#hit most of the points while keeping the tone

[luna-the-cretar]

Rest now, my dear (Rest your weary head on my chest)—A short Shepnax fic

[Cos finale spoilers]

You should not be doing this. The cruel voice that sounded eerily like is Elders chastised. You are destined to die. You should not let yourself have this.

Why not? Why couldn’t he let himself have this, if he was going to lose it in a matter of days anyway? Why not let himself enjoy this while it lasts?

Sarnax usually was a light sleeper. He usually slept late in the night and rose with the sun—if not sooner. Shepherd did too, most nights. On the nights he slept, anyway. Today in particular took a lot out of the poor tiefling, to the point where he was out like a light the moment his head had hit the pillow. Sarnax, like usual, had stayed up an additional hour or so, praying to Gherix.

It was such a simple question. “I-I can’t sleep. N-not alone, anyway. Is it alright if we share a bed tonight?” Sarnax almost wanted to deny him. To send him right back to bed with a simple Calm Emotions spell, all alone.

Almost.

That led him to now, in Shepherd’s bed, struggling to sleep as he listened to the rhythmic snoring of his companion, their tails entwined with their arms around each other. They were clothed, though Shepherd wore very little—just a sweat-stained tank top that Sarnax was certain was his usual undershirt, and what Sarnax assumed to be his undershorts. Not that Sarnax could say anything, since he himself was wearing his underclothes (mostly to keep Shepherd comfortable).

Shepherd was so warm. And he smelled so nice.

Gherix truly must be cruel, to send Shepherd into his life, and force himself to let him go.

You must not think like that. Thoughts like that are blasphemous.

Right. His apologies.

Sarnax inhaled deeply, before sighing through his nose. No, he really should not let himself have this. Must not embrace his warmth. Must not surround himself in the natural musk mixed with bourbon and dust from the crypt.

Sarnax started to move, to wiggle his way out of Shepherd’s grasp, but all that did was stop the snoring.

Shit.

“Mm—Sarnax…?” Shepherd mumbled sleepily, one onyx eye peering open. “‘s it mornin’ already?”

“No, Shepherd, go back to sleep.” Sarnax whispered, petting Shepherd’s hair in an attempt to soothe him. It was long and greasy, and he couldn’t help but stare as it curled around his claw.

“Then where’re ya goin’?” Shepherd mumbled, closing his eyes and humming. “That feels nice…”

Sarnax smiled softly. “I am returning to my own bed.”

Shepherd’s eyes opened as he sat up, suddenly looking awake. “What? Why? Is my bed too uncomfortable for you? Is it…is it me?”

Oh, Gherix, the way Sarnax’s heart broke in twain in the way Shepherd sounded so small—so broken—with that last question.

You will do that to him. Such a cruel monster, indeed.

“It is nothing of the sort.” Sarnax eased. “I just…cannot let myself have something that I will lose in a mere matter of days.”

Shepherd’s brow furrowed. “The fuck’re ya talkin’ ‘bout, Sarnax? I ain’t gonna leave ya behind once we get outta here. Hells, you can…ya can come with me to Yona, if ya want.”

And my, wasn’t that a beautiful dream? To stay by his side in Yona, until their fires snuff out on their own? To wake beside him, to learn where he came from, to live in a home that is undeniably Shepherd.

“…Tell me about Yona.” Sarnax said softly, laying back down, with Shepherd following suit.

“Will it get ya to stay in bed with me?” Shepherd asked, a small smile on his lips.

“If you can calm my racing mind, and allow me to rest.” Sarnax replied.

Shepherd rolled his eyes, through the smile remained. “Fuckin’ poet.”

And so, Shepherd did. He described his childhood home in great detail, and their journey to Stryga in even greater detail. Soon enough, he started recounting stories of his childhood, fondness lacing his tone. All the while, Sarnax found his eyes closing, and soon enough, he drifted off to sleep, Shepherd not too far behind.

[krash-8]

im so sorry rick but the tlt musical is actually the greatest pjo adaptation ever. I said what I said

[gojosprettyprincess]

MEGUMI FUCKING HIS DAD’S GIRLFRIEND!!

Tw- Cheating, Megumi is twenty n reader is a bit older. Not Proofread

⊹ ｡ ﾟ⁖✦

Something about Megumi passionately pounding you into the mattress that you and Toji shared while he’s away for a mission makes me soo horny

Both of his hands are firmly squeezing the back of your thighs—keeping them pressed against your bouncing tits while he’s plummeting his stiff cock deeply into your stimulated, used pussy. His mushroom tip nudging against your g-spot sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your entire body, which is by no means difficult for him to find because ohh, he knows you and your pretty pussy sooo well.

He’s remaining eye contact with you, with a dark twisted grin plastered on his face. Pride swelling in his chest knowing he’s splitting open his dad’s girlfriend’s little pussy in half with his cock while you moan and cream around his shaft.

It’s such an accomplishment to him.

“Fuckk You’re such a pathetic whore, y’know that baby?” He groans grumbly, with a hint of laughter and amusement, watching as your brows furred together cutely, as you pouted. “M-not a whore!” You muttered defeatedly, guilt washing over you as you broke eye contact which made him laugh as it echoed in the room, piercing through your defense—he brought one of his hands up to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Awe baby, look at me while I ruin this pretty little pussy, no need to be shy—don’t worry, I love cock starving whores like you—ones that cheat on their boyfriends with his son while he’s away. Soo pathetic” he says in a mocking sardonic tone, making both your eyes and pussy leak with shame and guilt.

“Fuckk that’s it, this hungry pussy is sucking me in so well, fuck you're so tight and wet, all f'me” he moans out like a horny teenager.

His fat, swollen tip expertly brushes against your most sensitive area, hitting it precisely with each vigorous movement of his hips, bullying his cock into you like it has a mind of its own. Your eyes roll back in pleasure, drool steeping out of your mouth and pussy as your brain grows foggy.

The familiar sensation building up in the pit of your stomach, making you mewl as he trails his hand down and lightly brushes his thumb across your clit, his touch tracing gentle but fast circles on the sensitive bud.

“Mmm, are you gonna cum baby? Gonna make a mess on your stepson’s cock? Fuck, such a little horny slut, what would your boyfriend think if he found out his slut of a girlfriend is about to cum on his son's dick?” He chuckles mischievously, his deep, husky laugh resonating in the room, as he slowly brings his thumb up to lick the slick building up on it, a low groan escaping his lips as he savors the taste of you before returning to teasing the bundle of nerves—helping you towards your pleasure.

You moaned out pathetically, you can’t lie, Megumi was so much like his dad in bed, it drove you crazy. Whether it was the way he dominated your tight pussy with his cock or his rough demeanor. He was Toji’s son, alright.

“Gumii, m’gonna cum! please, fuck! s’good, please don’t stop”. You begged, desperately holding onto his forearm for support. His hips buckled against you so eagerly, so desperately to feel you cumming on his cock. He licks his lips in anticipation—watching your pretty tits bouncing in syne, accommodating his powerful thrusts into your dripping pussy.

"Don’t plan on stopping baby—Fuckkk” he groaned, putting both of your legs over his shoulders and folding you into a mean mating press. Gradually descending, moving down, down, down into you to the point where your knees are almost touching your ears, The close proximity allowed his minty breath to trace across your face, mingling with the heat radiating from his body and the sweat that glistened as it dripped from his tousled hairline onto you.

The new angle of penetration had his cock drilling deeper into you, making you see stars as your release washes over you. “Fuckfuckfuck Megumiii” you cried out, your nails instinctively gripping his toned biceps, causing him to hiss with a mixture of pleasure and pain as he leaned in closer, pressing his forehead against yours. Your pulsating hole fluttered uncontrollably as you came around his cock. You both breathe heavily, he sticks his tongue out—licking the tears leaking from your eyes as you felt his cock twitching inside of you. Your release was enough to make him cum right on the spot.

“Yesyesyes—fuck yes!, love this pussy so much hah! M’gonna cum, fucking take ittt” he moaned in a breathless whisper against your ear. The room echoed with both of your needy moans and the loud sound of his fat balls slapping against the curve of your ass.

You bit your lip as you felt his balls draining into your little stretched pussy, his seed spurting deep into you as he continues fucking it further and deeper into you. At this point, you both were so utterly fucked out. His warm semen began to overflow, cascading out of your pussy and trickling slow and steady onto your sensitive asshole, and onto toji’s bedsheets.

His body collapsed onto you as he tenderly nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his erection nestled within your already overfilled pussy to cockwarm him.

You squealed at the heavy weight of his body crushing yours so suddenly as you combed your fingers through his hair and that was one of the main differences between Megumi and Toji, Megumi is always so soft with you after he fucks you because he’s always gets fucked out as much as you do after sex whereas toji, he can control himself and maintain his dominance and doesn’t show any ounce of weakness.

[primofate]

Drop the towel wrapped around you and appear naked in front of your Genshin husband

In a nutshell: That old tiktok challenge/prank. In your private, shared home of course.

Warnings: My perpetual warning as a writing mother is that I am sleep deprived. Very VERY sleep deprived. SUGGESTIVE: BORDERING ON NOT SAFE FOR WORK, written on a 10 minute timer please be gentle

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Tighnari, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli, implied fem!reader

Personal Favourites: Tighnari

Aether

chokes on nothing

"Y-Y-Y/N?! What're you doing?"

Comes up to you and tries to cover you up with the towel again, as if it was a sin to look at you naked in broad daylight.

Full on blush on his face and respectfully tries to look away.

"Don't surprise me like that!"

Seems not to like it but actually likes it too much to the point of getting embarrassed for himself.

Yes he's your husband but is still a precious respectful man

Albedo

Blinks a couple of times but appreciates your beauty and gives your body a slow once over. Chuckles in amusement afterwards.

"Is there a reason for this?"

Just to get his reaction, you admit.

"Well..." starts walking towards you. "I do have higher self-control than most others... but let it be known that I'm far from immune to my..."

Stops in front of you and yet again seems to eat you up with his eyes. "...needs," ends with a suspiciously sweet smile.

Alhaitham

Can't help but be a bit surprised and you can see it by the way his eyebrows go up as soon as the towel hits the floor.

Opens his mouth to say something but closes it again, as if hesitating, which is really strange for someone like him.

"...Is this the part where I sweep you off your feet and carry you to our room?" there's a bit of amusement in his tone. Stands to walk over to you.

Places a hand on your waist.

"Cause I can guarantee you that we DON'T need to be in our bedroom for things to happen...but you knew that already, right?"

Ayato

Quirks his eyebrows up, amused smile appearing on his face.

"I must say, this is a lovely surprise,"

Traces your figure with his eyes. Then approaches you to hold your waist and dip in to kiss your neck softly.

"How could I ever resist, my love, when you're standing in front of me in all your magnificence?"

Takes the longest time just admiring and basking in your beauty, tracing every little part of your skin.

Baizhu

Lets pretend the snake ain't here okay?

Does a double take.

"Y/N, first off, you'll get a cold,"

Pushes his spectacles up and gives you a once over.

"Second, you'll give me a heart attack,"

Beckons you over gently with his hand. "Come over, I suppose it's been a while since...I've done a full body check,"

Hides a grin.

Cyno

Blankly looks at you and is still processing what is happening

"Y/N? Is this... Did I do something?"

Is so suspicious that this was some kind of trap.

You tell him its simply to get a reaction out of him.

Immediately shoots out of his seat and catches your wrist.

"Then...Is it my turn to get one out of you? There's several ways to do that...and I know your favourite ones,"

Diluc

Eyes follow the towel down to the floor and head snaps back up to blink at the sight in front of him. Recovers quickly.

Chuckles as he stands and walks over. Picks up the towel and drapes it around your shoulders. "Only because it's quite chilly tonight,"

but still ends up inching the towel off your shoulder, tracing your collarbone. "Although, as your husband, I suppose it IS my job to keep you warm... So how would you like it today, love?"

Itto

"WHOA!" by instinct covers his eyes with his hands but his fingers are actually splayed apart so he can totally see through the gaps

Feels himself getting aroused

I mean the guy gets turned on even just at the sight of your neck

Suddenly stands and walks over to you, easily hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and makes a beeline to your shared room.

"You're asking for it Y/N!"

Kaeya

"Oho?"

Sits back and relaxes, he doesn't really know what he was expecting. Some type of show maybe. "What's this? Finally giving me that lap dance you owe me, snowflake?"

Laughs but you're incredibly flustered at the suggestion.

Beckons you over and grabs you by the waist to sit on his lap.

"Feel that?" he whispers in your ear.

Oh you feel it alright, pressing at your upper thigh.

"Now whose fault is that? You'll have to do something about it now, love,"

Kaveh

"Archons!"

Looks away with a blush on his cheeks.

"Put something on!"

Yes he's seen you naked before, you're married, but the guy's always flustered in unexpected events.

You provoke him further by coming over, sitting sideways on his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Y/N!" He looks down at you and can't help but look at your nakedness in full and close view.

Gulps but starts to feel his body heat up, his hands suddenly, assertively planting themselves on your waist as he meets your eyes. "I don't care what you say about yourself, but know that you're the only one who takes me from 0 to a 100 in a second,"

Kazuha

"Y/N?" Chuckles nervously and takes in the sight of your body.

Smiles at you and takes your hand to kiss the back of it.

"I've seen you countless of times... Each time, I'm reminded by how fortunate I am that you chose me to take care of you,"

Caresses your cheek all the way down to your jawline. "You're beautiful, Y/N,"

He has the most tender and gentle look on his face, but its mixed with a passion that you've never seen on anyone before. "Let me show you how much I love you, dear,"

Neuvillette

Eyebrows twitches upwards in surprise. Has no clue what to do in this new situation.

He doesn't say anything but is most definitely enjoying the view of your body. You see his jaw tense up, as if he's clenching his teeth.

"Ahem," he starts. Then seems to have the most trouble prying his eyes away to meet your gaze. "Is this...perhaps another way to tell me... that you would like some attention?"

You say not really and just wanted to see how he would react.

"Ah," he lets out, as if understanding and as if the conversation has ended.

A moment of silence passes and you're starting to wonder if that was all he was going to do. But he then stands and places a gentle hand on your bare waist. "...So you're simply doing it, as people would say, 'for fun'?"

He asks, and you say yes innocently. He smiles a bit and has another hand cupping your face and thumbing your lips. "I see," breathes out slowly.

"Unfortunately, for your actions, the Iudex feels that a punishment is in order,"

Scaramouche

Raises one eyebrow as if he's bored. Then smirks.

"If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask," pulls you by the waist and makes you straddle him "But this is good too,"

Hands actually start to grope you up and down. Will fondle and squeeze in private places immediately.

"What? Startin' to feel good? S'what you get when you play games with me,"

will smack your butt the first chance he gets

Tartaglia

Immediately jumps up and in an automatic daze, eyes glued to his favourite parts, trudges towards you and attempts to bury himself in softness.

You quickly stop him and in turn HE quickly stops you. Hands easily bunching your wrists up together and angling them upwards above your head.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he grins down at you. "Someone's being naughty,"

You complain that he reacts too fast.

Laughs, but his hand starts to unbuckle his pants and there's a dark look in his eyes. "Oh, I'm just being naughty back. When you want something, Y/N, believe it when I say I'll GIVE it to you,"

Tighnari

ear twitches. Tail swishes back and forth. Does not show any expression except slight curiosity.

"What's the occasion?"

You tell him that you just wanted to see his reaction.

He hums and nods slowly, like processing some type of complicated information.

"Wait here, I'll be back in a minute,"

You ask him where he's going and you're a bit upset at the lack of response from him.

He chuckles and returns to you, tail angling upwards in an attempt to wrap and brush against your waist. Takes your hand, presses your wrist against his lips and seems to take a slow breath in.

"I'm merely clearing off my schedule for today. Now, be patient, I'll be back,"

Wriothesley

Almost spits out his drink but gulps it all down instead.

Eyes widen a fraction at the sudden act but his hand is already loosening his tie.

"Wait right there precious," chuckles while he says this, tie already falling to the ground, now unbuttoning his vest. At the same time walks over to you urgently as if you're going to disappear but laughs nervously while he's at it.

"I swear you'll be the death of me,"

Looks like he's going to pounce on you but when he reaches you he only gives you a chaste kiss, as if asking for permission first.

You suddenly remind him that he has a LOT of things to do today, appointments and all.

Actually barks out a quick laugh. "You're not really expecting me to walk out now? As far as I'm concerned," pulls you flush against him and kisses your jaw "The only thing I need to do today is you,"

Xiao

"Wh-Wh-What do you think you're doing?!"

caught unprepared. Crosses his arms and looks away. Pretends he's uninterested but his eyes still dart back to look at you.

You ask him if he likes what he sees.

He now completely looks away from you. A few seconds pass and when he turns his head back to look at you there's now a carnal look in his eyes.

He walks towards you slowly and captures your chin to tilt it up. Looks down at you as if he hasn't eaten a meal in days.

"...When I'm done with you tonight you'll get your answer,"

Zhongli

Chuckles. Amused.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, dear?"

You shrug and even do a turn for him. He watches you carefully and takes in the image in front of him.

Smiles and strides over towards you. "Truly a magnificent sight," brushes his fingers against your neck

His eyes trail downwards and isn't shy about looking at your body. "Might I remind you my dear, my stamina surpasses that of a normal human," he smiles at you sincerely.

You tell him that you're well aware. He just chuckles again.

"Then you know well what'll come next,"

End

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Masterlist

[toothfa-1-ry]

WON'T YOU HOLD ME, CONSOLE ME ?

You don't expect your boyfriend to hold you or console you when you find out your pregnant, but you also didnt expect him to leave you without a trace either

Has no correlation to the other preg!reader fic i posted !!

GENRE: angst

PAIRING: Choi su-bong x preg!reader

"Fuck" thanos groans with his head thrown back, his hands covering his face while he steps away from you

Your hold around your stomach tightens as you don't look up, keeping your gaze at the ground

"I thought you were on that shitty pill?" Thanos glanced at you before letting out a prolonged sigh

"You know that it doesn't mean a hundred percent protection" you argue, eyebrows furrowing slightly "it's not my fault! You were the one who-"

"I know geez!"

"Then why are you getting so agitated!"

"Because" thanos spluttered "because this is a kid we're talking about"

You pause, not being able to think of anything to say back, instead retreating your eyes back at your stomach

"And it's my fucking kid. Mine" thanos points at himself in the chest

"Is that why your mad?" You hate the way your voice trembles "because it's your kid and not some random bastards on the street?"

"Watch your mouth" thanos snarls "you know it's not like that, do you want me to say that it is?"

"Ah fuck" your voice a few ratios higher than it usually was, you could feel the lump in your throat forming

Thanos sighs again, his eyes softening as he glances your face and your stomach

"Aish your fucking kidding me man, your the one who started arguing first" he grumbles annoyed, but approaches you with his arms open anyways

You push against his hold at first, anger still flaring inside of you but you end up giving in pretty fast, so desperately wanting to be held

"Are the pregnancy symptoms already kicking in?" Thanos asked while pulling your head to rest in his shoulders "what a pain" muttering under his breath

"You asshole" you sob while your hands ball into a fist

"Hey your carrying the asshole's kid, i don't think your one to speak" thanos adds in quickly, frowning "Don't make this harder than it already is"

Despite Thanos holding you in his arms, you hit him with your balled fist, your face streaming with tears

"Hey stop" thanos frowns "stop before I seriously get mad" he grips your hand "im not mad right now, but if you don't stop i will"

You sniffle softly, your head laying on his chest as his eyebrows are still furrowed with concern over the recent news of your pregnancy

"What are we gonna do?" You ask amidst sniffles

Thanos allows you to lean against him, staring at the wall of the cramped room the both of you lived in

"I dont know" he mutters "we could go to the hospital? Try for a..." his voice trails off. You knew what he was referring to

This just makes your sniffles louden even more causing him to inwardly groan, he never knew how to handle emotions as such, most of the time just shutting up and holding you or something along that line but that didn't seem to be the brightest thing to do and even Thanos knew that

"Su-bong" you whisper, your hands snaking around his waist, pressing yourself closer towards him as if to shield yourself

Thanos winces softly when he hears you call his real name, he always winces when he hears his real name.

He let's out a rough grunt of acknowledgement "What?"

"I don't think I want a abortion"

"Well fuck baby, we can't afford it either way. It was stupid of me to suggest" he lazily responds, while resting his face above your head

"We can't afford to raise it too" you murmer causing Thanos to shift uncomfortably

"I know" he snorts "fuck"

"So what will we do?"

Thanos hears the imploring tone of your voice. Most of the time he was the one asking you that question. In your relationship you were the one who took on the role of the logical one, but here you were, asking Thanos something that you both didn't know the answer to

"I'll-" thanos breathed "I'll figure something out"

You look up at him, moving your face away from his chest, your eyes pleading

"You sure you want the kid?" You ask him

"Your already pregnant anyways, i can't do anything about it"

"This isn't a joke" you retort loudly

"Your the one who said you don't want an abortion!" Thanos also raises his voice

"We can't afford it anyways you idiot!"

"Well damn, it's like i didn't just fucking say that like 5 seconds ago" he thundered which immediately cause you to tear up again

Thanos tilts his head down, pressing his lips into a tight straight line, regretting his actions almost immediately

"Hey" his voice rough and deep as he called out to you "look at me"

He purses his lips when he sees you still refusing to face him, your hands hiding your face

"Hey" he says more softly as he moves your hand away from your face "im sorry okay, cmon just look at me"

Thanos leans his head against yours while he clasps his hand around yours

"I'll figure something out" he raspily breathed out "I'll get a day job, fuck it baby, I'll get 2 day jobs"

You had no strength to talk back, choosing to silently nod

Thanos kisses your forehead while he wipes your tears away

"I said I'll figure something out, so stop your damn crying okay?" He says playfully, in an attempt to stop you from crying

You nodd slowly, causing him to smile tightly

he kneels down, facing your stomach "im sure the baby wouldn't want to hear his mom cry huh?" He announces as if though he was talking to the baby

He looks up to your face to see your face, trying to make you laugh or smile or anything at all

"You better not be a shit ass kid" thanos pokes your stomach softly "cause of you, your mom's hormones are going wild already"

"Asshole" you breathed with a laugh "im crying cause of you, fucking prick"

Thanos grins as he looks up to you, standing up he grabs your hand

"I swear" he picks your hands up, placing a soft kiss "ill figure something out for the three of us"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Finding a job was hard

Especially as a retired rapper who basically got fucking conned by some asshole on the internet

Fucking bitch

Thanos stays up awake, leaning against the wall of the trashy one room so called apartment that you both lived in.

He inhales his cyan blue vape while eyeing the cigarette burn marks that painted the wall

His head thuds against the dirty peeling wallpaper, while you layed asleep on the floor across him, only a thin blanket covering your body

A soft smile graces his features when he notices the slight swell of your stomach

That's his kid right there, that's the mother of his child right there

Thanos couldn't afford to marry your right now, he wishes he could.

Fucking hell, he couldn't even afford a shitty ring let alone a ring that you actually deserved, he'd marry you with a plastic bottle seal if he could but he knew that you deserved more,

Damn, you deserve so much better than him, so much more than what he could give you

The kid in your stomach deserved better too. His kid

Thanos's smile fades away, leaving behind a grimace when he notices that the blanket doesn't fully cover your body, noticing the colour far beyond faded and the material already thinning out

He immediately unzips his jacket, going forward to place it above your body. It was the least that he could do

Suddenly, a piece of paper falls out of the pocket, he notices it as the card from the strange man earlier

Just thinking about it pissed him off, he recieved more slaps than money

Holding the card in his hand, he turns it over, mouthing the number behind the card, he swallows nervously unlike him while contemplating whether it was worth calling

Slowly typing in the digits in his phone he places his device on his ear, holding his breath as the phone rings

Once, twice, the phone continues to ring, thrice, now going four times

Thanos sighs, bringing the phone down, ready to press cancel when suddenly

"In order to sign up to play the game, please submit your name and date of birth"

Thanos breathes sharply, his finger wavering above the cancel button while your sleeping figure which remained unaware of what raced through your boyfriend's head

"Fuck" thanos curses, he glances at you

Thanos's hands trembled as he filled in his details, his pupils dilated, his mouth dried.

He knew what you'd say if you were awake, scolding him for being so naive and believing but you didn't meet that strange man in the grey suit did you?

He bites his lips when he reads the address and time of where he was suppose to go, noticing that the last date of entering the so called games was the current date

"I wont be gone for long" he mutters softly as he stands up, placing a kiss on your cheek before heading towards the door

He puts his old shoes on, the only branded ones he had left from back in his rapper days, the one who had picked for him, the only pair he didn't sell

He slips outside quietly, before sparring you one last glance

"Wait for me, just for a little bit" he whispered with a faint smile though it didnt quite didn't reach his eyes

He glances from your face to your stomach "your dad will be back with shit ton of money, i'll make sure you both live well"

He pauses before closing the door, contemplating for a minute, it felt so wrong to leave just like that,

He didn't want to go, it felt like the wrong thing to do but he steps out of the house anyway

"Take care of your mom when I'm gone"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

The next morning, you wake up warmer than you usually do, but you can't ignore the ever so persistent pounding of your heart

Your heart feels heavier than usual too

Noticing your boyfriend's jacket wrapped around you, you slowly wake up, looking for him

You look for him for the entire day,

it soon turns into 2 days and 2 days soon turn into 2 weeks

The bruise you recieved earlier that day after being chased down the street by some debt collectors begun to sting.

They didn't care whether you were pregnant or not, they just wanted the money you had borrowed from them back

And then that's when it hits you

When your standing on top cold floor of, with only your boyfriend's jacket left as a reminder of him,

He left.

He left without saying anything, without leaving even a single trace, he left not even with a single goodbye

He left you.

Your hand trails to your stomach.

He left the both of you

You sink down, legs giving out as your body trembles, you lie on the wilting cot that served as a place of comfort, sobbing, shrieking, crying his name out

Screaming anything that would have send him running towards you,

But no one comes.

Unbeknownst to you, at the very same time you fall on the ground, thanos's cold body is lifted up from the cold bathroom floor and packed into black coloured coffin

His eyes still wide open, his entire body covered in his own blood

When the guards strip his clothes away, they find something in his pocket

A plastic ring

it couldn't have been worth much, maybe from a kids toy, it left the guards puzzled

What would a person like Thanos be doing with a plastic ring in his pocket?

Perhaps you would understand it better

After all, he held you, consoled you. That prick even left you without a single trace

[sanemistar]

drop the act — satoru gojo

contents ★ fem!reader, fake dating to real lovers, fluff, 0.8k+ wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

“let’s just stop.” satoru’s announcement came out of the blue. his tone came off serious and firm, which was quite uncharacteristic of him. it took you by surprise, a dumbfounded expression was written all over your face. even though you knew that this whole ‘fake’ relationship situation wouldn’t last long and that it was bound to come to an end sooner or later the moment he found someone he truly loved, and although you prepared yourself for that day, you just couldn’t help but feel a hint of sadness and hurt as your heart clenched painfully inside your chest.

why? because what first started as nothing but a mere attraction, a show to stop your parents’ constant nagging about you not seeing anyone at you age while most of your peers had gotten married already, turned to real and genuine feelings of love. as time passed by since the start of your relationship with him, you found yourself helplessly fall for satoru and those sweet, tender acts of his. the way your name slipped off his lips ever so sweetly, and how it rung into your ears like a serenade. how he took your hand into his as they fitted perfectly, like two puzzle pieces that complete one another. how he casually threw his arms around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world to do for him.

you knew that all of his sweet actions and gestures were all just a part of his act to make it seem as believable and convincing as possible, and he did exactly that. no one, not even your parents, had a single doubt that the two of you were really dating. to outsiders, your relationship was what they call 'goals'. not knowing that it was all just a show, a camouflage. although you knew it all along, but you couldn't help but fall for him.

satoru was your ideal type for what a lover should be, and you wanted to do nothing more than to confess your feelings for him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. after all, the two of you only ever agreed to do this was because there were no strings attached. it was only a matter of convenience for both you and him, since he also happened to be in the same situation as you. so when you asked for his help, he was more than willing to oblige.

you wanted to tell him not to leave you, to stay with you longer, that you’d gotten so used to being with him to the point where you weren't ready to live without him, that you needed him. just thinking about how the two of you would part ways from then on, and how satoru would eventually move on like nothing happened between the two of you and maybe even find himself someone whom he’d truly love almost made your head spiral out of control.

if only you had known your feelings for him would grow this intensely, you wouldn't have agreed to do this.

your body moved on its own as your hand grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. you swallowed a lump that was starting to form in your throat.

"do we really have to?" your voice was shaky as you sounded very desperate. your eyes were practically glued to the floor as you anxiously awaited for his answer, refusing to ever look up. your chest moved up and down rapidly as as result of your heavy breathing.

you heard him sigh as he removed your hand away.

"yes, it’s gotten really tiring having to keep up with this act." your heart sank at his response. it really was the ending, and you were trying your hardest to fight the tears that eagerly awaited to fall.

satoru reached his hand out and used his thumb to lift your chin up, forcing you to look at his beautiful sky blue eyes. his lips slightly parted as he began speaking.

“let’s drop the act, i love you for real.”

and the sudden declaration hit you like a truck, did he just say that he loved you? it took you a couple of long minutes to process his words and fully register them in your mind.

the seriousness and earnestness of his tone along with his unwavering gaze at you left no room for doubt, he definitely meant every word he said. and you couldn't believe what started as a mere act at first had actually become something real.

the anxious look on your face began to relax as all tension slowly escaped your body, replaced with a wave of joy and relief. you let a few happy tears fall down your crimson, red cheeks as a result of being overwhelmed with emotions, which satoru gently wiped.

"yeah, let's." you hummed, a soft smile made its way onto your face. you wrapped your arms securely around his neck as you stood on your tippy toes, whispering softly into his ears in a moment of genuine intimacy and affection which you had felt for the very first time.

"i love you, satoru." although it wasn't your first time saying those words to him, but this time it felt much different, much more meaningful.

he smiled softly and leaned closer as the distance between you and him was completely gone.

taglist: @sylusdoll @ayrastv @hanaeriin @spkyssn @stunies @kalsplace

[barbiiecams]

the “first” time

drew starkey x younger!reader, smut, haven’t wrote ina minute yall sorry 😣. i also recommend listening to the song while reading.

you were cuddled up into the side of drew while he had his arm around you, keeping you close to him as you watched the third horror movie tonight.

but little did he know, you were practically soaked down there.

it took a lot of self restraint in you not to squirm around, but you were almost about to start.

the view of him with his blank tank top, grey sweats, a little stubble, a buzzed head and that damn gold chain had you pressing your thighs together for dear life.

it was such a random moment for you to be feeling like this too. he always looked good, that was for sure. him in general had that type of affect on you.

but right now had to have been your peak ovulation or something, because you needed him bad.

you started off with a simple and subtle movement by moving your hand from where it laid on his chest, and slowly down to the top of his abs.

no reaction.

after this, you had to come off a little more bold. you repositioned yourself, pushing your face more upwards into his neck so that plush of your butt would be more into his hand instead of the bottom of your spine.

and still, no reaction.

the only type of movement that came from him was him licking his lips. this did not help your case in the slightest.

it was just throbbing at this point. you wanted him to give it to you so bad, knowing he’d still be a little hesitant.

you and drew had been together for 8 months now, and there were still no real intercourse going on.

of course, drew didn’t mind using his fingers on you, and you didn’t mind using your mouth on him.

but you wanted, no, needed the real thing.

it’s not like you were a virgin either. you’ve had some experience before him.

and still with this knowledge, drew still was convinced you weren’t ready for him.

your core was ready for him at this point, “drew,” you finally spoke up.

“hm” he said in that low, raspy tone of his. *reason number 300 why you needed to be dicked down this instant*

in reality tho, you really did wish he would just take a hint. actually having to say what you wanted was just too… confrontational.

“i’m really like…” you didn’t make eye contact with his eyes. you were trying not to make yourself laugh at how embarrassing it was to actually tell him at the same time.

drew on the other hand was just waiting for you to finish your sentence, confused as ever.

“really what?”

you sighed. “i really, really, really, really need you. like really”

the words were finally out, but not direct. that was the most he was gonna get from you.

the realization hit him and he let out chuckle, “okay.” was all he said before he started kissing you.

but you knew what he was gonna do, and that wasn’t just all that you wanted.

you pulled away gently, “no like i actually need you. i don’t want just the fingers.”

he raised his eyebrows at this, the actual realization hitting him this time.

“a- are you sure baby?” he asked with genuine concern.

“i’m positive. i’ve been wanting it for so long.”

he’s rubbing your thigh with his hand. “i don’t know sweetheart… are you positive you want it?”

you almost started whining. “yess, drew. i’m so very serious.”

you could see that drew was very hesitant just thinking about it, but then also at the same time considering it.

“just so you know, don’t think that we have to do all of that to be together. i love you for you-”

as much as you loved your man right back, you were getting a little fed up. “yes i know babe but i really need to feel you right now.”

he smirked at your bold statement. for the first time in 8 whole months of the relationship, drew finally caved in.

“alright. don’t wanna hear it’s ‘too much’ either.”

you didn’t get the chance to respond because his lips were already on yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth and holding the back of your head.

this is what you’ve been waiting for so desperately. that rough side of his.

he’s laying you down completely on your back, focused on getting your pajama pants and panties off at once.

at the same time, you’re trying to get his shirt off. you were so ready to just take all of him.

you fumbled with his own sweats and boxers while he fumbled with your shirt, eventually resulting in the both of you being completely exposed to each other.

he runs his hands down your body, “shit.”

you felt him getting harder and harder on your leg. you could tell he was starting to feel that throbbing sensation himself when he guided your hand onto his cock and made you run him.

and while you were doing that, his hand moved to your own folds and started rubbing too. you couldn’t help the gasps that came out either.

his mouth moved down to your neck, leaving a bunch of hickies that would be pointless even attempting to cover the next day.

deciding to tease him a little, you started rubbing the tip of his cock, leaving him with his mouth slack and letting out breaths right by your ear.

“you ready for this dick, baby?” he says while moving his hard on from the palm of your hand, to rubbing at your entrance.

“mhm!” you moan out.

that’s all he needed. he clearly was just as needy all this time as you were. not too much foreplay and no multiple asks of confirmation. he just slid right in and bottomed out too.

his face scrunched in pleasure, “so tight baby. so fuckin tight.”

and he was so big. you weren’t unfamiliar with his girthy and lengthy cock, but the feeling of it actually inside you was foreign. you almost didn’t know if you could actually take it.

almost. you definitely were not stopping him from ruining your insides.

as the respectful king drew is, he waited for you to give him the “okay” to start moving. all you had to do was nod, and he started with a medium pace.

the moans that were already coming out of you were loud. it was so nice, especially on a night like this to be making love to drew.

he wasn’t silent either. you felt perfect around him. he had to let it be known too with the groans that came from him.

“you feel so good baby, so damn good.” he throws his head back.

“more…” you say, a little breathlessly too.

drew doesn’t even question it. he started hitting it harder and a little faster too.

“anything you want, love. this pussy was made for me baby. all for me.”

you wanted to respond and agree, but before you could, drew let a ball of spit out of his mouth and down to where the two of you connected. you were already very wet, and he already had a lot of precum going on.

and now the sound that was traveling throughout the house? straight pornographic.

“you hear that? you hear that pussy baby?” he says, lips back down onto yours.

but you could barely answer. he was going even faster and harder now, leaving you speechless with just your mouth open and small gasps coming from you.

but his hands move to your neck, “i asked you a question.”

your hands laid on top of his wrists, “yes papa.”

he let out an approving nod at your response. “good girl.”

drew moves his hands from around your neck, and he now has your knees pushed into your chest, with his hands firmly planted on the back of your thighs.

and because of this new position, he’s inside you so deep, and hitting that right spot which makes you scream out.

he smiles at the loud reaction. “is that it, baby? right there?”

“yea!” you whined back as a response.

he lets out a chuckle, and then feels you clench around him which knock him back down even further into the pleasure.

“yea baby, fuck. keep doing that.” he groans.

you weren’t just doing it to do it, tho. you were seconds away from cumming all over him.

“m’gonna cum…” you said, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“yea? go ahead baby. wanna feel it. cum all over this fat cock.”

a few more thrusts later, he got his request. you were cumming for so long on him, and he just kept fucking you through it. fucking you more harder than previously, actually.

he was getting so lost into it, so focused on getting his own release to. and with the faces and noises he’s started to make, you could tell he was almost there too.

“want your cum.” you said to him.

he moved is hands from your thighs and up to your hips, giving you the opportunity to wrap your legs around him and trap him into you.

“don’t play with me.” he warns.

“m’not! need to feel you cum inside me. i don’t care what happens.” you babbled. you definitely cared what would happen, but in the moment nothing else mattered.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, baby. y’know that?”

“i know. i wanna feel you fill me up so bad… make you a daddy.” you spur him on even further, knowing the affect it would have on him.

the grip he had on your hips got insanely tight. it kind of hurt in a way, but you didn’t care knowing that he was about to nut inside of you at any moment.

and just as you clenched around him like you did earlier, you felt him smash his hips into yours, this time keeping them connected together.

he came buckets into you. his hot, long ropes of sperm had you feeling full like it was nobodies business.

and he really needed to take a minute to collect himself. the both of you were gasping for air, him still inside you for a good minute after.

when he pulled out, you felt like jelly and so did drew. he laid back down himself, pulling your body into his.

“i’ve been waiting for that.” he spoke.

there was apart of you that kind of didn’t believe that. “you kept saying i wasn’t ready.” you chuckled.

“i know, bad mistake. i almost proposed to you halfway through.”

you laugh at him and snuggle up more into him.

he playfully taps your stomach. "we're gonna have to get you on birth control baby." he says, referring to the comment about giving him a baby earlier.

"i know." you giggle. "i kinda like the excitement tho i dont know."

he shakes his head, half jokingly and half serious. "these youngins"

you slap his chest and roll your eyes, "oh shut up unc." this makes him let out a laugh too.

the movie that was playing in the background was long over, and you both still had yet to realize netflix was asking if you guys were still watching.

[astralnymphh]

♱: a/n: i don't know much about how prison works in piltover (because we did not recieve any details or storyline regarding that era) so this is just for make-believe funsies! need to be vi's prison wife rn.. mdni.

being involved with the least-upstanding convict, violet, has its pros and its cons—but one outweighs the other. on the more heart-pounding side of being dubbed “cupcake” by her, with no ounce of sweetness or cherried disposition to owe you it, there are moments that make you wish you were a good girl.

made you wish you'd met outside prison.

pros: violating the rules got you in here, you and vi have that in common. which, in all cases, facilitated your time together; you can break them with someone else. freerunning is an all-time favorite. sprinting across ledges and vaulting over light-seeking crevices to adjourn—or escape—is your shared idea of freedom. though, before midnight hit, you both made sure to be spotless of adventure, and in bed. another pro: it was always hers.

your thumb presses at the ink-job on her neck, and she bites your shoulder with a grunt, eliciting something in return. subtle, pleasurable pain pulls through the godless corners of your neck. “dammit, vi. if we get caught because of you..” a dopey giggle is pressed into your pulse point, it tickles. you swallow it. “i can't get in trouble again.”

a cold spot of spit is left to evaporate, vi moving from your cartoid to—well, you assume—spare an answer, but she shuts your lips with hers. she spends a moment of silent mouthing, tugging, licking, grinding the seam over her groin into your clit, to shun the claim. it almost pulled more than a moan: a buck, a bite, or a slap if you felt generous. so, you nudge her off. and violet—of course—eyes you with low-browed, puppy-eyed concern and confusion—like she didn't hear you before. for once during your time here, your wrist genuinely ached to slap this idiot you call your prison-girlfriend. “i need to be on fucking gold-standard behaviour. we can do this when we're both out.”

you slip and inch out from under—just an inch, before fingers you're most familiar with, inside and out, tug your core back to where she wants it to belong. striking, baby-blues hold you in that place. “stay,” her voice delicately cracks; she tries to keep you near with a soothing tone. her grip is tight, while her demand is too soft and sentimental to not laugh. regardless, these hands worked some magic on you—considering one feathered touch to the inside of your thigh, and a whine escapes. “trust me, they're going to find a reason to keep you in here. the least you could do is be a good girl while you are.” vi's crass statements and perversions are the only con you could think of: they get you fucking wet—too wet to forget.

[vunblr]

Toy Soldier (part 3)

Bit by bit, torn apart. We never win, but the battle wages on for toy soldiers.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Smut. Dark Content: Sexual Assault Wounds (Bucky). Depictions of Physical Wounds. Psychological Trauma. Canon-Typical Violence. Mentions and depictions of Non-Con (both characters as victims)

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

Word Count: 6.8.k.

notes: This chapter includes flashbacks to non-con situations. Please be mindful of your media consumption and take care of yourself. Passages containing this content are marked with ****** at the beginning and the end, in case you wish to skip them.

Previous Chapter

The next days passed uneventfully after the brawl at the bar. Every location listed in the government-provided intelligence was either empty or completely inconsistent with the reports. It felt like chasing ghosts, a frustrating pattern that left them all on edge.

By the end of the week, they were on a military plane heading back to New York. Sam leaned back in his seat, glancing idly at the other two. It didn’t take him long to notice that they were... talking.

Not in the awkward way of the first days, or the strictly mission-related conversations that followed. In fact, it wasn’t the body language he’d expect from two people who barely knew each other. Bucky’s body was more relaxed than Sam had seen in years while interacting with someone, and at one point, he caught a faint smile on Tinman’s face, a real smile.

What the hell happened between those two?

Asking Bucky directly wasn’t an option. The guy was like a human wall when it came to personal questions. He had learned long ago that pushing him only made him clam up more.

No, if he wanted answers, he’d have to go to the other source. She might be more willing to spill the details, especially if he caught her in a casual moment.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back in his seat. He’d find a chance to ask her soon, maybe over coffee. Whatever had happened on this mission had clearly done the impossible: it got the Winter Sulkier to actually drop the act.

His attention was drawn back when he noticed Bucky tense slightly, as his expression shifted while she asked him a question. She leaned toward him, perched on the edge of her seat, focusing on the phone he held in his hand. Sam, feigning a search through one of the nearby bags, edged closer to eavesdrop.

“See, you just tap here,” Bucky said, oddly patient, something Sam would’ve thought impossible coming from him. “Then swipe left to go back, or hit this button if you want to-”

“Wait, wait,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “So anyone can message me, or is it just the guys I pick if we... match?” Her brows furrowed, her tone a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly. Is he teaching her how to use a dating app?

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “Just the ones you match with,” he replied evenly. “But... don’t expect much. Most of these guys don’t know how to hold a conversation past ‘hey.’”

She snorted. “That’s it? No effort at all?” Then she tilted her head. “How’d it go for you, then? Using the app, I mean.”

Bucky shrugged, with a carefully neutral expression. “Tried it a little. Didn’t stick with it.”

She narrowed her eyes and the corners of her lips twitched in amusement. “You ‘tried it a little,’ huh? Because you seem to know a lot about it for someone who barely used it.”

He shot her a quick look before deadpan. “You pick things up.”

“Uh-huh.” She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms as she studied him. “Come on, you are handsome, you can’t tell me you didn’t get one match.”

“I got a few,” he admitted reluctantly, blushing slightly. “Didn’t go anywhere.”

“Why not?” she pressed.

He hesitated, and his discomfort was more noticeable now. His gaze quickly darted to Sam and then went back to her. “It’s all surface-level. A few pictures, some vague descriptions, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Her teasing expression softened at the shift in his tone. “Okay, fair. But isn’t that the point? It’s just supposed to be an icebreaker, right?”

“Maybe,” he muttered, leaning back in his seat. “But I’m not great at... small talk. And that’s all this is. Small talk that leads nowhere.”

Sam, who had been quietly watching, finally spoke up. “You’re not really helping her case, you know. You’re making this app sound like a deathtrap.”

Bucky shot him a glare. “It’s not a deathtrap. It’s just... not worth the hassle.”

She raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Well, I won’t know until I try it. Maybe I’ll get luckier. How different could it really be once you meet in person, like a traditional meetup?”

Before Bucky could respond, Sam chimed in from a few seats over, a mischievous smirk on his face. “Well, you should also know that you might receive some... unwanted pictures.”

She tilted her head, frowning. “Unwanted pictures? Like what?”

“Dicks,” Sam deadpanned, his expression unflinching.

“What?” she exclaimed. “Why would someone... Is that supposed to attract me? Like they think, ‘Oh, I’ll send her a dick pic, and she’ll say, sure, John, let’s go feed the ducks at the park?’”

Sam doubled over laughing, while Bucky shifted uncomfortably, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. “Yeah, uh... I forgot to mention the unwanted pictures,” he muttered.

She quirked a brow, and her lips twitched with amusement. “How is it for the guys? Did you get unwanted pictures too? Like, ‘Hey, handsome,’ and bam! Wet nipples pic?”

Bucky froze, his eyes widening slightly “I- what? No,” he stammered, his usual stoic mask cracking under her teasing.

Sam burst out laughing, leaning back in his seat. “Oh, man, you broke him.”

Bucky shot Sam a death glare, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “It’s not... That’s not how it works.”

“Oh, come on, someone must’ve tried.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, clearly wishing for the conversation to end. “No,” he said firmly. “Guys don’t get stuff like that. Not usually.”

Sam wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all week.”

“Glad I could entertain you,” Bucky muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, fixing his gaze firmly on the floor.

Sensing his discomfort now that Sam had jumped into the conversation, she decided to redirect the attention. She leaned slightly toward Sam, with a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.

“Speaking of unwanted pictures,” she said casually, “remember when that agent flashed us his brand-new Prince Albert in the Rome safehouse? Because he thought it was infected and wanted me to take care of it?”

Sam choked on his laughter. “Oh, man, that guy! How could I forget?” He shook his head, still grinning. “I got traumatized. The guy showed it off like he was proud of it. Even with the swelling and all. And you…you just stood there like it was any other Tuesday.”

She shrugged, her expression deadpan. “What was I supposed to do? He dropped his pants before I even knew what was happening. First of all, you might find it hard to believe, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve seen a dick, and second, I’ve seen worse things over the years.” if he only knew how much worse.

Bucky’s frown deepened, snapping his sharp gaze at her. His jaw tightened, and there was a flicker of something in his expression, something dark and protective. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, coldly.

She glanced at him, startled by the sudden shift in his demeanor. “What?”

“That guy,” he growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dropping his pants like that. You’re a lady, for God’s sake.”

Sam burst out laughing again, “I hate to break it to you, but modern life’s not exactly full of boundaries, Buck. Especially when the dude thought his dick was going to fall off.”

Bucky ignored Sam’s laughter. “Still doesn’t mean it’s right.”

His gaze drifted, growing distant, and she knew exactly where it was traveling. The countless times Hydra had forced her to touch him in clinical detachment, to treat his groin marred by shrapnel, burns, and other injuries she’d long since pushed to the darkest corners of her memory. Also, that time when…

She clapped her hands suddenly, trying to steer the conversation away.

“Anyway, about the app-”

“Wait,” Sam interrupted, leaning forward with interest. “About that, last time I talked to you, you said you were dating some dude from the library. Some kind of meet-cute.”

Bucky’s attention snapped back to the conversation, as a strange, twisted feeling settled in his gut.

“Clearly, if I’m asking about the app, I’m not seeing him anymore,” she replied, with a certain edge.

“What happened?” Sam pressed, furrowing his brow. “You seemed interested in the guy, and it sounded like he was into you, too.”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “It just... didn’t work out.”

Sam gave her a pointed look. “That’s not a real answer.”

She groaned, leaning back in her seat. “Fine. Over the weeks, it was like everything he said he liked about me at first became an issue.”

“Like?” Sam prompted, tilting his head.

“Like preferring to stay home instead of going out all the time, it bored him. Or how he’d tell me he loved my cooking but would complain about his sweater smelling smoky after I’d make something. Little stuff like that.” She paused. “Then one day, I knit him a scarf. And do you know what he said?”

Sam raised a brow. “What?”

“He said, ‘I have a grandma who can do that,’” she said flatly.

Sam let out a sharp laugh of disbelief. “What a jackass.”

“Yeah,” she said with a humorless chuckle. “That was the last straw. Especially since he was the one who said he’d love it if I made something for him while flirting.”

“Oh my God, Sarah would’ve shoved the scarf through his ass, crochet hook included. And… uh did you two, you know…” Sam made a wave with his hand implying intimacy.

She couldn’t stop herself from briefly side-look at Bucky, who was staring at the ground. “No. I mean there was… but no. I don’t know, maybe that’s why suddenly everything started to annoy him.

Bucky felt a sharp surge of anger toward the faceless man. His fingers flexed against his thigh as he tried to push it down, but it stayed there. Sure, things had changed over the decades, he’d seen that much already. But memories of Rebecca knitting gloves for her sweetheart by the window, or his ma stitching clothes for them during the Depression, flooded his mind.

He knew what it meant to make something with your hands, the time, care, and thought behind every stitch. For that man to dismiss it like it was nothing, to compare her work to something anyone could do... it was a slap to everything he’d grown up valuing.

“That guy was an idiot,” he muttered, with irritation. “You took the time to make something for him, something personal. That matters. If he couldn’t see that, he wasn’t worth it.” The look on his face betrayed rage, the kind that made it clear he’d have no problem to physically teach the guy a lesson if he were standing in front of him.

She felt warmth rise in her chest at his words, “Thank you.”

Sam, who had been watching the exchange with growing amusement, leaned back in his seat with a knowing grin.

----

A couple of days had passed since they returned to New York, and she sat on her couch, biting her nails absently. The soft ticking of the wall clock felt louder than usual.

It was almost time for the doorbell to ring.

When they landed, Bucky had set her aside hesitantly and asked her if it was alright for them to talk. He’d made it clear that there was no pressure, no expectations. If she didn’t want to, he’d leave it alone. The last thing he wanted was to cause her discomfort.

She’d promptly agreed, “We can talk at my place if you are okay with that.” the offer had spilled from her lips before she could even think it through.

Her house was small but cozy, cluttered in a lived-in way. Books and plants filled old wooden shelves, the soft glow of a lamp in the corner painted the room in warm tones, and the faint scent of lavender lingered from a candle burning on the coffee table. She’d baked cookies and tidied up, in an unconscious effort to keep herself busy.

The doorbell finally rang, startling her.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she stood quickly, smoothing her hands over her shirt before heading to the door. When she opened it, there he was. Red henley, dark jeans, and a stuffed paper bag in his hand, standing on the threshold with a casual but guarded expression.

“Hi,” she managed to say, calmer than she felt.

“Hi,” he replied, nodding slightly before extending the bag toward her. “Um, for later. I figured it’d be rude to come empty-handed.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have” she said, clearly pleased, stepping aside while taking the bag, gesturing for him to come in. “Make yourself comfortable”.

Bucky hesitated momentarily before stepping inside, flicking his gaze briefly over the room. It felt... welcoming, familiar. He sat on the couch stiffly, resting his hands on his thighs.

She followed him, putting the paper bag on the coffee table and taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“So,” she began, breaking the silence, “what did you want to talk about?”

His eyes met hers, and for a moment, he seemed to weigh his words carefully. “I just... wanted to say I’m sorry,”.

“For what?” she asked, puzzled.

“For everything,” he said, dropping his gaze to his hands. “For what Hydra put you through because of me. For being part of the reason you were stuck in that hell.”

Her breath caught, and she shook her head instinctively. “What- Bucky, you weren’t the reason-”

“I was,” he cut her off gently, lifting his eyes to meet hers again. “I might not have had a choice in what they did to me, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t pay the price for it.”

She swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “You’re not responsible for what they did.” she said softly. “Neither of us is.”

“Objectively I know,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it is.”

The air between them felt heavy, charged with unspoken pain and understanding.

She sighed. “They abducted me because of my mutant powers, Bucky. They eventually assigned me to be your… maintenance tool because you were their most effective asset, Hydra’s fist. But even if you have not been there, there were others. For one reason or another, I would have ended up there anyway.”

The others.

******

Her words triggered memories he didn’t want but couldn’t avoid. The unending hours of hand-to-hand combat, training the newly enhanced assets. His missions didn’t end when he returned from the field; Hydra had repurposed him to mold their next generation of tools.

The rules had been clear: restrict his strength, take the blows, and avoid permanent damage. These trainees were expensive investments, after all, and he had the privilege of having his Tinkerbell next door to sprinkle some powder to fix him anew after every session.

Was in one of those travels to the neighboring cell when Soldat’s brain used the gray zones in the rules for the first time.

As he opened the heavy door, his gaze landed on the stretcher. She wasn’t alone. The asset bending her over the surface, fisting her hair, was making sure of it. His other hand fumbled, trying to place his excuse of a cock inside her, as she twisted helplessly beneath him.

His jaw ticked.

His fist connected with his target’s jaw in a blur of silver and crimson, sending him flying against the nearest wall with a sickening thud. The orders were to restrain himself while training. Her cell wasn’t meant as a place to train.

The asset groaned, attempting to push himself upright, but Soldat was already on him. In two long strides, he closed the distance, seizing the man’s throat with a crushing grip, lifting him up as if he weighed nothing. The asset’s eyes widened in panic as his legs kicked futilely against the air.

“Soldat!” a voice crackled through the speaker overhead. The handler’s voice.

He froze momentarily, loosening his grip just enough for the asset to suck in a ragged breath.

“Stand down,” the voice ordered, laced with the unmistakable threat of consequences.

His gaze flickered toward the camera in the corner of the room. He knew they were watching, assessing every move. But as he looked back at the asset, his grip tightened again.

She was still there, trembling against the stretcher, her wide, teary eyes locked on him. Her lip was split, and her arms were wrapped tightly around herself as though trying to hold her shattered pieces together.

A flicker of something broke through the red haze in his mind.

“Soldat,” the handler barked again, sharper this time. “Release him. Now.”

His hand twitched, and the hum of his arm vibrated faintly as if resisting the command. Slowly, deliberately, he dropped the man to the ground. The asset crumpled in a heap, coughing and clutching his throat.**

He walked toward the stretcher where she sat, frozen in place. Without a word, he leaned on the edge, reaching for the clasps of his upper vest and unfastening efficiently. The vest came off, revealing his beaten torso. His skin was mottled with bruises, and a sickly shade of purple spread across his ribs, the uneven swelling at the zone was a clear indication of fractures.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint static from the intercom and the asset’s wheezing on the floor.

He turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze in a silent request. Her hands shook as she reached for him, steading when they met his skin.

“Soldat,” the handler’s voice snapped through the intercom. “Report back to the training room.”

He didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on her, unwavering, unyielding. His hand twitched again, resting lightly on his thigh as though restraining himself from reaching out.

“I said, report back.”

******

“-cky… Bucky…” her voice broke the trance, bringing him back to the present.

He blinked, as his focus returned to the present. He saw her now, not trembling inside a depressing cell but sitting across from him in her living room, looking at him with concern.

“Sorry,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. The words felt inadequate, but they were all he could manage at the moment.

She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “It seems we still have a lot of shit to unpack,” she finally said. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her shirt as she continued, flicking her gaze back to him. “For some reason, you feel responsible for my captivity, and on the other hand, I feel responsible for prolonging your torment.” Her lips quirked into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Maybe we need to do some couple’s counseling.”

The joke was light, silly, considering what they’ve been through. Still, Bucky’s lips twitched into the faintest semblance of a smile.

Grabbing onto that tiny smile like a lifeline, she seized the opportunity to steer the conversation toward something more pleasant. “So, what’s in the mystery bag you brought?”

His gaze flicked to the paper-wrapped goodies on the coffee table. “Some... pastries,” he admitted, almost self-conscious. “Figured you might invite me for some coffee.” He quirked a brow, the faint hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“It was my intention, yes,” she replied, leaning back in her seat, “Also, I might or might not have baked enough cookies to feed an army to go with it.”

“That so?” His smirk deepened slightly.

“Well, for starters I know your metabolism screams at you to inhale calories even in your sleep, and... I was kind of nervous before our meeting,” she confessed, almost murmuring toward the end.

He blinked, caught off guard by her honesty. “Nervous?” he echoed.

She shrugged, brushing an imaginary lint off her pants. “Yeah, nervous. I mean, it’s not every day you have a sit-down heart-to-heart with someone you...” She paused, searching for the right words. “...went through hell with.”

He didn’t respond immediately, fixing his gaze on her. Finally, he nodded, “I get it.”

For a moment, they sat in a silence that felt lighter than before, and then she clapped her hands lightly and rose from her seat.

“Well,” she said, “How about we see what kind of pastries you picked, and I’ll grab the cookies and make the coffee?

“Seems like a plan.” He agreed, standing and following her into the kitchen.

She grabbed a tray and began arranging the pastries he’d brought, their golden crusts promising a delicious treat. Beside them, she added a generous pile of cookies she’d baked earlier. The hum of the kettle heating the water filled the small space.

Bucky’s eyes drifted to the counter as she prepped. He hummed in appreciation when he realized she was setting up for brewed coffee, and the familiar sight of a pour-over filter caught his attention.

“Don’t like coffee makers,” she remarked, noticing his gaze. “Tastes like dirty water to me.”

He smirked faintly. “I couldn’t have expressed it better. There’s a machine for almost everything now, but some things...”

“...are better the old-fashioned way,” she finished, flashing him a small smile.

Bucky nodded toward the tray. “May I?”

“Go ahead,” she said, motioning to the cookies.

He reached for one, and before he realized it, his hand kept returning to the tray. They were warm, buttery, and just the right amount of sweet, a huge contrast to the food he’d grown accustomed to over the years.

“You bake like this often?” he asked between bites, in an almost casual tone.

“Not really,” she admitted with a chuckle, leaning against the counter. “I had a lot of nervous energy before today. Figured I might as well channel it into something productive.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “They’re good.”

She grinned. “Glad you approve.”

By the time the coffee was ready, most of the cookies were gone. She blinked at the near-empty tray and arched a brow at him.

“Seriously?” she teased, pouring two mugs of coffee. “I don’t think the cookies were supposed to be dinner.”

Bucky shrugged unapologetically, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Couldn’t stop. They’re better than anything I’ve had in a while.”

“Well, I’m taking that as a compliment,” she said, handing him a mug.

He took it, warming his hand with the cup. “It was.”

They settled at the small kitchen table, with the tray of pastries and the few remaining cookies between them. The conversation flowed easily, and their laughter mixed with the freshly brewed coffee aroma.

At some point, Bucky’s fingers tightened around his mug, lowering his gaze to its content. He hesitated for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line before he spoke. “When you asked me about the dating app the other day... how long... when did you feel you were ready to, you know…”

He trailed off, cursing himself inwardly for the clumsy phrasing and lack of subtlety.

She tilted her head, “Well, you mentioned it as a joke, and then I took the opportunity to ask since, you know, I was curious about them.” She chuckled lightly. “Not that my attempts at normal dating have been anything to brag about. As you heard on the plane... pretty pathetic.”

Bucky’s lips quirked briefly, but his eyes stayed on the coffee, waiting.

She shifted slightly in her chair, toying with the edge of her mug with her fingers. “As for being ready... I don’t know. It’s been a couple of years since I started feeling the... the need to have someone. Someone who’s more than just a friend.” She paused, and her gaze drifted somewhere far away, before returning to him. “But, honestly, the world changed so much. Dating now is... different. Messy.” She offered a faint smile, “Well if it feels like that for me, I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you. You probably grew up around my daddy’s time.”

Bucky’s head shot up, quirking his brow in mock indignation. “Your dad’s time?”

She grinned, catching the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You were probably handing out love letters, not even using a phone.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Hey, we weren’t that old-fashioned.” He paused, “But... yeah. It was different.”

“Guess that’s one thing we have in common,” she said softly. “Figuring out where we fit in a world that’s... moved on without us.”

He looked at her then, somehow the weight of her words made him feel less alone in his own struggle.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I guess we do.”

Gathering her courage, she nodded toward his vibranium hand, “Can I see it? Properly, I mean.”

His body tensed for a fraction of a second, but he saw genuine interest in her eyes. Slowly, he lifted his arm, extending the sleek prosthetic toward her.

She reached for it with both hands, brushing her fingers trough the cool, polished surface. His gaze widened slightly as she turned it gently in her grasp.

“Wow,” she murmured, running her fingertips along the ridges and smooth joints. “The fingers are less edgy than the old one.” She traced a line along his palm. “How’s the sensory feedback?”

Her question startled him out of his momentary daze, and he cleared his throat. Her touch was making harder to stay composed than he wanted to admit. “neuro-connections are more advanced,” he began, in an almost clinical tone. “So I have better control over it. I can feel pressure and temperature more accurately. But that’s... all.”

Her thumbs brushed over the pads of his fingers, “That’s a lot, though,” she said quietly. “It’s incredible. Do you ever... forget it’s not flesh and bone?”

His lips twitched faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Until I catch someone staring at it. Or...” His gaze dropped to her hands, still cradling his. “Until someone touches it. And I remember it’s not real.”

Her grip tightened slightly, an unconscious response. “It is real, Bucky,” she said firmly, lifting her eyes to his. “It’s you.”

“Thanks,” he said after a long pause.

Noticing that she still hadn’t released his hand, she let go quickly, feeling her cheeks warming under his stare. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

He shook his head lightly. “It’s fine,” he muttered.

She grabbed a pastry from the tray and took a bite to occupy herself. The silence lingered before she worked up the courage to ask, tentative but curious. “So... when did you feel ready to date and try the apps and stuff?”

He stiffened almost imperceptibly.

“You asked me,” she deadpanned as she gestured toward him with a half-eaten bun. “Fair if I get to ask you the same.”

He sighed, brushing his fingers over his temple as he scratched it absently. “I don’t think...” He trailed off, then started again. “Last year, my therapist suggested I start stepping out of my comfort zone. Told me it’d help with... things. So... I tried.”

“And?” she prompted, leaning slightly forward, encouraging but not pushing.

His gaze dropped to the table. “I’d be lying if I said it’s been great.”

She remained silent, giving him space to continue.

“It’s just...” He hesitated, his hand curling into a loose fist on the table. “Meeting new people it’s hard. Small talk feels fake, like I’m watching it happen instead of being part of it. There’s this constant voice in my head, reminding me of all the things I can’t tell them. All the stuff I can’t explain. I look at someone across a table, and they’re smiling, talking about their favorite movies or where they want to go on vacation. And all I can think about is how much they don’t know. How much they can’t know.” He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “That I’ve done things... that I’ve had things done to me. And if they ever found out, they’d run away.”

She set her pastry down quietly, folding her hands in her lap as she listened, letting him talk, suspecting he probably hadn’t spoken this much in years.

“And then there’s the other stuff,” he continued, lower now. “The touch. Sometimes, even a handshake feels wrong. Too close, too much. I can’t control how my brain reacts. Sometimes I flinch, or freeze. And how do you explain that to someone on a second date?”

“Yeah. Touching can be... hard if you’re not familiar enough with the person,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the table.

They both understood why.

The silence stretched. He didn’t need to ask what she meant, and she didn’t need to elaborate. Hydra had ensured they both carried scars that made even the simplest gestures of connection fraught with hesitation.

She straightened in her seat, trying to shake off the heavy mood. “You know,” she said, with a faint edge of humor creeping into her tone, “for a conversation about dating, this has turned into a pretty depressing therapy session.”

He seemed to hesitate, curling his fingers slightly around his mug before he spoke. “It’s not like that with you.”

Her brow furrowed. “Uh?”

“Touching,” he clarified, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were confessing something. “Those days in Poland... I noticed.”

“Oh,” she said softly, as her fingers brushed the edge of her cup while her gaze flickered to him.

He looked down at his hands, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “I’ve been... thinking about it. And the only reason I can come up with is... because you were the only ‘good’ thing in that hellhole.”

She stared at him, unsure how to respond. Then she shook her head slowly. “After everything Hydra made me do to you, how can you feel-”

His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and unyielding. “I don’t blame you,” he cut her firmly. “I’ve told you that.”

She bit her lip, afraid to ask. “But... how much do you remember about-”

“Everything,” he said quietly.

She inhaled sharply, tightening her fingers around the mug and locked her eyes onto his. “E-even...”

“Everything, doll,” he said again, softer now.

She swallowed hard. “I see. And still...”

“Don’t blame you,” he repeated, resolute, as though daring her to argue.

******

It had been two days since they’d injected him with that burning substance, two days of his body rebelling against him in the most excruciating way. The unrelenting ache of the forced erection was a constant, painful thrum, and despite his silence, the slight tremor in his movements betrayed the toll it was taking.

At first, the staff had dismissed it as a side effect of the experiment. But as the hours stretched into days, and Soldat’s body refused to yield, it became clear that something had to be done.

The traditional methods failed. They’d barked orders for him to “take care of it himself,” but he stood motionless and unresponsive. They had thrown him into freezing water, and his body had trembled violently, but the condition persisted. Even a brutal beating did nothing to break the cycle.

Finally, they summoned her.

She’d entered the sterile room, and her stomach churned. He was shirtless, his skin flushed an unnatural shade, and though his expression remained stoic, she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands curled slightly at his sides.

“You,” the handler barked, gesturing toward him. “Fix the inconvenience.”

Her heart sank. She swallowed thickly, forcing herself to remain composed. “But... he’s not injured, sir. I don’t-”

The sharp crack of a slap cut her off, her head snapping to the side as pain bloomed across her cheek.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, pet,” the handler sneered, his voice dripping with venom.

She bit down on her lip, as she nodded numbly. “Yes, sir.”

Approaching him hesitantly, she reached out and hovered her trembling hand over his overheated skin. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just stared ahead, his blue gaze void of anything human.

Tentatively, she placed her hand against his chest, and noticed the heat radiating off his body was almost unbearable. Closing her eyes, she tried to infuse him with her healing surge, willing it to work, to cool the fire that was consuming him.

Nothing.

She retracted her hand, “It’s no use, sir,” she excused herself in a whisper.

“Try harder,” he snarled, sharply.

Before she could react, he grabbed her trembling hand and shoved it between Soldat’s legs. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. He remained still, his lifeless gaze kept fixed on the far wall, as though none of this was happening.

Slowly, reluctantly, she wrapped her hand around him -or tried to-, her fingers barely circling his length. Her heart pounded in her ears as she forced herself to send another wave of her healing surge through her palm.

Nothing.

“S-sir, it’s not...” she stammered, withdrawing slightly.

“Try a different approach,” the handler barked, his patience wearing thin.

Her stomach twisted painfully. “B-but...”

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a cock in your entire life, slut,” the handler spat with malice. “We both know very well that’s not the case.”

Shame and rage bloomed inside her chest, but she didn’t dare meet his eyes.

The handler’s cruel smile widened, and his next words were laced with venom. “Jerk him off.”

Her body froze. She stared down at her hand, still trembling against the Soldat’s unmoving form.

When she didn’t move, the man stepped closer. “Do you prefer if I order him to fuck your brains out?” he sneered. “I’m pretty sure he’d gladly comply. His fried brain probably can’t even remember the last time he did it.”

The Soldat’s jaw ticked imperceptibly at the words, a flicker of something passing through his otherwise blank expression. A muscle in his temple twitched, so slightly it was almost imperceptible, but she noticed.

“Do it,” the handler barked, his tone icy. “Now.”

Slowly, she shifted her gaze to the side, staring at the far wall to avoid looking at him, at either of them. Her hand trembled as she reached out, brushing against the overheated skin of his abdomen before curling around him again.

The Soldat kept being unresponsive.

Her fingers tightened slightly around him, and she began to move her hand in a clinical and detached way, trying to retreat her mind to a faraway place.

The handler leaned against the counter, and his smug smile made her sick. “See? Was that so hard, pet?”

She didn’t respond, focusing instead on keeping her breathing steady. Soldat remained as a statue, with his gaze fixed straight ahead. But she saw it again, the faintest twitch of his fingers, a subtle clenching of his jaw.

Was it anger? Pleasure? She didn’t know, and she couldn’t afford to dwell on it. She tried to focus on the rhythm of her movements, the hum of the fluorescent lights above, anything to drown out the humiliation.

“Good girl,” the man praised her mockingly.

At some point, the Soldat’s breath hitched slightly, a small, involuntary response. She froze for a fraction of a second, before forcing herself to continue.

The handler’s gaze was fixed on her with sadistic amusement. “See? The horny dog is starting to stir,” he sneered, chuckling darkly. “Keep going, pet. Put some effort into it.”

She kept going, trying to block out the handler’s taunts and the oppressive heat radiating from Soldat’s body.

“I can’t wait to see how this ends,” He stepped closer, and his boots clicked against the sterile floor as his shadow loomed over her. She could feel his cruel satisfaction like a physical weight pressing down on her.

He smirked, tilting his head as if studying a piece of art. “It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? The indomitable Winter Soldier reduced to this.” He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. “And you, pet... always so eager to fix him.

Her hand faltered for the briefest moment, and the handler’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t stop,” he hissed, sharply.

Her fingers resumed their mechanical rhythm, trembling slightly as they moved over the heated skin.

Soldat’s body betrayed him, starting to respond to her ministrations. His chest rose and fell slightly faster, and the faintest sheen of sweat formed along his collarbone. A muscle in his jaw ticked again, and his metal hand twitched at his side, the slightest flex of his fingers betraying the struggle beneath the surface.

She noticed every subtle reaction, every unwilling signal his body sent. It felt like a cruel mockery, this was not a man choosing to respond, but a body manipulated and prodded to betray its instincts.

The handler’s smirk widened as he circled them, amused. “See? The body don’t lie, pet. No matter how much you both fight it, nature always wins.”

Soldat’s breaths were growing more uneven, and his nostrils flared as his chest rose and fell with increasing urgency. For a moment, his steel-blue gaze flicked down to her hand, a fleeting acknowledgment before snapping forward again, returning to the blank void.

The handler leaned against the counter again, crossing his arms, watching with sick satisfaction. “He’s close, isn’t he? Just look at him.”

Soldat’s fingers twitched again, curling slightly into a loose fist. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, a small, involuntary moan escaping his lips. Barely audible but deafening in the oppressive silence of the room.

The handler laughed, cruelly. “There it is,” he sneered, clapping his hands mockingly. “Hydra’s fist reduced to nothing more than a desperate animal. Guess even the strongest aren’t immune to a good touch. Keep going, pet,” he ordered. “We’re almost there.”

Soldat’s gaze flicked down to her hand again, and the faintest flicker of something passed through his otherwise blank expression. Another quiet moan slipped out, broken and involuntary, while his body tensed beneath her touch, and the muscles in his abdomen started to tighten,

The handler licked his lips as his gaze kept glued to the scene before him. “Almost there, loyal pet. Finish it.”

Soldat’s breaths hitched again, and his body betrayed him further as his head tilted back slightly, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat. The faint sheen of sweat on his skin glinted under the sterile light, and every detail etched into her mind despite her desperate attempts to detach herself.

And then it happened.

His body went rigid, his metal hand clenched into a fist, so tight it trembled at his side. His breath hitched, and a low, guttural sound tore from his throat, a mixture of release and anguish that echoed in the sterile room.

She froze, retreating her hand almost immediately as though burned. Her chest heaved with shallow, shaky breaths as she stumbled back a step.

Soldat’s body sagged slightly, and his head dropped forward, while his breathing started to slow down, bleeding the tension out of his system. He didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge the handler either, his gaze fixed again somewhere distant,  unreachable.

The handler clapped, grinning wide and cruelly again. “There you go, pet. Good job. I knew you had it in you.”

Her hands clutched at her sides, biting her nails into her palms as she forced herself to stand still, to remain composed even as her world felt like it was shattering.

Sensing her discomfort, he kept his smirk firmly in place. “Now clean yourself up” he said coldly. “You look like cheap whore.”

Then he turned around. “You, take him to cryo,” he lazily ordered to the guards who had been standing silently by the door. “He’s done for now.”

******

“I know what it’s like to not have a choice,” he said simply, “I know what it’s like to be used, controlled, forced into something you’d never choose for yourself.”

Her gaze dropped to the table.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “I’m no saint. I’ve hated a lot of people, doll. Hated myself more than I can say. But you? Not once. You were there, real and raw. And, maybe, is because of that that I trust you.”

She stared at him, and her hands twitched on the table, wanting to reach out, to bridge the gap between them. But instead, she sat there with her heart pounding.

“Bucky, I-”  her voice faltered. The weight of his admission was almost too much for her to bear.

The way he looked at her then, open and bare, broke whatever restrain was keeping her still.

Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She stood abruptly, scraping the chair against the floor, and rounded the small table.

Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

He didn’t flinch. Slowly, his arms came up to encircle her waist cautiously, as though afraid he might break her. She pressed her cheek against the crown of his head and put her hands around his broad shoulders.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his hair.

She felt him shift slightly, dipping his head lower until his forehead rested lightly against her shoulder. His breath was warm against the side of her neck, and the subtle weight of his body leaning into her made her heart ache.

“For what?” he murmured.

“For not hating me.”

Next chapter

Taglist: @sunshinedayz19 @star-maker-rain-dancer @tumdlrnewb84 @mgchaser @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger @gotminho @kaitlin013106 @startorrent @idontknowhowtonormal @mattmurdock42 @hnnhbananananana @aeriss-at-heart45 @jainaeatsstars @airixaram @seventeen-x @jaxz21 @zizzlekwum @hi172826 @valckenaux

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

we listen and we don’t judge (?)

“Are we really doing this?”

Your husband’s reluctant voice pulled your attention away from the phone you were adjusting on the table.

“Come on, Ken, this will be so much fun. Besides, I know you’ve been curious about the kinds of books I read.” You focused on getting the angle right again after responding.

“Sweetheart, I can already tell just by looking at the covers when you leave them around or by reading the blurbs on the back while helping you carry them at the bookstore,” he replied, cutting you off before you could protest further. “And don’t you dare try to convince me that they hold actual literary value.”

You rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath while adjusting the timer for the TikTok video. “The moment there’s a bit of romance or sex involved, you immediately assume I’m reading nonsense. For the record, I’m not ashamed of what I read. I’m proud of it.” You adjusted your hair in the camera and pulled the stack of books closer.

“Alright, are you ready, love?” You turned to your husband with an exaggerated smile, clearly brimming with excitement.

Nanami let out a deep sigh. “I think so. Before showing the books, I’m supposed to say, ‘We listen, and we don’t judge,’ right?”

Still grinning, you pressed a big kiss to his cheek. “Yep. Oh, and if you’re feeling ugly, I can put a filter on for you.” You loved teasing him. Nanami wasn’t exactly a TikTok expert—he’d only just discovered that people made videos on it. It had taken countless attempts to convince him to do this trend with you. After he firmly said “no” each time, you’d sulk in defeat. But because your husband could never actually say no to you, he eventually came to you and said, “Do you still want to make that video about your smutty books?” You were so shocked that you’d practically jumped into his lap, shouting “Yes!” loud enough to scare the neighbors. Even though he didn’t want to, Nanami couldn’t care less about his own embarrassment as long as it made you happy.

“I don’t think I’ll need it,” he replied.

Of course, he didn’t. Even on his worst days, your husband was the embodiment of perfection.

“God, you’re so sexy. I can’t wait to show the world who I’m married to.” You kissed his cheek again before reaching to start the recording.

As soon as you hit the button, his blank expression made it nearly impossible for you to suppress your laughter. You still managed to start speaking.

“We listen…” You paused, motioning for him to join in. Nanami rolled his eyes but played along.

“And we don’t judge,” he added in a monotone voice.

You grabbed the first book beside you and held it up to the camera.

“Alright, this is one of the most famous and dirtiest books on BookTok. The main character’s parents die, and she goes to live with her uncle and cousins.”

Nanami stared at the book cover, which read Credence. It looked normal—innocuous, even.

He couldn’t have been more wrong...

“Don’t tell me—” he started, but you cut him off.

“And she sleeps with all of them. One by one.” You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you glanced at your husband’s wide-eyed expression.

“Oh… alright.”

Suppressing your giggles, you repeated, “We listen, and we don’t judge,” before moving on to the next book. This time, you held up a dark romance that had caused quite a stir online.

Nanami immediately recognized it. “You just finished this one,” he pointed out.

Beaming at him, you nodded. You’d only recently completed Haunting Adeline, and there hadn’t been a single scene that didn’t shock you. “In this one, the main character is a writer, and she has a stalker.”

“Sweetheart…” Nanami’s tone suggested he was rapidly losing patience.

“Shhh! We’re listening, not judging. Anyway, the guy is obsessively in love with her. One day, she brings another man home and hooks up with him—while the stalker watches everything.” You could barely keep a straight face while recounting the plot.

“And?” Nanami prompted, eyebrows furrowing as if he regretted asking.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. His horrified expression only made it worse. “Of course, he gets mad and chops off the guy’s hand, leaving it on her doorstep as a warning.” Tears streamed down your face from laughing so hard as Nanami stared at you like you’d completely lost your mind.

“And people say romance is dead…”

“Hey! He only did it because he loves her. Zade is definitely a green flag,” you argued.

“Zade?” Nanami raised an eyebrow at you, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Romantic stalker,” you replied matter-of-factly.

He rolled his eyes, rested his head in his hand, and muttered, “We listen, and we don’t judge,” with far more sarcasm than necessary. You chimed in late, too busy laughing.

The next book you held up was Birthday Girl.

“This one’s by the same author as the first book I showed you.”

A small smile tugged at Nanami’s lips. “Who does our main character sleep with this time? Her stepdad?”

You snorted. His dry humor was making it impossible to keep a straight face. “Close! Her ex-boyfriend’s dad.”

Nanami finally cracked, chuckling along with you. “So close. I assume you must really love this author.”

Feigning deep thought, you replied, “Hmm… Penelope is definitely great at writing sex scenes.” You reached for another book as the two of you recited in sync, “We listen, and we don’t judge.”

“This one’s kind of similar to the others. The main character is around 20—I think. She’s been in love with her dad’s best friend for years, and—”

“Let me guess: she sleeps with him,” Nanami interrupted.

“Yep, but in a more ethical way than the others.”

Nanami laughed loudly. “How is that more ethical?”

You launched into an explanation, as serious as if you were presenting a thesis. “Her dad and his best friend run a law firm together. After her dad gets into an accident and falls into a coma, the company is at risk. Also she’s not old enough to access her trust fund, so she marries his best friend to save it.”

He stared at you, slack-jawed. The fact that you could recount this with such sincerity amazed him. “Please tell me the company survives.”

“Of course it does! And her dad wakes up, too. Plus, by the end of the book, they have twins!”

The soft affection in his gaze was quickly replaced by something darker, more primal—the look he gave you whenever he wanted you.

“Hmm… I like that. Do you want to test if we can have twins too?”

You completely forgot about the video. The book in your hands slipped onto your lap as heat pooled low in your belly.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Nanami stood up and hoisted you over his shoulder with ease, giving your ass a firm smack. “If I’m a little rough during the test, I trust you won’t judge me, my love.”

The trend may have been left unfinished but you absolutely didn't judge your husband during the test.

a little note: i’m ovulating, so i just had to write something like this. i'm not sure, but i might also do a version with gojo…

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Love your DC content!! Can you write something olderbf bruce becoming a parent with younger reader? Or bestfriend jason finding out reader is dating dick?

Thank you 💜

Omg absolutely!! Tysm for the request and I definitely want to write the one for Jason at some point in the future, buttt for now, because its 2 AM, you'll get some OlderBF! Bruce :)

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne Becoming a Parent

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who finds out that you're pregnant before you even know. To be fair, it didn't take the world's greatest detective to notice the menstrual products in your master bathroom that haven't been touched in the past two months or so.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who makes you feel silly for ever being nervous about telling him that you're pregnant, even though he's freaking out a little on the inside.

Your day was long. Long enough that your back had been aching and your feet and ankles were sore. Hell, you could barely keep your eyes open while standing, how the hell could you exoect yourself to stay awake while laying down on one of the lavish couches in Wayne Manor's library? But, in the blink of an eye (literally), you were awoken by Bruce carefully taking off your shoes. Had you really just passed out on the spot? Pregnancy symptoms must've been hitting you a little harder than you thought...

"Any morning sickness today?" He asks casually as he finishes taking off your other shoe before pressing a kiss to your knee.

"No... It's been alright." You answer without thinking too much about the question. But after a few moments of relishing in the heavenly feeling of Bruce rubbing your swollen feet, the question clicks. "Wait, I can explain-"

"And so can the pads and tampons in the bathroom that haven't been used in two months." He answers before you can finish, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the rainy Gotham weather. "Were you going to tell me?" Bruce asks as he continues his minstrations on your sore feet, his thumbs pressing into your aching arches.

"Of course I was." You answer without hesitation, because you knew you could never keep a secret from Bruce for too long. He was far too observant for that. Yet another difference between him and the younger guys you've dated. "I just couldn't find a good time."

"Look at me, sweetheart." His voice is soft as he tilts your chin towards him, gently stroking your jaw in such a soothing manner that you may just fall asleep again. "Any time is a good time to talk to me about something like this, alright? I don't care how many work meetings I have or how late it is; you are always my top priority."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who doesn't expect you to keep the baby, nor does he let you go through making a decision on your own. By the time you hit your third month, the two of you had talked maybe three to four times about what would be best for you, because you are the most important person in his life.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is immediately at your side for every will and command from that moment on. He knows that this is your first child and just how hard the pregnancy will be on your body, so he refuses to risk anything. You need water? He's already there with a glass and small snack for you. You need to use the bathroom on one of the rare nights that he's home? He's already helping you out of bed and giving you long, tired hugs as soon as you stand before leading you to the master bathroom.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who starts taking a few more nights off whenever he can from his patrols just to be there for you and the tiny life inside your womb. He trusts that Dick can handle Gotham for a few nights on his own every once in a while, for your sake.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who still hasn't told you about his double life as a vigilante, but finally starts considering it. As soon as he started looking at rings, he knew he'd have to come clean eventually. He needed you in his life far more than he thought he'd ever need anyone or anything.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who doesn't let the paparazzi near you at all throughout your pregnancy. In fact, he's tried to keep you inside as much as possible to avoid them, since the two of you never made a public announcement. It was for your safety as much as it was for his sanity.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is right there as soon as the contractions start (after his initial shock and internal panic attack). He doesn't leave your side for a moment, not even when he's certain you've fractured something in his hand from how hard you're gripping it.

There was almost a swarm of motion around you in the private hospital room you were set up in. Your contractions were coming in strong, and so was your grip on Bruce's hand. "Bruce, I can't do this," well, its a little late for that, "it's too much." You're practically sobbing at this point as you feel the foreboding pressure of an oncoming attraction in your uterus.

"Yes, you can." Bruce is sitting in a chair right next to your bed, the guardrail down while he has one arm around your shoulders and his free hand being crushed by your grip. "I'm right here. You've already made it this far, sweetheart."

And, for a moment, you almost believe him. Until another contraction comes rattling through your body, this one far stronger than the rest you've experienced. "I cant, I can't, I can't, I can't." Is all you can cry out in utter agony, your knuckles turned white as you grip Bruce's hand.

"Do you have any idea how close you are to being done?" He asks as he gently rubs your shoulder, trying not to show just how painful your grip on his hand is. "Five more minutes, alright? Five more minutes of suffering for a lifetime of happiness. Do you think you can handle that for me, sweetheart?"

And, despite your body feeling like its burning and being torn in half, you nod. In what feels like mere moments later, the sound of shrilling cries fill the delivery room. Bruce swears it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, for the first time in literal years, cries while holding your infant. His face is red, cheeks are tear-stained, and his beautiful blue eyes are puffy and watery: the same beautiful blue eyes that your baby has.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is pampering you in affection and attention for the entire time you're in the hospital. Every single craving you've had but couldn't satisfy for the past nine months, he already has brought to you in bed.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, when the baby is taken by nurses for examinations a day or two after the birth, shows you a ring. A beautiful, beautiful ring that fits your left hand perfectly and shimmers in the bright hospital lights. Your engagement ring.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who has a private, simple wedding with you, Alfred, his adoptive children, and your beautiful newborn. The press was too risky to deal with for a public wedding, and Bruce wanted those special moments to just be for your family, not for the media's prying eyes.

OlderHusband! Bruce Wayne who is there for as many milestones as he can be. First steps? He's got the camera. Their first words? "Dada." Their baby teeth coming in? He's already bought those little tooth-shaped containers for when they fall out in a couple of years.

OlderHusband! Bruce Wayne who always knew it was you. You were the best thing to have ever happened in his life, and he refused to mess that up. He knew that, eventually, he would have to tell you about his double life as the Caped Crusader, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

Masterlist

[yeowangies]

A beast to toy with

PAIRING: Kenpachi/AFAB!Reader. CONTENTS: Explicit Sexual Content, Cunnilingus, Yandere!Kenpachi, Size Difference WORDCOUNT: 1240

Summary:

Every time you walked to the fourth division, you could feel it everywhere. Whenever you went back to the barracks, there he was, somewhere in the roofs of the buildings. Even when you were alone in your room, you could practically smell him; he had been there at some point while you were gone. 

Notes:

KINKTOBER DAY 16: Size Difference

I think I'm not that good at writing yandere stuff, so this is more lighthearted than it should be, i suppose. I still tried lmao, either way, I enjoyed writing the smut part of this 🥴

@actuallysaiyan

divider by @/cafekitsune

You regretted sleeping with Kenpachi the minute you started feeling his spirit pressure around at practically all times, the day after the deed. 

Every time you walked to the fourth division, you could feel it everywhere. Whenever you went back to the barracks, there he was, somewhere in the roofs of the buildings. Even when you were alone in your room, you could practically smell him; he had been there at some point while you were gone. 

Kenpachi was known for being insane in a different way than this, so you couldn't lie to yourself and say it didn’t turn you on to see him being so obsessed with you. As creepy and insane as it was, you still found it somehow flattering. 

But it was getting ridiculous. 

You had just ordered a drink at a bar, and the guy handing you the glass had talked to you for not even a minute before you felt Kenpachi’s looming presence behind you. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” You growled, turning to see him behind you as the man scurried out. As did most of the people in your surrounding. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

“Who was that?” Kenpachi asked in an intimidating tone, but you paid it no mind.

“Just some guy, serving me a drink! And what is it to you?”

“What is it to me?” He growled.

You ignored him, downing your sake in one gulp before walking past Kenpachi and out the bar. Your short legs weren’t a match to his long ones, and he had grabbed your arm as soon as the cool air hit your face. 

“Let go!” You tried to yank your arm free, but he remained unfazed. 

“No.”

“What do you even want?”

Kenpachi looked at you with the deepest frown. Like he couldn’t believe you were even asking him that. 

“Why did you disappear the next morning?”

“What?”

“Why did you disappear the next morning?” He repeated with a louder voice. His stare was threatening, but you knew better than being scared of it. 

“Because I had to go.” You replied flatly. “It was just a one night thing.”

You were fully aware of what kind of beast you were toying with, even more so when you noticed the muscles in Kenpachi’s jaw tense. 

It amused you to no end that he actually wanted something more than a casual affair. You hadn’t pegged him as that kind of man, quite the contrary. He gave the impression of being completely aloof and carefree, not looking for any deep connection, let alone being obsessed enough with one person to keep them by his side.

You were obviously wrong. 

With a smirk on his lips and an alluring gleam in his eyes, he replied:

“You are mine every night from now on.”

You could only keep up the banter for a while, huffing and complaining about how he didn’t own you, and that you were your own person. You were, but you submitted yourself willingly to him when he tugged at your arm to drag you to a dark alley. And you didn’t put up a fight. 

Your body shivered uncontrollably, hips jerking forward on their own accord. It was difficult to stand up and not succumb to the immense pleasure you were experiencing; if it wasn’t for Kenpachi’s hands on your thighs, you would have fallen down already. 

You moaned loudly, supporting yourself with hands against the wall, as Kenpachi devoured you from behind, your pants and panties discarded at your feet. His face, buried in the curve of your ass and between your legs, never left you, delving in your entrance, as if he had been craving your taste for years. As if he hadn’t just tasted you a few nights ago. His hands were burning your skin, digging his fingers where your ass and thigh met to keep you as still and open for him as he could. 

You had objected to this affair for a number of reasons, but you had forgotten what they were then. He was just too good. That a man as big and proud as Kenpachi was kneeling behind you, eating you out from behind, was a thrill on its own; but his tongue and mouth were marvelous, exploring every inch of you, making your veins pulse with pleasure. 

He slurped and hummed, kneading your flesh every time his tongue pressed inside you just right, making you press back against his mouth. You panted heavily as he lapped at your clit next, coaxing you closer to the edge of an amazing orgasm. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come…” You warned him, reaching behind to thread your fingers in his hair. 

Kenpachi growled, animalistic and raw, as he kept swirling his tongue against your pussy, not leaving any bit of skin untouched. 

Your legs shivered when you came a few moments later, seeing white behind your lids as a long, dragged out moan left your lips. His firm grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you in place as he coaxed out more and more of your release. 

When you yanked at his hair, wordlessly commanding him to stop, Kenpachi pulled back. He only gave you a second to respire, standing up and positioning himself behind you. You didn’t even register what he was doing until he pulled down his hakama enough to free his cock, and his big hands on your hips made you gasp when he brought you closer, making you stand on your tiptoes to align your pussy with his dick. 

Kenpachi didn’t waste any second in sliding his erection inside you. You let out a choked out moan, thigh shuddering as you struggled to accommodate his size, but you could barely do anything, your toes hardly reached the floor. 

You were small, vulnerable, when he started to thrust against your pussy. You tried to keep your balance with your hands against the wall, but every jerk of his hips made you totter, and his cock grazing the deepest part inside you left you speechless. You were going to be sore the next day; just like you had been after the first time you laid with him. He was simply too big, thick, making it a tight fit for him each time he glided inside you.

Grunting and groaning against your neck, Kenpachi hovered over your body, covering you completely with it. He wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you close to his body, his other hand sneaking under your clothes to grope your breast. You whimper in overwhelming delight when he pinched your nipple just as the tip of his cock pressed against a sensitive spot inside you. 

“Look at you, you can’t even talk.” He mocked you, roughly squeezing your tit. “No one else would make you feel this way.”

You wished you had it in you to contradict him, but it would have been in vain. You were moaning, mewling and whining as if you were being tortured, but it was all due to his touch, his hands on your body, his lips against your neck, and his cock relentlessly sliding in and out of your pussy.

“You’re mine.” Kenpachi said against your ear, voice spilling lust, giving you goosebumps. “ You belong to me, don’t forget it.”

Your eyes rolled back when the heat inside your abdomen built up, closer and closer to the edge of an impending orgasm.

[almostempty]

he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add  

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3! 

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls! 

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.” 

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest. 

“Anymore?” 

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point? 

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you. 

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor. 

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you. 

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized. 

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you? 

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing. 

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead. 

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock. 

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his. 

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat. 

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath. 

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time. 

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk. 

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure. 

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave. 

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan. 

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating. 

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath. 

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives. 

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure. 

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn. 

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing. 

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him. 

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.” 

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry. 

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once. 

“Then don’t.” 

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?” 

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth. 

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.” 

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy. 

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.” 

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled. 

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes. 

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.” 

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name. 

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length. 

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless. 

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him. 

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself. 

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight. 

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking. 

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?” 

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move. 

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer. 

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you. 

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore. 

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now. 

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip. 

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next. 

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.” 

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly. 

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness. 

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.” 

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre. 

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you. 

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void. 

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you. 

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word. 

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track. 

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath. 

Maybe he does know. 

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

[hxltic]

goin limp in könig’s arms nsfw

at first he’s a little frightened with the feeling of your already soft body in his large hands going even softer. Unnaturally soft. It was no question he was a large man, and by this point you two had been going a few rounds, so after you begged for his merciless side that only seeped from him on the battlefield, he’d obliged after forcing himself to forget about his personal feelings for your pleasure. Your back seemed to be stuck in an arch, with your hair thrown in different directions where the pillow was supposed to be. It was elsewhere on the floor.

There was a rough grip on your hips as he pulled you down onto his length, keeping his thrusts short and deep with whatever momentum you gave him. It was significantly easier before your eyes rolled back and your hands sought refuge on the headboard behind you, which he has now recognized as pleasure, along with incoherent babbling. You wished you could see the way his thick, toned thighs move back and forth for every single one of his sharp thrusts or hear the heavy german-accented pleasure fall from his lips, but you can’t. Instead, you could feel it. Instead, you could only see darkness or the ceiling through slim vision. Instead, you could faintly hear every time the headboard hit the wall, despite it being hard enough to create dents in the material and rattle the building.

“Kö-König,” you’d attempt, and once your babbling got the least bit coherent (more than just his name of course), he’d grunt back, “Ja Liebe, I’m here.” Even if you didn’t completely understand him all the time yet, you’d come to learn the most important words. You never actually did give him a response though. Just a long, sultry whine.

He chuckled breathlessly at you. Where you two meet, there’s a wet stickiness, one that would feel icky to you if you were mentally present. Everything was red. Ass, cheeks, and both your lips. Your throat would be too, but König just cannot get over how much bigger he is than you, and he has yet to comply because of the thought of it being too hard and genuinely hurting. Even if you had a nonverbal safe code.

But once it seemed your body shut down completely for his use, he couldn’t deny the primal urge to ruin you while he could. He had time to be upset over his lack of self control later. One hand of his could almost wrap under both knees, but he uses two anyway, effectively rolling you upwards and folding you in half. He slid himself back in once up on his haunches.

Your knees were now located at your breasts with his arms encasing you to cradle your face in his hands. It was a large contrast to the way he was plowing into the perfect spot, balls deep inside you, making your sounds louder and much more luscious. Even if you wanted to move your legs, or anything else for that matter, the only thing that could really move were your feet, while everything else was held strong against the bed or stuck by his massive body.

Your fingers wrap around his wrists coming in as he gazed into you with an expression that screams “look at me.”

[kaisacobra]

I See You - Tara Carpenter

Part 2 of I Dare You

Summary: At one of Amber's infamous parties, Tara's feelings get more and more complicated as she starts getting to know you.

Warnings: Fem!Painter!Reader, slow burn, mentions of sex, alcohol and partying, minor angst, non canon/high school

w.c: 6.9k

So, the glitch in the matrix seemed to be lasting much longer than you anticipated.

You did your best to forget the interaction you'd had with Tara and, honestly, that hadn't been such a difficult task. You still had a life, after all, and the rest of your day was divided into making preparations for the volunteering you'd be doing at the hospital during the weekend, studying and trying to make any progress on your painting.

Unfortunately, the last task proved itself to be annoyingly impossible, no matter how hard you tried. You'd tried everything from throwing random brushstrokes at the canvas to staring at the blank space while upside down in your bed, which filled your brain with blood but not with ideas.

There came a point when you had to admit defeat, at least for a day, and you picked up your phone to try to distract yourself from what seemed to be your greatest artistic failure. Your plans were to doomscroll through all possible social media and try to get the slightest bit of inspiration, but your attention was grabbed by a text notification coming from your Instagram.

From the username, it was clear that the text had been from none other than Tara Carpenter, which made your heart race a little in response. Your profile was a bit hard to find because there were no photos of you, which meant that Tara specifically had to look for you for a while. What's more, your profile was basically an exhibition of your artwork and the idea of someone other than your friends and teacher looking at all your projects made you a little anxious.

The texts themselves contained nothing much, apart from Tara apologizing for taking your pen (which you didn't even remember lending, to be honest) and then trying to strike up a conversation by asking you about Freddy vs Leatherface. Even so, noticing that she'd made an effort to keep on talking to you left you swooning.

You answered, of course. It would be rude to leave someone on read, wouldn't it? And besides, you were already planning to procrastinate anyway, so why not be nice and talk to Tara for a few minutes?

Who cares if minutes became hours, right?

And when school started the next day, you felt lighter, somehow. To your relief, no one seemed to remember your disastrous stumble the day before (probably because few people remembered you in general) and so you didn't have to deal with any giggles or weird looks.

You were in the middle of getting some books out of your locker when a familiar pen levitated into your field of vision. Your gaze followed the tanned arm that was holding it and you were met with long eyelashes and a sly smile.

“I'm a woman of my word! Here's your pen.” Tara raised the object towards you, making a funny reference to the text she had sent you the day before.

You rolled your eyes in amusement, although you couldn't hold the expression for long due to the corners of your lips lifting involuntarily. You took the small item from her hand and quickly put it in your bag. “Thanks, it's good to know you're not a thief. Did you at least bring one pen today?”

She understood the light, false accusatory tone in your voice and raised her hand, showing two fingers raised in a V. “Haha. Just so you know, I brought two today.”

It was amazing how instantaneous and right that conversation felt, almost as if it was the kind of thing you did all the time and not for the first time. Talking to Tara was surprisingly easy and you could see at least a friendship blooming between you in the near future.

If it weren't for the fact that she hangs out with the most insufferable people in the world, of course.

The reminder of Tara's group of friends hit you like a thunderbolt and made your chest ache for some reason. The words of both Ethan and Mindy echoed in your head, warning you to be careful, but a large chunk of your mind also insisted on reminding you of Anika's more positive opinion on the topic.

You turned to your locker again, pretending you were looking for something that didn't even exist. “I could never manage with just one pen.” You added politely, not wanting to leave Tara's joke unanswered just because your thoughts were getting muddled.

“I know. Artist and all, aren't you?” The girl nodded and you could see out of the corner of your eye as she leaned on the locker next to you, crossing her arms while still looking at you with a thoughtful expression. “Hey, don't you feel like going to a party tonight?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as you processed what she had said, but Tara remained completely unbothered by your side. As far as you knew, the Carpenter girl didn't usually throw parties, but Amber Freeman did, and she'd instituted a very specific rule about them ever since she'd thrown the first one during your freshman year:

Invite only. No losers allowed.

And, as far as you knew, in Amber's opinion you were included in the word “losers”.

“I don't think so.” You shook your head. “Amber's throwing this party, isn't she? I don't have an invitation and I don't even like parties that much.”

Tara laughed out loud at that, causing a few heads to turn in your direction and your cheeks to heat up like coals. “I'm inviting you, ain't I? and seriously! I've never even seen you at the boring school parties, how are you supposed to know if you like parties or not without ever having tried them?”

Okay, you weren't expecting Tara to rebut your arguments or be so insistent about your presence. Was it getting warmer or was it just your impression? “But... I don't even know anyone who's going, I'll probably just stand in the corner the whole night. And also, I have an appointment the next day, I can't, like, go wild...”

Unexpectedly, Tara let out an even louder laugh, this time even wiping away a tear that ran down her cheek. “Go wild? You're hilarious.” She controlled her breathing, still keeping a bright smile on her face. “You don't have to drink if you don't want to, no one's going to force you. And about the being alone part, you can invite those friends of yours. Amber won't mind, she wants more people at her parties anyway and she refuses to call sophomores and below.”

You looked at her with surprise and suspicion. Invite your friends? Did Tara remember that your friends included Mindy Meeks-Martin? Like, basically Amber's number one enemy, Mindy Meeks-Martin?

Tara finally noticed your wary expression and sighed, uncrossing her arms and raising both hands in a peaceful gesture. “Look, Amber said I could invite nice people and I think you're nice. She'll be busy with other things anyway, she probably won't even notice that your friends are there.”

You bit your lower lip, considering your options. On the one hand, parties weren't exactly your natural habitat and you still had your doubts about whether or not you were welcome there. On the other hand, Tara had been so kind to you lately and... for some reason, you wanted to explore it a little further.

“Can I give you an answer later? I'll ask my friends if they're going.” That's what you decided to answer, choosing to leave your conflicting future in the hands of your dear companions.

Tara nodded a yes and complemented the action with a shrug. “Okay. But even if they decide not to go, I think you should give it a chance.”

Suddenly, the bell for the first period echoed in the corridors, waking you both up to the fact that you had to be in your classrooms in a few seconds. As lockers closed and teenagers ran to avoid being late, Tara lazily turned around and started walking away, ending your interaction.

But you didn't want it to end so soon. In a impulsive act, you raised your voice. “What should I wear?”

Tara turned as soon as she heard you and her eyes slowly traveled up and down your body as a smile worthy of the Cheshire cat broke out on her face. “Wear something pretty! But I think you were already going to do that anyway.”

System crash. Your brain shortcutted. Did Tara had just...? No, she couldn't have possibly... checked you out? Were you seeing things?

As Tara's back got further and further down the corridor, you ran back to your classroom, muttering on the way, “God, I'm really not your strongest soldier.”

_

“I need to ask you something.”

You were extremely nervous. Your fingers kept drumming on the table and your brain was desperately trying to think of a way to convince your friends to A) go to Amber's party with you and B) not think you were out of your mind.

Tara's words (and her actions, by the way) really made you consider that crazy possibility. On any other occasion, you would have denied it as quickly as possible and then run away, but you were finding that Tara Carpenter could be extremely convincing.

Mindy swallowed a piece of the sandwich she was holding, making a dismissive gesture with her hands. “I’ve told you before, we have no interest in a throuple.”

Sitting next to her with her feet propped up on her girlfriend's lap, Anika raised an eyebrow and smiled playfully. “Who says we don't?”

“What?!” Both Mindy and Ethan shouted, although the girl clearly got the joke and was just going along with it, while the boy seemed really bothered by the idea. You and Anika let out a loud chuckle and you smiled at her in appreciation, knowing that she had joked around just to make you less nervous.

With the mood more relaxed, you took a deep breath and said the words in rapid fire, fearing that they would never come out if you lingered too long. “Tara invited me to Amber's party and she said I could invite you guys. Would you go with me? Please?”

“Absolutely not.” Mindy quickly denied your request, putting on an angry expression. “And why would you want to go to a party like that, anyway?”

“That's right, only assholes go to that kind of thing.” Ethan agreed with the girl, looking equally annoyed by your suggestion.

Your eyes turned to Anika in a plea for help and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Opening her famous warm smile that reached her eyes, she grabbed Mindy's arm and pouted. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeease, I've always wanted to go to a party like this. We can just go and laugh at people being dumb.”

“We can laugh at people being dumb at school literally all the time, I don't need to be at Amber Freeman's house for that.” Mindy objects, but it's obvious that she's already starting to give in to her girlfriend's charms by the way her face looks more peaceful.

Anika looked in your direction and you understood that you would have to stay in that ping pong game of arguments until the other two gave in. “Amber won't even notice we were there! Tara said there would be too many people for her to handle.”

“Aaaand,” Anika added, moving even closer to Mindy, almost sitting on her lap on that narrow wooden bench. “Our theme for the A.V club project is literally young and reckless! What's more young and reckless than Amber's parties?! We'll get some great material if we go!”

Mindy considered the proposal for long seconds that left you on the edge of your seat. You knew Ethan would probably go if you all did, so it was really all in the Meeks-Martin girl's hands.

Finally, she sighed and rolled her eyes, slipping an arm around her girlfriend's shoulders. “Okay, I'll go. But I’m warning you, if Amber even looks in my direction, I won't answer for myself.”

Anika squealed, grabbing Mindy's face and pulling her close to kiss her cheek, which clearly got the girl flustered even though she only replied with an “alright, alright”. You smiled at this, feeling a mixture of amusement and relief at knowing that your friends had agreed to embark with you on this madness.

Ethan hadn't necessarily agreed yet, but when you looked in his direction, he sighed dramatically, so that his brown curls moved with the wind. “If you're both going, I think I'll go to keep y/n company. So she won't be a third wheel and won't be bothered by idiots, you know?”

You thanked the boy with a pat on the shoulder and his smile automatically widened. Across the table, Mindy laughed. “Oh, I don't think you have to worry about y/n getting third wheeled, Ethan. Tara invited her, did you forget?”

“Holy shit. I have to tell Tara.” You remembered your conversation with the girl earlier, rushing into her DMs and completely ignoring the jokes and teasing from the girls in front of you.

You just hoped they could also ignore your completely flustered behavior.

 _

We're going!

A simple message had made Tara's day a thousand times better. She'd forgotten how insufferable Amber could be on party days, as well as the fact that Liv had spent the whole day acting like a pick-me-girl because Chad had been spending much more time on his phone than with her lately.

She'd put her best Casanova act into play when she'd spoken to you earlier, but somehow your sense of humor made her break character and just act like herself, which was something she couldn't remember doing so freely in a long time.

Of course she had appealed for a bit of her charm at the end, but she just couldn't hold back when you had opened up such a perfect opening for her to flirt.

“You should really thank me, you know that?” A familiar voice whispered close to her ear and soon pale arms wrapped around her neck in a grip that bordered on uncomfortable. “I basically handed you your challenge on a platter by letting you invite those weirdos.”

Tara was annoyed by the comment and she quickly disentangled herself from the hug, bumping into Amber and her devilish expression. The shorter girl huffed, fixing her clothes and hair as if that was the real reason she had walked away.

At least this time she didn't turn red. That was progress.

“Shut up. If anything happens, it'll be my merit.” Tara slung her bag over her shoulder, walking along with Amber and the other students to the exit after another tiring Friday of classes.

The taller girl didn't even mind Tara's protests, shaking her head as if she didn't believe the freckled girl’s words. “Anyway, at least you'll be busy while I'm doing someone and won't be bothering me the next day.”

They walked out the door and fortunately Tara could already see Sam's car parked not far away. The girl turned her face in the opposite direction of her friend’s, pretending it was due to the sun and hoping Amber hadn't seen the pained expression on her face. “Whatever. See you later, Freeman.”

“See you later, Carpenter!” Amber shouted back, but Tara didn't turn around to wave goodbye and kept her head down until she reached the old sedan her mother used to drive. At least that was until she was no longer sober enough to hold a steering wheel.

Inside the car, Sam raised her head when she heard the door open and close after Tara got into the passenger seat. She started to back out of the parking lot, occasionally glancing at her younger sister who seemed to be upset beside her. “So... how was school?”

“Don't fucking start.” Tara muttered, putting on her headphones in a quick move to isolate herself from the world and from an older sister who suddenly wanted to be there for her after abandoning her alone with an alcoholic for a year.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head on the window, trying not to think about how Amber really got on her nerves sometimes, or think about the guilt that was starting to rise up inside her after being rude to Sam for nothing. Why couldn't her mind stop working for just one minute?

But as she tried to make her own thoughts go blank, a pleasant memory surfaced. Tara remembered your conversation earlier, the way you could understand each other's moods and how genuinely happy she was that you were going to the party for her.

Maybe, if she just kissed you and hid the real reason behind everything, you could even be friends after all. Maybe she could even convince Amber that you were a nice person, so that you could hang out with them.

Of course, these were only wishful thinking, but Tara wanted peace and, at the moment, the utopian idea of having you around gave her that exact feeling. 

_

“Okay, now give me a spin.”

You turned in your place at Anika's request, being mindful to not to get out of the sight of your phone camera, which was leaning awkwardly on your desk. Your room was a mess of clothes scattered all over the place, highlighting your intense search to decide on the perfect outfit to wear for the party.

“So?” You asked your friend, who had her attention split between the video call and her own elaborate makeup.

Anika seemed to finish her analysis on your look while you were about to start trembling with anxiety. You trusted the girl's fashion sense more than anything and you swore you could have started crying if she said that your outfit wasn't good. Fortunately, her response was a positive nod and a satisfied grin. “Oh, you look so cute!”

You looked down, once again staring at the outfit you had chosen, which was a comfortable one, but neat enough to let people know that you had put some effort into dressing up.

Receiving compliments had never exactly been your strong suit, but as much as you felt awkward about Anika's comment, you couldn't get Tara's recommendation out of your head. “Yeah, but do I look pretty?”

“Of course you do! Cute, pretty, it's all the same!”

You frowned, still feeling annoyed. Fashion had never exactly been your forte and that fact was your Achilles heel at the moment, since you still weren't convinced that “cute” and “pretty” were the same thing. In your opinion, Tara seemed to be the type who liked pretty girls, but not cute girls.

Or maybe it didn't make any sense at all and you were just going crazy at the thought of spending the next few hours in a house full of people you either didn't know or didn't like. Besides, when did you start caring about the kind of girl Tara liked?

“I can hear your thoughts from here, you know?” Anika called out, making your head snap out of that internal cycle of overthinking. “Is this all to impress Tara?”

“Ugh.” You grunted, flopping onto your bed oblivious to the dozens of clothes that were crumpling under your body. “No? Maybe? I don't know.”

You felt ashamed of the situation, even though you knew Anika wasn't the judgmental type. Your feelings were still confusing and you definitely didn't feel ready to admit that you thought about Tara more than you should, but there was also no way to hide something that was so obvious.

“Hey, it's okay, you know? Actually, I'm glad to see you're interested in someone.” Anika replied kindly, which made you work up the courage to sit up, staring at your friend's genuine expression through the screen. “I know you're worried about Mindy and all, but Chad's always nice to me when I go to their house and it was super easy to do some school work with Wes for our calc class.”

She continued, “What I mean is that Tara could still be a nice girl for you, no matter how much there's this Romeo and Juliet thing going on between our groups.”

“It's not that. I mean, it is a bit, but also...” You sighed, trying hard not to run your hands through your hair and make it look messy. “... I don't think she'd be interested in me. I mean, she's been giving me these signals but, I don't know, maybe she does it with everyone?”

Anika tsked, shaking her head and giving you a playful smile. “I've never heard of Tara being a player.”

You groaned again, turning your face away as if the act would somehow stop you from feeling so flustered. Anika laughed in response. “Just enjoy the moment! You already know she's the straight forward type, don't you? If she wants something from you, I'm sure she'll get it.”

“Anika!” You shrieked, appalled by what she was inferring. Your entire face seemed to be engulfed in lava as your friend laughed even louder at the clear shock you expressed.

“What?! The world needs more people like that, you know? That's why I'm going to take the initiative to run away to a corner with Mindy at the first opportunity and-.”

“Ew! No! Stop talking! Please, you're my mother figures!”

_

The walls of the house seemed to shake under Tara's fingers as she leaned on it, making her way to the bathroom in slow, crooked steps as she cursed quietly at the amount of people crowding into the hallway.

They were screaming with joy, slurring the lyrics of the extremely loud song that was playing on the huge speakers in the living room, echoing throughout the house and possibly the entire block. Thank God, Wes had already taken care of his mother.

Tara groaned the whole way, feeling like pushing away all the sweaty, alcohol-altered people who bumped into her shoulder, unable to see properly through the colored lights that made the place look like a nightclub. She sighed in relief when she finally found the bathroom, opening the door and locking herself inside without caring about the noise it made.

She turned on the lights and leaned on the sink with both hands, leaning over to look at her reflection in the mirror, with tired eyes and her bangs sticking to her forehead from sweat. God, how could she have been so shaken up by a measly hour of partying? She used to be able to take a lot more.

But she also knew exactly what had led up to it and the smell of alcohol on her lips wouldn't let her lie. She thought she was going to have more fun, but her evening became much more difficult after she saw Amber stick her tongue down the throats of at least three people right in front of her, making a point of giving Tara a thumbs-up afterwards, almost as if she was trying to annoy her friend on purpose.

Tara tried everything to make herself less bothered. She'd danced, she'd watched some people play 7 minutes in heaven, she'd even flirted with a few people just for fun, but in the end, what had stopped her blood from pounding furiously in her ears had been the beers stocked in Amber's basement fridge.

She stopped after the third one, after she felt tipsy enough. She didn't want to be her mother's daughter, who didn't know her own limits and fell asleep on the living room carpet because she didn't have the strength to walk to her own room. And the drinks helped for a while, but now that the sweat had evaporated the effect of the alcohol on herself, her headache left her one scream or punch away from going insane.

Tara splashed water on her face, oblivious to the fact that her makeup was getting smudged or her bangs got even wetter. At this point, she no longer cared about much other than surviving the rest of the night.

Once she had pulled herself together, she sighed and left the bathroom, expecting to be dragged into the living room by the crowd of teenagers dancing and jumping around like wild animals, but instead she ended up being bumped in the opposite direction, almost knocking her off balance.

“Oh my God, I'm sorry!” Gentle hands rushed to hold Tara up before she fell and she followed the length of the arms with her eyes until she bumped into a familiar face. It was you, who was now staring at Tara with a frown. The girl couldn't help herself and looked you up and down, mentally appreciating the way you were dressed.

You quickly took your hands off Tara's shoulders, rubbing them anxiously. The girl felt a tug in her chest as she remembered that she had invited you and you most likely should have spent all this time looking for her, while she was drinking and whining about not having the attention of the biggest bitch in Woodsboro. Drunk and abandoning people? Wow, the Carpenter women's genes never fail.

“I didn't realize you'd already arrived.” Tara broke the awkward silence, mentally thanking you for being upstairs and being able to talk without having to shout over the hip hop track playing in the living room.

You looked away, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. It's been a while.”

Tara nodded, feeling a little disappointed in herself as she realized that you had clearly been annoyed by her absence. She tried to strike up a conversation again, wishing she could somehow put a smile on your face. “What brings you upstairs? Not enjoying the energy of the party?”

“I was looking for the bathroom.” You sighed, hugging your elbows. “Actually, I was more looking to escape to the bathroom, because I was planning to hide there until my friends decided to leave.”

“You really don’t like parties, huh?” Tara joked, but the smile on her face hardened when she realized that you hadn't laughed along with her.

Tara felt terrible. Sure, you'd only had a few interactions before, but all of them had proved that you could understand each other easily. Now, Tara didn't know if it was the party, if it was her or something else that had made you look so uncomfortable, but she was determined to make it up to you for being an idiot.

“You know, I think I have a better hiding place than a small bathroom.” She leaned towards you, as if she was sharing a secret. “Are you interested?”

You scrutinized the girl's face and she couldn't help but be disappointed that you didn't even seem to be affected by your proximity as you usually would. Your arms were crossed as you felt suspicious of her offer. “Don't you have to go back to the party?”

Tara made a dismissive gesture with her hand and started walking down the large hallway, looking for a specific room. “Nah, I've been to so many of these that it's lost it’s spark to me.”

Technically, it wasn't a lie. Tara was sick of that party and she'd love to have a distraction from the fact that Amber was now probably at her body count number 100 and Tara wasn't talking about dead people. But then again, she felt strangely committed to making you have at least a little fun and she really liked your company.

Maybe it was just because she felt bad for having invited you in the first place. Yeah, that must be it.

She opened Amber's bedroom door, barging in without hesitation and heading straight for the window, opening it all the way. Behind her, you seemed slightly alarmed by the idea of simply invading the personal space of a girl who could make your life a living hell. “Uh…”

But before you could really protest, Tara put one leg out of the window, glancing in your direction with a playful smile. “Trust me. You’re not scared, are you?”

“I’m not scared, but trusting you? After you invited me to a party you’re trying to escape?” you replied, making Tara's smile widen as she realized you were starting to open up again. “And what are you doing at the window, Rapunzel?”

Tara chuckled, pointing your way. “Wait and see.”

In a swift motion, she raised her hands to the roof platform above her head, pushing off Amber's window with her feet to gain enough momentum to pull herself up with extra effort from her arms. Still holding onto the edge, Tara hung upside down, looking at you through the window with her bangs sticking up. “So, are you coming or not?”

You snorted lightly with the sight, shaking your head as you approached the window. “I’m no Spider-Man. If I fall from here, it’ll be your fault, and I hope they write it down as homicide.”

“Good to know you have so much faith in me.” Tara answered, kneeling on the roof tiles and extending her hand for you to grab. You hesitated for a few seconds, and honestly, Tara couldn’t blame you for it, but she kept looking at you expectantly, trying to communicate with her eyes. Let me make things right with you.

She almost sighed in relief when you finally grabbed her forearm, letting her help you up slowly, pretending not to notice how her hands ended up on your hips. All in the name of making your night a little less boring, of course.

But wow, your body felt... warm.

It didn’t take long for you to pull away from Tara, clearing your throat and sitting on the roof beside her. It would be hard to stand for long due to the slope, but the spot was comfortable enough for you to sit or lie down without the risk of rolling off.

The roof was quite high, not tall enough for you to see the entire city, for example, but high enough that the people below you looked like tiny ants. Ants that were dancing, having fun, and throwing cups of beer at each other.

“Do you come here often?” you broke the silence, but Tara saw the exact moment you winced, realizing way too late the double meaning of your words. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t…”

“It’s all good.” Tara laughed, considering saying something to tease you even more, but she ultimately decided against it , feeling a bit sorry for your embarrassed state. “And no, to answer your question. I used to spend a lot more time up here before, but now…”

She let the sentence trail off, lost in her own thoughts. Maybe the last time she had been on that roof was the day Sam had gone to rehab, two years ago. Which, looking back now, was probably around the same time Amber stopped being a caring friend and started being the friend that thought Tara complained too much.

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence for a few more seconds—or as quiet as it could be with two massive speakers blasting music two floors below. Tara glanced to the side, staring at your face, which seemed more focused on the starry sky, illuminated only by a few beams of moonlight.

Like she had felt in the car earlier, that sight gave her peace. It wasn’t like looking at Amber, which made her feel like her organs were being squeezed and thrown into an erupting volcano. Looking at you made her feel like a sea breeze was brushing against her face, a comforting, peaceful gust of wind.

Tara’s eyes drifted down to your lips, and she had to run her tongue across her own. Amber’s challenge lingered in the back of her mind, and she was tempted to test if your kiss would be a better distraction than the cheap beer she’d grabbed from the basement.

But suddenly, Tara felt self-conscious. Maybe it was the fact that the idea had been Amber’s, and she was still too annoyed with the girl to give her the satisfaction of being right. Maybe it was because she could still taste the alcohol in her mouth and didn’t want you to taste it too.

Or maybe it was something else. Something gentler and softer that even Tara couldn’t quite describe yet.

“Oh, look!” Tara snapped out of her own thoughts when she saw you excitedly pointing at the sky. “You can see Orion so clearly!”

She followed the direction of your hand with her eyes, feeling confused about what exactly she was supposed to be looking at. That particular night was cloudless, which made the vast array of stars shining in the dark sky exceptionally beautiful.

You noticed the lost expression on the girl’s face beside you and chuckled. “Orion? The constellation?”

“Oh, yeah. I… I know.” Tara just nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed for not being sure what you were referring to. She knew what a constellation was, of course, but she had never studied them in much detail, and in her eyes, all she could see in the sky were random stars, beautiful but completely scattered.

You laughed again, not buying Tara’s excuse for a second after seeing how confused her eyes looked. Gently, your hand held hers as you started pointing out the constellation with both of your hands joined together.

“See those three stars close together? That’s what we call Orion’s belt. It’s much easier to spot the rest of the constellation starting from there. Up there, kind of making a triangle, you have Meissa, Betelgeuse, and Bellatrix, and if you look to the side, it kinda looks like he’s holding a bow.”

Tara wanted to pay attention to your explanation, but her brain turned to mush the moment your hands got entangled, and her heart started pounding like the drums in a heavy metal song. You, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of the action, which made Tara feel even more like an idiot.

Wow, what was in those drinks?

“You really know a lot about this,” she said, trying to sound normal, even though her voice felt like it could crack at any moment. You smiled at the comment, letting go of her hand to play with your fingers in your lap.

“One day, I had this brilliant idea to paint constellations on my bedroom ceiling—or at least most of them—and I had to do a ton of research to make sure it looked right.” You laughed, and Tara realized she wanted to hear that sound more and more.

“It’s cool that you’re a painter. It’s different.” She wanted to keep the conversation going, eager to learn more about any detail you were willing to offer, but she didn’t exactly know what to say. For someone who usually had no trouble expressing herself, Tara seemed to have forgotten her entire vocabulary.

Luckily, you seemed to be in the opposite situation, feeling comfortable enough to keep talking. “I guess so? I’ve never thought much about it before. Painting is a lot more than just a hobby for me—it’s more like a safe haven, you know?”

Tara nodded instead of giving a verbal response, especially because she knew exactly what you were talking about, but she didn’t have the words to express how much she needed a conversation like this—so simple, yet so healing.

She reached into the pocket of her jacket, slowly pulling out her phone. “Can I take a picture of the constellation?” Tara asked, mentally kicking herself when she heard how vulnerable her voice sounded.

Her tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you looked at her with a bit of confusion, but soon after, your eyes softened, shining with kindness—almost as bright as the stars above your heads. “You don’t have to ask me to take pictures of the sky, but do you want me to point it out again?”

“Sorry, old habit.” She shook her head to snap out of it, feeling her cheeks heating up as she started opening the camera app and aiming it upward. “But yeah, please.”

Slowly and gently, you took Tara’s hands again, working together with her to make sure the constellation was perfectly centered. You were close enough for Tara to catch the pleasant scent of your perfume, but she forced herself to stay focused on the picture you two were trying to capture.

After a few successful shots of Orion (which Tara planned to edit later to make it more visible and color-corrected), the two of you lay down side by side, admiring the night’s beauty in another moment of shared, comfortable silence.

_

Now, the silence inside Sam’s car wasn’t as comfortable.

It was the first time Tara had asked Sam to pick her up from a party, especially as late as 2 AM, considering the younger Carpenter always used to sleep over at Amber’s once everything wrapped up.

But after you left, Tara completely lost the desire to stay. The music was dull, she had no interest in drinking or playing any games, and she definitely didn’t want to be around her friends anymore.

She sat in a thoughtful silence, her head resting against the window, watching as the asphalt disappeared behind the car doors. The soft hum of the engine served as background noise since Tara didn’t have her precious headphones, but she’d spent enough time around loud music for the night anyway, so her ears were begging for a break.

“Did you… have fun?” Sam asked cautiously, as if Tara were a wounded animal that might lash out at any moment. The younger girl sighed, feeling guilty for being the reason behind the hostile distance between them.

She already felt guilty about enough things. Maybe it was time to start lifting some of that weight off her shoulders.

“I guess I did.” She nodded, watching Sam’s surprised expression at her genuine response. The look made her seem younger, reminding Tara that Sam wasn’t that much older than her. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember seeing Sam so carefree since she’d returned, but her anger hadn’t exactly allowed her to notice the little details. “I had a good time.”

“Good,” Sam replied, trying to hide a satisfied smile from tugging at the corner of her lips. In the passenger seat, Tara did the same, feeling a tiny bit of happiness from the small progress they’d made. Small steps were important.

The car fell silent again, but it felt less heavy, and Tara figured it was because Sam was tired and still had to focus on the road for at least another 10 minutes. Taking advantage of the pause, the younger Carpenter pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket, going straight to her gallery and searching for the pictures she had taken earlier.

Most of them were of the sky, capturing the fateful (and now familiar to Tara) constellation of Orion, which made her think of the feeling of your hands on hers. Two others, however, were a bit more personal for her.

She zoomed in on the photo, staring at the profile of your face bathed in moonlight as you smiled brighter than the stars. She had taken the picture in secret, an impulsive urge to capture not just the moment, but you. Tomorrow, she could blame it on the alcohol, but tonight, she would give herself the privilege of gazing at your carefree expression for a few long seconds.

You had probably spent hours talking on the roof, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Tara wanted more. She needed more. Even though she’d never considered herself to be possessive or clingy, she couldn’t help but want to explore every little piece of your world as if it were the most beautiful piece of art.

A sudden thought crossed her mind, and Tara quickly opened Instagram, this time taking her time to scroll through and really appreciate each of your paintings. As she studied the pieces you had displayed, she mentally kicked herself for not having done it sooner. It was clear that you drew inspiration from the Renaissance, and that people were your greatest muse. There were few self-portraits, but Tara recognized some of your friends in the works.

She was so captivated that she felt a strong urge to knock on your door and ask you to tell her the story behind each one, just for the pleasure of hearing your voice. But, well, it was 2 AM, and she didn’t even know where you lived.

And, of course, she wasn’t that crazy.

Still, she decided to slide into your DMs, sending you five of the photos you had taken of the sky, taking the opportunity to wish you a good night. Would sending a heart emoji be too much? She decided against it. The photos would be enough.

But Tara still wasn’t satisfied with her exploration, so she ventured into your stories, looking for anything that could give her more reasons to talk to you. It turned out to be a great decision, because she struck gold.

You had posted an announcement from Woodsboro Central Hospital earlier, calling for volunteers for a special event dedicated to bringing joy to children hospitalized with cancer. The flyer said that any help was welcome, from telling stories to dressing up as superheroes, and Tara couldn’t stop wondering what you had signed up to do.

Without wasting any time, she navigated to the hospital’s profile, hoping they were still accepting applications even though she was texting them literally seven hours before the event.

Hi, I’m interested in volunteering! Would you need a photographer?

[melloollem]

Family nights|| Bruce Wayne x Batmom Reader × Batboys

Summary: Your children keep you company after patrol until your husband arrives.

Warnings: English is not my native language.

(DC masterlist)

You were woken by a movement at the bottom of the bed and your first reaction was to reach out to Bruce's side of the bed. Noticing the lack of your husband's warmth at your side, you reluctantly opened your eyes, a sigh escaped your lips and, as you moved your legs, you heard a complaint: "Mom, I'm here". You readjusted your position, with an expression of confusion on your face.

"Damian, I told you not to wake her." It was Tim's turn to speak, his sudden presence startled you, he'd come out of the bathroom in your room, damn vigilante skills, when had these kids gotten in here? "Tsk, you don't even know what happened, I didn't wake her, Drake" you sighed recognizing the scenario that always ended in a long argument between the boys, before Tim could retort arousing Damian's fury you butted in "Ok, you two have had enough of this, let's not do this now" Your body stretched towards Damian pulling him into your arms, while leaning on the headboard.

"Mummy's boy" Jason's mocking voice was heard as he lay down on the side of the bed that belonged to Bruce, had he been lying on the floor all this time? Confusion returned to her face at the thought. "Shut up, Todd, it's not my fault you're too old to be with your mother" Despite Damian's quick response, you felt him tense in your arms, you wouldn't have hugged him if you'd known it wasn't just him and Tim in the room, everyone knew how shy Damian was with displays of affection. Your embrace loosened, but the boy still didn't get off your lap.

"Get your big ass over there, Jason," said Dick as he got up from the floor too, but unlike Jason, he had a pillow in his hand, you couldn't even be surprised anymore. The eldest of your children settled down on the bed with the space left for him, turning to you and saying "Hi, Mom," a half-childish smile escaped him, and you reciprocated in the same way "Can you tell me what you're doing here?" Your tone was more serious than expected.

"Bruce asked us to stay with you," said Tim as he took Damian's place at the end of the bed. "He had some things to sort out after patrol," added Jason. You turned on the lamp next to the bed, all this time the boys were walking around the room with the help of the light from the hallway.

"Actually, father asked me to stay with you until he got back, the others invited themselves" Damian informed "In fact, Dick invited himself and pulled Tim and me into it" Jason let out in a tired grumble. "It would be like a slumber party, according to him" Tim let out a sigh, their eyes turned to Dick waiting for his side of the story and receiving only a shy smile in response.

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table as you said "It's late, one of you go and get him" Referring to Bruce, all of your children let out a tired sigh and before a general discussion started you said "Ok, text him and tell him to come" Dick was the one who picked up his cell phone and sent Bruce a text message, not quite sure how long it would take for him to see it.

You closed your eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep as kicks to your side tried to hit Tim "Damian, leave your brother so I can sleep" the younger man squeaked "But mom, he's lying on top of me" You didn't even have to open your eyes to know that Damian was exaggerating about his brother's current position. "Damian" his tone foreshadowed a reprimand, the boy shut up and moved further away from his brother.

A comfortable hush settled over the room, you hoped to return to your old state, but Tim was in opposition "I don't want to sleep" You abandoned the idea at this point in the discussion, realizing that it would be impossible. Dick quickly retorted "You're the one of us who needs the most sleep" An annoyed murmur escaped Jason "I'm the one who needs the most sleep" He, like you, really wanted to sleep, but it looked like this family was repulsed by the term.

"We can watch a movie" Tim said, you knew he was electric because of the mission, typical attitude. "Sure, look for something" Jason sighed in response to your declaration, he can't believe you gave in so easily. Tim flipped through the catalog, indecisive about what to watch "We could watch a musical, a comedy, a horror movie..." "Your voice is the most terrifying thing tonight," Jason cut off his brother, who continued to ramble on about the different types of movie you could watch.

At one point Tim opted for a mystery movie, you rolled your eyes at the choice, the kids always figured out the mystery before the middle of the movie, ruining the experience. You watched what was supposed to be a movie session turn into a loose conversation after Tim did exactly what you had predicted. They debated the mission, most of them, Jason just mumbled something at one time or another in agreement.

"Does anyone know how to solve this? What's he talking about?" Now they were talking about one of the Charade's riddles, and it seemed that Tim still had no idea what the villain meant. "It's an allusion to mirrors" Bruce was the one who answered as he entered the room, all eyes turned to him and Jason let out a relieved sigh "Finally, I'm going to sleep" He stood up and stretched his body lazily. "What about the movie?" Damian was the one who asked "The script is weak" Tim said following Jason's example and sliding out of bed, now that he had an idea of where to start solving the puzzle there was no reason to stay there.

You watched each of your children leave the room with a brief "good night", you answered each of them, Dick was the last to leave, closing the door. A sigh of relief left your lips, wishing you could finally go back to sleep, Bruce chuckled at your attitude, before sliding in next to you, your eyes following his every move as he got into bed.

"Everything okay?" Your question was prompted by his delay in returning home "Will be" your brow furrowed hoping for a better answer, that kind of vague assurance never brought good news, but all Bruce did when he noticed your expression was leave a quick kiss on your forehead with the same words "Will be", you decided not to ask any more questions, but that subject still circled your mind.

"Family movie?" he asked, turning to the television, intending to change his focus, you followed his example, the movie was still playing in a scene that wasn't so interesting right now "Tim's choice. You're the only one missing" Even though you smiled, Bruce noticed what you meant in those words, but decided to ignore it "What movie is that?" Now he was looking at you. Taking advantage of the moment, you caught the changes in Bruce's image, he looked more tired than usual "I'm not sure, but it looks like we have two killers and one of them is the victim's brother" Anticipating his next question, you added "Tim spared no details".

A silence consumed the room, the two of you staring at the television, wrapped in each other's embrace. You weren't sure how much of Bruce's thoughts were on the movie, he seemed to be thinking about something else, but he wouldn't share it with you. Bruce had made a vow to himself not to bring the dilemmas of vigilante life into rooms with you, too bad he couldn't stop them from plaguing his own mind.

"You know you can tell me everything, right?" You tried to broach the subject gently, wishing Bruce would share his fears with you "Tim has terrible taste in movies" His response took you by surprise, drawing a laugh from you "Said the man from the musicals" You allowed the light tone to take over the conversation "I thought that was one of the things you loved about me" He couldn't believe it "I think that was one of the things you said on our first date" Another laugh erupted from you at your husband's surprised expression, "I'm sorry about that" An amused smile escaped you and Bruce could only smile back at the sight of it.

Your laughter gradually subsided and now you just looked at each other in love "I'm serious about this, you can tell me anything" You took advantage of the comfort of the situation to clarify your speech. "I know that" He seemed to focus on his own thoughts for a second "I love you" Bruce hoped that declaration would be able to quell all your worries. "I know that" You smiled cheekily, but quickly returned to your passionate expression "And I love you too".