking and she couldn’t even be mad at him for saying anything either.

“time to mind the business that pays me!” and with that he grabbed the doorknob with one hand, and used the other to sit the slightly warm plate of toast on the near surface before strolling out with a giggle, closing the door shut behind him.

something about what ekko said made vi feel bad; because she wasn’t able to properly give you the love she felt like you deserved; yet you always chose her. of course she’d always choose you, but she wouldn’t be upset if you wanted to be happy with someone who had their shit together.

whatever did she do to deserve you.

once she figured ekko had been long gone from the door, she snapped out of her thoughts and turned back to you, once again giving you her full undivided attention. “you know i love you, but-“ she started as she stared into your eyes lovingly; yet desperately while reaching for your hands to intertwine them with hers.

“i know baby, i love you too.”

“always.”

this isn’t the first time you’ve said “i love you” to one another; there have been multiple instances with absolute casualty, because it just felt so natural to let vi know that you appreciated her dearly and took in every moment with her; just as she did with you.

so hopefully in the end, it wouldn’t hurt as much when that day had to eventually come for the both of you to say goodbye.

ekko had you thrown off a bit with the sap shit, but it gave you perspective; thinking on your relationship with vi. even thought it wasn’t official, you didn’t feel like you needed a label for everyone else to see how in love you were with her; because she already knew the extent.

you’d seriously never fall back off each other.

you had kissed after saying those three words to one another to really lock in the moment; but once you two pulled away, vi seemed like a completely different woman; there was a look of softness and sensitivity in her eye that you loved, because it proved she felt comfortable enough to feel like she didn’t have to show that strong side of her all the time around you.

you immediately noticed the change in her after the kiss and completely fell in love with her all over again like it was the first time. all kinds of memories between you two just began rushing through your mind making you remember how far you’ve come.

god, if only she knew the kinds of things she did to you.

some kind of way, you grew enough confidence in the moment to let vi know exactly what kind of mood you were in now.

“y’know we’ve got some unfinished business; violet.”

when you said her name; boy, did it send chills down her spine. something about the way you said it, made her pussy twitch with excitement just hearing the dominance in your voice.

but she knew better than to get too distracted quickly; because she knew you better than anyone and also knew how quick you were to find an opportunity to dom her; not that she minded ever or anything, but just not before she got to fuck you good first.

and that’s exactly what she did, because in no time thats how you ended up with two of her fingers back inside you, dragging in and out so slow that it hurt.

she could go a bit faster but what fun was that if she couldn’t see every twist and turn of your face reacting to every push and pull of her fingers?

“v-iiii -ohmygoddddd, h-hurtss-s s-soo good baby.” you were barely able to sit back up; she was about to have your ass handicapped and sore yet again by the end of the night, and all you knew to do was take it.

she fastened her pace with her fingers, and the pleasure was getting to be a lot for you, so you didn’t exactly know where to put your hands. instinctively, they threw themselves up to your breasts as she began to squish and squeeze at your nipples.

“ss-soooo goooodd.” you slurred; biting your lip and rolling your eyes back to your skull in a wave of estacy.

vi studied your facial expressions and mannerisms to take note of what really drove you over the edge to save for a later time. but the only thing she was worried about right now was being able to see those eyes of yours cross, as she gave you yet another orgasm that was worth your while.

“looks like i’m about to get exactly what i wanted cupcake, now all you gotta do is cum.”

[tellydroid]

oop

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

As if I wasn't already exhausted enough this morning...

It's been brought to my attention that people are taking my fanfics, editing them, and sharing them around. I don't have the words to describe how not okay this is. If you don't like something about my fanfic, then I'm sorry to hear that, but there are a lot of other fics out there you can read instead.

I put time and effort and care into my writing, as does every writer. To take my work without permission and change it feels like someone just punched me in the gut. Frankly it makes me not want to share my work at all and to take down all the writing I do have up, because why should I share anything with people if all they're going to do is decide it's not good enough and they're going to do what they want with it and make it "better"?

And before anyone comes at me, this is not what a transformative work does. This is not the same as fanfiction. I'm fucking exhausted from working two eleven hour shifts over the weekend so my brain is not working so someone smarter and more articulate than I am can explain why. I'm tired.

This genuinely makes me want to take down all my works and not share anything new. It's very simple, kiddos: Don't like it? Don't read it. You will miss out on some fanfics that way, just like you'll miss out on some films, or books, or TV shows. I've missed out on really good fic, novels, films, etc, for the same reason. We all do. It's a part of life. Stuff will sometimes have things in it that you don't like. Skim those parts, fast-forward those scenes, grin and bear it, or just go and read/watch something else.

Normally I would make this post unrebloggable but I worry other writers in this fandom might experience the same thing and not realize it. So people are welcome to reblog this. Anyone who's an ass on it will be blocked, no second chances.

Just. Don't do this guys. Holy shit don't do this. What the actual fuck.

[screampied]

do you have any gojo fic recs? sfw and nsfw but nothing else really specific, just in general <3

sure 🎀. i’ll mention some of my fav gojo works i’ve read so farr

laundry day by @satoruhour one of the first gojo fics i’ve read here when i joined tumblr and selineeeee never disappoints. her roommate! gojo is so SCRUMPTIOUS i highly recommend. miss u girlie !!!

older bf gojo! series by @sttoru READ THIS SERIES NOOWWWW. it has both sfw & nsfw n the dynamic always has me swooning. i’d also rec karina’s angst satoru fics if you like angst bc her angst is immaculate and heart wrenching. perfect combo mmh 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

brigerton! gojo series by @fushitoru VERY VERY GOOD this entire series feels like the actual show but better n its so descriptive with lots of yummy angst, plot twists n more. aashi has lots of delicious yummy works, i’d also rec her clan head! gojo and spiderman! gojo bc it’s actual literature >>>

unmistakably yours by @tonycries thisf and i think her fic called ‘initiation!’ were the first tony fics i’ve ever read last year ANDWEEEROO. just ssssoo good, love a good best friends to lovers trope. the part with his powers was so cool n actually changed something in me. GOOD FUCKING SHIT. ur panties will disintegrate

streamer gojo! series by @osaemu this entire series is so cute n streamer gojo’s so 💗💖💞. first fic i’ve read was ‘yes i have a girlfriend, yes she’s real!’ AND ITS SO CUTE. this series has both sfw & nsfw including angst YUM. plus sab’s graphics like always are a total 10. the chats always kill me, especially the toji slander 😭😭.

digimon—but making u cum is my real hobby by @blkkizzat LMAOOOO THIS FIC IS EVERYTHING TO ME. otaku gojo is such a loser and the way kali wrote him, i need him BAD. i’ve never laughed and throbbed so much at the same time in a fic. kali nails gojo’s personality perfectly !!! there’s also a mlist too i believe. i come back to this fic like every month just YUM

wolf in sheep’s clothing by @starmapz this has it all !!!! fluff, angst, smut and it’s just WOW. satoru’s so lovable, and it genuinely felt like i was watching a movie. i’ve read this in one sitting and UUUUGH everything about this fic >>>>

dying for your love by @staryukis I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED ZOMBIE! AU GOJO IN MY LIFE. this fic literally shattered me, the dynamic is just so heartbreaking. it’s set in an apocalypse au! with lots of gut-wrenching angst so beware. soso good, i remember stumbling upon the masterlist and knewww it was gonna be a good read. also, logan’s follow up fic ‘die with a smile’ broke me into two I LOVE IT

[spread-the-influence]

HOW SO SHE WOULD BE THE MOST LIKELY TO COMMIT CANNIBALISM ? ? ? HELLO

being serious for a moment because that was a bit of hyperbolic humor , i'm thinking ' most likely ' not in terms of she would do it if given the chance but in terms of it'll play off her themes too well

basically ragatha's entire thing thus far is Needing to be wanted and loved . she's a people pleaser through and through . this is shown by her talking about how she doesn't want jax to hate her despite hating him in ep 3 , inserting a comment about how pomni must not like her in episode 2 while talking to kinger , and ... her entire behavior in general . she says things she doesn't really mean , her helpfulness and kindness could come off as disingenuous to some ; desperate to others .

while a lot of people bear some level of wanting affection — we are social creatures , we're engineered to want companions — ragatha's level is unhealthy . with how she wants everyone to like her , including the People that she shouldn't care about the opinions of ( jax ) , it gives off the impression of someone who relies solely on external validation than an internal one .

the thing is that depending on external validation is a futile endeavor because it's fleeting . it will all feel like scraps to feed an endless pit . it's the hunger for love and affection that can never be sated . because you don't have a constant supply ( self-love ) to keep it fed . even when you get it , you just want more . and more . it just never feels like enough . so , what then ? words are not tangible , but a body is . touch doesn't last , but if it's inside of you , it will .

what's a way to feed that bottomless pit inside of you that could be more lasting than these temporary acts of affection ?

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Broken Angel

Warning ⚠️; blood, death, implied smut, a bit of French 🔞

Pairing; bottom!Lestat/top!Male!Reader

Summary; You witnessed Claudia and Louis dispose of Lestat’s body and decided to heal him. The beginning of the strangest and yet strongest relationship you ever had.

~~~~~~~~

It was a night like no other. The sky was clear, allowing you to admire the moon and stars while the breeze played with your coat and scarf. Through the mix of odours, you were able to smell the scents of vampires. You didn't expect to run into a coven, but as you were about to turn around and leave their territory, a new scent reached you; vampire blood.

It has been years since you witnessed a vampire being killed and wondered what had happened. Curiosity won over your sense of survival and you walked toward what you thought to be the crime scene.

What wasn't your surprise when hidden in the shadow, you saw a child and a man dispose of a body in the trash. Even from a distance, you could tell those three were vampires. You moved, slowly, making sure the wind wouldn't alert them of your presence. You wondered if there was a chance to save their victim. After all, if the body hadn't been burned, then there was a chance the poor man could survive.

But a vampire child? The thought horrified you. You never thought those could be created and who would do such a horrible thing? Being stuck in the body of a child for all eternity seemed like a curse to you and you would prefer the deadly embrace of the sun than to even live a minute like that.

You waited for the murderous duo to leave before approaching the trash. Once you were sure neither vampire would notice you, you walked up to their victim. You recognized the name almost instantly. Lestat de Lioncourt. Who wouldn't recognize that angelic face of his? You never met Lestat before, you being way older and more of a lone wolf, but you saw portraits of him.

You didn't hesitate before scooping Lestat out of the trash and carrying him away. The smell of his blood nauseated you in the worst way possible, reminding you of why you kept your distance from your kin. The constant fights and murders were too much for you. Even as a human, you witnessed your fair share of massacres and didn't want to see more.

You took Lestat to your place and laid him down in your coffin. You didn't clean him, no. Because the first thing you did was to feed Lestat. Opening your own wrist, you let your blood pour into Lestat’s mouth and gently massaged his throat to help him swallow. The effect didn't take time and you watched his wound slowly heal.

You have to hold him down as Lestat comes back to himself, trashing around in a panicked state. You can only watch as tears of blood roll down his cheeks and he claws at your arms. The fear and despair in those beautiful eyes are enough to soften your stone heart. You help him clean up in silence, bathing him and making sure all wounds are closed. It's a heavy and uncomfortable silence, yet you don't dare say anything.

Just like you heard of Lestat, he has heard of you. The lone wolf, a bloody vampire killer who had slaughtered many covens in his younger years. But now you avoid everything and everyone, preferring the calm that came with solitude.

Until Lestat came into your life.

And as the days pass, you hunt for the two of you since Lestat isn't in any shape to help. May it be mentally or physically, the younger vampire is useless. But you can't keep it against him. After all, it's his own mate and child who tried to murder him. When Lestat told you of what happened, you felt a shiver run down your spine and anger fill you. How dared they? How could they?

For some reason, you feel a wind of protectiveness toward Lestat. Maybe it's his angelic face, maybe it's the pain and grief in his eyes, but you can't resist the urge to keep him safe. Maybe that why Lestat stay by your side, even when he is completely healed and free to leave, Lestat stay with you. And as time passed, you two grew closer to each other.

You never had a mate or a coven but with Lestat, you found both. It was Lestat who did all the first steps, trying to win you over. He would hunt and catch your favourite kind of prey, find your favourite things and give them to you. Lestat was shameless as well, walking around you with nothing covering him but the blood of his latest victims hoping you would lick it.

Yes.

Lestat de Lioncourt was shameless and knew what he wanted; you. And you didn't have the strength to push him away.

You allowed him to share your coffin even if Lestat had his own, enjoying the weight of his body in your arms when you woke up. The way he nuzzled himself against you, nose buried in your neck and fang nibbling at the tender flesh. Lestat knew how to charm and win you over. And God be your witness because you did fall for him, hard.

You thought nothing could disturb your new-found peace, but of course, Lestat was a trouble magnet. It all started when Lestat decided to take you to France, then Paris even tho he knew how you hated being around other vampires. Yet he knew you would never tell him no. You couldn't deny anything to your shameless angel.

Except being among dozens and dozens of vampires.

- “I am sorry mon Ange, but I cannot follow you there.” You whispered against his lips. “I wish I could follow you and…”

- “Then. Do. It.” Lestat had cut you short, hands gripping your chemise and lips pressed against yours. “I need you by my side. I. Need. You. Who else will keep me safe?”

There it is. The manipulation, the words that can make you move mountains for that drama queen. Because he is right; who can keep him safe when he will have to face both of his murderers in a parody of a trial? But more importantly, who will be there for support when he witnesses their death? Because Claudia and Louis might have tried to murder him, Lestat still cared and loved them.

But not you, no. You were glad those two were going to suffer and face the consequences of their actions.

So you give in and follow, hating every second of it.

Your only pleasure is to see the pain and jealousy in Louis’ eyes as you sit in the luxurious chair and Lestat sit on your lap. Arms wrapped around your lover, you keep him against you and allow him to silently brag about taming you.

The trial is a joke, pathetic and boring. But those are theatrical vampires so of course they are making it extra for no reason. That is until Lestat actually save his former lover. You feel Lestat's tensing body and hear him use his powers, everything he had to save the very man who tried to kill him. It makes you angry until you see tears of blood in his eyes. The pain of the betrayal is still there, but those are vampires Lestat had loved with what was left of his heart and soul.

Then, Claudia’s death.

You had expected it and wished for it, but witnessing it changed everything. Seeing her small body convulse and twist in pain broke your stony heart. You felt despair as you saw how broken Lestat was, his eyes not leaving his daughter as she burned to death. You wrapped your arms tightly around him, whispered sweet words of comfort in his mind and made promises sweeter night and revenge.

And what a bloody revenge was it.

The whole Parisian coven gone, massacred by your very hands and those of Louis.

In the end, you stand behind Lestat as the coven’s theatre burns and you are left facing Louis and Armand. You can still see the jealousy in Louis’ eyes which makes you smile and kiss Lestat’s neck, who leans in your touch.

Lestat’s final goodbye to Louis sounds official like he has turned the page on their relationship, which makes you more than happy. Lestat is now fully yours and no one will ever take him away from you.

But as you reach your home, Lestat breaks in your arms. Tears of blood rolled down his porcelain cheeks. You can do nothing but hold him tightly, letting him grieve his daughter and lover. You know he regrets Claudia’s death, even if you don't, just like you know it will haunt him forever.

- “Cry mon ange brisé, cry and let it all out. Ta douleur est mienne, mon coeur et je suis désolé.” you whisper in his hair as you gently rock him.

You are sorry. Sorry he is so hurt and broken, something you know and understand. And as Lestat melted under your touch, you swore to protect him, swore that those tears are blood are the last one Lestat cried. Yes. You'll never let anyone break your angel.

[writtenbyan-aries]

when is the last part for that colby babysitter coming out girl im impatient more like excited damn

Cravings Between Us

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR [final]

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, mature confrontation, kissing, biting, scratching, hair pulling, oral (both), unprotected sex, creampie, general filth

Word Count: 2.8k | unedited

≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫

As your phone lit up with a call from Colby, there was a knock on your door.

You had their kids, so you couldn’t run and hide. You took a deep breath, walking over to the door and opened it.

You didn’t say anything, what could you say, really?

Vanessa just stares at you, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to, last night when you came over. But then you beat me to the punch saying what you said.” You swallow, “It probably doesn’t mean anything, but I really am sorry, Vanessa.”

She shakes her head, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

You pull your head back slightly, “What? I’m sorry, I don’t-“

“Can I come in so we can talk?”

You motion, “Vera just went down for a nap. Caden is about ready to take one.” She nods, “That’s fine, gives us time to talk about everything.”

You were waiting for a slap to the face, her rage to get the best of her, something.

You stay silent, waiting for her to start the conversation because you honestly have no words, no clue on even what to say.

“So, let’s just, I guess, address the elephant in the room, shall we?” She looks at you as she sits down on the chair by your counter and you nod once.

“So you slept with my husband.”

“I did.” You feel a chill run over your body, “and again, I’m so-“

“Stop, saying sorry. You should be saying you’re welcome, because I need to thank you.”

You laugh, “Sorry.” You shake your head, pressing your lips together, “That’s not, funny. I shouldn’t be laughing, uh, what.. exactly do you mean you should be thanking me?”

She takes a deep breath, “I didn’t want to accept it, at first, but our marriage was over a few months after me having Vera.” She looks out of the small kitchen window and sighs, “I love Colby, he’s the father of my children, but I guess I’m not.. in love with him.”

“I, um. I tried getting him to talk to me. The night you came home. I asked him if you guys were okay, and he said he something about wanting to be, but he wasn’t sure.” You cross your arms, “I didn’t.. this sounds bad, but I didn’t want to ruin your marriage.”

“Honey, you didn’t ruin anything. Colby and I did by letting it fizzle out. I always had a feeling he loved the kids more than me, which I mean, I guess is fine, normal, they’re our kids, but I was always pushed to the back burner, and I didn’t realize I was doing the same to him until I was halfway through fucking that guy at the airport.”

You nod, “Right, yeah.”

“I wish you would have told me last night, that way I could have just faced it head on instead of running away and looking like a coward.” She laughs, “Oh my god. I was a mess for absolutely no reason.”

“I wanted to tell you. I was going to, I argued with myself for a solid two minutes before finally setting myself on doing it and then you went and dropped your bomb and I was like whoa, okay. Not the time.”

“I get it, and I’m sorry for coming over like that. It’s just, I really do like you, y/n, and I know I should be mad at you for screwing my husband, but I just can’t help but think that you were put in our lives to make us realize that we needed to finally just pull the trigger and get everything over with.”

You nod, taking a deep breath, “So.. with all of this, I assume I need to start looking for a new job?”

She furrows her brows, “Why would you want to do that?”

“Be-cause I slept with your husband?” You look at her confused and she sighs, “I know Colby is going to eventually move on, and to be completely honest, I think you’re the best person he could pick.”

You were so confused.

“So- wait..” you shake your head, “Sorry, I’m just, really confused right now.” You laugh slightly, “So you and Colby are divorcing?”

“Correct.” Vanessa nods, and you nod, “Okay, and you’re saying that it’s okay for Colby and I to be together?”

“Right.” She nods again and you stare at her, “Can I ask.. why? I mean- you’re just really calm right now, it honestly kind of scares me.”

She laughs, “To be honest, when Colby told me he’s been seeing you, I wanted to come over here and have a whole different conversation with you, but he reminded me that I did the same exact thing, the same exact night you guys did and we agree that it kind of made us even, so we just agreed that splitting up would be for the best.”

“I’m.. actually in shock.” You laugh, “Like this is actually kind of unbelievable.”

“Y/n. When Colby and I first got married, I would lay awake at night and think about if Colby and I were to divorce when we did have kids, would he pick someone that would love my children like they were her own?”

“I mean, I would probably think that, too.” You shrug and she nods, “you.” She points, “Are the literal definition of who I wanted Colby to pick, I mean, minus the sleeping with him while he’s still married but hey. I didn’t, too, right?”

You stare at her, unsure of whether to laugh or run and she laughs, “I know it’s probably too soon for jokes, but you can laugh.”

You let out a small laugh and nods, “Yeah, right. Okay.”

“I kind of knew there was something up with the way he was acting at that dinner party for Ana. I wanted you to meet Damien just so I could really confirm it was jealousy or not.”

You press your lips together, “I just- I should have stopped and told you right after the first night and I will always be sorry. I know you said you look at this like something else, but I still feel bad.”

“And that’s okay. But just think, you helped me see that Colby and I can finally be who we want to be. We don’t have to mold ourselves into something we aren’t for the other person anymore.” She smirks, “And honestly, I don’t blame you. Colby is hot, but sometimes, that just isn’t enough, you know?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

“are my kids still sleep?” She leans up and looks over into the living room. You walk over, nodding as you look at her, “Do you want me to wake them?”

“No, no.” She shakes her head as she stands up, “I’m going to go over and pack a few things. I booked a hotel room for the next two days, so I can just kick back and reflect on everything you know?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You walk her over to the door and sigh, “I’m sorry, I have to ask this. Are you sure that you’re okay with everything? I just don’t want to wake up tomorrow with my tires slashed or anything.”

“Y/n, if I wanted to do that, I would have just went right into it. I’m a grown woman and I know that having maturity about a situation is the best thing you can do. I also appreciate you keeping it together because I don’t think I could have talked to you while you were sobbing.”

“I think it’s the shock, you know. I expected something totally different.”

She laughs, giving you a nod, “Well, I’m going to go. Give the kids a kiss for me. If you need me, text me. Please don’t call.”

“Got it.” You nod, closing your door as she walks down the steps. As soon as you close it and rest you back against it, there’s a light knock and you let out a sigh.

You turn to open it, stopping when you see Colby, “Hey.”

“Hey.” He smiles, “I figured I’d give her some space.”

“Are things really okay?” You ask and Colby nods, “It was a mutual decision, considering we both cheated on each other on the same night.”

“That’s.. sorry I just..” you shake your head, “Come in.” You step out of the way and he walks in, “How was the talk?”

“I’m actually, surprised that it went as well as it did. She said she wanted to thank me for making you guys realize that your marriage was done.”

He raises his brows, “Yeah, she was pissed at first, but then I told her that I was pissed because she did the same thing to me and we talked, for two hours we just sat and talked and it was actually really weird because I can’t remember the last time we did that.”

You nod, “I bet it was nice, but how- how do you feel?”

He shrugs, pulling you into him, “I can do this without worrying anymore.” He presses his lips to yours and you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing back.

He smirks against your lips, “She said you’re really good for me.”

“She told me that I’m the definition of who she imagined you being with if you ever got a divorce.” You laugh slightly, “I just, this whole thing.. I was expecting screaming and crying and getting hit across the face.”

“Vanessa can handle conflict really well, it’s scary.” He laughs, “But now we both and just take a deep breath and find who we’re really meant for.”

“Might take some time though, right?” You tease and Colby shakes his head, “Not for me it won’t.” He pulls you back in and kisses you again, “My mom said she’ll take the kids tonight, so you and I can talk.”

“Colby.” You smirk, “You know we can’t just do that.”

“That’s the point.”

≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫

You wait by the door, standing there in one of you lingerie sleep dresses.

You seen Colby’s headlights pull into the driveway and you bite your lip, resting your hand on the couch and leaning against it.

You heard the knob turn and you put on a smile, shifting your weight to your one leg as it opens. Colby stops, raising his brows, “What’s this?”

You shrug, “Just thought I’d slip into something more comfortable while you were gone.”

“Oh, I see.” He bites his lip, closing the door behind him, “Are you comfortable?”

You shrug, walking up to him, “I’d be more comfortable if I was on my back upstairs in my bed.” Colby smirks, nodding his head as he walks over to set the bag of food down on the counter, “I got us dinner, but that can wait until after.”

You smirk, racing up the steps to your room, Colby following close to you.

His hands are on your waist as you reach the top, pushing you against the wall across from you. His lips attack yours as he his hands slide up and down your body, gripping and kneading at your hips.

You slide away from him, pulling him with by his hand into your room. You walk backwards to the bed, sitting down before your hands move to his belt, “Let’s get you a little more comfortable, yeah?”

He nods, “Please.”

You pull his belt apart, unbuttoning and zipping down his pants before shrugging the jeans down his thighs.

He bites his lip, watching as your hand brushes over his already hard cock that’s being restrained before his thin boxers.

You slide his boxers down, leaning in to press a kiss to the head of his cock. You stick your tongue out, leaning down to lick up under the underside before wrapping your lips around him.

He groans, his hand pushing your hair out of your face, “Fuck, baby.” You work your tongue, around the tip before slowly bobbing your head up and down.

“Oh, shit.” Colby’s knees buckle as you suck, groaning loudly as his fingers gather your hair in his fist, “Just like that, baby.”

You pull back, resting the tip on your tongue as you look up at him.

“Oh my god.” Colby runs his hand over your head, “you are so fucking sexy.” He bites his lip, “Keep going.”

He slightly pushes his hips forward and you push your head down, slowly working at taking him into your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut, keeping your breathing steady as he enters.

“O-oh, fuuuck.” Colby moans, “That’s it.” He retracts his hips, slowly pushing them forward, his cock returning to the place it just was.

Your hands grip his thighs, humming around him lowly.

“S-shit.” He pulls your head back, “You keep doing that and I’m gonna cum.” He smirks, nodding towards the bed, “Get up there.”

You crawl backwards, eyes on him as he steps out of his pants and moves to lay next to you, “Come here.”

You move to straddle him, leaning down to press your lips to his. His hands slide down your back, gripping your ass and he smirks, “No panties? Fuck, you must have really wanted to talk, didn’t you?”

“So bad.” You mumble against his lips, “I’ve been needing to talk to you.”

Colby smirks, pecking your lips before pushing you to sit up, “Move up here.” He grips your thighs, “I want to eat that sweet pussy of yours.”

You bite your lip, nodding as you move up to straddle his head. His hips pull you down and your hands fly to grip the headboard, “Oh fuck.”

His slides his arm up around your hips, his hands gripping your thighs as his tongue works over and around your soaked cunt.

“Fuck, Colby.” You tilt your head back, one hand moving to tangle his hair around your fingers as you moan loudly.

His lips wrap around your clit, teeth gently nipping which causing your thighs to twitch, “Fuck!”

You pull on his hair which earns a groan from him. You gasp as you slowly grind down, “Fuckfuckfuck!”

Colby holds you tight, tongue pushing in and out of you as he guides you through your orgasm. You pant, whining out before his grip loosens.

You fall over, lying down and looking up at Colby as he rolls over on top of you, “You taste so fucking good.”

His lips crash onto yours, swallowing your moans as you taste yourself on his lips. You both pause the kissing, gasping together as his cock slips into your cunt.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him into you more. His lips resume moving with yours, moaning deep as you swallow his cock fully, “Fuck, baby. You feel so good around me.” He bites your lip, pulling it out before letting it slap back against your teeth.

You sink your nails into his shoulders as he pulls out, thrusting back in which ears a gasp from you, “Shit.”

His threats pick up quick, slamming into you as he attacks your neck to paint little purple marks all over the skin, “tell me how good it feels, sweetheart.” His voice is low, “fuck, I need to hear you.”

“Feels so fucking good, baby.” You moan, “So fucking good, i-I’m already so close.”

“Come for me, baby.” He presses a kiss to your jaw, “Wanna feel you come undone around me.”

Your walls pulsate around his cock, moans ripping non stop from your lips as his thrusts guides you into that sea of pleasure.

Your nails drag up his back, face buried in his neck as you moan over and cover again.

“God, you sound so beautiful.” Colby pushing himself up, looking down at you as he watches your face twitch with constant pleasure, “You are so beautiful.” He leans down, lips on yours.

“Where do you want me?” He whispers against your lips, “You have me right there, baby.”

“Don’t stop.” You whimpered out, eyes locking onto his, “Don’t stop.”

He nods, groaning lowly as his thrusts turn sloppy, “Fuck, fuck.” He looks down at his cock slowly going in and out of you, pushing in fully as his cum fills you full.

“Fuck.” He breathes out as he lays down next to you, reaching over to lay his hand on your thigh. You roll over, your head resting against his chest, “I really do love you, Colby.”

He drags his fingers up and down your back, “I love you, y/n. Since the day I first met you.”

≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫

Here’s your happy ending! Thank you so much, I really didn’t expect this to turn into a little mini series, but I appreciate all the love! 🖤 I love you all, and I’ll catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[clonerightsagenda]

I've started noticing content warnings start popping up more frequently in the front of published books, and I'm curious as to people's thoughts on that. So, poll time!

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Biker AU, Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: A certain dark haired leader of a biker club caught your attention online and you've been watching his weekly races in secret—or so you thought. Little did you know, this handsome biker already knows about his cute little stalker...

Content Warnings: Stalking but online. Smut🔞 after a bit of plot. Unprotected sex, P in V (from the behind), riding, rough, dirty talk(?), ass slapping, pet names, choking(kinda—), aftercare in the shower. Chris is a tease (maybe like a bit?).

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: 17 days late, but better than never— HAPPY NEW YEAR! I've been wanting to draw and write biker Chan for a LONG LONG TIME, so finally here it is. (Yes that drawing is done by me haha)

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 5.6k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Zoom

The bike flashed away into the stretching tracks in a blink of an eye, leaving a trail of excitement and dust in its wake. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices drowned out by the fading growl of the engine.

You pushed your hood further over your head to cover your hair flying in that direction, blending into the mass of onlookers while your eyes stayed glued to the figure disappearing into the night.

Christopher Bang Chan.

Did an accidental misclick on a hashtag "NightRider" lead you into his world? Yes.

You did have an unexplainable attraction towards bikes. It was the thrill, the speed, the freedom. Even if you couldn't ride one, the way bikes looked like a beast that could conquer the roads, it fascinated you.

But this— this wasn't just an attraction towards the sleek BMW S1000rr that was speeding this evening. No.

A random late-night scroll had led you to a short video of him—helmet off, his hair dark slightly tousled, a cocky grin tugging at his lips as he dismounted his bike like he owned the world. That pulled you like a magnet to steel.

You watched him, racing the tracks with swift motion, in practice ease, over taking every other rider, everything about him demanding attention.

Every other rider was left in his dust, and the cheers of his friends, 7 guys echoed above the deafening roar of the engines.

"Teach these bastards why they can’t touch you!” one of them bellowed, pumping his fist in the air, his blood red hair catching the rays of the setting sun.

��Eat that, losers!” another laughed, slapping the back of the guy next to him as they all leaned against their bikes, eyes glued to Chan’s figure dominating the track.

In a final swift, Chan drifted his bike as he reached the finish line, the tires screeching against the asphalt in a perfect arc. A plume of smoke curled up from under the wheels, his dimpled grin flashing at his victory and triumph.

The lingering growl of his bike continued as he sat there for a moment, one leg propped on the ground as if soaking in the chaos he had just commanded. His friends were the loudest of all, their jeers and cackles cutting through the noise.

Chan finally killed the engine and swung off the bike with the same effortless grace that had first caught your attention online. He pulled off his helmet, shaking his head slightly to ruffle his dark hair into place.

His eyes gleamed with a mix of adrenaline and triumph as he tucked the helmet under one arm and began walking toward his friends.

“That’s how it’s done, you fucking legend!” yelled one in a strong Australian accent, smacking Chan’s shoulder, the redhead taking his helmet from him and handing in a water bottle.

“Told you it wasn’t even a competition,” Chan quipped, his voice smooth but laced with that cocky edge that made your stomach flip.

The crowd began descending, slowly leaving you alone in your place, your hood over your head, covering your face slightly. Just as you were about to look away, his eyes briefly landed on you.

Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his gaze on you. It was like he knew who you were but that was impossible. You've been secretly coming to the race every Saturday (telling your parents that you're going to the library) ever since you discovered his page and of course he doesn't know who you are.

It's out of the question.

Chan's smirk deepened, something wicked flashing in his expression. You quickly looked away, pretending to fidget with your phone, but you could still feel the heat of his gaze.

Before you made a fool of yourself, you stood up and walked towards the end of the track, pulling your hood lower to shield your face. Just as you were about to step into the shadows, a sharp, confident whistle cut through the air, freezing you in your tracks.

Your heart was pounding in your ears, you didn't turn around but felt Chan's lingering gaze pressing against your back. You turned slightly to see through your shoulders but then turned around and walked away as if you didn't hear anything at all.

“That chick’s been here for the last four weeks.” Minho commented, his voice casual as he tipped back his can of Red Bull.

Chan didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the spot where you had disappeared into the shadows. His jaw tensed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his gaze.

He could still picture the way you had glanced over your shoulder for a split second, like you’d been caught but refused to admit it.

"Oi, Chan," Felix called out, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You losing your touch, mate?"

The group erupted in laughter, their cackles echoing against the emptying track.

“Maybe she’s got better taste than you thought,” I.N added, smirking as he leaned against his own bike.

"She’ll come around." Chan said smoothly, shrugging nonchalantly, the cocky edge in his voice masking the intrigue bubbling beneath the surface.

"Will she now?" Hyunjin mocked, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"

"Trust me," he said, his tone low and deliberate. "No one comes to my races four weeks in a row without a reason." A devilish smirk tipped the corner of his lips that made the guys exchange glances.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't." Changbin interrupted, pushing himself upright with a sharp look.

"You don't even know what I was thinking." Chan shot back, running a hand through his dark, tousled hair. "Besides, if she keeps coming back, she’s going to slip up eventually. And when she does…”

Changbin rolled his eyes at him and grabbed a Red Bull from the ice box. He knew that Chan wasn't going to listen to what he's gonna say anyway.

Chan walked towards his bike and hoped on, revving his engine as it roared to life and slipping his helmet on. He glanced at his friends, his smirk turning downright wicked.

"Then what?" Hyunjin asked, crossing his arms.

"She wanted my attention, so she got it. And I want something in return.”

With that, he sped off into the night, leaving the guys behind in a cloud of smoke and laughter.

***

"Three, two, one, let's gooo!..."

You kept scrolling through Instagram reels, nothing interesting that grabbed your attention.

But you couldn't stop thinking about Chan...

It's Saturday, four o'clock in the evening. His races start at five. You went through his Instagram and TikTok, creating a folder in your saves for his biking videos and you catch yourself rewatching his highlights again and again.

Were you guilty for stalking him online? A bit—but you couldn't stop it. His bike didn't even fascinate you anymore the way it did the first time. You just were feeling obsessed with him.

The race track was only a few blocks away from you and you couldn't help but think, could he have crossed your home? You never noticed it but now everytime you hear a speeding engine, you look out your window, hoping it's Chan.

Yeah you were pretty much obsessed.

You went back to Chan's account and scrolled down his feed, opening some of his old posts when suddenly the phone slipped out of your hand and fell on your face.

"Fuck!" You yelped, rubbing your forehead, eyes widening as you glanced at the screen in horror.

Oh fuck—

You accidentally liked a picture of him from two years ago.

The red heart stared back at you, mocking your clumsiness, your heart sank as panic took over.

“Oh, no, no, no…” you whispered, scrambling to unlike it. You tapped the heart again, watching it disappear, but the damage was already done. Your phone trembled in your hands as you stared at the post, your reflection visible in the darkened screen.

It was a picture of him leaning casually against his bike, wearing a tank top with his buff arms crossed, a majestically inked dragon flexing on his bicep.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, clutching your forehead. Does he get notifications for old likes? Does Instagram even do that?

You sat up, your mind racing just as fast as his bike. He had half a million followers, so maybe he wouldn’t notice, right? But what if he did? What if he checked? What if he remembered your face from the track and connected the dots?

"Calm down," you whispered, trying to reason with yourself. "He probably won’t even notice."

But deep down, a small voice in the back of your mind said otherwise.

Because if there was one thing you’d learned about Chan from watching him race, it was that he noticed everything.

~

"She'll be here today." Chan said, tossing the Red Bull can in the trash and turning towards his friends.

Seungmin tilted his head, looking up from his phone, arching a skeptical brow. "Oh, so now you're a psychic?"

Chan rolled his eyes, leaning casually against his bike. “No. She's been coming every Saturday, there's no way she'll not come today."

“You’ve been stalking your stalker?” Felix chimed in, his deep voice carrying a note of amusement as he slipped his hands in the pocket of his pants.

Chan smirked, unbothered by the jab. “I don’t need to stalk. She makes herself obvious. Hood up, always at the same damn spot. Like clockwork.”

“Maybe she’s just here for the bikes,” Seungmin said with a shrug, going back to scrolling on his phone. Chan shook his head, his smirk widening.

Chan shook his head, his smirk widening. “Nah, it’s not the bikes anymore. Her eyes practically screamed busted when I whistled at her.”

“That’s because you’re fucking annoying.” Jisung piped up, sipping from his own can of soda. “If someone whistled at me in public, I’d leave too.”

The group laughed, but Chan’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the track like he was already envisioning you standing there.

"Race instead of me." Chan effortlessly tossed his keys at Changbin.

"What?" Changbin caught the keys with a sharp reflex, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"If she's really into the bikes, she wouldn't care if the rider is different. But if that's not the case..." His smirk grew wider.

"Then she'll know it's not me the second you hit the track." Chan finished, rolling his helmet between his hands. "She’s been watching me, not the bike. Let’s see if she’s as observant as I think."

Changbin raised an eyebrow, twirling the keys in his hand. “So, you’re basically using me as bait?”

“Not bait,” Chan corrected, handing Changbin his helmet and clapping him on the shoulder. “More like... a decoy. Just ride, keep it clean, and make it convincing. Wear my helmet, keep your head down, and let me handle the rest.”

“This is either genius or the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” Felix said, shaking his head.

“Shut up and watch,” Chan said, his tone light but confident. He turned back to Changbin. “You good?”

Changbin sighed, slipping the helmet on. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t blame me if I win and your little stalker realizes you’re not as fast as you think.”

The group laughed again, but Chan was already focused, his gaze cutting across the other riders getting ready for the race and watching the crowd gather, waiting for his shadowed muse.

The air began getting slightly colder, riders hopping on their bikes getting ready for the race. Chan stood with the guys, his back facing the crowd and his face hidden with a hoodie, watching Changbin rev up the engine.

He gave a small thumbs to Bin who responded with his own one and held the handle, preparing to flash away.

You finally managed to slowly get in your spot blending in with the crowd, your usual hood on, hair in front to shield your face, eyes glued on the riders before you.

At this point it felt silly than anything else, sneaking around every Saturday like you were some undercover agent. But you couldn’t stop yourself. The magnetic pull Chan had on you was impossible to ignore, even if you didn’t fully understand it yourself.

Your eyes scanned the lineup of riders, automatically locking onto the sleek, black BMW S1000rr. The sound of its engine roaring to life sent a familiar thrill through you, but something felt... different tonight.

The rider atop the bike gave a sharp nod, helmet obscuring his face. You couldn’t tell, but the way he usually carried himself—effortless confidence paired with a hint of smugness—seemed oddly subdued.

Your heart sank slightly. Was he even here tonight?

You pushed the thought away, gripping the edge of your hoodie to ground yourself. Focus. It didn’t matter. You were here for the race, for the thrill, not for him.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself since the last four races.

The countdown began, the cheers of the crowd growing louder with each passing second. The sound of engines revving filled the air, and you found yourself leaning forward slightly, anticipation buzzing through your veins.

Three... Two... One—

The riders shot forward, a blur of color and speed tearing down the track. Your eyes stayed glued to the black bike, trying to shake the unease gnawing at the back of your mind.

Is it him?

You watched curiously for the first two rounds, pushing away the feeling that it's not Chan but when it was the third round and you still didn't see his dramatic drift at the curved corners of the track, you were sure that it really wasn't Chan racing.

You leaned backwards exhaling and pulling out your phone, your interest in the race quietly dying down.

"I caught you princess..." A smug grin spread across Chan's face who had been secretly watching you but the race.

Hyunjin, who had also been watching you with Chan, waiting for him to be wrong, sighed dramatically, pulling a crumpled fifty out of his pocket and slapping it into Minho’s palm.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, shooting Chan a side glance. "She really is here for you man."

Chan chuckled, low and confident. “Told you,” he said, brushing past them as he made his way toward you.

You were distracted with the reels playing on your phone to notice until he sat next you, your eyes fell on that unmistakable silver bracelet you recognised instantly.

Your heart pounded in your ears.

“Enjoying the race?” a low, teasing voice asked, so close you could feel the faint vibration of it in your chest. You stiffened, your head snapping up.

And there he was. Bang Chan.

Sitting casually next to you, leaning back like he owned not just the seat, but the entire universe. His hoodie was slightly pushed back, giving you a perfect view of his sharp jawline and those maddening dimples that tugged at his smirk.

For the first time, you noticed how sharp his features were up close—perfectly sculpted, how his lashes framed those piercing eyes that seemed to see right through you.

You swallowed hard, your nerves threatening to spill over, but you kept your guard up and tried to calm your racing heart.

“You okay there, princess?” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe... me?”

You quickly snapped out of it, your face heating. “I’m fine,” you said, sitting straighter and forcing your voice to sound steady. "And I think you've mistaken me, I don't really know you."

Your lie was so bland, it practically hung in the air like a neon sign screaming caught red-handed.

Chan raised an eyebrow, playfully scoffing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Is that so?” he said, his tone laced with mock sincerity. He leaned in slightly, and you caught a faint whiff of leather and something distinctly him—sharp, clean, and deathly intoxicating.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice firm despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “I don’t really follow bikers.”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin theatrically, his eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Funny, because someone who doesn’t follow bikers somehow managed to stumble across my page. And, oh, what’s this?” 

He mimicked scrolling on an invisible phone, his grin wicked. “Liked a post from two years ago? Now, that’s dedication for someone who doesn’t know me.”

Your stomach did a somersault, and for a moment, you were certain your face betrayed you. But you quickly composed yourself, leaning back slightly and crossing your arms. “That was an accident,” you said coolly, trying to ignore the way your pulse thundered in your ears.

Chan tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “So you accidentally clicked on my profile, accidentally scrolled back two years, and accidentally double-tapped? Seems like a lot of accidents for one person.”

You huffed, glaring at him. “Are you always this full of yourself?”

“Only when I’m right.” He shot back smoothly, his dimpled grin so close now, you could count the faint freckles dotting his cheekbones. 

You could do nothing to calm your racing heart as Chan adjusted his seat and leaned back, watching whoever was racing in his place. He didn't say a word after that, just stayed silent and concentrated on the track.

You kept glancing at him with the corner of your eyes without fully turning, focusing on the race as well, but you could have sworn that he could hear your pounding beats in your chest over the screeching tires.

Of course whoever was riding in on behalf of Chan won tonight's race in an equally dramatic drift, you caught Chan smirking and nodding proudly. You were unsure what to do and stood in your place while the crowd began standing up, then when you were about to leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

"Where are you off to now?" His dark eyes glinted under the dim lights, mischief oozing from every inch of his expression.

“You’ve been sneaking in to watch the race for weeks, and now that you’ve got what you wanted, you’re just gonna leave? That’s kinda rude, don’t you think?” 

You bit your lip, debating your next words. His confidence was infuriating, but it was also… dangerously attractive. Finally, you sighed, meeting his gaze head-on.

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “Maybe I did. So what?”

Chan blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your honesty, before breaking into a wide grin. “Well, that’s a first. Didn’t think you’d actually own up to it.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” you shot back, your tone laced with feigned impatience, though your pulse still raced from his lingering touch.

Chan tilted his head, eyeing you thoughtfully, then exhaled a sharp breath. “Don’t you think it’s time you saw what it’s like on the track?”

You blinked at him, your breath hitching. “What are you talking about?”

He straightened up, fixing his hoodie. “I’m offering you a ride, princess. Around the track. Are you up for it, or not?”

The sass in his tone lit a fire in you. You loved bike rides, the rush of speed, the wind in your hair—but doing it with him? That felt like stepping into dangerous territory. Still, your pride wouldn’t let you back down.

You crossed your arms, feigning indifference. “Fine. Let’s see if your riding skills are as good as your ego.”

Chan chuckled, the sound deep and low, and it sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Careful what you wish for, princess,” he said, stepping closer. “You might not be able to handle it.”

You scoffed, though your heart was pounding. “We’ll see about that.”

You followed Chan as he descended the stairs and made his way towards his friends, all of them surrounded with their own bikes, cans of Red Bull, wearing leather jackets.

“Yo, I.N!” Chan called out as you approached, his voice carrying over the noise of the dispersing crowd. He looked up from his phone, his expression curious.

“What’s up?” I.N asked, his brows lifting when he saw you trailing behind Chan.

Chan jerked his chin toward I.N’s helmet, which was resting on the bike parked beside him. “Hand that over. Our guest needs it.”

I.N blinked, clearly surprised. “Wait, she’s riding with you?”

“Finally got yourself a passenger?” Minho, who was leaning casually against his own bike, snorted.

“Just a little gratitude to her for being so kind and showing up to my races every week.” Chan replied smoothly, throwing you a sidelong glance.

Your cheeks flushed crimson but you didn't say anything. You couldn't because you felt like your throat was shut tight.

The group erupted into low chuckles, Minho gave Chan a knowing look, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“Don’t mess up my helmet,” I.N said, handing it over. “It's my favourite one.” 

You hesitated for a moment, then took it, your fingers brushing against his. “Don't worry, I won't.” You said softly. 

The group watched you curiously as if they were waiting for you to make a mistake but Chan’s gaze was the only one you cared about. He stepped closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear.

“Nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching into a knowing smirk.

You lifted your chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Not even a little.”

His smirk deepened. “Good. Don't hold back and enjoy the ride.”

Changbin threw the keys at Chan and handed him the helmet, moving aside revealing the sleek black BMW, shining under the bright full moon light.

Chan got on the bike and you climbed up behind him. The tension crackled between you like static, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to throttle him—or hold on tighter.

The engine roared to life, the deep, guttural sound vibrating through your body. Your grip on the seat tightened as Chan revved the engine, his dimpled smirk still firmly in place as he glanced back over his shoulder at you.

With a swift twist of his wrist, the bike shot forward, the sudden burst of speed forcing a gasp from your lips. Instinctively, your hands flew to his waist, gripping tightly as the world blurred around you.

The track stretched out like a silver ribbon under the moonlight, the cool night air whipping past your face, your hair dancing in the wind like a wild, untamed spirit. Chan maneuvered the bike with practiced ease, leaning into sharp turns and accelerating down straightaways.

The bike slowed slightly as he leaned into another turn, and you took the chance to glance at him. The confidence in his posture, the way his shoulders moved with the bike—it was magnetic.

“Enjoying the view?” he teased, his voice cutting through the wind.

You scowled, your cheeks heating. “Focus on the road, Chan.”

“I always do,” he replied smoothly. “But you’re making it a little hard, princess.”

Your grip on his waist tightened involuntarily, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you might regret. The speed continued until Chan slowed down, pulling to a stop at the other side of the track, the starting point looking like the size of an ant.

The sudden stillness was deafening compared to the roar of the engine moments ago. The cool night air clung to your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating between you and Chan.

He shifted slightly, his body still straddling the bike as he turned his head toward you, his dark eyes glinting under the pale glow of the moon. “Tight grip you’ve got there, princess,” he said, his voice low and teasing. 

“Didn’t think you’d want to hold on that bad.”

***

“Ah-Chan—” your moans poured out of your lips like an erotic symphony, blood rushing down like a flood bursting out of a dam as you felt his length inside of you, breasts bouncing up and down. 

Oh you were holding on that bad. 

“Ride my cock, baby. Good girl.” Chan hissed, your pussy clenching him so nicely it drove him wild. 

What started off him not knowing your existence to getting to know eachother to now him fucking the senses out of you escalated fast. 

You can't lie, you did have fantasies about him during the nights when you scrolled through his socials. Imagining how he would be in bed. Those dirty nights when you moaned his name, imagining his cock replacing your vibrator. 

Would he be gentle? A complete opposite to the menace he was on the road?

Boy you were wrong. He was anything but gentle.

He was rough. Hard. Strong. And you enjoyed that very much. 

Chan's hand fisted your hair as he pulled you towards him, his lips crashing yours drinking the taste of you. Your fingers clung onto his shoulder, nails grooving scars on his smooth skin, rocking your hips for more friction. 

His cock filled you completely, stretching you in ways that made your vision blur. Every upward snap of his hips drove you closer to the edge, the friction against your walls making your toes curl.

“Chan—” you whimpered, breaking the kiss to gasp for air, your head falling back as his pace quickened.

He didn’t let up. If anything, the sight of you unraveling only spurred him on. His mouth trailed down your throat, teeth grazing your skin before he latched onto the sensitive spot just above your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

His lips latched on your erect nipple, sucking and licking on it, the obscene sounds of him groaning feeling like music to your ears.

Wetness gushed down your thighs and onto his, a sinful symphony of wet, desperate noises that only fueled the fire between you.

“So fucking perfect for me.” he praised, his lips brushing against your ear as he pinched and played with your slick nipple that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. 

You felt so dirty and depraved, shamelessly riding his cock, his praises turning you on even more.

“Should I punish this pussy for stalking me baby? Hmm?” His hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit, triggering an orgasm to break free just from his words.

He already “punished” you for stalking him by bending you over and fucking you to oblivion on his bike a week ago but he is so cocky and mean, he loved using that every chance he got.

“Or should I fuck you from behind and wreck you till you make a sweet mess all over my cock?” 

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your release slammed through you, your body convulsing and your walls clenched around him, drawing a deep, guttural moan from his lips. 

You couldn't even process the aftershocks of your climax and before you knew it, you were on all fours, Chan's eyes glued on your glistening slick pussy, the angry tip of his cock grazing and teasing your swollen folds. 

“Chan— mngh,” you pushed back against him, whining with need, feeling the anticipation rebuild as you kept feeling the tip nudge against your entrance.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice a dark purr that sent a shiver down your spine. “Barely gave you time to breathe, and here you are, already begging for me to ruin you again.”

Your fingers clenched the sheets, your body trembling from the mix of frustration and desire. “Please, Chan,” you breathed, voice muffled and desperate.

“Please, what?” he sneered, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his silver chain and bracelet on his wrist touching your skin, cold. 

His breath was hot against your ear, and his hand slid up your body to grip your throat. “You want me to fuck you? Say it.” 

Your cheeks burned, but the heat between your legs overshadowed any embarrassment. “I need you to fuck me, Chan,” you whispered, then louder, “Ruin me. Wreck me.”

He groaned at your words, his hand tightening slightly around your throat. “Good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”

Without another word, he thrust into you in one brutal stroke, knocking the air from your lungs. Your hands flew forward to steady yourself, a gasp tearing from your throat as he set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into yours with a force that had the bed creaking beneath.

“Look at you,” he continued, his tone dripping with arrogance. “So fucking cock-drunk, you can’t even think straight.” 

You tried to speak, but he cut you off with a sharp thrust that made you cry out. His grip on your waist was bruising, holding you in place as he pounded into you mercilessly. 

Every stroke hitting deeper, harder, until you were a squirming mess beneath him. His balls slapped against your clit, an almost tight hand around your throat had your vision going white.

His teeth sank into your soft skin, leaving a ruthless mark on your shoulder and his hand met with a sharp slap! on your ass. The pleasure of it overlapped the pain, relentless drilling on your sloppy cunt that made you grab the headboard.

“FUCK! I can't—” Your cries echoed off the walls of your bedroom, loud and feral.

“You can’t what?” Chan snarled, his voice laced with mockery as he dragged his cock out almost completely before slamming back in, hitting that spot and your skin meeting with another sharp slap! 

His teeth grazed your earlobe as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place. “Can’t take me? Too much for this tight little cunt?”

“Y-yes—no—I don’t know!” you sobbed, your fingers clawing at the headboard as your body quivered beneath him.

His hand slid up on your throat, pulling you upright so your back was flush against his chest. The new angle made you scream, his cock hitting even deeper, harder, the relentless pace leaving you on the verge of tears.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “Scream for me, baby. Let the whole world know who’s making you feel this good.”

The way his cock kept hitting the right spots made you climb higher and higher, the knot tightening, only seconds away from snapping, your whimpers and moans poured out endlessly.

“I'm gonna come— I'm—”

You couldn't even finish your sentence as the second orgasm left you shaking, trembling and reeling beneath him. Your walls clamped down on his cock, pulling him deeper until he spilled his seed in you.

“Fuck.” Chan groaned, his grip on your throat loosening as he chased his own release. His hips stuttered, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips, cock twitching as he pumped you full.

Breaths ragged and heavy, the room was mixed in scents of mint and sex. Chan collapsed forward, but braced himself to avoid crushing you beneath his weight.

“You did so good, baby,” He murmured, his voice low and thick, trying to catch his breath while he nipped your sensitive skin.

Both of you were drenched in sweat, the mingling of your bodies making the heat in the room unbearable, yet neither of you moved.

His cock softened inside you, but he didn’t pull out. Instead, he just leaned forward kissing the nape of your neck and shifted slightly, you winced at the feeling of him still inside you, oversensitivity making your nerves spark.

Slowly your bodies untangled and he fell on his back next to you, the both of you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of what just happened settling in. 

You gently turned your head to see Chan, who was lost in his own thoughts. He felt you watching him and he turned too, a soft smile tipping the corner of his lips, his fingers brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

His eyes trailed down your body, skin peppered with his bite marks and hickeys, something unusually painful stung in his chest even though he had never felt that before.

You moved closer to him, pecking a sweet kiss on his nose that made him knit his brows smiling.

“I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me if you think you did.” You said reassuringly.

Chan let out a soft breath, his smile faltering for a moment as he studied your face. His fingers ghosted over a particularly dark bruise on your collarbone, his touch featherlight.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, his teasing edge nowhere to be found. 

You rolled your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.” He huffed out a laugh, the sound vibrating against your cheek and kissed your forehead.

Chan got up from the bed and carried you in his arms towards the shower, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, letting out a content sigh as your head rested against his chest.

Under the spraying water, the steam curled around the two of you, but his touch was what kept you warm. 

He grabbed a washcloth and the soap, lathering it before starting at your shoulders. His touch was slow and deliberate, careful not to press too hard as he cleaned every inch of your skin. 

When he reached your bruised hips, his lips ghosted over one of the marks that made your heart flutter. 

Once he was satisfied, he handed you the cloth, smirking faintly. “Your turn, princess.”

You laughed softly, taking it from him and mimicking his careful actions. You then saw the scratch marks and crescent scars you had left on his skin, etched like tiny badges.

Your fingers ghosted over them as you cleaned him, a pang of guilt flashing through your chest.

“Sorry about these,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Chan chuckled, his smirk softening into something warmer. “Don’t be. I like them."

Heat rose up your cheeks and you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

When you reached his bicep, you couldn’t resist tracing the outline of his tattoo, your fingers brushing over the ink that decorated his skin.

“You really are full of surprises,” you said, your voice soft.

His brow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you. “The rough biker with the soft side. Didn’t think I’d ever see it.”

He smirked, pulling you closer under the spray of water. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway, letting the water cascade over both of you. Pearl-like drops of water slid down your bodies, your back pressed against the cold titles as Chan's mouth claimed yours. 

After the shower Chan changed into his clothes and you slipped into comfy sweats, he grabbed his keys and helmet from the living room, walking toward the door with a cool, confident stride.

“My race is on Saturday,” He said, slipping on his helmet. “I hope you'll be there, princess.” 

A chuckle escaped from your lips, your mind going back to how you went watch his races every Saturday without him knowing who you were. 

“I guess I’ll see you there, then.”

Chan nodded, opening the front door and stepping out, you watched him climb on his bike, revving the engine back to life. With a twist on the handle, he zoomed out into the night, flashing away into the stretching darkness leaving a trail of himself behind.

You couldn’t help but think that stumbling across that video online of a certain biker had definitely been the best misstep of your life.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Here's a bigger and better quality picture of my drawing of Biker Chan:

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[blkbbyprincess]

mixin’ up a mess! toji.f x blk!reader nsfw

your eyes were rolled to the back of your head; tongue lolling out of your mouth with your mind full of nothing but ecstasy.

you completely forgot that you had to go to work today- which started an hour ago. it wasn't entirely your fault though, not when toji began to work his fingers into your back that morning and give you what you thought was a sweet massage before daybreak.

of course he couldn't help himself but to slip his hand down your panties under your nightgown and start fingering you until you moaned and whined in his ear over and over again; warning him that you felt like you had to pee.

"just take it mama, you know you want to.”

he felt a growing bulge in his boxers and had no choice but to bury himself into you before he went to work and get a quick nut. he tried to time himself and remind himself that all you two needed was a few minutes; unfortunately due to his negligence, minutes turned into a whole hour and one turned into several.

by twelve o' clock, nut was everywhere; on your clothes, on the sheets, on his cock, on you- it was messyy. you had reached your millionth orgasm it felt like because of tojis overpowering libido; but in reality it was probably six or seven.

you didnt even have the energy to bounce back on him at this point, you were just letting him use you to chase yet another bust that he was so close to releasing in you again.

around twelve-thirty, he seemed to be finished for the moment after snapping out of a this sex trance he'd been in for the longest time after noticing that you had fallen back asleep.

toji kissed your cheek as he pulled the comforter over your body after wiping you up with his shirt.

he didnt want you to have to work today anyways.

[oceanmaiden44]

°‧Konig w/ shy reader °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

This is PART 2! Part 1

CW| Contains Sexual Content ¡MDNI!

--> Konig becomes obsessed with shy reader initiating, and becomes a wild animal when they finally do <3

One-shots⋆.࿔*: ¡MDNI!

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

As he makes his way towards you, you can feel your pussy clench and sob on nothing and you stare at his hard dick. You can feel the air become sickingly warm again, and then you feel his eyes rake over your fcuked out figure lying on the bed.

You feel his large calloused hand massage your body, travelling down: rubbing your cheeks from your tears, cupping your breast and travellings down to your thighs.

Opening your legs, you feel his hand spread your folds open, letting you recoat his fingers in your slick. Ignoring you shuttering from the sensation.

You feel it. His large dick slide between your folds. His hand massaging you clit nice and slow causing you to shudder further. His dick covered in you slick prods at you aching hole.

He leans down to kiss you, and your can taste your own slick. His dick slowly sinking in, and you feel it tickle all the right spots.

He starts off nice & slow, but you can feel him pick up the pace, abusing your sweet spot. You were seeing stars before, but now you're seeing galaxies.

His trust don't even give you time to moan, your just choking out whimpers and sobs as you can feel yourself building up to that high.

Konigs reaching there to, he's picked you off the bed and is gripping your hips, fucking you like a flashlight. Your feet dangling above the floor, with no more feeling as juices and precum run down them.

You reach your climax before him, and he pauses his pistoning thrust to watch you squirt all over his abdomen, and make a puddle on the floor. Licking his lips knowing what it taste like.

When you calm down again, he renters, and continues at his brutal pace, and you feel his thrust become more sparratic. Not that you care anymore, your all fucked dumb, your brains to mush and all you want is more pleasure. Pleasure that only Konig can give you.

His thrust are fast and he's pushing his full length in and mixing up your insides. Then Konig reaches his climax, and you can feel his hot milky cum enter your womb and spill out your sore hole. Mixing with your juices it runs down your legs, mixing into a big puddle on the floor. You can feel his hands gripping into your hips, keeping you right where he needs you. You might've cum a little again by just the thought of his hand marks on your hips in the morning.

Your mewling, moaning, and black in his ear. Curved up hands reached and around his neck. Your not shy anymore, your konigs little cum dump <3

When you both have calmed down a bit, Konig lays you down on the bed and kisses your forehead. You can hear distantly the bath water running, and you can feel konigs cum deep within you. Warm

All is well

｡𖦹˚.🪼₊ ๋࣭ ⭑-- Thank you all so much for your support, it was my first time writing out my ideas like this, and every note made me feel that much better about it <3

(✿˘ω˘)˘ε˘˶ )

[eyra]

it is my firm conviction that tagging is a courtesy that should be managed at the author's discretion - it is not a requirement from AO3 and therefore it's not something that a reader should expect or demand.

[scribe-of-hael]

The complicated life of Starscream

Tw: mentioned of Abuse/abusive Realtionships

I think whats interesting is the dynamic that Starscream has with Megatron in some ways. Because seems like no matter WHAT Starscream does. Being helpful ,loyal, or being backstabbing and sneaky.

Megatron finds a way to abuse him. That comes back around to the idea of , "No matter what you do, your abuser will never be happy and find new ways to be upset at you."

This is shown pretty well in TFP. Where Starscream trys to break free, be on his own. He struggles, even looses his Tcog in the process but he is a problem to everyone. The switch between his loyalty form s2 to s3 is a bit drastic. He is, very clearly, trying to do what Megatron asks of him and never once trys to go behind his back again.

Yet, even for a simple mistake, he is beaten. Megatron is completely incapable of trusting Starscream fully (reasonable) but Starscream is never going to be able to please Megatron fully either. Megatron doesn't know how eles to communicate with Starscream that isn't violent because that's how he responses, to violence and fear.

Starscream isn't perfect in TFP, he's killed Bots (as he told us repeatedly about Cliff jumper) , but everyone was someone before the war. I always wondered what he was like?

That and the fact Starscream mimics Megatron's abusive behavior in order to try and get respect. He HITS people , somtimes with little reason. He shoves and even belittled those who have actively tried to help him and show him concern (Knockout). Somtimes it works, most times it doesn't. He knows fear and violence works on him, why wouldn't it work in others ?

It's kinda a real thing, a friend who has these problems , basically puffing out their chest and bullying people close to them in order to get a sense of power and control that they normally don't have.

It comes down to Control and Safety.

Alot of times, in IDW Starscream does become a leader of Cybertron but almost always finds a way to sabotage himself. Why? He's traumatized. Conditioned to think he can not be anymore than what he was, what Megatron thought he was and what ppl think he is.

Bumblebee even calls this out, and in a fit of emotion, Starscream says its because he is Alone. No one is there to protect or vouche for him. (Which isn't fully true but that's his reality, how he sees it)

In order to keep himself safe, Starscream has defense mechanisms and coping strategies that are built to protect himself. He lies, he backstabs, he starts shit, he is combative even verbally when he doesn't even need to be. These strategies that were once used to help him, now make life difficult when ppl are trying to be there for him. Pushing people away, trying to give the illusion of control and dominance.

Rounding back to TFP, there was a theory i saw, (I think so, but in pretty sure I'm not the only one who thought of this anyway) that in RID, Starscream puts back in his old armor or parts of his frame from before.

My theory was that Starscream in TFP looks alot like Megatron in terms of color. Why go from a blue, white and red color to grey ? And was the armor even off him in the first place ?

My theory is Megatron purposely stripped him of parts of his own body, to make him both smaller and physically more vulnerable. Being a good representation of an Abuser stripping away who a person is, will all is left is the then vulnerable and under their control.

To add intop of it, in s3, its clear Starscream is loyal. The bot trys to go get Megatron or attack the autobots for killing him. Shockwave has to DRAG him away. In the movie, he STILL flinches at Megatron's movement towards him depsite him saying he "now knows what oppression is". FLYS AWAY & LEAVES HIM BEHIND.

This Starscream still has Decpeticon values, has only ever served Megatron for Millions of years, is still clearly afraid of his abuser and atm purpose to keep going. And he just LEAVES. Leaving Starscream to pick himself of being confused, scared and no idea what to do i'm sure.

Not to mention Megatron never once got anything done to him for all the pain and suffering he ever cause ld. He basically got off scotch free. Which to me, reflects the injustice some ppl feel and get when an abuser just leaves you in the mess THEY made and you get NOTHING from it. No justice, no recompense, no apology. You have to figure out how to BE without them.

Point is that Starscream is a complicated character in media. Different versions to show case this behavior. What i hope to see in the future, what I pray for, is seeing Starscream not only be able to break free of this cycle. But become more than what he thinks he is, what anyone thinks he is.

[thevoidstaredback]

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Dear Damian Wayne, Dec. 19, 2011

There really isn’t a good way to say any of this, especially via a letter. If I’m being completely honest, which I am, I would much rather be saying this to you in person. For both our safety, though, this was the best way I found to contact you.

First off, congratulations on being brought into the Wayne household! I never would’ve considered imagining that Bruce Wayne would be our father, but, here we are. Unless you’re there undercover? I doubt that, though.

Now, I should probably cut to the chase, no matter how much I want to stall. You might not remember me, but I’m your brother. Don’t freak out! Please, just finish reading this, at least. If you don’t believe me or you don’t want to ever talk to or see me again, then that’s fine. I completely understand.

You probably hate me, and I don’t blame you, but I couldn’t stay there. When we got separated on that mission, I ended up nearly killed. Some civilians found me and took me to a hospital to get my injuries treated. I realized, after I woke up, that this was the life I wanted. Leaving you hurt me so much more than I could ever describe in any language, but going back to Grandfather and Mother was a death sentence. I hated doing that to you, but I couldn’t do that to myself.

God, I suck at this.

I love you, Dami, I really do. I’ve wanted, for years, to come back to you, but I didn’t because I’m a coward. A selfish coward who can’t even face his own brother properly.

Forgiveness is a luxury I have no right to ask you of, but I’m going to anyway. So, can you? Can you ever forgive me for leaving you alone? Can you ever forgive me for leaving you  to think I died? Can you ever forgive me for making you go back to that place alone? Can you forgive me for being so selfish?

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you then, and I don’t mean to hurt you now. I’m beyond ecstatic that you made it out. I’m so happy that you’re with father now. I hope you never have to go back to Nanda Parbat ever again.

شكراً لكونك أخي

          Danyal ‘Danny’ Fenton

              (xxx) xxx-xxxx

***

There was a time that Danny only ever referred to as Before. Before he’d come to America; Before he’d been taken in by the Fenton Family; Before he’d lost himself to the life he’d never envisioned. He could remember it well.

*

He’d grown up in Nanda Parbat , high in the Himalayan Mountains. Beautiful buildings made of golden sandstone bricks, roofs made of the redist clay shingles, untouched snow for as far as the eye could see, and mountain peaks stretching high above the little valley.

There were greenhouses, too, filled with plants of all kinds from everywhere! Food, poisons, antidotes, it was all grown in Nanda Parbat. Clean water was pulled from the wells and the snow as though nature herself was giving her best to this one place. Truly a heaven on earth. The Garden of Eden, some people called it.

The residents were known to very few, only ever coming down when they found themselves with visitors. The towns at the base of the mountain ranges had plenty of legends about the People of the Mountains, but even fewer still knew their real secrets.

The League of Assassins, founded by Ra’s al Ghul himself, had made Nanda Parbat their home base, though neither Ra’s nor his daughter, Talia, made a habit of staying for too long or visiting often. No, Nanda Parbat had been claimed to raise the heirs and guard the Lazarus Pits.

Danny had been born in those very halls, buried deep within the protective embrace of the mountains, mere minutes after his brother. He knew nothing but Nanda Parbat, half convinced that his instructors were lying about the outside world. After all, could it really exist if he’d never seen it?

Grandfather and Mother came by thrice a year. Once to check on or use the Lazarus Pits, once to check on the Demon Heirs, and once to instruct lessons of their own. It was how it had always been done, so Danyal and Damian knew nothing else.

Grandfather would tell tales of conquest, instructing them on how to mold their very surroundings to their wills. Mother shared her missions, warning against how others would try and use them to get to her and Grandfather, seeing them as the weakest link. Damian and Danyal taught each other, on the nights when they could escape prying eyes, the importance of secrets. No one to trust but yourself, both Grandfather and Mother had pushed, anyone will betray you when given the right incentive.

The day came when Mother and Grandfather came to check on the Pits. The week-long stay had been the same every year, but their instructors had announced a change. Danyal would be going with Mother while Damian would be going with Grandfather. They would return to continue their studies in Nanda Parbat by the next full moon.

Danny had been excited. He was going to the outside world! He’d never been there before! He’d only ever seen pictures of it! Such fun! The only disappointment he held was that he was not going to share the moments with Damian. Yes, they would be leaving together, but they wouldn’t be together. Mother and Grandfather stayed at separate bases, after all.

The night before they were set to depart their Himalayan Paradise, Danyal had snuck to the roof with his brother.

“I’m scared, ahki,” he whispered, the wind hiding his voice from all but his brother.

“Don’t be, ahki,” Damian had assured, “You will be with Mother. She will keep you safe.”

“But the instructors say that we will be on our own!” Danyal said, “Besides, I do not know Mother.”

Damian did not pause. “Of course you know Mother. She gave us life. She teaches us.”

“Yes, but I don’t know her. I know you, and I know the birds, but I do not know Mother nor Grandfather.”

“Perhaps,” Damian had suggested, “we do not need to know them as we know each other? Perhaps, we only need to know that Grandfather is Ra’s al Ghul and the Mother is Talia al Ghul.”

“Then that means you’re Damian al Ghul!” Danny smiled, emotion his instructors had tirelessly trained out of him bleeding into the privacy shared between him and his brother.

Damian nodded, “And you are Danyal al Ghul.” A beat. “We will be fine tomorrow and the day after and the days to follow. When we return to Nanda Parbat, we will sit in this very spot and share our adventures.”

“Tales of conquest?” Danyal asked.

“Warnings of fools.” Damian responded.

*

A tale as old as the dirt beneath his feet. Before had been five years ago. So long in the past, but only a few pages back. Sometimes, it was as though he’d never left Before behind him. His training, for all that it was minimal in his limited time within the snow valley, was carved into his very soul. Not even the wear of time could pull him away from a weapon or the scan for immediate exit points or the caution when dealing with new people and places.

Jazz had explained to him that his responses to certain situations should not be that cautious or violent. She’d tried again and again to tell him that he was safe; that he wasn’t where he had been Before.

He knew that, obviously. Nanda Parbat was free of the disgusting urbanization of the modern world. This place was free of the untouched beauty of the hidden gems. He could see the beauty in the contradictions and in what he had been taught to scorn, he was not an idiot, but he could not appreciate it the way people born there could.

*

The Doctors Fenton, only Masters in their fields at the time, had picked him up at the base of the Italian Appalachian Mountains. They’d treated his wounds, introduced him to their daughter Jazz, and given him the opportunity to escape where he had been.

The Fentons had taken his hesitation as confusion for the situation; amnesia. They told him, as gently as they could, that all signs pointed to an abusive home. They wanted to help him get out as soon as they could.

But, that wasn’t right. Danny, in all his six years, knew exactly what an abusive relationship was. It was one of the things his Mother had taught him about when he’d first left Nanda Parbat with her when he was four! He didn’t come from an abusive home or an abusive relationship! Damian would never put him through that, and the ninja all knew better than to do anything untoward to him and Damian.

“And what about your parents?” Jazz, being only eight years old, had not held her tongue as Danny had been taught to. “Or any other adults?”

Now that, that was definitely a thought. But, no. No one within the confines of Nanda Parbat or within the League of Shadows as a whole had ever hurt him outside of training. The injuries they had treated were from a mission, not from his Grandfather or Mother or brother hurting him!

*

His attempts at clearing the misunderstanding had been brushed off as his imagination trying to protect him. Repressing and changing trauma, Jazz had translated.

He had thought, at the time, that everyone was wrong. He had come from a perfectly normal place! Though, the week he spent in the hospital had him second guessing. He was the only one looking for every possible exit in case of any possible situation at any given time. He was the only one prepared to slit the throats of everyone in the room if they got in the way of his escape. He was the only one to actively check for weapons to use or be used against him.

During his stay in the hospital, because they wouldn’t let him leave before he was cleared by the doctors who worked there, the Fentons had exposed him to many things that made him question his upbringing. But, now that he knew the truth, he’d never be able to go back.

The Fentons had promised him, the night before he was cleared to go, that they would help him stay away from the people who had hurt him, so long as he allowed them to. And how could he not accept? Too many questions had invaded his mind. The only way to answer them was to do as his Mother had taught him: learn from experience. So, he relented, leaning into the ‘trauma induced amnesia’ everyone had assumed he had, and went along with the Fenton Family.

But what about Damian? Surely, he was safe. Surely, he’d gotten back to Nanda Parbat and reported to Grandfather and Mother that Danyla had been killed! He could not go back, not yet. And maybe, a tiny, selfish part  of him that he hid in the darkest corners of his brain, was glad he wouldn’t be going back for any reason. To make himself feel better, he’d told himself that he’d go back for Damian once he was sure he wouldn’t be caught and killed for treason.

The plans laid within the floorboards under his bed with the katana and daggers the Fentons had let him keep.

Exactly four months after turning ten, Danny had turned on the TV. It was just to provide white noise while his adoptive parents were out, so he didn’t really care about the channel. Jazz hadn’t cared, either. If she had, she hadn’t said anything.

The channel had been one for national news. The covered story was in Gotham, New Jersey. Not unusual, but concerning until none of the names of the city’s rogues had been named. Bruce Wayne was holding a gala to officially introduce his youngest son to the world. That is what dragged Danny to sit and watch attentively.

Danny knew the name Bruce Wayne very well. His Mother had told him, no less than six times, that he was to go to Bruce Wayne if he ever found himself in a situation where the League of Shadows couldn’t help him. Bruce Wayne was his go-to if he ever needed because he is his father.

When Danny first met the Fentons, something had kept him from escaping. He could have, but he didn't. Something had compelled him to stay. That same something had told him to avoid Bruce Wayne when he was ten. That same something was now telling him to go to his father.

Danny didn’t listen to that something. Instead, he watched his brother stand beside their father and his other children. He followed his brother’s public persona studiously. When he pieced together Damian being Robin, meaning that Bruce Wayne was likely Batman, he followed his vigilante life, too. All the while, he was too much of a coward to actually reach out to them.

After all, what would they get out of having a relationship with him? He was a traitor to the Shadows, dead by all accounts that mattered. They already had an established family, so why would they want Danny? So, he stayed away.

It wasn’t until the week before his and Damian’s eleventh birthday that he finally managed to write a letter to his older brother. He timed it so that the letter would arrive the day of their birthday. A part of him hoped that Damian would get, read, and respond to the letter. A bigger part of him hoped that it would be lost amongst the birthday cards that were surely being sent to Damian now that he was living with their father.

Damian’s father. Danny already had a father. Well, a dad. He also had a mom and a sister. He even had an aunt! Not to mention the friend he made. He’s never had a friend before! So, yeah. Danny had a mom, a dad, a sister, and a friend. He wanted Damian, but he wasn’t going to get his hopes up. If Damian didn’t want him, then that meant that he wouldn’t have a brother or Grandfather or Mother or a father. Or three more brothers, apparently. He couldn’t really find it in himself to be upset about any potential loss that wasn’t Damian.

*

“Please respond, please respond, please respond!” Danny chanted under his breath as he opened the mailbox. There were four letters inside, three for his parents and one for his sister. “La naiba!” he swore.

“What’s wrong?” Jazz asked as she came up behind him. She’d learned early on that it was near impossible to sneak up on him.

Danny shoved the three envelopes into her hands. “There’s nothing there for me.”

“Why would there be anything in there for you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you order something without telling mom or dad?”

He scoffed. “No. I sent a letter and I’m waiting for a response.”

Her head tilted to the left slightly. “When’d you send it?”

“Three days ago.”

“There’s no way you’re ever gonna get a response in three days.” She scolded lightly, leading the way into the house, “Just be patient.”

He followed her. “Easy for you to say!”

“Who’d you send it to anyway?”

“None of your business.”

Jazz turned on him, her expression as unimpressed as a twelve year old could be. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, she raised her right eyebrow and tilted her head to the left again and slightly forward. When that didn’t get her what she wanted, she crossed her arms, her feet planted firmly in place. She’d picked up several things since Danny was brought into the family. This was one of them.

Danny hated it when Jazz did this. She reminded him so much of Damian that he had nearly cried the first few times she’d taken this exact stance to get what she wanted. Was it an older sibling thing? Regardless, it wasn’t very long before he cracked. “Okay, fine! But we talk in my room, okay?”

She smiled, losing the pose and opening the front door. “I can work with that. Do you want a snack?”

“Sure,” he huffed. He’d meet her in his room. If she wanted answers, she was going to have to bribe him. It was a subtle tactic, one that didn’t work because it wasn’t really bribery if he was already going to do what she wanted, but he needed to make himself feel better about it somehow.

It took exactly five minutes and thirteen seconds for Jazz to enter Danny’s room with some chips, crackers, and bottled waters from the pantry. Not that he was counting. They set up camp in the middle of the floor, the snacks on the floor between them and their homework set out to work on. Whether either of them would use the paper distraction was yet to be determined, but it had become common practice to have a distraction when a conversation seemed like it would take more than a few minutes. And this was definitely one of those conversations.

As soon as they were both settled, Danny took a deep and obvious breath. “I didn’t ever have amnesia.”

Jazz blinked. “What?”

What a way to start, Danny. Another breath. “When you guys first found me, the doctors said I had amnesia; that my brain locked away the memories of Before because I couldn’t handle the stress of it. I went along with it because that seemed like the best course of action at the time. But, I didn’t lose my memories. I still had them. I still have them.” He didn’t look up from the floor.

Jazz leaned forward and took a chip out from the bowl and popped it in her mouth, the crunch of her chewing doing nothing to cut the tension in the room. She swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? We could’ve had the people who hurt you arrested!”

Danny shook his head. “No. I…I thought, when I was growing up with Grandfather and Mother, that everyone was raised like that. It was all I knew. But then you guys found me and took me to the hospital and suddenly, things weren’t adding up. I decided to go with you guys because I knew I couldn’t return to Grandfather and Mother with my thoughts all messed up like that.”

To her credit, Jazz was taking this all in stride. She took another chip. “Why didn’t you leave when you got your thoughts all sorted out?”

“Honestly?” he huffed, “I realized that I didn’t want to live that life anymore.”

“Then why keep the weapons?”

“Would you believe me if I said ‘sentimental value’?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They let silence reign over them again for a bit, focusing on their homework and eating the food set out between them. Finally, after they were both finished, Jazz put her things back in her backpack and leaned against the wall behind her, taking the bowl of chips and a water bottle with her. “What was it like, your home Before?”

Danny smiled and slipped his own things away, leaning against his bed with the bowl of crackers and his own bottle of water. This was a topic he could talk about for hours. “I was born in Pakistan, in the Himalayan Mountains, specifically. Very secluded. My brother and I were the only two kids there.”

“Brother?”

“Yeah, his name’s Damian. He’s older than me by a few minutes.”

“Why wasn’t he with you when we found you?”

“Because we got separated.”

“Do we need to go find him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s with our father now.”

“Is he the one you sent the letter to?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Tell me more about where you were born?”

“Sure,” he smiled, “It’s a valley of snow, nestled between peaks in the Pakistanian end of the Himalayan Mountain Range. The buildings were all connected by roofed gravel walkways, yellow sandstone bricks and red clay shingles and dark wood pillars and floors and doors. The green houses were always my favorite. Any plant you could possibly think of was probably grown there! Damian always preferred the stables and pasture, though. He got along better with animals than actual people, I was the exception. When the weather was good, we’d take our lessons outside. If the weather was bad, then we’d study in the arena or the library.

“Sometimes, whenever Grandfather or Mother came to visit, they’d tell us stories about their adventures. My favorite stories, though, were of how Mother met my father and their adventures together. Grandfather doesn’t like those stories, though. He doesn’t like my father much.

“Me and Damian were the only kids there, so we had to play with each other. There weren’t any games we could play because adults are boring, so we made stuff up as we went along. Sometimes, we’d sneak into the stables and pet the horses! Other times, we’d sneak out of our rooms and climb to the roof to watch the stars.

“The stars were so pretty there! They’re the same stars that we see here, but they were so much brighter in Pakistan; more visible, y’know? The sky was so clear and it was so quiet- One of the people staying there gave me a book about the stars before he left.”

“Is that what started your fascination with space?” Jazz asked.

Danny nodded, “Yeah, it was. Damian would listen to me retell the same stories for hours whenever we climbed to the roof, but he never asked me to stop. I don’t think he ever looked at them and saw what I saw, though.”

“What did you see when you looked at the stars?”

“I saw something just barely out of my reach that I know I could grab if I was just a little bit taller, a little bit stronger, a little bit better.”

“Is that what you see now?”

“No.”

“Oh, then what do you see now?”

“I see the past, and I see a hope for the future.” He paused. “It was a competition between me and Dami, trying to be better than each other because whoever was the best was Grandfather’s and Mother’s favorite.”

She frowned. “You guys were kids! You shouldn’t’ve had to compete for attention like that!”

“I know that now,” he shot back, “But we didn’t then. We were raised to compete with everyone to hold Grandfather’s and Mother’s attention and favor. If we lost it, if we did anything that Grandfather deemed unworthy of the family name, then we were punished.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I know, but it’s what we knew.” A beat. “It was a big family, so not everyone stayed at the one compound.” The League was very far from being a family, but it’s the best way to describe it without exposing it to anyone. “Me and Damian were born and raised in the main compound in Pakistan. Grandfather, the head of the family, stayed and led from a compound in China. Mother stayed at a compound in Bangladesh. When we were four, I went and spent a month with Mother and Damian went and spent a month with Grandfather before we were sent back to Pakistan. When we turned five, I went with Grandfather and Damian went with Mother. When we turned six, we were both sent to spend time with family here in the states. I got separated from Damian and-”

“-me and mom and dad found you.” Jazz finished for him.

“Yep.”

“But, how did you get so hurt?”

Before he could answer, the front door burst open, their parents announcing their arrival carrying through the house. “A story for another time, I guess,” he shrugged.

Jazz wasn’t happy to have been interrupted, but she didn’t push. Instead, she took the empty bowls and went downstairs to greet their parents.

Danny leaned his head back against his bed, lost in the memories of his time with his brother. He wishes that Damian would send a reply already. He had remembered to put a return address, right? Maybe he should’ve just used the house’s address instead of setting up that PO box in the next town over! It’s not like anyone ever claimed to be reliable delivery persons!

Waiting was always the worst part of anything. Waiting for Grandfather to speak when he’d called an audience; waiting for Mother to tell them the end of her story; waiting for the guards to show any weak point to sneak past; waiting for a mission to start. It was always agonizing.

*

The morning was cold. Colder than it had been, but not as cold as it could be. Unfortunately, the cold meant snow. Snow meant that it was way too bright outside. And, despite it not being the morning of a school day, Jazz had elected to wake Danny up at the horrible time of six-thirty in the morning. Later than the normal five-forty-five, but still way too early to reasonably be awake. Honestly, Danny had thought he was done with getting up with the sun, but Jazz had proved him wrong time and time again for nearly five years now.

She pulled the curtains open, letting in the light from the sun that reflected off the white embodiment of cold. When that only caused him to burrow deeper into his three blankets and two pillows and his dog plush, Jazz decided to pull all three layers off of him.

“Hey!” he yelped, falling off the bed with a thud. “What the heck!”

Jaz dropped the blankets with a smile. “Rise and shine sleeping beauty! Mom and dad are in the lab again-”

“Another ‘breakthrough’?”

“-so I’m making breakfast! What do you want?”

Danny groaned and pulled himself off the floor, resetting the blankets on his bed in a mock of making it look neat. “Something warm.”

“How does hot chocolate and pancakes sound?”

“Can I have coffee instead?”

“No.”

“Dang.”

Jazz shook her head and left the room. “Don’t go back to sleep, okay? I wanna go to the library today.” She didn’t close the door behind her.

“Isn’t it closed today?” he called into the hall.

“Tomorrow!”

“Ah.” He closed the door himself, letting out a small puff of air. Turning to the room at large with his hands on his hips, Danny sighed. It was gonna be a long day. The first thing he did was straighten out his bed so it looked properly not slept in. Just as Mother had taught him. Then, he changed from his pajamas and into some jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Leaving his room, he made his way to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, only really bothering to push a hand through his hair. Not at all like Mother had taught him, but he really didn’t care right now.

Danny made his way down the stairs sluggishly. He’d never been a morning person, much preferring to stay awake until the early hours of the morning watching stars, but he’d had to hide that little quirk when he was with Grandfather and Mother. He’d realized, about half a year after the Fentons picked him up, that he didn’t need to hide his preference for night over day. Infact, his mom encouraged it! She let him sit up on the roof and stargaze until one or two in the morning before forcing him to bed. And then Jazz got into the habit of waking him at six in the morning for school. He’s definitely run on less sleep than four-ish hours, but he’d rather get as much as he can, which is what breaks are for! Unfortunately, Jazz has it in her head that he has to get up at the same time every day without fail, lest he irreparably mess up his sleeping schedule.

With a groan, he plopped down on his chair - in a bout of pettiness a year and a half after arriving, he carved his name into the wood of the backrest - at the table and laid his head down. His sister worked efficiently on the pancakes as the water for their hot chocolate boiled in the electric kettle.

The two sat and worked in a quiet peace. Jazz’s bustling around the kitchen faded into the background as white noise with the constant hum of electricity throughout the house and the occasional controlled explosion from the basement lab. It was well fortified, so the house wasn’t in danger.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of laying on the table with his eyes closed, Jazz put a plate by Danny’s head, a mug of hot chocolate with a candy cane beside it. Then, she sat opposite him with her own food.

“Thanks,” he mumbled groggily, pulling the food and drink towards him.

“You’re welcome.” Jazz said around a bite.

Danny would be the first to admit that Jazz wasn’t the best cook, but he was also the first to praise her cooking. Jack Fenton couldn’t make anything, that wasn’t fudge, for the life of him. Any food he tries to make, somehow turns to fudge. Kind of like King Midas’ Golden Touch. Maddie Fenton was a pretty good cook, when she remembered to actually feed herself and her family. She could make cookies worthy of the gods, though. Whenever the Fenton parents weren’t in their basement lab for one reason or another, they ordered takeout to eat with their kids. Those times were, unfortunately, few and far between.

Finishing his meal, Danny was wide awake, the food doing wonders for waking him. And, while the caffeine in chocolate was nothing compared to the coffee his dad would sometimes let him drink, there was just enough to wake him up just a bit more. Don’t tell Jazz, though, or she might take away chocolate, too.

“Do you,” he hesitated, the words caught in his throat for a moment, “Do you think mom and dad will be up to celebrating this year?”

When he was seven, he learned that the Fentons didn’t celebrate any holiday, no matter what it was. They had up until Jazz was five, but then work became more important. Jack and Maddie had claimed breakthroughs in their research, pushing everything and everyone aside if it or they didn’t directly help their life’s work.

That same year, he’d been trying to acclimate himself better. One of the biggest things in American culture is holidays, so he decided to ask to celebrate Christmas. It was mainstream and was derived from one of the only holidays he was allowed to celebrate back in Nanda Parbat.

Jack and Maddie had agreed, of course, and he and Jazz had pulled out all the old decorations to dress the house. When December twenty-fourth came around, though, their parents had gotten into a huge fight about whether to tell Danny and Jazz that Santa wasn’t real. Jack had said it was a right of passage for little kids to figure it out all on their lonesome, while Maddie had argued that she wasn’t going to let her children believe in fairy tales that parents tell to get their kids to sleep faster. They were loud enough that Jazz and Danny had both heard every word.

The two tried, every holiday, to get their parents to spend time with them, at least, but it failed every time. Something or other aways came up.

“I don’t know, Danny,” she sighed, putting her fork on her now empty plate, “You can try, but I doubt it.” She’d given up last year, right around the time that she’d picked up on reading parenting books.

Danny didn’t say anything. He simply stood and gathered the dishes, taking them to the sink to be washed before putting them away. The dishwasher had been ripped apart and repurposed for parts in the lab.

“I know that you want to celebrate like the other kids in town,” Jazz said from the table, “but mom and dad are way too focused right now. Mom mentioned something about working on the portal some more.”

Danny put the cup down carefully, a loud click sounding through the kitchen. With a controlled breath, he closed his eyes and turned off the tap. “There were exactly two holidays that me and my brother were allowed to celebrate when we were children. Christmas is taken from one of those holidays. Forgive me for just wanting to share a piece of that with them.”

He could feel Jazz’s sad gaze on his back. “What holidays?”

“Forget it,” he shook his head, “Let’s just go to the library.”

She let it drop. “It doesn’t open for a few more hours.”

He started up the stairs. “Then come get me when it’s time to go.” Danny ignored Jazz’s responding sigh as he walked up to his room. Closing the door behind him, he grabbed some paper and a pencil.

In Nanda Parbat, one of the instructors was set to teach Danny and his brother the Fine Arts. From writing to painting to instruments to acting. All so that they could adapt to any mold for any mission. Because they were the heirs, the Demon Twins of the monster that was the organization, they were expected to be perfect. Anything less was punished.

Damian had always excelled at the Arts, especially drawing and its counterparts. He could work with any median, but charcoal had always been his favorite. Danny, too, had excelled with the Arts, but anything that happened on a stage had been his specialty.

Whenever he missed his brother, or any aspect of Before, too much, Danny would sit down and draw. He’d thought about asking his parents for an instrument of some kind, the cello always having been his favorite, but he decided against it. So, he drew. He didn’t have a dedicated sketch book, and no one but himself would ever see anything he made, but it was a nice outlet.

He wondered if Damian did something similar, now that he was with father. Did he play instruments or read plays when he thought of Danny? Did he allow his new siblings to see what he made or listen to his voice?

Three hours passed by in a blink, only one page being covered. It was a nice memory he’d drawn of the blacksmith’s hut away from the main base. In the picture, he and Damian were learning to forge their own daggers. Damian’s had turned out unbalanced and two inches too short. Danny’s had been only half an inch too long with a slightly too short grip.

Jazz knocked on the door as she cracked it open. “Hey,” she greeted quietly.

Danny covered tha paper. “Hey.”

“Are you ready to head out? We can stop by Tasty Burger for lunch?”

“Sure,” he nodded, moving to stand in a way that prevented the paper from showing to Jazz. He hid it in his nightstand to be moved to the box with the others later. “Let’s go.”

Nodding, she led the way.

It was a quick walk, only twenty minutes from their house to the library, but it was cold and bright. The snow only made the area brighter, but it was comfortable to him; familiar. What was really irritating was the cars and the people and the buildings. Danny had been raised very far from all of these things, only ever going near them when on a mission, and it was only a few hours at a time in those instances. No matter how long he lived in a city or town, whatever it was called, though, he would never get used to the noise.

The sidewalks were crowded with holiday shoppers not insane enough to go out on the twenty-fourth, but crazy enough to go out on the twenty-third. The streets were slick and traffic was slow, especially for a morning. Christmas decorations lined every window and tree and building face, holiday music carried on the wind four or five different songs mixing into one over and under the voices of the people on the sidewalks.

“C’mon,” Jazz tugged him into the public library by his hand. She had four books tucked under her arm, two on psychology, one on parenting, and one on dragons.

Danny followed after her, not quite dragging his feet, but making it apparent that he would rather not be there.

“Good morning, you two!” the librarian smiled when they made their way to her desk. She was a cheerful woman, always wearing a smile, though she had never once worn a nametag or introduced herself.

“Good morning!” Jazz matched the woman’s energy with a smile, dropping Danny’s hand and putting the four books up on the counter.

The woman took the books to scan them back into the system. “Are you looking to check out more books today?”

“Yep! Just so I have something to do over Winter Break.”

“You’re a kid, there’s lots for you to do!”

“I know, but I like reading.”

“I get it. Let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“Okay, we will!” Jazz took Danny’s hand again and pulled him off into the forest of shelves, straight to the parenting section.

Danny hid his scowl as he watched Jazz search through the parenting books. “You’re twelve, Jazz-”

“Almost thirteen.”

“-you’re not supposed to be looking at these kinds of books until eighteen at the earliest.”

She didn’t stop her search. “You’re eleven, Danny, you should be acting like a kid.”

“But I wasn’t raised as a kid.”

“Exactly why you should take the opportunity now!”

He groaned. It was an ongoing argument between the two. “I don’t need you to look after me, Jazz. We’re both kids, so we should be reading books that kids do! Leave the parenting up to our parents.”

“Our parents who don’t even celebrate holidays?”

“Jazz-”

“Look, Danny, I know you’re worried about me growing up too fast or whatever, but I like these books.” She pulled one off the shelf before turning to look at him. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll only get one parenting book.”

It didn’t. He’d rather her get none. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna get some psychology books, though, and you can’t stop me.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he said. She ignored him.

“The human mind is really interesting. Did you know that the size of a human brain has decreased since the time when we were hunters and gatherers?”

“Has it?” He loved when she got like this, talking about things that interest her.

She nodded rapidly. “Mhmm! By a whole ten percent!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And most artists like working at night because humans are more creative during the night rather than during the day.”

“What?” He raised his eyebrow in good humor to tell her that he was joking, “There’s no way that’s true.”

“It is!” she insisted, leading the way over to the tables in the middle of the large room with two psychology books and a parenting book under her arm. “And, look!” she grabbed a paper and pencil and wrote down ‘Yuo cna’t sotp me form radenig prnatneig bokos.’ in big letters. “Because we read words instead of individual letters, as long as the first and last letters are in the proper spots, and all the letters are there, it doesn’t matter what the rest of the word looks like, especially if you’ve been reading for a while or if you’re reading fast. You’re still able to read the word as though it were completely correct.”

“That’s actually really cool.”

“Right?” Her grin was so worth it. Her grin would always be worth it. “C’mon, let’s go get yo some books now.”

Danny grabbed Jazz’s hand and led the way this time. He took them over to the books about space and started to look through them. He’d always loved space as a whole, but stars had always held a special place for him.

He picked a book about astrology. “I heard some of the girls at school talking about magic and stuff and how people’s personalities are affected by what star sign they were born under.”

Jazz scrunched her nose a bit. “I’ve heard some people at school talk about that stuff, too. Do you think it’s true?”

“I think it’d be worth a look.” He took another book off the shelf, this one talking about both ancient and modern witchcraft. “The psychological implications are interesting, too.” That would get her to show a bit more interest.

“Really?”

“Really.”

She paused. “Mind if I take a look when you’re done?”

“I’d be happy to have a whole conversation about it when we’ve both finished reading our books.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The last stop before checking out their chosen books was in the fairy tail section of the library. Their dad loved fairy tales, but their mom refused to let them have any of the books in the house. She claimed that there was no such thing as magic and that any ‘magic’ was done by ghosts. Danny had to hide his amusement whenever that particular argument was bright up because he knew for a fact that the supernatural and magic go hand in hand more often than not. He wasn’t about to tell her that, though.

The book they chose was one they both wanted to read, not wanting to risk mom finding one fairy tale in the house, let alone two. It was a compilation of the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales. Dark stories, they both knew, but that just made them all the more enticing.

Checking out went much the same as checking in, with the added bonus of the librarian giving them a cloth tote bag to carry their six books in. She also gave them the name of a small magic shop on the other side of town that had some tarot cards in stock if Danny was interested.

As promised, Jazz had taken some money from their mom’s purse to stop by the Tasty Burger for lunch. They both ordered the chicken nuggets and a milkshake, Jazz getting chocolate and Danny getting strawberry. Then, when they were done eating, they walked hand in hand back to their home.

Danny stopped at the mailbox, not moving to follow Jazz or to open the thing. Did he dare check? He didn’t want to get his hopes up. What if Damian hadn’t gotten the letter like he both feared and hoped? What if he had? Would there be a response? Would Damian ever want a relationship with him?

“Hey,” Jazz tugged his hand, “What’s wrong?”

He bit his lip, a show of nervousness that would’ve been punished in Nanda Parbat. He inhaled. “What if there’s no response? What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? It’s been almost five years.”

It took a moment before Jazz clocked what he was talking about. She let go of his hand to hold his shoulders. “How about this; You go inside and wait and I’ll get the mail, okay?”

Danny nodded and slowly trudged into the house. Why had he even sent that stupid letter? He flopped onto the couch. Damian probably hates him for not returning to his side.

He didn’t have time to mope any longer because Jaz threw the front door open with a shout. “Danny!” She was suddenly right beside him, shoving a letter into his hands. “There’s a letter for you!”

After a moment to process, Danny’s shaky hands ripped the envelope open and pulled out the paper inside. The single sheet was folded into three perfect rectangles, the black ink of a pen unsmudged and perfectly spaced. Just as Mother had taught.

***

Danyal ‘Danny’ Fenton,                         Dec. 21, 2011

You have a very extravagant story. Whatever made you believe that exchanging letters was the most secure way of contact? An idiotic move that my brother would, unfortunately, absolutely make. Either you are him, or you are a clone. Either way, I’m not likely to believe you, so do not mistake this as such. Your admitted honesty is welcomed, though not believed.

My welcome into the Wayne Family was quite a public affair and aired all over the country, so I guess I should thank you for the congratulations, as is socially acceptable in this situation as well as others like it. Bruce Wayne being my father is not a surprise, given his public image and his tendency to take any stray whelp he sees into his home. Though I will have you know that I am the only blood child in the household.

Announcing your stalling while writing a letter is completely unnecessary, especially as that was your first correspondence. Had you simply left that out, I would never have been the wiser. Another mistake you’ve made in accordance with my brother.

Having read over your letter several times, I have come to several conclusions. With the resources I have at my disposal, I have determined that there is a good chance you are who you say you are. Understanding who I am, and who my brother is, the rest of this response is written under the foolish  ̶h̶o̶p̶e̶ assumption that you are who you claim to be.

I could never hate you, Danyal, nor could I ever ignore this chance I have been presented with. Getting out was the best thing you could’ve done for yourself. Coming back from that mission, having failed and lost you, broke something in Mother. She was both harsher and more clingy, hovering whenever she could and pushing more than ever. Grandfather was even less pleased that you hadn’t returned, though he only ever acknowledged you as a failure and a mistake. He made it known that he would’ve killed you, had you ever miraculously returned to Nanda Parbat.

I am glad that you got help. I am glad that you are living safely and that you have found a place to be at peace.

You are a coward, but you are more deserving of praise and forgiveness than you seem to believe. I thought you had died on that mission, Danyal. For that, I can’t ever forgive you, but I could never hate you. I can forgive you for making me return on my own. I can forgive you for being selfish and leaving me alone, but I will never forgive you for making me mourn you. You hurt me in ways that I never thought I could ever be hurt, in ways that I may never be hurt again.

Grandfather and Mother never allowed a grave to be made. They didn’t let me keep anything of yours either. They erased you. It was like you had never been there. I was never allowed to properly mourn you. That alone almost ended me.

Father knows nothing of you. Mother did not tell him, nor will I. I did not wish to make him or our siblings mourn a child they would never meet. If you so choose to tell him, then you may. I, however, will not be playing the messenger.

أرجو أن تسامحني على اعتقادي بأنك ميت. أرجوك سامحني لأنني لم أحزن عليك كما ينبغي. أرجوك سامحني لأنني لم أبحث عنك، فالعودة لم تكن خياراً متاحاً. كان يجب أن أجعله خياراً                     Damian Wayne

Translation 1 - Arabic :: Thank you for being my brother.

Translation 2 - Romanian :: Damn it!

Translation 3 - Arabic :: Please forgive me for thinking you were dead. Please forgive me for not mourning you properly. Please forgive me for not looking for you, coming back was not an option. I should have made it an option

Storyboard Part 2 Artwork

[remixablix]

I better NOT see a Mark/Gemma/Helena miscommunication arc where Gemma makes it out and then Helena does something that makes her think that Dr. Creepo was telling the truth about Mark moving on