#despite it feeling like it only lasted 4 seconds

[chancheols]

Maybe I was super wrong and it really is a whole comeback.

[dreamyberry]

/3.11.24

[acid-ixx]

ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

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[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 4 | masterlist

-

There’s nothing else to do but pretend it didn’t happen. 

In the morning, you’re surprised to wake up and find him in the bed next to you, still covered in old sweat and dried cum. You suppose even in your sleep you’d unconsciously expected him to avoid the incident altogether—wake up extra early to shower while leaving you alone in the bed, giving you a modicum of privacy to digest the situation and its repercussions on your own.

He does no such thing.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John rumbles, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Feeling alright?”

Dangling precariously over the edge of oblivion. Some kind of abyss. The kind that says you might not like what’s down here, girlie, but still you sit by the edge and kick your feet. 

“Yeah,” you croak, and Lord, your voice is hoarse. Scratchy and rough, like it’s been dragged over sandpaper. 

“Good.” He lets his hand rest on the curve of your cheek for a second before pulling it away. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll shower after.”

The bed groans under his weight when he sits up, throwing his legs over the side before rising to his feet. You quickly avert your eyes at the sight of his naked backside, hairy there as well. A bear all over. Even his yawn reminds you of one. And the way that he stretches his arms overhead and every bone in his upper body cricks and cracks, the sounds of age manifold. 

You scrub yourself with shaky hands in the shower, gnawing at your bottom lip when you spread your puffy folds to find his cum still slightly tacky inside of you. Very bad. Scooping as much out as you can with your fingers, watching it run down the drain. Very bad indeed. 

John has breakfast on the table when you come downstairs and it seems, somehow, uncouth to just tell him you want to go home. So instead you force yourself to sit and eat, glad that he at least agrees that it isn’t the time for conversation. 

At the door, he sees you off with a hug, watching you from the door until you reverse out of his driveway and drive off, waving as you leave. 

“This is really bad,” you whisper to yourself on the drive home. “Really, really bad.”

Despite the morning after, the night you spent together is never explicitly spoken about. It’s not a ‘thing’ you discuss by any means. No sit down conversation, no awkward allusions to it, no talking around and around the events until the exchange becomes unbearable. It simply blips out of existence as soon as you change into your old clothes and John walks you to the door, seeing you out. 

You still show up the next day, as usual. Nothing’s changed except everything, but it feels taboo to even mention that things feel different. 

The world hasn’t radically changed since you accidentally slept with John, but it certainly feels that way sometimes. In the few delicate hours after leaving his house, you were sure he’d call at any moment to tell you that your services would no longer be required—that he’d send your last check in the mail before parting ways. So sure of that, in fact, that you’d put your phone on silent for hours before mustering up the courage to check your missed calls later that evening.

Only a few texts from friends. No missed calls from your employer. 

He doesn’t fire you. He certainly doesn’t treat you any differently the next time you come to babysit. You still get paid every week—though, admittedly, the money makes you feel a little weird now after sleeping with him, but it’s not like you can just turn your nose up at making rent—and everything else in your life stays exactly the same. If you weren’t now acutely aware of the feeling of your boss coming inside you, you might even think you dreamt it up. 

Still, despite John never bringing it up or even alluding to sleeping with you, there’s still a sense that he—

The soft, affectionate thanks, hun that he gives you when you bring him a glass of water on the rare day he comes home early to work out in the garage makes you shiver. 

His need to touch increases tenfold, matched only by his proprietariness. He must feel like after what you did together, it’s nothing for him to squeeze your thighs when he tells you that you did a good job with the baby or hug you extra tight when you’re about to leave. 

If you’re extra shy around him, he doesn’t remark on it. 

You’re levelheaded enough to know that he shouldn’t be so touchy with his younger female employee—his babysitter no less—especially after what happened, but it’s not as though he treats you like sleeping with you is a given. When a week goes by and nothing happens, you almost relax. Almost. Enough to let your guard down. 

But—

You can’t stop thinking about it though. It runs through your head every hour of every day, made worse by the fact that you see him six days a week, Sundays excluded. Sundays being your one day off, which you no longer look forward to but rather dread because Sundays mean no baby, no park, and no John Price.

So, you follow his lead and pretend like it didn’t happen. 

You think it’s past you; a terrible mistake that’ll never happen again until it happens again. 

Eight o’clock at night and the blue light from the television has begun to strain your eyes. Baby sleeping upstairs—you put him down a few hours earlier without much of a peep; had to check on him a few times, but otherwise the baby monitor sitting on the end table hasn’t so much as crackled, leaving you no choice but to doze off on the couch. 

When the door opens, it startles you awake. 

“Mr. Price?” you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and clearing your throat.

John’s there when you twist around to peek over the back of the couch, filling out the door frame. Dishevelled after a long day’s work, his beard even more grown out than when he left earlier in the morning. A bit rougher around the edges, the day leaving its mark in the slight dark circles under his eyes and the set of his jaw, which only relaxes when he lays eyes on you. 

“Just me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, I…the baby’s been asleep for awhile, so I just thought I’d—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I know you’ve got it under control.”

“Let me just get my stuff and I’ll be out of your hair—”

He cuts you off with a wave, toeing his boots off at the same time. “No, no, no—you stay there and finish your movie. I’m gonna grab a drink and join you.”

There’s not much more you can say to that. Instead, you watch him take his bag upstairs to put away in the bedroom before you hear the sink turn on. Running water. 

You carefully avoid looking at him when John comes back downstairs, the creaking steps signalling his descent. He heads to the kitchen without stopping by the living room first. The light switches on with a click. The fridge door opens and bottles clinking together when he roots around for something to drink. 

And then you hear him make his way back to the living room. 

The unspoken pact to not bring up what happened the last time you spent any alone time together imbues you with a false sense of security. Part of you expects him to take the single recliner next to the couch, if only to put some distance between the two of you. 

Except when he comes back into the living room, he plops right down in the middle of the couch like always, close enough to you that you’re forced to scoot away, pressed up against the arm of the sofa. You shiver when he cracks open his beer and takes a swig, resting his arm on the back of the couch with the can held in a loose grip. 

“What’re we watching?” he asks, blatantly adjusting himself to get more comfortable on the couch. Even soft, the outline of his cock is visible through his trousers. 

You stare over at him nervously, unblinking. 

“Sweetheart?” John prompts when you don’t answer. 

“Oh, um…” You clear your throat again. “It’s just a Hallmark movie.”

“Cute. Well, we can keep it on. No sense changing it now.”

It’s tense for a little while. You keep your hands folded in your lap like a good girl and your eyes on the television. So you can’t stop inhaling the heady scent of tobacco and vanilla. So you can’t stop blinking your eyes, each blink heavier than the last until they spend more time shut than open. So you yawn and burrow deeper into the cushions, your head tipping back and nearly jarring you awake when you lean too far and topple over the side. 

When you lean the other way and start to doze off on his shoulder, he pulls you onto his lap. You squirm, initially resistant, but he shushes you before you can put up a fuss. 

“Just don’t want you to drool on my shirt,” he teases in a low murmur, smoothing a hand down your side and then it’s lights out for you. 

You wake to a blunt intrusion at your entrance. Half-awake and squirming, you vaguely feel him rub the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, teasing himself. The second you squirm just a little too much, he uses that little bit of movement to push the tip in. It pops in without much resistance; then the slow, methodical press inward, your walls squeezing around the thick length thrusting up into you. 

“Wha—” you whimper, keening when a big hand glides up your chest to squeeze a tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“S’alright, baby, it’s just me,” John murmurs, his voice right in your ear. 

You come to gradually and then all at once, aware of your back pressed to his clothed chest and your legs spread around his, your ankles hooked around his calves. Skirt rolled up and panties pushed to the side, one of his arms locked around your waist like a seatbelt to hold you in place. 

“John, I’m—we c-can’t do it again—”

“Sorry, honey,” he apologises into your neck, kissing the area he just spoke into. “Had to be inside you again. S’all I’ve been able to think about since you came on my cock the other night. Promise it’ll be easier this time, okay, baby?”

He guides you down his length until he bottoms out, slick lips kissing the base of his dick. The pressure is overwhelming; in your belly, in your throat, in your head. Heart beating a million miles a minute. Walls throbbing around his length, thicker and heavier than you remembered. 

All you can think of now is the last time he had you like this, legs spread for him and pussy dripping wet. Taking his cock all sleepy and sweaty under his giant comforter, whimpering into his neck. 

It’s not as frantic this time, no rush to the finish line. He seems to like just burying his cock in you while he plays with your breasts, pinching and plucking your nipples until they’re pebbled and sore. His hands aren’t particularly soft either, callused from years of hard labour. When you whine and try to push his hands away, he shushes you again, not paying your protests any mind. 

“Fuck, these are pretty,” John praises, staring down at your tits from over your shoulder. “No, baby, jus’ watch your show. M’gonna use your pussy for a bit, okay?”

It’s just that it’s—

When he lets go of your breast to play with your clit instead, you melt, any resistance going up in flames. The heat fans over your cheeks, your eyelids too heavy to lift, vision blurring even when you try to focus. 

He helps you grind your hips down on him, big hands like manacles on your waist. Little undulations of your hips. Short, shallow thrusts that keep you both right on the edge, drenching his lap with your juices. When he gets bored of playing with your clit, he switches back to your breasts, pawing at them and then bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth. 

Any time you get distracted by what he’s doing, he stops, holding you down on his cock and coaxing you to focus on the television in front of you instead. 

When he jiggles your clit, you seize up, heart hammering in your throat. 

“Good girl, c’mon—jus’ like that.” John presses a hot kiss to your temple, arm tightening around your front to keep you close. Sweet talks you through your orgasm, all vaguely paternalistic and patronising in the best and worst way.  

He makes you lean forward so he can bounce you on his dick after, your hands braced on his knees to keep yourself upright. 

“Ah, ah, ah, ah—”

“Almost there, honey, jus’—fuck, perfect, yeah, tighten up like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He comes with a strangled moan, still cognizant enough to keep the volume down even if you can’t. Shuttles you down onto his cock a few more times until you’re filled to the brim with cum. 

In the aftermath, he sits you back against his sweat-matted chest and pushes his cum back into your sore cunt with his fingers when it dribbles out. Ignores your wounded little sounds like they’re just background noise. He even makes you suck his fingers to clean them up, the digits coated in your combined juices. 

“Best fuckin’ girl,” John growls, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. Your fingers twitch feebly in your lap. 

Pretending like it didn’t happen after the second time around doesn’t seem wise, but still you don’t know how to broach the subject. 

Especially since you know it’s going to happen again. 

John doesn’t say it outright, but his actions speak for themselves. An arm looped around your waist casually in line for coffee. Paying for the two of you in any situation, you having your own source of income be damned. 

“It’s my money anyway, sweetheart,” he says when you point that out. “Might as well just pay now.”

And doesn’t that just send you into a tizzy, head spinning and mouth agape. Embarrassingly so. 

Not to mention you still have this strange, sycophantic need to please him, even after everything. The complicated nature of your relationship aside, it still makes your heart flutter to hear him praise you for anything. 

That’s how you end up in his bed on a Saturday afternoon, taking a nap with him after a long day out in the sun. Two hours spent at the botanical gardens, the sun beating down on your head, lathering sunscreen on the baby’s sensitive little arms and legs, and swiping it over his cheeks. John sporting a mild sunburn near the collar of his shirt where he forgot to apply sunscreen and when you have the audacity to giggle, he pulls your baseball hat down over your eyes. 

It’s almost too easy for him to coax you into his bed, even though you’re adamant about keeping it clean. A hand firm on your back up the stairs. Already yawning when you put the baby down for a nap, so why not take one too? Ushering you into the bedroom when you say you can take the couch, but why, he presses, take the couch when you’ve already shared the bed before?

Well, because the last time—

He draws the blinds shut and climbs into bed, pulling you into his chest. 

You wake up to John plastered against your back, bare cock nudging against your cunt while he snores into your neck. You don’t remember him curling up next to you without any clothes on, but he must have taken off his pants in his sleep, now somewhere rumpled at the end of the bed. 

When you try to quietly pull away, his arms just tighten around you more, grumbling in his sleep. The sound makes you freeze, going quiet as a mouse. A few more minutes go by before you feel confident enough to try moving again, carefully trying to slide out from his hold. 

You wiggle a hand out, reaching for the other end of the bed.

The hand resting on your belly dips low, shoved between your legs and feeling you up before you can do more than gasp. The man behind you gives a short exhale, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, rising out of it like a wave now that he feels something wet under his hand.

“Oh, honey…why didn’t you tell me you needed my cock again? You’re leaking right through your panties,” John rasps, dragging your underwear down to mid-thigh. 

A big bear hand clamps over your mouth before you have a chance to protest. There’s nothing you can do to keep his knee from spreading your legs and feeding his cock into your drenched centre with his other hand. As soon as he notches the head against your entrance, it’s a smooth glide in. 

“There we go,” he pants into your neck. “Big stretch—ah, yeah, nice ‘n tight. That’s my pretty girl.”

He keeps your legs spread with a hand on the inside of your thigh. All you can do is moan behind his hand, humid breath blowing back around your face as you pant. So hot for it that you’re almost nauseous. 

You’re a bit too tight for him to fit his cock in you, so he has to work to stretch you out, bullying another inch into you with every thrust. The angle makes it tricky though; means he can’t get more than half of his cock into you. It’s hardly comfortable for you either, your leg already cramping. 

“My leg’s got a cramp,” you whine, unsure of what you want to happen. All you know is that you can’t keep this up. 

He readjusts his grip, but that just makes you hiss, wincing when that makes your leg twinge. Suddenly the world spins, the pillows going from comfortably under your head to right in your face, John manoeuvring you onto your tummy and hiking your hips up a few inches. It lets him get even deeper, the angle letting him slide right to the hilt. 

“Oh god, oh god—John, I can’t—”

“Shh—you’re alright, honey. Much better like this,” he breathes, settling on top of you. It takes him a second to get comfortable, nudging right up against a sensitive spot inside of you the whole time, so deep you can almost feel him in your throat. 

He weighs a ton on top of you, rutting between your thighs like he can’t hold himself back, his self-control snapping like brittle glass. Bristly beard chafing your neck when he buries his head to suck on the tender skin there, smothering you under his weight. Thighs trapping you in place, your memory jumping back to that time at the beach, but now there’s nothing between you. Just a thick cock pounding into you and moulding you around its shape.  

His hips slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewdest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Gonna make sure it takes this time,” John grunts. “Wanna take care of my baby so bad? I’ll give you a couple to mind.”

That rattles you right to your core; shakes you to the foundations of who you are. You don’t know what to think, what to say—tongue tied and loose lipped all at once. You’ve let him come inside of you so many times that if it hasn’t taken already, surely it will soon. 

It slips out before you can take it back. “D-daddy, please—” 

That makes him lose his mind. Just a bit. 

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Again.”

He wedges his arm under you to curl his hand around your throat, tilting your head out. 

“Daddy—daddy—please, I wanna come—” you pant, repeating the same word until it sounds like nothing, tongue puffy in your mouth. 

His dick slips out at some point and he wrenches himself off you long enough to wrap his hand around himself and slap it against your ass a few times, cum tagging your skin. Your breath catches in your throat, whining when you clench down on nothing. One stroke after repositioning himself and he’s all the way back in, hammering the spot that makes you go cross-eyed and squeak. 

“Make daddy another baby, okay, sweetheart?” It’s not sweet. It’s not doting. It’s growled into your ear like a demand, punctuated by the way his hips snap forward, nearly sending you into the headboard. 

You’re practically an old hat at taking his cum now, squeezing up when you can feel it coming and giving him a nice little treat. He sinks his teeth into the back of your neck when he does, muffling the sound roaring out of him, and it hurts. 

He’s tender with you after though. Lavishes the line of your neck with soft kisses; murmurs sweet nothings into your ear while you cry fat tears onto the pillow. Even twists and turns so you’re no longer on your back but rather splayed across his chest again, urging you up for a deeper kiss with tongue. 

“‘Know you’re tired, sweetie, but this is for your own good,” John murmurs as he wedges a hard thigh between your legs and makes you ride it, grinding your sensitive, throbbing clit down on the muscle. “Can you come, baby? Jus’ like that—that’s good, baby—”

It hurts so good that you don’t even notice when you squirt, the emotions too big for you. It’s like being squeezed too tight, unable to catch your breath or say anything but the same word on a loop. John’s sweet about it though—wipes the sweat from your hairline and upper lip, talking you through it until you slump down on his chest, legs akimbo.   

For a bachelor, you think in a daze, he’d make a good husband.

The days grow colder and the sun sets earlier.

A while ago you thought maybe this babysitting gig would be temporary. That at some point you’d move on—maybe go back to school or apply for a more standard nine-to-five job. That’s how the trajectory of your life was supposed to go, you think. 

But the timing never seems right. Maybe you’ve grown too attached to the baby or maybe the pay is just too good to give up or maybe you’ve just become habituated to someone getting you off at least every other day. Still, it feels a bit weird to get paid for what essentially boils down to fucking a man and taking care of his baby. 

It comes up when you’re sitting out on the porch with him again, this time in his lap in the same adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around you to keep you warm. John laces his fingers through yours, thumb stroking over your finger, burning a line into the skin.

“Doesn’t it make you feel weird to pay me for…” you say, trailing off with a cocked eyebrow. Surely he must catch your drift. 

He chuckles. You wait for the joke.

Your eyes must be big as moons staring up at him. 

“Don’t think of it as a paycheck, sweetheart. That’s your allowance.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and swallow. 

“Okay,” you whisper. Then let him reel you back in for another kiss, his thumb resting over your ring finger and pressing.

[httpsleclerc]

the story of us

pairing/s: Max Verstappen x Sister!Reader, Eventual Charles Leclerc x Single Mom!Verstappen!Reader

eries summary: after a traumatic childhood, y/n verstappen leaves an abusive relationship with a 6 month old baby in tow, with her brother trying to discreetly matchmake her with a certain Monegasque.

warnings: DEPICTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE, BABY TRAPPING, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, ANGST!!

word count: 2.4k words

a/n: praying this shit does not flop I put my heart and soul into this one - also ! This one is mostly just backstory!

the first time you ever met Charles Leclerc, you were 9 years old, sporting a poorly hidden bruise under your eye which your so called father had given you for 'talking back' after he had yelled at you for Max losing. You didn't understand that, why was it your problem if Max lost - although he didn't really lose, as such, he came second or third, but in your dad's opinion? They were the first to lose. You had wandered off from your father, claiming that you needed to get yourself a drink of water, but you knew that Max had just came second, Charles had beaten him and you could already see how mad your dad was going to be, you'd seen his grip tightening on the barrier, his face growing more and more red as Max fell further and further behind the young Monegasque. 

"And Charles Leclerc of Monaco is our winner for today, congratulations Charles!"

Your heart ached at the announcement, as now it was confirmed what awaited you when you got home. You sighed, taking the last gulp of your water as you made your way back to the small podium area, seeing who you assumed to be Charles' family cheering him on after winning - You frowned at the very thought of a loving and functional family, you knew that your mother loved you, but she didn't by any means particularly like you, it didn't seem like anyone did, since you only apparently existed as your fathers punching bag and your mom was only interested in you when it was her weekend with you and Max. Spotting your father, you weaved your way through the crowd, your heartbeat increasing as you silently stood beside him, quietly praying that if you were quiet enough, he might not sense your presence and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be punished for your brother coming second.

Looking down at his father from the 2nd place spot on the small podium set-up, Max frowned as he looked at Jos and then to you - He was 13, yet somehow understood that this, him coming second, would somehow be your fault, and you would be the one to take the beating from Jos. It was cruel, but it was all you and Max had known, since your mother had taken only your older sister and not you - Max had guessed you had been getting punished since Jos assumed if Max had to watch you suffer the consequences of you losing, then it would make him perform better. In some way, maybe it did - But maybe it just scared Max that one day his father would take it too far, and instead of icing bruises under your eye, he would be calling the police.

From his spot on the podium, he flinched slightly as he saw your father harshly grab your wrist, dragging you through the crowd and away to the car - Max would know to hang back for a bit, he had seen Jos hit you enough to know that it would just end in him feeling such overwhelming guilt for not winning and therefore stopping anything from happening to you.

However

Jos' beatings of you had not gone unnoticed, as the young Monegasque winner of the day had made his way to his families car, his two brothers and parents already inside, he found you, sitting on the wet grass beside your fathers car, shivering and sobbing.

"Um...are you okay?" He asked you awkwardly, unsure of how to either help or console you. When you looked up at him, he immediately recognised you - You were Max's sister, it was obvious, since you two were sometimes mistaken for twins despite having a 4 year age gap. You sniffled and nodded - Which Charles knew to be a lie, the make up which attempted to cover a barely healed bruise under your eye had worn off, and a new bruise under your other eye, along with a cut on your cheek and a busted lip proved that you had taken yet another beating from your father. He frowned, he had only heard rumours that Jos Verstappen was...unhinged - But he had never thought them to be true in this way, despite being the same age as your brother, Charles knew that you were a defenceless child, and so was Max - Yet everyone was too fearful of Jos to help either of you.

"Charles, let's go!" He stammered, looking between you and his older brother, impatient to get home and out of the wet. You hadn't said a word to him, only silently begging him to please, tell someone, about what your father was doing to you and your brother - At this point, you would take living with your mom, even if it meant your existence was ignored, anything would be better than this.

"I have to go, but I hope to see you again soon," Charles offered you a genuine smile, waving back at you as he walked to his family car, shutting the door and staring off at you as they left the track.

You sighed sadly as you dropped your head between your knees once more - You knew that this was only a part of what awaited you when you got home, but some part of you hoped that he would make you walk home, so you could take as long as you liked, and maybe by the time you got home, he would forget about the brutality he had planned out for you as soon as you walked through the doors.

Like that ever happened.

13 Years Later

You had apparently never escaped your dad.

Put better, you had never escaped men like your dad.

Thanks to the way you had been raised and how you had been treated by the man who was supposed to show you how you should expect to be treated by a man, you had ended up with a string of awful boyfriends, who in the end, received a very verbal and intensive warning from your older brother. Most of them ran away with their tails between their legs at the mention of Max's name.

But one had stuck around longer than the others, going as far to get you pregnant with your daughter, Romy. Max had been convinced you were ready to leave him until he baby trapped you, he knew that would send you running back to him, with the hopes of having the happy family you never got to have yourself. He had been fine with you the entire time you were pregnant, even managing to almost convince Max that he had changed, and that he was ready to look after you and your daughter.

Lukas was different, you told Max. You told him that Lukas looked after you and your unborn child, especially after finding out that you were carrying a baby girl. You told Max that he doted on you, talking to your bump like Romy could hear him, which he argued that she could, since she kicked at the sound of his voice.

And for a while, Max was convinced that Lukas had changed, he had changed his mind on the idea that you had been baby trapped and that maybe it had purely been an unplanned pregnancy.

How wrong he was.

After the birth of Romy, everything went back to normal - You weren't allowed to talk to your brother, you could only go out when he let you, Victoria and Max weren't allowed to come and visit their niece, you weren't allowed to have your phone. It was around 6 months after having Romy when you realised that you had to leave, you couldn't bring your baby girl up like this, and have her turn out like you? Absolutely not.

You wanted your girl to have a chance in this world, you wanted to break the cycle.

So that's what you did.

During the night, while you had Romy settled after her feed and your boyfriend was asleep, you slipped out onto the balcony, your phone in your shaking hands as you dialled Max's number, praying that he would either be awake normally or on streaming.

"Hold on guys, I don't know who is calling...me," Max's joking demeanour dropped as he saw your face flash across the screen. He hadn't heard from you since you stopped returning his calls after you had Romy six months ago. Abruptly, Max ended his stream. "Y/N?"

"Max?" He could tell that you were close to tears, if not already crying. "I'm leaving name but I'm scared to because h-he's been drinking and I don't know if he wakes up i-if he'll hurt me or Romy. I don't care what he does to me, I just don't want him to hurt her." You cried to your brother, nervously peering into your bedroom through the curtains to make sure that the two of them were still asleep - If Romy so much as stirred, then it was game over.

Max was astounded.

Of course, he was going to help you, he was your big brother, how could he not? But you calling 6 months after you last spoke to tell him you were ready to leave, he could have cried in relief.

"Okay, do what you can quietly, I'll come over and make sure that you and Romy can get away safely," Max proposed to you, he knew this was a big, monumental step for you, you needed him to be there for you, now more than ever. "We've got a spare room here, I'll ask Kelly if she by some chance has even an old cot of P's that Romy can sleep in for the night." You sniffled and nodded, even though Max couldn't see the gesture.

"Thank you Maxie, I love you," Tears sprung to your older brother's eyes, he couldn't imagine how much you had been through, the fear of your boyfriend harming your baby must have been a constant forefront on your mind, you must have been exhausted.

"I love you too, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

You hung up, sighing in relief as you realised that you had taken the hardest step of your life - Yes, you were leaving your abusive boyfriend, but you were also leaving your daughter's father. Moving as quietly as you could, you buckled your sleeping baby into her car seat - Thinking if Kelly didn't have anything; which would be fine; then you could have Romy sleep in her car seat. You packed a small bag for her and yourself - If you needed anything else, you could pick it up when you needed it, as far as you were concerned right now, you and Romy just needed out of here.

the next morning when you woke up, the night before felt like a blur. You swore you were high on adrenaline, and now you were on a huge comedown. You turned on your side, reaching to hold your babies hand, smiling gently as you now realised that you wouldn't have to face seeing (Name) when you went out of this room. You sat up as Romy stirred, reaching out to lift her from the next to me bed that Kelly had put beside the bed in the spare room.

"Shshsh, it's okay, my love, mama's got you," You rocked Romy, pushing her small tuft of her hair out of her face as she fussed before latching to you.

"Mommy, I want to see auntie Y/N's baby!" You smiled, hearing Penelope being so excited to meet Romy, even though she would have to wait a while to be able to play with her. 

"I know, but you need to wait until they wake up," Kelly tried to reason with the young girl, who pouted and crossed her arms and turned to Max, as if he was going to risk going in and waking a sleeping baby.

"Maxie!" Penelope whined, pouting as Max and Kelly chuckled at her behaviour. They both looked up as the door to the spare room opened, you holding Romy at your hip. "Mommy look!" Penelope pointed at your daughter excitedly. "Can I hold her auntie Y/N?! Please, please please?!" You chuckled and smiled down at Penelope.

"Maybe not right now P, she just had a really big breakfast and I wouldn't want her to throw up all over your nice pyjamas," You reasoned with the small girl, smiling as she nodded in understanding. "I promise that you can hold her later."

"Yay!" Satisfied with your answer, Penelope ran back to her toys, occupied with whatever new toy Max or Kelly had bought for her. You smiled as you continued patting Romy's back, hearing her coo and try to wiggle towards her uncle Max.

"Aww, she wants me," Max cooed at her, taking her from your arms and holding her the way you previously did. "She's so cute, almost makes you want another, Kelly?" 

"In your dreams, Max Emillian," You laughed at the two of them, you knew that Max was a great bonus dad for Penelope, he was the opposite of Jos - Which was still a pretty low bar. "How old is she Y/N?" 

"She's almost 7 months, which is crazy for me, she was my tiny little baby and now she's starting to crawl," You told Kelly, holding your arms out to your brother as Romy started fussing in his arms, reaching out to you. "Anyway um...thank you, both, for last night. Lukas text me this morning, he doesn't want us back, left all our stuff in the lobby of the apartment which is fine cause I need to go back for my car anyway." 

"Don't be silly, I'll go get it, you don't need to go back there. And anyway, there's someone you're spending the day with to get back into socialising - He's great with kids too, so you can take Romy with you." Max told you, watching as your brows furrowed in confusion.

"What? Who is it?"

"Do you remember the whiny one from Monaco that had the inchident? Him, he got broken up with and he's been depressed so I thought you two could be friends."

[saintkaylaa]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 🩸

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 4.4k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐚𝐮, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐮 𝐛��𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Kinktober 2024 || I know it’s late! But better late than never right👻 Thank you all for your patience and understanding! Especially after skipping 2 fics😭 but I think for my first kinktober I didn’t do too shabby (I hope). Thank you to my beta readers as always🤍 ART by aransmind on X

𝐈 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬

“Should we have a safe word?”

“What, are you scared?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you ran down a hallway. The loud creaky floorboards drowned out by the deafening buzzing trailing behind your every step.

Damn your boyfriend and his unlimited amount of curses.

Suguru had been chasing you around this dusty abandoned house for 20 minutes now. He managed to surprise you with what seemed like an unlimited amount of 3 and 4 grade level curses to slow you down. But it didn’t slow you down much; you were a special grade sorcerer too. Despite the rules of this game being that you could only use a cursed tool to defend yourself or exorcise curses.

Only now, as the swarm of fly heads chased you down the hallway with only a cursed blade, you wondered if maybe you were playing into Suguru’s plan by catching you at the end of the hall. The thought of him there waiting to pounce on you did much to remind you of the burning ache that begged for attention since you two had started this little chase.

But no, you couldn’t give up now. Not after 20 minutes, and the aphrodisiac that you and Suguru had taken together were barely kicking in. You were only just starting to feel that familiar neediness at your core, and you wondered if Suguru was beginning to get just as horny as you were.

You see the corner coming up, and you take a quick glance back at the fly heads chasing after you. Seeing them even closer on your heels than before, but you didn’t want to get caught just yet. So in the last second, you hit the floor to let the fly heads continue to fly over your head—successfully avoiding them.

“Damn it.” You hear a low, skin-prickling inducing voice grumble out, and you knew your hunch had been right. You laugh, sitting up on your heels as Suguru rounded the corner. He stepped out from the shadows, his Ghost Face mask strapped to the side of his face gleamed in the dim light filtering through the dusty windows. His expression was mostly neutral, but his gaze was piercing.

Suguru stalked forward, his movements slow and deliberate, almost predatory.

“Impressive," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But you can't run forever, angel."

He stopped short a foot away, looking down at you. “You know, when you suggested this, I thought you were crazy," he continued, his gaze raking over your form appreciatively.

"But now I’m thinking that I must be even crazier to understand the thrill."

He paused, tilting his head as if considering his next move. "You and I are a match made in hell.”

Suguru took another step forward and bent down to your level, his hand reaching out as if to caress your cheek. "How long do you think you will keep this up?"

You batted his hand away, not missing the clench in his jaw despite the smirk on his face. You knew how badly he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You grinned, taking the fabric of his black shirt and pulling him closer. He bites his lip in anticipation, his lust-filled violet eyes dropping to your mouth and back up half-lidded.

Oh yeah, he was definitely feeling the effects of the aphrodisiac now.

You didn’t get a chance to see if he was hard when he was stalking towards you, but by the way he was looking at you, and the way he was breathing rather unsteadily right now told you that he wanted you. He needed you.

“If you want me that badly,” your lips graze over his. The cinnamon smell of his breath coaxing you in like he was putting a spell on you. You wanted to taste the inside of his mouth.

“You’re going to have to catch me first. Those are the rules, Suguru.”

He didn’t have time to react before you pulled at his shirt again and slammed him against the wall beside you. Moving him out of your way so that you could make a run for it.

Suguru grunted, bracing himself as he watched you disappear around the corner he had just emerged from. And on any normal day, you wouldn’t have gotten away with that. He was never that slow to react, and he was almost always quick to action in any situation. But the aphrodisiac was making it harder to focus, his mind clouded with thoughts of sinking deep into your pussy, feeling you wrap around him like a glove; and with a girlfriend like you, he was doomed from the start.

Suguru groaned as he palmed himself through his pants, his head thudding against the wall and finding a weak respite in that. Imagining that you kissed him just then and allowed him to fuck you right into these creaky floorboards instead of manhandling him out of your way.

He shook his head while getting up, trying to clear the fog and regain control. He needed to plan out how to end this frustrating cat-and-mouse game so that he could claim victor and then claim your pussy as reward. He couldn't let his lust consume him completely, not yet.

Suguru began to conjure more curses, his fingers weaving patterns in the air as he summoned a horde of Grade 3 curses. Spider-like creatures materialized before him, their forms twisting and writhing with malevolent intent.

"Let's see how long you can keep running, baby," he murmured, sending the curses scurrying down the hall after you. He followed at a more leisurely pace, knowing this would all be over soon.

As he closed in on the door that ended the next hallway, he paused, his footsteps getting lighter and more cautious. A smirk tugged at his lips as he spotted the faint disruption of dust motes at the bottom of the door; he knew where you were hiding.

Perfect.

Your heart raced as you entered the library. Your footsteps are light and careful not to give yourself away by the old, noisy floorboards. It was dark and dusty, with the only illumination being the pale white rays of the moon bleeding in from the large circled window at the end of the room. You took in the half-empty library quickly to look for a place to hide, before whatever curses Suguru had conjured up found you—or Suguru himself. Which admittedly you wanted; yes, that was the whole objective of this thrilling game, but you at least wanted to make him work for it. Really work for it. Really prove that you were just as good of a special-grade sorcerer as he was.

You quickly found a spot in the darkest corner of the room, crouching down next to the tattered loveseat and beat-up crates. Hopefully by hiding, you could wait him out until he got so hard and frustrated that he would beg you to end the game and get what you both wanted. Fuck, just the thought of it sent a heat down your pussy. Your thighs clenched in response.

Not a moment later, Suguru was entering the library, pushing open the creaky door, his eyes quickly scanning the shadows. He could sense your presence and feel the way the air seemed to vibrate with your energy.

"I know you're in here, angel," he purred, his voice echoing.

He began to circle the room, his footsteps slow and deliberate. The aphrodisiac was really kicking in now, his body thrumming with need, his cock straining against the confines of his pants at the thought of finally catching you.

As he neared the corner where you were hiding, he felt a shift in the air, a subtle change in the energy around him. As if both your cursed energies were pushing and pulling at each other.

"I can feel you, baby," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous.

He took another step, his senses on high alert, ready to pounce the moment he laid eyes on you. The game was nearly over, and soon he would have his prize. Suguru's gaze swept over the shadows, searching for any telltale sign of movement. He knew you were watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Or rather, a perfect moment to make your escape.

You watched him move closer and closer. Each step he took inducing more and more tension. If you timed this right, you could ambush him with the loveseat and make a run for the door. You waited and waited for what felt like forever; by now he must have known exactly where you were and was waiting for you to make a move. So when he was closest to the shelves, like he was about to move behind the loveseat, you sprung up. You pushed the chair his way to try and barricade him against the shelves. He cursed, bringing his arms up to shield himself. And you took that moment to run, but Suguru was much faster, and with a flick of his wrist, he commanded his curses to block you in. You tried to exorcise them, taking a swing at the spiders a few times before Suguru came up behind you, knocking the cursed blade out of your hands.

You were cornered now. With the spider-looking curses surrounding you, the cursed blade knocked out of your hand, and the loveseat behind you, this was it.

Damn, you couldn’t even last an hour.

All that was left now was to see how long you both would last until the inevitable climax consumed you two together.

He was backing you towards the loveseat. Suguru’s grin grew wider at what putting you in the loveseat could entail. Eating your pussy, fucking you into the seat, fucking your throat, or even making you ride him until he was nothing but a fucked-out mess on the seat. The possibilities were torturous to think about.

“This was too easy.” Suguru hums, and with a snap of his fingers, web after web is tying your hands together and then lifting them over your head with a wave of his hand. You struggle some, but you accept rather instantly that you’ve been beat, and so you let everything just happen.

In the next moment you’re yanked back, your arms pulling back first and then your body, and you land roughly into the loveseat. The chair slides against the floor with a loud screech, and dust flies everywhere.

Suguru's breath hitches as he looms over you, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with need. "All tied up for me, begging to be eaten."

His other hand trails down your body, skimming over the curves he knew so well, the ones he'd explored countless times before. But this time, everything felt heightened, magnified, as if he were feeling you for the first time.

Suguru leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I'm going to devour you, angel," he whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

"And then I'm going to fuck you so hard, so deep, that you'll feel me for days."

His hand slid lower, his fingers teasing along the waistband of your pants. "Is that what you want, baby?"

You stay silent. You were still partly upset that you lost this quickly, and the other part—more importantly— his touch was rendering you speechless. Your skin felt prickly under his touch—needy. Your eyes locked intensely on his, making you want to whine just by the way he was looking at you.

His fingers rested against your stomach, lightly pinning you in place.

"Do you want me to touch you?” He asks, his fingers trailing up slowly and with a little more pressure. You squirm the tiniest bit as he gets closer to one of your tits. But, when he notices that you’re purposely trying to contain your noises, he does something absolutely diabolical.

He takes his knee and knocks your legs further apart so that he could slot his knee right against your pussy. He pushes against you and presses against your clit in the most delicious way. Your head slumps back, and your mouth falls open to sigh in blissful relief.

Suguru's eyes darkened watching all of your reactions to his touch—the way your body squirmed and writhed beneath him. He could feel the heat of your pussy through the fabric of both your clothing.

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. "Do I make you feel good?" He asked, his voice low and seductive.

Without waiting for your response, he slid his hand up your body again, his fingers grazing over the soft curve of your breast. Feeling your nipple hardening beneath the thin fabric of your shirt. Your breath hitches as he brushes against it—circling it slowly.

Suguru's other hand moves lower, his fingers teasing along the hem of your pants.

"How wet do you think you are right now?" He asked, his knee pressing harder against your pussy. When you make a whimpering sound he looks back up at you. "You're dripping, aren't you? Soaking right through your panties.”

He grounds his knee against your clit, reveling in the way your hips buck up against him, seeking more friction. "That's it, angel," he murmured, his own arousal throbbing insistently against his zipper.

His fingers then dip beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers sliding down your stomach with pressure until he reaches your pussy. His touch gets light and brushes against the sticky heat of your folds.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "I want to taste you so fucking bad." He’s so close now, nipping at your neck and lightly sucking marks across your collar. “I want you to cum on my tongue.”

He teases your pussy for what feels like forever. Just rubbing and petting your lips and smearing your slick all over, purposely ignoring your clit, while he pulls whine after whine out of you. He knows he’s torturing you; that’s exactly what he wanted for evading him for as long as you did.

“Suguru…” you say breathlessly, trying hard to focus on what you wanted to say. But with your hands still tightly bound and high above your head, and Suguru now biting your overly sensitive nipples through your top, while his fingers pet your weeping pussy…

Wait, fuck, you lost your train of thought.

“Suguru.” You say a little louder when you inhale a breath. He hums, using his other hand to pull your top up slowly. You watch him as his violet eyes travel up your body as he pulls your top over your tits and tucks the fabric into your mouth. Gagging you.

“You lost, angel. No use in protesting.” He smirks, eyes half-lidded and looking at you with such chilling intensity that you half think he’s about to actually devour you. The ghost face mask hanging loosely to the side of his face does little to unconvince you of that thought.

There’s a stretch of silence that passes between you two, thick and heavy with primal energy. You wait; your heavy breath is the only thing audible since gagging you. And Suguru just stares at you with a shit eating grin that tells you that he’s enjoying this way too much.

Fuck him.

After a few minutes, his hands move to your pants as he starts unbuckling them slowly—his eyes never leaving yours. In fact, they gleam at the sight of you spread out for him when he adjusts your legs. Your top pulled up to gag you, your pants still partially on. With deliberate slowness, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and begins to tug them down, inch by excruciating inch. He watches your face the whole time, drinking in every furrow of your brows, every squint of your eyes, and every whimper that escapes you and muffles into the fabric of your shirt.

Once your pants are off, he tosses them aside carelessly, his gaze roaming over your bare pussy, glistening and sticky.

"Look at you," he purrs, his voice rough with lust. "So wet, so ready for me."

Suguru settles himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he leans in. Spreading you open, he starts at your inner thighs, placing soft, wet, open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin, working his way up to your pussy, his hot breath fanning against your heat.

When he reaches your folds, your body tenses when you see his tongue lull out, getting closer and then giving your pussy a teasing lick. The sensation makes you involuntarily buck your hips closer to him, wanting his tongue deeper.

"Mmm, you always taste so fucking good," he rasps, giving you one last look before diving in, his tongue delving deeper into you just like you wanted. A loud but muffled sound erupts out of you.

He laps at you furiously, his tongue swirling around your clit—alternating between circles and side to side, with each motion. Each movement was building that pressure closer to climax. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs up and close to your chest, grunting as he manhandles you. Then he flattens his tongue against you with a few sloppy licks up the length of your pussy, and your vision blurs from the feeling.

You were dizzy from the sensory overload and the supersensitivity that was resulting from the aphrodisiac still swirling inside you. God, his tongue felt so good, so hot, and hungry. You pull at the binds at your wrist, wanting nothing more than to push your boyfriend’s face deeper into you. Wishing you could ride his face right over the edge.

Suguru’s cock hurt so bad; he was so fucking desperate to plunge himself so deep inside you that one wouldn't begin to know where your body started and his ended. But not yet; he had to hold himself together long enough to show you how much of a loser you actually were.

Suguru brought his arm up to wedge his forearm under your knees so that his free hand could join his mouth. Two fingers slipping inside you, curling against that spot that made you see stars. He pumped them in and out almost immediately, his tongue never stopping its relentless assault on your clit. His brows furrowing with determination, ready to push you over the edge and drink every last drop. He could feel you getting closer; he could feel the way your body tensed, your pussy clenching around his fingers, wishing it was his thick, fat cock that your pussy was so used to. Fuck, he knew you were ready to come.

Shit, you could feel it.

Pushing the makeshift gag out of your mouth, you moaned out his name, “S-Suguru. Suguru, fuck, I’m so close!”

He goes faster. Fucking you with his fingers harder. And the sounds your pussy and his mouth make together echoes off the walls of the library. It was so filthy.

“Fuckfuckfuck, baby, I’m right there!” Your body stiffens against him as you feel yourself slipping into a mind-numbing orgasm. But then suddenly he stops, and slaps your pussy hard, and the wet, sticky sound it makes is nasty.

You yell and whine and curse at him for ripping you away from cumming. When you spread your thighs apart to get a good look at him, he’s grinning, his lips swollen and shiny with all your juices. You want to kick him in the face.

“Untie me right now so I can beat the shit out of you!” You yell with genuine anger, and he laughs, sitting back on his heels and letting your legs fall back down. It was a heady feeling, knowing he had this much power over you, that he could reduce you to a writhing, desperate mess. He knew what he did and wanted you to know it too.

“That’s what you get for earlier.” He says, moving to stand up.

Fuck, he’s so damn hard that if he wasn’t wearing black pants, you’d probably be able to see the giant wet spot of his precum staining the front.

He stepped closer, towering over your bound form, his erection straining against his pants. "You’re really in no position to make demands..." He licks his lips, savoring the memory of your taste.

You furrow your brows and your expression is full of bitter indignation.

Suguru then leans in, his lips brushing against yours. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Forgive me, and I'll make it up to you. I'll give you what you need. I'll make you cum so hard, you'll forget all about being mad at me."

To prove his point, he captured your lips in a searing kiss before you could think to respond. His tongue meets yours deep, claiming your mouth as thoroughly as he planned to claim your pussy. It felt like he was sucking out all the air out of you, and all you could taste was yourself on his tongue.

When he finally pulled back, Suguru's eyes were dark with lust, his pupils blown wide—surely mirroring yours.

"Ride me," he commanded, his voice rough and grabbing your face roughly.

With that, he unties you himself. Taking the discarded blade off the floor to slice through the webs binding your hands. Your arms move in tandem with his, wrapping around his neck as his encloses around you. He lifts you up and pulls you flush against his chest so he can swap positions over the loveseat. He sat down, straddling you over his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

Suguru's hands gripped your waist, keeping you up right so that he could hastily free his cock for you. "Take me, baby," he pleaded, violet eyes locked on yours.

You hesitate for a moment, fighting the urge to deny him, and think to give him a taste of his own medicine. But when you see how red and painful his cock looks, you're reminded of how badly you also want to cum. So you fuck all your reservations to hell and slowly lower your pussy onto him.

Uniform moans fall out of both of you over rightfully connecting the way your bodies have been wanting to all night. In that moment, the game, the chase—this whole thing didn’t even matter anymore because all you both wanted to do was fuck each other.

“Fuuuck baby, I’m so horny.” Suguru says quickly through a hiss and you almost miss it. And he’s gripping onto you so tight, holding you so close against him that you feel like you’re one person. Being inside you felt like coming home, like finding a piece of himself he hadn't even known was missing.

He rolled his hips up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside, stretching you, filling you in a way that made you both see stars. Suguru's head fell back against the loveseat, his eyes squeezing shut as he lost himself in the sensation of you, the way your walls welcomed him, the way your nails dug into his shoulders.

He says your name, and you're pulled out of your haze. “Use me." Grits through his teeth, his voice strained with pleasure.

His hands slide up your body, and under your bra to cup your tits, kneading them tenderly. He could feel your nipples pebbling against his palms; he could hear the catch in your breath as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers.

Your hips snapped down, fucking yourself so hard and fast that the loveseat began creaking beneath you. And he’s moaning with you, his cock so goddamn sensitive he could already feel his release building. The tension coiling tighter and tighter in his belly, but he held back, determined to bring you over with him.

"That's it, baby," he panted, his head leaned back against the chair, his eyes looking up at you with awe. "Come all over my cock."

Suguru could feel your body tensing; he could feel the way your muscles quivered and twitched as you also neared your orgasm. He redoubled his efforts, his hips pistoning up to meet you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you let out cries that bordered pornographic.

"Come on, angel," he urged, his voice rough with desperation.

His hands slid down to grip your ass, his fingers digging into your fat as he guided your movements, helping you to grind down onto him to take him deeper. This was it. He could feel his release fast approaching; he could feel the base of his spine tingling, his balls drawing up tight.

"Fuck, I'm close," he growls, his teeth gritted against the onslaught of sensation. "Come with me, please."

The only thing you could do was nod furiously, wrapping your arms around his neck, and tangling your fingers into his long, dark hair—preparing for an earth-shattering orgasm. Suguru captured your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries while you both came together. Then you shattered, your pussy clamping down around him with a broken cry of his name. The rhythmic flutter of your walls was his undoing, and with a hoarse shout, he followed you over the edge, spilling himself deep inside you.

You two stayed collapsed and melted into the loveseat for what felt like hours, joined, connected, your bodies still coming down from the aftershocks. Suguru's arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his forehead resting against your shoulder and peppering it with kisses. Your body felt like it was floating.

"I can’t feel my body," he chuckles, his voice husky with satisfaction.

You hummed, shifting slightly so that you could press a soft kiss to his lips, a tender gesture that contrasted the carnal sex you just had. "Yea, losing has never felt this good.”

He laughs, shifting to one side so he could pluck his ghost face mask that had fallen in between the cushions. It’s face was smooshed and warped. Suguru began to put it back on when you stopped him. Making a weird face and shaking your head, making him chuckle.

“What? I thought this was your favorite scary movie.”

ᯓ★𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

© saintkaylaa 2023-2024 do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work. reserved rights to any original ideas. I do not own any established characters. All rights reserved.

[amaranthinespirit]

riding loser!könig

by the time you managed to straddle him, he's probably already came twice in his pants. the way your fingers fumbled with his belt and the zipper of his unbearably tight jeans, his bulge rubbing against the rough denim and cotton boxers.

he already made a mess of the material, and feeling as your hands caress across his chest, your body sinking down on his angry, red cock, he couldn't help but shoot thick, pearly cum from his tip. it oozed down the side of his dick, drooling across his hips and down onto the sheets below.

you merely chuckled, a hand barely wrapped around the girth of his cock as you spread his release, feeling the veins under your palm and the way he twitched in your hand, curses in his mother tongue flying from his lips in a desperate gasp.

all you do is guide his cockhead to your drooling cunt, slick with arousal as you part your folds with his tip. sticky cum mixed with your sweet slick as you coated his flesh as if it were lube. you hoped it would make taking his heavy cock easier—it wouldn't.

even before you had guided his cock to your slit, his chest heaved, features flushed from his previous climaxes that came way too easily. it's not his fault he's never been touched by a woman! not all his previous attempts had been successful—the poor social recluse and his debauched thoughts left to his own right hand.

but you were different than his past endeavors—he didn't give up. he didn't quite understand rejection when it came to you. come on, schatz! he likes you, so shouldn't you feel the same way? silly, silly maus, he'll convince you!

and he did! which is how you ended up on top of him, his meaty, thick cock wrapped in your hands as you hover above him, fingers barely touching, waiting to impale yourself on his sensitive dick. his two burly hands pawing at your breasts, kneading the fat under his palms and turning the skin red.

a burn had split down your body as you slipped his tip past your puffy folds, feeling his cock head twitch against your spongy walls as you slowly sank down onto his cock.

you felt a thick, white substance ooze from between your thighs, the way your sopping cunt was suddenly full despite only pushing his tip past your folds. if it wasn't for the loud groan that fell from his lips, you'd have been clueless.

all you did was smirk, slowly sinking further down on his cock while you tried to adjust to his brutish size. small gasps falling from your lips with every added inch, and it didn't help when his massive hands creeped from your breasts down to your waist, slipping to your backside and gripping the flesh between his fingers with bruising force.

you yelped as he forced you all the way down onto his heavy cock—he's selfish! can you really blame him, schatz? you feel like heaven, how could be not!

you're so warm, and tight, and wet, schatz! he just wants to stay buried in your sopping cunt forever! your spongy walls clamping so tightly around him, he was worried you'd push him out! his girthy cock was stretching you so much, you could feel the prominent veins along his length, as though they could be imprinted into your pussy. like his cock was the only thing made to fit inside your tight cunt.

your hands fell against his chest, strings of incoherent words babbled from your lips as he used your tight cunt, his hips pounding you fervently as vocal groans and grunts escaped his throat, drowning out your soft cries at the feeling of his bulbous tip slamming against your cervix.

he didn't last long—reference the 4 other times he had came that night. a mere 30 seconds before he filled you again, thick ropes of pearly cum leaking from his cock that was buried deep in your spongy cunt.

his hands on your ass, grasping firmly as he held you down—despite your shuddering and squirming on top of him. his tip grazing your cervix as he hoped for his seed to take. he just wants to stay with you, and this is a sure way for that to happen.

by the end of the night, he had come at least 5 times—he's sensitive, schatz! if you want him to last longer, you should give yourself to him more often! then, he'd be able to be buried in your pussy for longer than 30 seconds!

[rafecameronssl4t]

I need more season one rafe fics please! I love your writing!! Also, last fic was amazing! Tbh I'm not a fan of #her ( yes I'm a hater)

Midsummers || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: It was concerning stumbling across your boyfriend and JJ fighting, but what was more concerning was his comment about Kiara.

Warnings: swearing, mild fighting? if there’s anything else lmk

Word count: 1,425

A/n: my summaries are always so shit 😭 anyways…. this was so much fun to write 😭 if u want more s1 rafe lmk and send thru requests!!!

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

“Rafee,” you squeal, feeling his hands firmly grasp your ass, igniting a wave of pleasure that you struggle to contain. His lips trace a heated path along your neck, only intensifying the sensation and making it harder to stifle a moan. “It’s fine, no one’s coming here,” he mutters against your skin, his breath hot and reassuring as it mingles with your mounting desire.

A sudden knock at the door makes Rafe groan in annoyance. “What? We’re kinda busy here!” he yells out, his frustration evident. Undeterred, you press a trail of kisses along his jaw, your lips trailing down to his collarbone, trying to distract him from the interruption.

Topper and Kelce walk in making you huff in annoyance, pulling away from Rafe, who glares at their direction. “Seriously, guys?” you mutter, irritation clear in your voice. “Sorry—uh—JJ just walked in,” Topper stammers.

At the mention of JJ’s name, Rafe’s expression darkens, and he quickly rises to his feet. “What the fuck is that pogue doing here?” he spits out, his eyes flashing with anger. Without waiting for an answer, he glances at you sharply and commands, "Stay here." With that, he storms out of the room, his frustration palpable. You watch as they leave, leaving you alone. With a huff, you get up and begin wandering around the room, trying to find something to entertain yourself.

~

Rafe and his friends race through the island club, their eyes sights set on JJ. He darts through the crowd, but they close in on him, finally cornering him in the locker room. Kelce moves swiftly, seizing JJ and locking him in a tight headlock. JJ struggles, but Kelce’s grip is ironclad. "Hold him still," Rafe commands.

Rafe smirks, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "What do you think? A 4 iron, right?" he asks his friends playfully as they all chuckle. "Keep his head still, yeah, Kelce? I'm gonna line this up." Rafe adjusts his stance, mimicking the motion of a golfer about to take a swing. JJ, despite Kelce’s suffocating grip, manages to choke out, "Very Rafe of you. Five on one?"

"If you could please stop talking. It's very disrespectful. I'm trying to hit a ball, alright?" Rafe snaps, his tone sharp and irritated as JJ continues to struggle. He gives a disapproving shake of his head. "Hey, learn your etiquette, my friend." His voice drips with condescension as he lines up his imaginary shot, the tension in the room growing thicker by the second.

~

As the minutes tick by, your boredom intensifies, and you decide to defy your boyfriend's request. Leaving the room, you set off in search of Rafe. It doesn't take long before you hear his voice echoing down a hallway.

Rafe snorts derisively as he examines JJ's bruised and bloodied face. "Your face looks really bad. Starting to look a lot more like your dad—" His sentence is abruptly cut off as JJ spits directly into his face.

“Oh, shit,” you mutter under your breath, feeling your heart rate quicken as the scene unfolds before you. "Rafe?" you call out, stepping forward. Your eyes lock onto JJ, who is trapped in Kelce's grip, his expression defiant despite his situation.

As you approach, Rafe wipes his face and slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you tightly against him. His grip is firm and almost possessive, a clear display of both his irritation and protectiveness. You can feel the tension radiating from his body.

"What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay in the room," he mutters against your head, his voice low and angry. You shrug, unable to find the words to explain your disobedience.

You glance at JJ, who despite his predicament, meets your gaze with a steely resolve. His eyes flick between you and Rafe, and for a moment, a silent communication passes between you. The air is thick with tension, a volatile mix of anger, defiance, and barely contained violence.

Rafe’s friends stand around, their faces a mix of amusement and anticipation. Kelce maintains his grip on JJ, his muscles taut with the effort of holding him still. Rafe’s irritation is palpable, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard as he stares down at JJ.

"Y'know, I never understood why you're dating him, Y/n," JJ says, his eyes raking over you. A scoff escapes your lips as you feel Rafe tighten his hold on you. "What's that supposed to mean?" you ask, tilting your head slightly in challenge.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" JJ chuckles, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You need a man, but he's high off his ass every fucking day. That's not very manly, don't you think?" His words hit you hard, and your face falls. "Are you trying to get killed pogue?" Rafe growls, pushing past you to storm up to JJ.

“Rafe, it’s not worth it,” you whisper softly, placing a hand on his arm to pull him back. But Rafe’s jaw is set, his muscles taut with rage. Suddenly, the lights begin to flicker, and a man walks in. "Gentlemen!" he announces. Kelce immediately releases JJ, shoving him towards you, but Rafe moves quickly, pulling you out of the way just in time.

"Is there a problem here, guys?" The security guard scans all your faces. "Pardon me, officer," JJ quickly interjects, trying to regain control of the situation. "No, there's not an issue. I just—actually, yes. No, there is an issue."

"Uh, we got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep! Call it in, right?" JJ continues, his voice trembling slightly with mock seriousness. You watch in amusement as Rafe scoffs at him.

"Blatant disrespect for private property—" JJ starts again, but Rafe cuts in "Yep," his voice dripping with sarcasm. "—I'm in violation of all kinds of shit, sir."

The security guard raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the theatrics. "But these young gentlemen..." JJ begins, reaching out to adjust Kelce's wonky bow tie, but Kelce aggressively pushes him away.

"Don't touch my shit," Kelce snaps, his tone sharp with irritation. JJ stumbles back, caught off guard. "...Uh, caught me, sir, and they're about to take me away," JJ continues, trying to regain his composure amidst the tension in the room. Your head begins to ache from the sheer amount of talking he's doing.

"And that's what you should do, escort me out of here. You got me," JJ says, extending his wrists as if offering them up for arrest, a sardonic grin playing on his lips. You all watch in amusement as he puts on a show for the security guard.

"Come on," the guard says, pulling JJ along with him. "All right. Fix that tie, son," he adds, glancing back at Kelce. JJ turns to Rafe with a smirk, "You're looking spiffy too."

"You powerpuff girls have fun!" JJ taunts, addressing Rafe and his friends before being led away. Leaving your side, Rafe hollers out, "Tell Kiara she looks pretty hot for a pogue!" The words hang in the air, and your jaw nearly drops to the floor at the audacity of his comment.

In a split second, JJ breaks free from the guard's grasp and charges towards Rafe, but Kelce is quick enough to stop him from getting any closer. "You think I'm afraid of you, bro?" JJ shouts, his voice filled with defiance as the guard yanks him away once more.

"Hey! Safe travels back to the cut," Rafe calls out with a smirk on his face, clearly unfazed by JJ's threats. "This ain't over!" JJ shouts as the guard shoves him through the door, his voice echoing down the hallway.

"Hey, hey, it was really nice seeing you again, JJ!" Rafe's voice echoes down the corridor, breaking the tense atmosphere that hangs thickly in the air. He turns, a grin playing on his lips, only to catch your unimpressed expression.

"What, baby?" he questions, his smile faltering slightly as he moves to embrace you, but you push him away with a firm hand on his chest. "The fuck was that for?" Rafe's confusion is evident, his brow furrowing as he tries to make sense of your sudden reaction. The other boys shift uncomfortably, their eyes darting between you and Rafe.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" you snap, your frustration bubbling to the surface. Rafe's expression shifts from confusion to concern, his brows knitting together in worry. "What?" he responds, his voice tinged with confusion.

"Tell Kiara she looks pretty hot for a pogue?" you spit out the words, your tone dripping with venom. "I said that to piss him off, I was fucking joking, wasn't I?" Rafe protests, seeking validation from his friends, who quickly nod in agreement.

"Ha. Ha. Funny joke, Rafe. It had me rolling on the floor," you retort sarcastically, your tone laced with bitterness as you push past him, the fabric of his shirt grazing your fingertips. "Y/n," Rafe starts, reaching out to you, but you cut him off with a sharp glare, your eyes flashing with anger.

"Don't fucking talk to me, dickhead," you say, your voice cold and cutting as you storm away, leaving Rafe and the boys in stunned silence.

[floatyflowers]

Dark! House Of The Dragon x Game of Thrones! Reader|Part 3

<<< Part 2

Jacaerys is in love with the idea of being a father.

In fact he took Aemma riding on the back of Vermax right after she was born just like his great grandmother Alyssa did with Viserys, just for excitement.

Rhaenyra, loves Aemma and teared up when you named the baby after her mother, she even thought about wedding Aegon III to her when they reached adulthood.

After arriving to King's Landing, the first thing you see is Aemond training while you stand beside Jace and Luke watching him, as you hold your sleeping daughter in your arms.

Jacearys felt jealous on how Aemond took away your attention.

Despite, the real reason why you are impressed by Aemond's skills, is because it reminded you of your uncle/father Jaime, you always loved to watch him train.

While training Aemond notices you and stops, eyeing you and the baby intensely which made you uncomfortable.

All Aemond could feel was anger and jealousy, because you were supposed to be his.

When Vaemond arrives, you prepare yourself and your daughter, you show up dressed in the colors of House Velaryon.

"Vaemond has forgotten that Lady Rhaenys descends from the house Baratheon on her mother's side, Also my daughter, princess Aemma..."

You stand in the middle of the throne room, holding your daughter up proudly for everyone to see her white hair and purple eyes.

Even if you and Jace are the children of Harwin Strong, but your daughter inherited Rhaenyra's appearance, your mother's genes skipped a generation.

Vaemond, decided to insult you and call you and your mother 'whores' as you return back to your husband and mother's side.

Of course, in a spin of seconds, Daemon sliced the Velaryon's man head in half, as Jacaerys blocked yours and Aemma's view.

However, Jace was smirking, happy at what his stepfather did.

Later that day at the feast, Jace and Luke made a promise to you that they would behave and ignore whatever Aemond and Aegon say.

When Jace asked to dance with you at the feast, you objected, insisting on him dancing with Helaena instead.

Aegon and Aemond thought that your marriage wasn't the best with your twin due to how you turned Jace down.

Things escalated when the pig gets placed on the table and Luke whispers a joke in your ear at the exact moment, making you laugh.

Even though the joke wasn't about Aemond, but Luke knew exactly what he was doing as he smirked at his uncle...taunting him.

"Final tribute, to the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, each of them handsome, wise...and Strong"

Before Jace and Luke could even think about getting angry, you raise a glass with a huge smile on your face.

"Indeed, Uncle, we are strong afterall, my brothers and I descend from the two purest Valyrian houses, Targaryen and Velaryon, my mother is also the heir to the seven kingdoms"

Your grandfather Tywin taught you how to act wisely in such situations.

Aemond wished to speak more, but one look from Daemon was enough to let him know that you are a red line.

However, Aemond only gave you one last stare, as if to make a promise.

A promise where he will have you as a wife.

Part 4>>>

[xshadowdelta]

FORMER MANAGER

PART 4: Like a tulip.

Kazuha x Male Reader (4K length)

Your hands were gripping the steering wheel of the car tightly, you were still in disbelief at everything that was happening, as if some divinity up there was playing with you for fun, and its enjoyment involved seeing you suffer every fucking moment of the day.

The red light of the traffic light forced you to brake and stop the car for a few seconds. You looked out of the corner of your eye towards the passenger seat, there she was, sitting looking out the window while the fingers of her hands played between them, showing a clear sign of nervousness. Kazuha Nakamura had become, without foreseeing it, the biggest headache of your entire life.

It's not that you had gotten used to sexual encounters with your former Iz*One members, but after what had happened in the last few days, you wouldn't have been surprised if a few more had arisen or even were going to arise in the future, since they seemed to be competing for you or something, something you hadn't been able to figure out yet.

But this totally escaped logic and compromised you enormously, you had in your car an idol whom you had never had under your tutelage, whom you did not know at all, and who had made you an irrational request, to say the least. 

“Can you have sex with me the same way you have sex with Chaewon unnie?”

That phrase kept echoing inside your head. Despite your attempt to hide that 'professional opinion' session, it seemed that Kazuha had perfectly realized what you had done in that practice room.

You didn't even have time to make an excuse or a lie, you had been hunted in such an obvious way that denying it would only complicate this situation even more.

Before you could realize it and without even having accepted her request, you were already leaving the Hybe compound, but with more company than the one you entered with, thanking the gods that your company vehicle had completely opaque window glass.

Neither of you had spoken a single word during the journey, which made the atmosphere feel even more tense and heavier than it would normally be. You wanted to start a conversation or ask a question, but the words just wouldn't come out of your mouth.

“Turn right on that street.” She commented, pointing her finger in the right direction.

And this was another big problem: your destination place. You had really gotten into the car without a fixed direction in your mind. Should you take an idol to your house? Was that right? And what would happen if someone saw you on the street and treacherously took a photo? Could it be camouflaged as part of a television program? Was a hotel suitable? You didn't believe it, but if so, it must be one suitable for celebrities, something you couldn't afford.

You parked the car, following another signal from the girl, in one of the free spots and got out, going around it to reach the passenger door, doing a complete sweep of the area, and opening the door once there was not a single living being. in your range of vision.

Kazuha quickly left and, taking some keys out of her bag, opened the door of one of the buildings, giving you way and successfully completing the first checkpoint.

He called the elevator, and you both went up, still in pure silence. You looked at her through the elevator mirror automatically, she looked back at you through the mirror and blushed, she quickly looked away.

She left in terror when the elevator opened its doors again, yes, taking one of your hands, practically dragging you after her. Your nerves increased when you felt the softness of her hand, wasn't it crazy? Now you were behaving as if you were still a teenager going through puberty.

You entered the interior of one of the apartments, which looked large and spacious from the inside despite only seeing the hall for the moment. "Where are we?” You heard your own voice for the first time in a long time, wondering why she had brought you to that place.

“It's LE SSERAFIM's bedroom.” She answered, taking off her shoes.

Knowing where you were scared you to death, you were in unstable territory. Stepping into that apartment had to be the closest you're going to get to a war camp, with too many people who could come and go at any moment and catch you in the middle of the action.

“The rest of the members are very busy and won't come until the evening, and our staff doesn't usually barge in without warning.” It was certainly relaxing to know that, but still, your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest at any moment. Kazuha unexpectedly took your hand again and dragged you down the main hallway of the apartment, passing by the living room and the kitchen until you entered one of the bedrooms.

The bedroom itself was quite simple, some large beds pushed together, a small desk with a chair decorated with clothes and various junk on top, and a closet built into the wall. You diverted your gaze to the corners and blind spots of the room in search of possible cameras, it wouldn't be the first time that after recording one of those home realities they forget to remove them.

The girl was quick to turn on the light in the room and close the window despite it being broad daylight, seeking to create a more intimate and safe environment.

You turned around, looking around at the entire bedroom, paying special attention to the pile of clothes scattered on the desk chair. She noticed this and, embarrassed, ran there to put all those clothes in the closet in a disorderly manner.

“Sorry, Chaewon unnie and I were a little late this morning.” Great, so this bedroom also belonged to Chaewon.

“Kazuha-ssi, I think you've rushed into all this, I... we shouldn't be here. I'm flattered, really, but I don't think you're aware of what this means."

She walked towards you and took your hands in hers, looking into your eyes with that look that begged you.

“I've wanted to do this for a long time, but I didn't know how. I'm too shy to approach some other random guy and propose this kind of thing out of the blue.” You laughed inside yourself, what she was saying had nothing to do with the spontaneous request she made to you. “I wanted to wait for the right moment and the right person.” Her fingers caressed the palms of your hands.

“I'm definitely not that person.” The expression on your face became more serious now. "You are!” She snapped loudly, making you step back in surprise. “I mean, I know Chaewon unnie very well. She wouldn't have done anything like that with you if she didn't have complete trust and deep respect for you, and that's more than enough for me.”

“But that's not how it should work, you shouldn't do this with some random guy you don't know at all like me, it should be with someone you love, someone you love from the bottom of your heart.” “You sound like the protagonist of a kdrama.” A small smile now graced her face. “Look, it's not that I'm a virgin, nor an expert, but I'm enough of an adult to know that I can have sex without commitment with whoever I want.”

The truth is that she was not wrong, perhaps you had seen too much fiction lately, after all, the vast majority of humans today had sexual relations guided more by vice and lust than by love.

You still had time to run out of there, you knew that she had nothing against you, she would never tell what she knew, and she loved Chaewon too much to harm her dear unnie. This was never about blackmail, just a favor, no one was forcing you to do anything.

That's what you told yourself internally over and over again.

‘This is not right.’

'Why don't my legs react?'

'I have to get out of here as soon as possible.'

'Fuck, she's beautiful.' Wait, what?

You stared at her for the first time in all this time, indeed, she was pretty and beautiful to look at, like a flower blooming in a beautiful meadow surrounded by huge green trees and a bright sun.

She was also attractive, you could see how well trained her body was. Her legs looked toned, and the lower part of her abdomen that did not cover her shirt was better worked than yours. She had an aura of tenderness and sensuality around her that was difficult to find.

Suddenly, in a burst of bravery, Kazuha raised her hands to your face, holding your cheeks to give you a small kiss on the lips. You wanted to resist, you really did, but who knows if, in order not to hurt her, you reciprocated that kiss by taking her waist with your hands.

“Everything you say is true, but also believe me when I say I want you to fuck me, oppa." She whispered against your lips.

"Kazuha, you're asking too much of me." Your lips were now moving unconsciously over hers.

"I don't think so." She chuckled, bringing one of her hands to your bulging crotch, gently caressing that area of your pants. She stood on her tiptoes to bring her mouth closer to your ear. "Don't you want to know how flexible I can be?” That whisper hit you squarely. It would have been a K.O. if we were in a boxing match. Your skin crawled just thinking and imagining certain scenarios, and the bulge in your crotch only grew under the touch of her delicate hand.

You let out a sigh, you sounded defeated, and you actually were. How could you be so fucking weak? Why were you trapped in a spiral of sex with gorgeous girls with beautiful bodies? And why were you martyring yourself for it when anyone would sign with their own blood to take your place? You didn't have the answer to any of those questions.

“Lie on the bed.” Despite your obvious annoyed tone, Kazuha's smile did not fade but rather widened, and she followed your instructions.

Immediately the Japanese idol was lying on her back, with her legs dangling from the edge of the bed, undoing the button on her jeans and slowly lowering them to your delight.

You knelt on the floor right in front of the bed, between her legs, starting to touch her thighs and going down her legs at the same time as her pants were going down.

You noticed how her skin stood on end under your hands, it burned, and you verified it with your own lips when you leaned your head over Kazuha's body, spreading a few kisses on the part of her abdomen that the shirt did not cover.

Her toned abs contracted as she felt your lips on them, your hands joined hers on either side of her legs, finishing off her pants in a single pull.

Your kisses marked a downward path towards the girl's panties while your hands took the opposite route, going from her legs to her hips, moving upwards slowly caressing every centimeter of skin.

A new piece of clothing was recognized as the next enemy, as your hands fisted the hem of her shirt. She understood quickly, and with an agile and quick movement, she slid the garment over her head and threw it away, landing somewhere on the floor of the room.

You kissed her pussy over the fabric of her panties making her moan, and then your tongue began to create lines of saliva before starting to move as if it were a normal cunnilingus.

Even though the panties continued to act as a barrier between your tongue and her pussy, the caresses you provided were felt on her body in a remarkable way, proof of this were the moans that Kazuha expelled from her mouth.

Her pussy was getting wetter due to the excitement, starting to leak down her thighs and even going through her panties, as your tongue began to enjoy the taste of the girl's intimacy.

You sat up a little and jumped on the bed, being careful with her delicate body so as not to hurt her, remaining on top of her, and going directly to kiss and lick her neck as an attack.

Her moans became noticeable again, with an increase in volume and much closer to your ears. However, she was a fighter, and although she seemed to be completely under your control, she managed to take off your shirt and expose your torso, which she did not hesitate to touch and caress.

You ceased the attack on her neck, moving back a little, allowing her to kiss your bare skin, causing you to sigh occasionally. You crouched over her again, kissing her lips deeply, taking her cheeks in your hands.

“Condoms?” You asked the instant the kiss broke.

She pointed out the nightstand next to the bed, and you jumped out of the bed again to approach the designated piece of furniture, opening it and finding a box of condoms still sealed.

You were opening it as you walked back, placing yourself in the starting position, facing her between her legs. You looked up and could see that there was no longer a trace of her panties.

You smiled, finally opening the package of condoms, taking one between your fingers, and placing it on the mattress. You needed both hands free to finish undressing completely. 

Kazuha sat up slightly on the bed so she could look directly at your now-naked cock, opening her mouth shocked by its size and almost reflexively opening her legs wider, giving you a much better view of her wet and shiny entrance.

You placed one knee on the bed, bringing your penis closer to her vagina, one hand holding your dick firmly and the other gripping one of the young girl's pale thighs.

"Wait! The condom…OH!” Her words were interrupted by a violent moan.

She was right, you hadn't put on the condom yet, but you didn't need it for the idea you had in mind, which consisted of rubbing the folds of her pussy with your cock over and over again without actually inserting it inside.

That game seemed to take its toll on Kazuha, who was now trying to silence her sounds by putting both hands over her mouth and allowing you to play with her intimate area to your pleasure.

Your penis soon became well lubricated after being rubbed mercilessly by the wetness of the Japanese pussy, at which point you decided that it was now possible to start the real action.

Now you wrapped your penis in the latex of the condom to bring it closer to the female entrance again, this time with the intention of entering her. You looked one last time into Kazuha's eyes, waiting for one last step back that never came, quite the opposite in fact.

She placed her hands on her thighs, separating her legs as much as she could, leaving you amazed at her incredible flexibility and increasing your excitement as you witnessed that move.

The tip of your penis made contact with her vagina, making you both moan slightly, moans that increased as more inches entered her cavity.

As you expected, Kazuha's insides felt tight, although you had to admit that it was less than you had originally imagined, because the truth is that most of your cock entered without any problem. You gave her a few seconds for her insides to adjust to your size before you started moving.

You started to move slowly, moving in and out slowly and careful not to hurt her, but she seemed to be enjoying it.

“God, you're stretching me so much... It feels so good.”

That gave you the green light to increase the pace, your hips moved faster, introducing you deeper into her. At this point, her pussy was already able to swallow the entire length of your penis without problems.

Kazuha's moans quickly turned into pleas, letting her get carried away by excitement and asking you to go even further.

“AH! Please…more… AH…MORE!”

She raised one of her legs to your shoulder, leaving her foot at the height of your head, leaving the other still resting on the bed. That only deepened your attacks against her even more.

You wrapped your closest hand around the thigh of her leg that was hanging from you, and your other hand went behind her head, grabbing the back of her neck, bending over her, and moving at a hard and incessant pace.

Kazuha's intense moans were only stopped when your lips joined hers in a kiss, just as intense as the clash between your hips. Everything was so intense that tiredness immediately began to appear in you.

After a few more minutes of fun, you wanted to change positions, now lying on your back on the bed, motioning to the girl to sit on your lap with her back to you.

You kissed the back of her neck and her back as she got into position, turning her head for a moment and demanding another kiss on the lips that you didn't deny her.

She raised her body enough so that in one quick movement your cock entered deeply inside her again, causing a sensation of incredible pleasure in both of you.

The girl placed both hands on your thighs to begin jumping on your penis, again and again, without stopping and emitting sweet and erotic moans for each thrust that your cock gave her as it lowered her body.

You wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her back, causing a small cry of surprise from her and causing her back to collide with your chest.

You once again had control of the situation, you once again imposed the rhythm of the penetrations to your liking and what was best for you.

From this position, you were once again able to attack Kazuha's neck at will, which for some reason had become one of your favorite regions of her body, and she seemed to love it too.

Your bodies were totally immersed in the heat of the moment, eager for each other's contact, roaring for sex, and sweating from the furious action, the temperature of the room had risen some degrees since you entered through the door.

Once again the idol raised her legs, surrounding them with her own arms, preventing them from falling, thus making your attacks clean and direct against her pussy, which you began to notice how it contracted, squeezing your cock against its walls, making you moan louder.

“Shit, Kazuha, your pussy...”

“Please don't stop now! I’m so close!”

Listening to the girl's request and with the aim of releasing yourselves sexually as soon as possible, you gave everything you had left, placing your hands on her butt and attacking her frantically, feeling how after some hard thrust you came brutally, filling the condom with your cum.

“AH! YES! OH GOD! AAAAAAAAAH!”

That liberating scream was followed by her body arching over yours, your hands quickly rising to her hips, pressing her against your body again, and leaving both of you gasping noticeably trying to recover from the intense orgasms.

Kazuha leaned her head back with her body resting on top of yours, trying to compose herself from the tremendous ecstasy you had made her feel. She turned her head to look into your eyes, just inches from your face.

“Now I can understand Chaewon unnie.” She murmured, offering you a soft smile, trying to hide her tired expression.

You, on the other hand, did not hide it at all, you continued searching for air almost desperately, and the fact of having her on top of you did not help, but the truth is that you were not going to complain about it.

“You are definitely very flexible.” You spoke, making her laugh softly, and then kissed her lips, passing your arms around her stomach area, surrounding and hugging her, lying there for a few minutes.

.

.

.

You left the group's apartment after making sure that Kazuha was in good condition. She said goodbye to you very happily, with her eyes giving off a special shine and giving you a small kiss on the cheek, making you both blush.

You drove back to your own house, a little rest wouldn't hurt to clarify all your ideas, but with a firm decision. You had to end your sexual encounters with idols immediately. That was obvious, but would you be able to cut it short? You assumed only the future would know for sure.

You entered your apartment, tired, extremely tired, but you still managed to find the energy to move your butt to the bathroom and get into the bathtub for a long half hour that left you almost as good as new.

You were now wearing your two-piece pajama with a shirt and pants, walking around the living room while drying your damp hair with a towel. You heard the sound of the doorbell, it seemed that the delivery man you had contacted had arrived to deliver your dinner. You put the towel aside, and with your hair still a little wet and messy that fell on your forehead, you approached the door.

You opened the door, but, to your surprise, the person on the other side was not who you expected. A young girl with black hair tied up in a bun, somewhat taller than average and with a slim but very elegant figure.

That girl seemed very familiar to you, the fact that she was wearing sunglasses late at night made it a little more difficult for you to recognize her, but you quickly realized it.

“Wonyoung…”

The sudden sound of a slap echoed throughout the house, silencing you. Your left cheek turned a reddish color at the same time as a burning sensation began to sting. Your face was now looking to the side due to the unexpected slap that the young woman had given you.

You took a step back, trying to stabilize your body so as not to fall, and directed one of your hands to the affected area of your face. Your eyes were wide open, as was your mouth, you didn't know what was happening, unable to understand anything.

When you returned to this world, you looked towards the door again, finding yourself facing the wall of the hallway.

You ran out of your apartment, finding Wonyoung a few meters later walking towards the exit of the building.

"Hey! Jang Wonyoung! What the hell do you think..."

You grabbed her arm, applying some force, without excess, to make her turn towards you, but your words fell into the void when you glimpsed her red face and how some tears formed a path from her eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses until they ended up on her chin.

She didn't say anything, you could only hear her weak crying and sobs that penetrated your soul and stabbed directly into your heart.

Still confused, you loosened your grip on her arm, and with that she got rid of you, setting off on her way again, but this time you didn't follow her, you stayed there, absorbed, with no other possibility than to see her back moving further and further away.

[miley1442111]

weird facts- s.reid

a/n: intended for fem reader, but imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: you finally meet spencer's friends after a very long time, it's just... they don't know about you

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: general cm topics, talk of murder, kissing, suggestive

Spencer felt ill. You weren’t picking up any of his calls, weren’t answering any of his texts, and you hadn’t been seen for a whole 24 hours. According to your friend who was staying over at your house last night, you had gotten a call from work and it meant you had to travel, but it was meant to be within the country, so why weren’t you answering?

“Pretty boy?” Derek called from across the bullpen. “We’ve got a case.”

Spencer quickly followed Derek into the conference room, even if his mind was elsewhere. It sadly, was a mass-murder scheme that they only had a few hours to figure out. 

“Oh yes,” Hotch said under his breath. “We have some help, these are Agents Riley, O’Callahan, and Dr. Y/l/n. They all work with unsubs like these everyday and the doctor here has a lot of background from her time overseas. Please use their help and expertise,” he stated before getting up and ending the meeting. The office was buzzing with movement, but Spencer was too awe-stuck to see you in front of him to move, or really notice the rest of the world around him. It had been 5 months since you’d seen each other in person. Both of your jobs made it practically impossible to see each other more than a few times a year but neither of you minded, you loved each other. 

“Earth to Spencer Reid!” Derek shouted at him and finally broke him out of his trance. 

“Yes?!” He startled, ripping his eyes from your figure immediately. 

“Can we focus on the case please? Not the pretty doctor,” Derek shot you a wink and you rolled your eyes, still unaware of Spencer’s being there because of your engrossment in your files. 

“Yes, fine!” He hissed, beginning the geological profile. 

“Spencer?” You ask, shocked at his being there. 

“Hey honey-” He smiled sheepishly as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace. The rest of your team and his all looked on, deeply confused. Spencer placed a soft kiss onto your cheek as you smiled. Spencer was over the moon, you were here. You were in his arms. 

“You two know each other?” Agent Riley said with a smirk on his face. “Is that the boyfriend?”

You pulled away despite wanting to hold on longer. You picked back up your casefiles with a contented smile. “Shut up Riley.”

Spencer’s face was red as Morgan, Prentiss, Jj, and Rossi all looked at him in shock. 

“My man,” Derek smirked, giving him a less than soft slap on the back. “Congratulations, how new is it?”

“It’s been 4 years, 77 days, 5 hours and,” He took a split-second to look at his watch. “And 47 minutes.”

Everyone’s jaws dropped more. 

“You’ve been dating him for 4 years?” Agent O’Callahan practically shouted. “We only heard about him for the first time last week!”

“Can’t anyone have privacy anymore,” You muttered, diving into yet another casefile. 

“I have to ask you everything about this-” Derek turned to you but you cut him off. 

“No, you have to build your profile,” You reminded him. “Ask me everything when we catch these fuckers.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in the crowded bar, Derek on your right and Spencer on your left, his hand holding your thigh under the table.

“So, he tells you all the weird facts he tells us too, right?” Derek laughed, entertained by your relationship. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “But I enjoy ‘weird’ facts.”

Derek nodded his head. “You two are seriously perfect for each other,” he smiled. You could feel Spencer squeezing your thigh, his hands getting sweater by the second. 

“He definitely spits out random facts during sex,” Derek said to the blonde woman next to him and Spencer awkwardly cleared his throat, knowing his own tendencies to not shut up, even in the bedroom. You laughed along with them, not actually giving them an answer. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked home with Spencer’s hand in yours. You had successfully caught the unsubs, you had stopped the attack, and now you had time to spend with your brilliant boyfriend. 

“Your friends care about you a lot,” you said as you walked down the dark street. Spencer chuckled.

“They like you a lot,” he admitted. “Probably more than they like me.”

“Spencer, Derek looks at you like you’re his little brother, stop it. They’re just happy that you’re happy,” you smiled. “You are happy, right?” You asked, standing outside his apartment block. 

Spencer chuckled at your question, like he could be anything else. You were the kindest, smartest, and most incredible person he’d ever met. You cared and loved him so deeply. You were his everything.

“I’m more than happy,” he smiled before pressing a kiss to your lips.. His glasses slightly hit off your nose but neither of you minded, his hands began to explore as you pulled away and grabbed his hand, pulling him upstairs his apartment block, ready for another night of ‘weird facts’. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, obx+)

[sanguinesmi1e]

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 (you're here)

Full fic on Ao3

Art of LBM

Pt. 4: An Unexp-ectoed Party (not on Ao3 yet)

Constantine was quietly freaking out. He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected that the ghost who had turned itself into a cute little tatzelwurm to avoid answering questions might be something far beyond his capabilities to deal with. Everything it said and did suggested it was way outside his scope of experience. While Tim used a shoelace to play with it like a rambunctious kitten, John mentally catalogued the things that threatened to give him a panic attack:

Before the ghost even arrived, the blinding power flowing through his spell array nearly knocked him flat. It had felt like being swatted in the eyeballs by an eldritch god.

The ghost appeared in human form, fully alive, before being transformed by the summoning magic. John had only ever heard whispers of legends about a being who could do such a thing. The legends were vague and grandiose, but some epithets included The One Who Walks Between, He Who Straddles Life and Death, Twilight Walker, Shroud Danger Child, and The Halver. 

The ghost could not only see his soul at a glance, it could perceive all the damage he had done making deals with demons.

The ghost implied it was on casual, friendly terms with the Ancient of Time aka Chronos, Kala, Father Time, etc. And that it had altered the timeline at least once already.

It could age. Despite what the ghost said, only Neverborn should be able to age. The dead were static, and given the death that he could feel sustaining the portal, this ghost had definitely died.

It was brilliant enough to pinpoint a weakness and successfully distract Tim by transforming into a shape that could manipulate his protective instincts. John did not want to admit that he also felt protective of the cute little blighter.

It had hopped out of the summoning circle as if it were just chalk scribbles, despite John working in some of his most powerful containment spells as a matter of what he had thought was excessive precaution.

Shite, the list had already reached seven items. The tatzelwurm (had Drake really just named the thing Little Baby Man?) glared at him and called him “Gross!” 

“Seriously!? This cloaking spell should be more than sufficient.” John grumbled. “Did it really have no effect?” If so, that was gonna be item number eight.

Little Baby Man tilted his head. “It worked.” Then he huffed with amusement. 

Thank fuck for small blessings. 

A quickly muttered spell turned his burning cigarette into a makeshift sort of laser pointer, and Constantine distracted Little Baby Man while he tried to think of what to do next.

“Hey kid, this is a problem.” He kept his voice low, and watched to see if the tatzelwurm appeared to pay any attention to him. It dedicated all its attention to the glowing dot, and ignored the two men.

“I assume this isn’t the normal direction your interrogations go.” Drake wound his shoelace around his hand and pocketed it. “It’s certainly a first for me.”

“Ditto, in so many ways.”

“Any idea what to do now?”

“We should probably return him where he came from, and wait for Zatanna to get back from wherever she’s disappeared to now.” John would really like a second opinion. He would also like to dump this mess in someone else’s lap and be on his way. 

Although to be fair, watching the tatzelwurm careen around after his lazer dot was actually pretty fun. Not that he’d ever admit it. Still, the creature was done answering questions and John wasn’t prepared to bind the thing because he didn’t think he’d need to pack the tools to bind an eldritch god when Batman called him to do a “quick consult.”

Danny couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun. The CEO person played with him! He did feel a bit bad for hurting his foot, but it was difficult to dwell on regrets or worries when he could attack the string instead. And now there was a red dot to chase! It was very fast and sneaky, but he was faster and sneakier.

Is this what Paulina felt like when she wished herself to be a giant chibi version of herself to be loved and worshipped by everyone? Because he felt adorable. And fierce. He was going to kill that red dot so hard when he finally sunk his claws in it!

Frustratingly, it seemed to also have intangibility powers. Well, Danny knew what to do about that! He concentrated ectoplasm into his paw and bapped it down hard on the dot. This scorched the floor a bit, but when he lifted his paw, the red dot was skewered on one of his claws. It tried to tug away, but he clung tight. Apparently its size belied its strength, because it started to drag him across the floor. 

Danny tried to release the dot, but his claw was firmly snagged, so he resigned himself to being dragged back into the chalk circle. He tingled a bit as he crossed the perimeter, but it wasn’t a bad sensation, just a little odd. Then a portal opened up and pulled him through the water filled tube snake toy sensation in reverse and ugh! Just as bad the second time, if not worse.

The spell spat him out in human form under the Specter Speeder. Or rather, it ejected him at speed so he smacked into the bottom of the Speeder before falling back to the ground with a heavy thud. Thankfully he didn’t crack his head against the concrete, but he still couldn’t stifle a pained groan.

A firm hand wrapped around Danny’s ankle and dragged him out, and he found himself staring up at Drake and Constantine for the third time that day.

“Uh, hi,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose I have some explaining to do.”

Being able to create ghost portals would come in real handy right about now. Maybe he should just commit some arson and let these two deal with escaping the basement on their own.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Happens to the Best of Us - Part 4

Bucky x Y/N

Y/N took the test. Who’s gonna check it?

Note: I feel bad for the last part…kinda. (@mayafatimakhan)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Warnings: Possible pregnancy.

Time slowed as you and Bucky stood frozen, eyes locked on the small, plastic test lying on the counter between you.

The soft glow of the bathroom light highlighted his steady gaze, filled with unwavering support and gentle reassurance. For all his calm, though, you could feel the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly as they held yours, the weight of your collective hopes and fears pressing down on both of you.

Seconds stretched into eternity, each one pulsing with a nervous anticipation that filled the small space around you. You swallowed hard, barely daring to breathe. There was a strong chance that Bucky Barnes got you pregnant …

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, loud and unsteady, almost drowning out the soft click of the timer on your phone counting down to the result.

Bucky squeezed your hand gently, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. “You good, sweetheart?”

You gave him a shaky smile, nodding even as you felt your knees weaken. “Just…a little nervous.” Your laugh was tight, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s eyes softened, and he brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. “Whatever happens, I’m right here, Doll. We’ll figure it out together.”

The warmth of his words wrapped around you, settling your anxious heart, if only just. You let out a slow breath, resting your head briefly against his shoulder, savoring the moment. As much as this was terrifying, it was also exciting, a moment you’d both dreamed of, even if it had seemed so far away not so long ago.

“You know we can’t just stare at it all night, Kitten?” he asked, his voice soft but steady, his expression a mix of excitement and trepidation.

“I know.”

“Want me to check?”

“No. Yes... Maybe…” You took a deep, calming breath, closing your eyes briefly before looking at him with a determined nod. “Yes. Go ahead.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, Bucky picked up the test, his face unreadable as he stared at the small screen.

The silence was thick, each heartbeat feeling like a lifetime, and you watched his face with bated breath, trying to glean anything from his expression. His brows knit together, and he tilted his head, squinting at the tiny symbols.

A long moment passed before he finally spoke, his voice hesitant and slightly confused. “Uh…I don’t know what this means, Doll…”

Your heart stuttered, and you blinked, feeling your breath hitch. “What? Am I knocked up or not?”

Bucky held the test closer to his face, his lips pressing into a thin line as he scrutinized it. “I don’t know! What does two blue stripes mean?” His bewildered expression was enough to break through your anxiety, a giggle escaping your lips despite yourself.

“Bucky, that means…that I’m pregnant.” The words left you breathlessly, the enormity of them hanging in the air between you.

Bucky’s eyes widened, the dawning realization transforming his face from confusion to awe. “You’re…we…we’re having a baby?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, his blue eyes shining as he looked at you, a flicker of joy lighting up his face.

You nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you laughed, the sound giddy and full of wonder. “Yes, Bucky. We’re having a baby.”

Without a second’s hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in the warmth of his embrace and he was bouncing excitedly on his heels.

You felt him bury his face in your hair, his breath hitching against you as he held you tight, like he never wanted to let go. The two of you stood there, locked together in this perfect, fragile moment, neither of you daring to move.

Bucky pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face as he looked at you, his gaze filled with so much love it made your heart ache. His eyes shimmered, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You’re really pregnant? I put a baby in you..?” he whispered, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he brushed them away gently, his thumb lingering on your skin. “Yeah, Bucky. Guess you really do have strong swimmers...”

A quiet, joy-filled laugh bubbled up from him, and he pulled you close again, his arms wrapping around you with a fierce protectiveness that felt like a promise. You could feel the gentle, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, grounding you, reminding you that this was real.

After a moment, Bucky’s hand drifted down, resting on your stomach with a reverence that brought a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you. “Hey there, little one,” he murmured softly, his voice a low, awestruck whisper. “It’s your dad.”

The words settled over you like a soft blanket, the reality of it sinking in. He was already looking at you with such pride, as if you’d done something extraordinary just by being here with him, by letting this miracle happen.

“Are you…happy?” you asked, voice thick with emotion, feeling the weight of his hand against your stomach, grounding you in this new, incredible reality.

Bucky’s answer was immediate. “Happy? I’m fucking- oh, Sorry. Small ears. I’m elated, Doll. I didn’t think I’d ever get to have something like this. Like you. I thought…” His voice trailed off, his expression tender, a vulnerability there that made your heart swell. “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to get a family.”

You reached up, cupping his face and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, pouring every unspoken word into the touch. “You deserve this, Bucky. You deserve every bit of happiness.”

He smiled against your lips, his gaze warm and overflowing with affection. “Guess we’re gonna be parents, huh?”

A bubble of laughter burst from you, and he joined in, the sound filling the bathroom, echoing in the tiny space and making it feel larger, warmer, like it held all the love in the world. He pulled you close again, resting his forehead against yours, both of you breathing in the joy of the moment.

After a few minutes, Bucky pulled back slightly, his expression shifting to a playful grin. “So…when can we go shopping?”

You blinked, laughing softly at the eagerness in his voice. “Already thinking about shopping? I haven’t even had a chance to process this.”

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish but still grinning. “Well, we gotta be prepared, right? Besides…” He placed a hand over your stomach again, his eyes shining with adoration. “I want our little one to have everything.”

Your heart melted at the words, and you leaned into him, feeling a deep, grounding sense of love and security. “Alright, but only if you promise we can take things slow. I think we have plenty of time.”

He grinned, a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen in ages. “Deal, Doll. But I’m not waiting too long—I’m already imagining them in a little Captain America onesie.” He chuckled, and you rolled your eyes, smiling as you let yourself get lost in his joy.

…………………………….………………………………………………..…………….………..

Part 5 is out now, lovelies!

[soelstress]

Silent In the Library

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Summary: While on a mission with Bucky, both of you get creative to avoid detection.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , nsfw , explicit sex/smut, fingering , p in v sex , unprotected sex , sex in a library , some language

A/N 1 - This is my second submission for @mercurial-chuckles Smutty September Fest. Thank you for doing this challenge, it's been fun playing around with the prompts.

A/N 2 - Prompts - Asked a friend to pick up to five prompts for me... of course I was given five so two stories it is 🙈 7) finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) 14) Library sex for those dark academia vibes

A/N 3 - Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work - I think the photo was from the 'Fresh' Flaunt photoshoot but I saved it from Google

A/N 4 - Please let me know if I've missed a warning, knowing me it's more than likely. Hope you all enjoy ☺️

Your limited sight in the dark night only heightened your other senses. Branches of the hedge dug into the skin of your back, scraping the exposed flesh. Warm pants tickled your ear. The smell of fresh greenery swirled with cologne, but the hand around your throat prevented you from inhaling. Your heart pounded and breaths became shorter, you couldn’t take much more.

“Come with me”.

You froze when he suddenly crumpled to the ground without a noise. Not daring to even breathe, your eyes darted around. A shift in the shadows caught your attention, moonlight softly reflecting off black and gold Vibranium to reveal the presence of your saviour. You took a deep breath in relief, the sudden rush of air triggering a coughing fit. “What took you so long?” 

A scoff reached you long before the outline of your mission partner, barely visible in his dark attire. “Despite what Sam believes, I do not have ‘cyborg x-ray vision’. Took me awhile to dodge security AND find you. In a maze. That’s out of bounds. Couldn’t have made it any easier for me, could you?” He stopped near you, pausing as your coughing fit didn’t seem to be easing. “You ok?”

You raised your arms in an attempt to ease your spluttering. After a few moments, it slowed. “Unfortunately for you, yes”. You took a few slow breaths before turning to him. “Sorry for any extra paperwork, I’m sure you’d prefer that to having to deal with me”.

“I can handle paperwork. What I can’t handle is Sam complaining if something happens to you. I wanted to throw him off the plane because he grilled me for a bruise that you got. After our last mission. Tripping over thin air”. Though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the weight of his trademark scowl. Hopefully he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks from his words which unfortunately were true. “So can we please try to keep you in one piece to complete the mission and the journey home?”

Right. The mission. The one requiring you to break into the mansion of a former Hydra informant to retrieve a drive that contained information on old Hydra bases and activities. The one that Sam swore would be best to infiltrate on the night of a big party to avoid rousing suspicion. The one he insisted on pairing you and Bucky together. James Bucky Barnes - tonight’s savour, the reason you had previously tripped over thin air, and ultimately your unrequited crush. Part of you wanted to kill Sam who teased you mercilessly for your crush but the other part relished the chance to work closely with the sinfully sexy Super Soldier.

The pair of you had decided to attend the party separately, providing two opportunities to grab the drive, but also separate alibis if required. On arrival, you had started by trying to sneak upstairs to the library. But one lone security guard had thwarted your effort and then proceeded to follow you. In a desperate attempt you tried to escape him in the maze but he had cornered you. He had toyed with you, threatening to take you to the host when Bucky had stepped in. 

A soft grunt interrupted your musings. Bucky had picked up the security guard and removed his phone. Walking a few strides to where two hedges met to form a corner, Bucky carefully launched the guard to land on top of the eight foot hedges so he was out of sight from anyone walking by. You couldn’t help chuckling at the sight. Together you both started to follow the path of the maze in a companionable silence. A few turns had been made and in the distance you could see pinpricks of light from the mansion. Bucky’s warm hand grabbed your wrist. “Someone’s coming” he murmured. You knew he’d be thinking about how to fight his way out as quietly as possible. But with one guard down already, you couldn’t risk attracting further attention.  And only one of you had Super Soldier speed. An idea burst into your mind as you glanced around, seeing a small path in the hedge that led to a dead end after a few paces. 

 You turned and yanked him toward you. “What -“ his question was cut off when you pulled him into a fierce kiss. Bucky froze. You were certain he’d shorted circuited and that you would end up having to fight your way through. Pulling away, you made to turn and face the approaching threat but Bucky guided you backwards towards the small path. His left arm cushioned your back from the hedge, hand cupping the back of your head. His nose and lips drifted along your neck and collarbone, growling when your hands gripped the lapels of his jacket in an effort to pull him closer. Lost in a fog of desire, you felt your body trying to meld to his. His right hand gripped your waist, your leg starting to lift up to his waist in response when he froze again. “They’re gone”. Reality washed over you like a cold tidal wave, the heat of embarrassment soon fighting with the chill you’d felt a moment ago. Though you craved so badly to stay pressed to him, you knew that he didn’t feel the same as you. Besides which and most importantly, you had a job to do. Unclenching your fingers from his jacket, you tried to lower your leg discreetly and checked your appearance as a cover. Bucky unwound his arms from around you but didn’t step back. “What was that?”

Face burning, you sidestepped him with a shrug. “All your training and you don’t know how hard it is to run in heels, let alone fight”. As you walked, you could feel heat in your belly and slick pooling in your panties. Unbelievable. You’d acted like a horny teenager - sharing one kiss and then pressing against him as he held you. How the hell had you lost control like that? There were a few moments of your footsteps before you heard Bucky’s tread catch up. Tension was thick as you silently headed towards the mansion. Leaving the maze, you saw people making their way indoors. 

You avoided looking at Bucky. “I’ll mingle”.

“I’ll hit the bar”. 

Both of you separated at the bottom of the stairs, joining the crowds to drift inside. You began to work your way around the room, spending a few minutes in various conversations and contributing noises of agreement or amusement. It would be enough for the fellow guests to notice you in the moment but difficult to remember later while also giving you a good cover in case security was watching. After thirty minutes, you walked down the hallway that led to the ladies room on the next floor but also the main stairs that led to the library on the top floor. 

“Sam’s gonna kill me, your back looks like you got in a fight with an alley cat”. The rough timbre rumbled in your ear. 

Shrugging, you cautiously began to climb the stairs. “Some guys these days can’t manhandle a woman properly. It’s not the first time I’ve been roughed up”. Bucky fell silent as you moved towards the landing of the next floor. You hadn’t noticed the scratches on your back, Bucky must have effectively shielded your back when he pushed you into the hedge. You bit your lip to hold in a soft moan at the thought. From the way the way he’d handled you and the security guard in the maze, you knew that his version of roughing up would be very different.

“Hold up, doll. Security’s sweeping the stairs. Just lean over and wave like you’ve seen someone”. Doing as instructed, you leaned against the railing. Somehow your gaze landed on Bucky at the bar. A choked gasp escaped your mouth at the first clear sight of him. You knew he wore black from his camouflage trick in the maze. But this was something else. Dressed in a form fitting black suit with tousled hair and stubble dusting his cheeks, he had your heart and mind racing. “See something you like, toots?” Caught in a blue gaze, you blinked before waving. Bucky raised a crystal glass of amber liquid, the black jacket looking snug against his beefy arms and broad chest. 

Taking that as a signal to start moving again, you quietly hurried back along the corridor. “Almost didn’t recognise you without that scowl Barnes. You actually look decent”. 

A soft chuckle sounded through the comm, sounds of movement following. You figured Bucky had left the bar. “Well you clean up nicely too. Almost mistook you for a dame in that dress” he teased. As you crept up the final stairway, a mirror was placed opposite the steps and you took a moment to admire the dress you wore. A black velvet maxi dress that was strapless and had a slit up the left side hugged your body. Blushing slightly, you couldn’t help feeling pleased that he had noticed. Reaching the top of the stairs, you moved towards the correct door. 

You glanced behind you before carefully opening the door to the library, slipping inside before you closed it and looked around. Two walls were lined with books, every floor to ceiling shelf filled carefully and pristinely kept. The door you had just walked through was also framed with shelves of books. A giant rustic stone fireplace dominated the fourth wall to your left, a roaring fire illuminating an abstract painting mounted above it. Chesterfield seats were scattered through out the room. A pleasant smell of old books and leather soothed your nerves and you found yourself relaxing. Approaching the fireplace to examine the painting closely, you were suddenly yanked backwards into the left corner of the room near the door. As you wriggled, you managed to elbow your assailant before being restrained. “Calm down toots! It’s me” Bucky grunted in your ear before letting you go. 

“I thought men from the forties were gentlemen?” Grumbling, you turned and straightened your dress before looking at him to see him rubbing where you’d jabbed him. “Gotta say Barnes, grabbing a lady like that tarnishes your reputation as a charmer”. 

Bucky smirked, his face half hidden in darkness. “Depends on your definition of lady, doll. Besides you’re the one who said about being poorly handled in the maze”. You flushed, earlier thoughts of him handling you resurfacing. “Anyway, come look at this”. He pointed towards the left side of the fireplace. On closer inspection you noticed that the fireplace was not built flush into the wall but instead the stone sides jutted a few feet into the room. Before you could ask if the old man needed his eyes checked, he gently took your elbow and led to you the right side of the fireplace. A little corner nook was formed where the fireplace wall met the bookshelf of the adjoining wall. Near the corner a bookshelf slightly wider than Bucky was built in. “There’s an electronic book safe a few shelves up”.

Glancing around, you saw a rolling ladder on a track. You made to move when Bucky beat you to wheeling it as close as possible, but there was a small gap between the shelf and the ladder. Frowning, you glanced at Bucky who nodded and moved to hold the ladder on one side. As you climbed carefully up the rungs, you heard him move to hold both sides to stop the ladder from rolling. Carefully opening the safe cover, you saw the electronic key pad with the spaces for a five digit number flashing. Looking at the buttons, you could see five buttons had been pressed more frequently than others. As the possibilities for the code ran through your head and you eliminated any as a birthday or memorable date, you thought about how the owner of this mansion had become involved, anything you could remember about his background - of course. You scoffed softly and entered the code. 4-9-3-7-2. The lock clicking open echoed in the quiet room. Shaking your head, you reached into the safe and pulled out a small drive the size of a quarter before sealing the safe and replacing the book cover. You began to descend the ladder, carefully feeling for each step before moving. 

Reaching the last rung, you felt Bucky behind you. Inhaling deeply you slowly turned, using the rungs for support until you found yourself eye to eye with him. Without a word he took the drive from you and slipped it in his breast pocket. His flesh hand cupped your cheek. Blazing blue eyes searched your soul before his lips brushed over yours. Warmth rushed through every fibre of your body. As he pulled back slightly, you ached with want, with need. Lifting your right hand from the rung you caught his stubbled chin and pressed a kissed to the dimple before ghosting a kiss at each corner of his mouth. With a sharp inhale Bucky kissed you softly, almost reverently. He deliberately took his time, a sharp contrast to the fierce kiss in the maze. This was so much better than you had ever imagined, his lips firm and soft though roughened by the stubble peppering his face. You gasped when his tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking access to your mouth. Once granted his tongue carefully tasted and teased, licking along your teeth and sending shivers down your spine. His tongue brushed yours and you could taste the whiskey he had been nursing earlier. Your thighs pressed together at his luscious licks, imagining that wicked tongue somewhere else. The hand holding his chin moved to drift through his hair while the other arm wrapped around his thick frame. Chests pressed together your leg slowly slid up and wrapped around his waist, grinding against him as you captured and sensually suckled his tongue. With a groan Bucky lifted you off the ladder and held you close. Your other leg wrapped around him as you continue to rub against him. 

Bucky’s lips moved to leave  a wet trail on your face, neck and chest. His right hand moved down your dress and snuck in along the slit. Cerulean eyes widened when he found how wet you were for him.

“The maze” you whisper, answering his unasked question.  

Nuzzling your neck, his fingers slid under the material and glided through your soaking folds. You bit back a moan when he brushed over your clit. One thick finger pushed  inside you, causing you to arch into him. “Fuck… so tight, baby”. As he moaned in your ear, another finger entered you. His thumb brushed your clit as his fingers curled upward. “Squeezing me so tight… God you feel so good”. The only sound that you could hear was your panting and the sound of his fingers fucking you. A burning pressure began to build.

“Barnes” you whimpered, humping his hand frantically. 

“That’s it sweet girl, cum for me”. Bucky’s smile widened as you clamped down on his fingers, his mouth swooping down over yours to catch any noise. 

Using his Vibranium arm to lift you higher, Bucky’s flesh hand fumbled to undo the waistband of his trousers. The sound of a zipper opening reached your ears. Searching blindly your fingers grasped his hot velvet flesh and gently squeezed the tip.

“Been hard since I first saw you in this dress earlier today”. Your eyes widened at the understanding Bucky had wanted you before leaving for the mission. “I wanted to break the fingers of that asshole who dared to touch you”. 

Longing flooded you at the dark threat. “Want you so much. Bucky… Please” you whimpered.

As he rubbed the head of his cock through your folds and over your clit his gaze burned into you, marking you. Lowering you slowly onto his cock, both of you groaned as the thick flesh stretched you deliciously. Once his groin met yours, you let out a small whine at being filled so deeply. 

Before he could move the door to the room opened, chatter and light filling the quiet space. Bucky quietly pushed the ladder back toward its original position before pressing you against the fireplace wall, only the length of the fireplace wall and shadows caused by the fire hiding your presence from the newcomers. Bucky’s eyes never left yours but you could tell his attention was elsewhere. Annoyance swept through you at the second interruption of the night chased by desire. Right now, you didn’t care that your mission was to infiltrate the home of a Hydra agent to steal essential intelligence. Right now, all that mattered was that Bucky - the man who you’d wanted for so long -  was here with you, inside you. These people could notice you at any moment, could catch Bucky balls deep inside you… 

At the thought, your core clenched around him which caused Bucky to let out a muffled curse. His dark brow raised in silent query. You’d never felt so exposed, so reckless and you wanted him in it with you. Rocking your hips, you tried to start moving against him. Bucky’s hold on you tightened as he shifted. A whimper escaped you as he nudged your clit with his movements. His flesh hand covered your mouth, both of you straining to hear any hints that you had been detected. But the chatter carried on, ignorant to the raw exhibition only a few feet away. 

Bucky placed a single finger against your lips in warning. You gently licked his finger before nipping the tip and sucking it into your mouth. Jaw dropping, he inhaled slowly before he began to move. Tongue swirling around the digit, your sucking matched the pace of his slow and steady thrusts. As his body temperature began to rise you were caught in a delightful concoction of senses - Bucky’s scent of sandalwood mixed with the smell of the library, drowning in the depths of his loving and lustful gaze, tasting the slight tang of your arousal on his finger and the feel of his body caging you as you clung tightly to Bucky, trying to pull him even closer. Cautiously he positioned you against the shelf, leaving you immobilised and unable to do anything except continue to take his measured movements. He began to roll his hips and pulled back before repeating the motion. As a wave of heat began to build, you could swear you felt his cock harden further. “Cum” he breathed in your ear. The dam broke and the tidal wave of pleasure overwhelmed you. Feeling a cry rise in your throat you kissed Bucky desperately. With a gasp he twitched inside you, filling you as he rolled his hips to prolong the pleasure as long as possible.

Distantly, you heard the door open and close. Only the gentle crackling of the fire and soft panting filled the room now. Bucky lowered you till you stood on slightly wobbly legs and slowly pulled out of you. Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, he carefully wiped between your legs before doing the same to himself. Eyes locked with yours, he tugged your underwear and dress back into place before tucking himself back into his pants, placing the folded handkerchief into his pants pocket. Leaning forward he caught your mouth in a soft tender kiss. “That should’ve been our first kiss” he murmured. 

“So what happens now?” You hated to think that this had only happened because of the mission, that nothing had changed. When his fingers entwined with yours, you were surprised to see him smiling softly.

“Long term? I want to court you baby, for you to be my girl and me to be your guy. But now? We leave, head home and handover the drive”. A twinkle danced in his eye as his smile changed to a smirk. “And then I want to hear you all night. No interruptions. No being quiet.” His brow puckered in confusion when you giggled. “What?”

“Looks like we’ll both be giving Sam something to complain about”.

[tlou-reid]

obv 4 spoilers below!

your hand searched for sarah’s as soon as rafe appeared behind shoupe. a chill ran down your back, but you felt your heart jump in your chest. this dichotomy was a good way to sum up the relationship you had with him. a short lived moment in time filled with intense feelings for each other and immense hurt when it ended.

despite it all, despite the awful things he’d done to your friends, despite the nasty things you’d done to him, despite the fear you felt as he approached, despite it all, you were happy to see him.

sarah’s hand squeezed yours, an attempt to ground you, to focus you onto the scene unfolding in front of you.

rafe’s eyes flickered to you as he started his pitch. it was almost as if he was desperate as you and your friends were to get the hell out of here. his confidence faltered, only for a second. you watched as his attention shifted back to shoupe.

you tried to ignore the ringing sound in your ears as rafe tried to convince shoupe to let you all off the hook. you couldn’t hide the awe you felt as rafe gestured to the large boat behind him. you couldn’t believe how he’d thought this out, how he’d thought out saving you.

a sense of relief fell over everyone as shoupe gave up arguing, letting you go find groff for him. you trailed behind everyone else as they passed where rafe and shoupe were standing, heading to the tuna boat without looking back at either though.

you felt like you weren’t in control of your body as followed behind sarah, but stopping dead in your tracks in front of rafe. you moved quickly, snaking your arms around his waist and pulling his body as close to yours as physically possible. rafe gasped, shocked by the contact. he moved slow, afraid of scaring you away and taking this moment away from him.

his arms slid up your back, just as delicate as you remembered. you couldn’t help yourself from reminiscing. suddenly it was four years ago, and you were standing in the cameron’s living room, drunkenly slow dancing at a party. your breath caught in your throat as you felt rafe squeeze your body and rest his chin on your shoulder.

you stayed there, for just a second, enjoying your slow dance one last time.

you were the one to pull away, walking towards the tuna boat without a word.

[gojo-enthusiast]

Omg so I’ve been so busy and just lost my inspiration— but you know what always gets me back? My baby Kento🫶🏻

Smut🥰 enjoy

The Kento Nanami you married when you were 20 and he was 26 was very different from the 24 year old you, and the 30 year old Kento. The affectionate, giving husband, turned into a cold, secluded, emotionless man. It had been 2 years since the attack in Shibuya, he was released from his duties, and retired from being a sorcerer. You thought after moving away, having your toes in the sand, and waking up to the sound of the water, maybe he would feel a sense of peace, but in reality, it only made him more anxious that he no longer lived a life of protecting the innocent. You often would catch him outside slashing something in the air, little did you know, he was protecting you from the curses lingering, watching you.

It had been 2 years since the last time you actually touched your husband, hugs, holding hands, kisses, and sex. You two were inseparable, he would rock his hips into you every morning and night, like it was his last. Now he is a foot in front of you, and you weren’t even allowed to touch him, even the feather sweet caresses he craved. In one particular night you ran your fingers in his hair, as he was turned on his side— Next moment, your husband has his hands wrapped around your neck, breathing roughly. He had quickly realized it was you, and that he was safe, he no longer was in Shibuya. But by the time he came to his senses, you were coughing, and next morning you had bruises around your neck. You were not surprised when the following day you saw bedroom furniture being delivered and set up in the second bedroom. After that day, Kento slept in another room, and locked the door anytime he entered that room. You both still did things as a married couple, like eating dinner, but now it was quiet conversations, and or watching a movie in silence. You often would catch your husband shirtless as he got out the shower, your womanhood aching at the sight… Oh how you missed the way he would devour you whole, but he simply would not let you be less than a foot away from him.

There was nights your little toy that became your new husband, the purple vibrator in your night stand, would take you to a high, but never a high that he took you in the past. Of course Nanami could hear your soft, pathetic moans, the little whimpers, and his name slipping off your tongue. It made him achingly hard, fisting himself in the other room, while listening to your moans. “Fuck.” Nanami would grunt, while releasing into his hand.

Despite your and your husband being married for 4 years, the time he spent in grief after Shibuya, you both had to find yourselves again, and find one another again. It started off with little dates on the beach, or at home, and eventually he pushed himself to go out into town at night time, since his burns aren’t as noticeable. He met your best friend and her husband, and got to enjoy moments where he sipped on his scotch.

“How are things going with you and the wife? Do you feel like you guys are getting closer?” Your friends husband asked Nanami. “I would like to say so.” He says, sipping on his scotch. “Have you two had sex yet” That question nearly had Nanami in a coughing fit. “Jeez— give a guy some warning.” He coughs. “Sorry.” He laughs. “But have you two?” He asked again. “No— no we haven’t.” Nanami says, sipping on this scotch once again. “Baby you ready to get going?” You smiled gently at your husband, as you walked into the mancave. “Y-yeah.” He muttered out, downing the last bit of alcohol.

“I’ll drive baby.” You smile as you walk towards the car. Nanami hums at you in agreement, still opening your door, as you are about to get into the car, you feel your husband’s hand slap your ass casually. It was almost as if it was on instinct, your face burned red while nanami shut the car door and slipped into the passenger seat. You blushed as you looked over at him, and his shirt had some buttons undone. <he hasn’t touched me like that in years.> you thought to yourself.

You started your drive, as you stare at the road ahead, you feel your husbands hand on your thigh, “Ken!” You gasp. “Shhh.” He hushed you, putting his hand under your little flowy dress. Caressing your core through your panties. “Kento stop.” You moan out. “You really want me to stop? You’re so wet though?” He said, as he turned towards you, the look in his eye was full of lust. He had ripped off his eyepatch when he had gotten in the car, you were not used to not seeing his eye not covered, he was extremely vulnerable, but alcohol that was flowing through his veins, had him wanting to jump your bones.

You pulled into the drive way, and within seconds, he was on the other side, peeling you out of the car. He was a jujutsu sorcerer after all.

“Nanami— hold on.” You groan, as he lifts you up into his arms. “I need you so bad right now. I don’t think I can hold it anymore.” He groaned, as you wrapped your legs around his waist so naturally. You couldn’t remember when you last held your husband so closely. “The burns— do they scare you?” He whispered in your ear, as he walked up to the front door, pulling out his keys. You put both your hands on each side of his face, kissing his burned eyelid, then his cheek, then his lips. “I could never be scared of you Nami.” You smiled, as his lips attached to you again. “I’ve missed you more than life. You are my life.” He moaned into your mouth, as your core rubbed against his bulge. Finally the damn door opened, and he was already sprinting to the bedroom, it had you giggling on how determined he was to get you into bed.

“Slow down trackstar.” You giggled. “I can’t, this is for my life, my heart just might stop.” He groaned. He sat you on the bed, and in an instant, you pulled his slacks down, his cock springing out, you wrapped your soft hands around it, instantly having him in a moaning mess. He began to thrust into your hand, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy. “You feel good baby?” You asked as you kissed his hip bone that was partially burned. "Fuck- yes. I missed you my girl." He said in a grunt, as his fingers laced into your hair, pulling your head to look up at him. Something compelled you in that very moment, you attached your lips to the tip of his cock, and begin to take him into your mouth. "FUCK!" He nearly shouted. He gracefully thrusted his cock deeper into your mouth. His hips had a mind of their own, he was easily about to spill everything he had built up, deep into your throat. "S-so close." He pushed your head deeper, his cock carrassing your throat. Tears pushed out of your eyes, and your core was dripping onto your panties. "Yes yes yes" Kento chanted, and with one final thrust and your tongue rolling over the tip of his cock, he spilled down your thrat with a groan, as his head was thrown back, and his once geled back hair, was hanging back.

Your husband slipped from your mouth, looking at you with doe eyes, falling back into the mattress, his eyes closed and he had drifted to sleep. You knew he had struggled with sleeping for the last couple years, so as he drifted into a deep slumber, you pulled the blanket over him, and getting under those blankets, with your head on his chest, the side that had been badly burned. "I love you Kento." you smiled. Your core was not going to sizzle down anytime soon, but this was all too blissful, you enjoyed lying so close to him and hearing his soft snores. You didn't know when the next time you would get to experience this again. You eventually faalling into a slumber, with your arms wrapped around him.

Kento's eyes fluttered open, the sky was hardly lit, the sun slowly peeking through the blind, it had to be 6am. He hummed as he stretched, he turned seeing your sleeping body holding onto him from his waist. His heart sank, the memories of last night had the tip of his ears, and cheeks a bright red. He didn't even take care of your needs, you graciously took care of him, while he thrusted his cock into your poor sweet mouth. The mere thought of it, had him aching all over again. His thoughts swarmed with memories of when he would spread your legs, and lap his tongue until you came 3 times. Next thing Nanami knew, he was in between your legs, spreading them apart. He could smell the arousal from the night before, filling up his senses, he groaned. Looping his fingers in your panties, and pulling them down. He stared at your core, as you lied there peacefully. Opening your folds, he peered at your wet core, his cock was achingly hard, precum already dribbling out. He attached his lips to your clit immediately, sucking gently. It had you moaning in your sleep…

“Wake up.” He continued licking, then pushing his middle finger into your core. “wake up baby.” He said again, his other hand squeezing your hips. “Ken?” You moaned questioning. “Hmm?” He said, continuing to thrust his digit into you, while lapping your clit. “Oh fuck.” You moaned, pushing your hips closer to his face. He was nose deep— he was groaning in pure pleasure from tasting you, “so sweet.” He said. Your hair was a mess from sleeping, and you felt your legs and core twitching. “So so good.” you moaned to him. “Please don’t stop.” You added. “Never- never leaving this pretty pussy again.” He moaned into you, as he sucked your clit. You felt like that line in your stomach was about to snap, once he curled his fingers to rub the squishy spot you had always wished you could reach, you were cumming right on his tongue. “Fuck fuck!” You moan, arching your back. You felt his fingers slip out, and when you looked up, he was aligning his cock into your heat. “Relax for me.” He said in a pant, your essence all over his lips and chin. He wiped it on his hand, then licking it. “So fucking sweet.” He said as he pushed into your sopping wet core. “Ah!” You moaned loudly, feeling his thick cock push into you. “Yes yes yes.” You moaned over and over. He had pushed all of himself in, and threw his head back.

Thrusting quickly, he wanted to slow down, but this was years he had spent not feeling you, he simply couldn’t contain the animal inside of him wanting to devour you. “Ken— baby, slow down.” You moan, "I can't hear a thing, I can't hear you." He moaned as he thrusted in a rush. "Baby. hold me." You whimpered as tears slipped out, the pleasure and pain was magnificent. You felt stretched to full capacity, you couldn't believe how long it had been. The chemistry came together so perfectly, he lifted you into his arms, as he thrusted up into you. "Amazing, you feel so amazing. Do you feel the way she is gripping around me? Do you see the way we are joined my love?" He groaned in your ear, before leaning back for you to see the way he was making love to you. "Look at the way I push into you, and the way you hold onto me." He grunted, looking deep into your eyes. "How could I spend so much time neglecting you, you are a creation made by God himself." He sucked and bit at your neck, and shoulders. You felt your second orgasm approaching, while he relentlessly thrusted up into you. You felt him lay down flatly, signaling for you to ride him. You began to bounce on his cock, the tiredness slipping out of you. This was your moment, this was everything you have been craving for years. "So close." you moaned out.

"we aren't even close to being done my dear." He nipped at your ear. And oh was he right, he took you to your high, then even higher than that. He turned you to face the mirror, as he thrusted back into you, placing his fingers on your swollen clit, rubbing achingly slow. "See how I fill you?" He asked you again. "Look how you swallow me." He bit at the side of your neck. You saw stars until it was noon, and you had fallen asleep. Your skin was sticky with his release, he found it unholy arousing to see you covered in his seed.

You awoke an hour later, feeling his cock still inside of you, but with no movement. "We need to eat." He said as he lifted you up, and slipped out of you. "mmm" you groaned at the feeling of the emptiness. He carried you into the kitchen, setting your bare ass down on the counter. "That's cold." You squealed. "mmm is it?" He hummed. He was bare in front of you, no clothes, eye patch somewhere in the car. You watched as his muscles tensed as he held the knife and cut up banana's and strawberries for you. He slipped some homemade crossaints he had prepared the day before into the oven, as you ate the fruit he set beside you. "Kento?" You said softly, graving your fingertips on his bicep. "Hm?" he hummed, as he pulled the freshly baked crossaints out of the oven. "What is going on in your head?" You tilted your head, he looked over at you, peering at your naked figure and legs crossed. "My head?" He said, as he walked over to you, spreading your thighs to stand in between them. He put his mouth around the banana slice your fingers were holding onto, sucking your finger tenderly, then chewing the piece of fruit. "My mind is swarming with how you taste sweeter than this banana." He said with a sensual tone. "Nanami." You groaned as he attached his lips to your tender neck that was full of love bites. "I'm a starved man, I simply need more of you." He muttered into the crook of your neck. He reached behind him, grabbing the warm bread on the pan. "Eat." he said as he kissed your tender breast.

"Not right now." You moaned, "Eat or I will stop." he said, ripping off a piece of the flaky bread, placing it on your lips. You relunctlingly opened your mouth, chewing slowly, as he attached his lips to your hardened nipple. "Nanami, wait." You moaned, as he then ripped off another piece of the bread, slipping it into your mouth. "Please no more." You moaned, as you pushed your core closer to his stomach. "Please touch me." You moaned. "I will touch you, if you eat this." He said, lifting his head back to you, handing you the crossaint. You had never devoured something so quick- he picked you up, turning you around so your breast were on the counter, and bent over. You felt his thick member poke at your entrance. "Nanami- ahh." You moaned as he pushed himself into you so eaisly. "So wet for me." He said with a slap on your ass. "All for you." You said, as you moaned out.

It was like this for 2 days, he had flipped your insides in and out, countless of times. If you had to guess, you came 50 times in a span of 2 days. You were exhausted and your body had finally given out, you awoke Monday morning, he had showered you while you were asleep, you were in a fresh set of panties and pajamas. You smelt bacon and something sweet seeping into the bedroom, you peeled your weak body out of the bed and walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen. "Ken?" You called out, your voice horse. "In the kitchen." He responded lowly. "How are you feeling?" He said as you walked in. "I'm fine." You yawned. "Sit at the table, I'm about to be done." He smiled softly. You sat at the table, crossing your legs like a pretzel. He placed the breakfast in front of you, while kissing your forehead.

"We should talk." He huffed out, as he sat down on the chair beside you. "Okay." You smiled at him, grabbing his hand.

You knew this conversation would be the most emotional one you probably would ever have with him, but with love in both of your eyes, you knew you both were finally at peace.