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jaythes1mp · 4 months ago

Text

Here, Kitty.

Yan batfam x cat hybrid reader -> CH1

12609 words, 71519 characters, 719 sentences, 224 paragraphs, 50.4 pages Next chapter

You can't recall exactly when or how you first came into contact with the billionaire and his sons, but if you could, you would go back in time and prevent that meeting from ever taking place. In a heartbeat.

Sitting obediently on a glass table tucked in the center of a crowded Wayne Enterprises boardroom, you find yourself ensnared as Bruce Wayne diligently delivers a familiar presentation, each sentence having been painstakingly practiced during the car ride over. Having overheard his repeated rehearsal with Alfred, you find yourself unconsciously mouthing along to every word. The tight black and green collar around your neck only worsening your discomfort, its stiffness constricting your movements and snagging on your freshly groomed fur.

The man continues on with his presentation, his polished demeanour and authoritative tone captivating the attention of the surrounding investors and executives. However, you find it difficult to focus on his words, the ridiculous knitted Nightwing sweater pressing against your back causing an uncomfortable itch. You shift slightly, wincing as your freshly combed coat brushes against the stiff fabric.

The weight of Bruce's unwavering gaze lands on you like a furnace, and you can almost picture that infuriatingly fond smile plastering his face. Just the thought of it made your stomach churn with disgust. Your tail swishing side to side in distaste.

He continues to drone on and on; and you find yourself struggling to stay still, the uncomfortable position, itchy sweater, and the heavy weight of Bruce's stare making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything he's saying. The only thing you want to do is scratch the infuriating itch, but the tight collar around your neck and Bruce's looming presence ensure that you remain obediently still. You know better than to cross them. How willing they are to punish you, so you stay still.

Your thoughts drift to a time when you were still unburdened by this enforced domestication. A pang of longing and bitterness settles in your chest as memories of your previous life come flooding back. You remember the simple freedom of being able to move about unmonitored, the comfort of lounging in the sun, unbothered by the Wayne families suffocating grasps.

Your paws effortlessly propel you across the icy rooftops, leaping and bounding with a careless grace. The cool night air brushes through your untamed, unhindered fur, the wind whistling past your ears. A bag is clenched between your sharp teeth, the fabric muffling your breathing slightly as you scale each building with purpose.

The city's neon glow stretches out beneath your paws, the distant lights casting a soft, surreal hue on the urban canvas. Free to go wherever you please. You could spend minutes, hours or even days just wandering under Gotham’s starry sky, with no one to tell you what to do or where to be.

You pause your journey and arrive at the edge of a dark alley, peering down at the scene below. A woman holds two teens hostage, a pistol pressed against their shivering frames. Your tail involuntarily fluffs up, matching the tension in your body as your slitted eyes dart to each potential escape route. A hiss escapes past your teeth, and you set the package down at your side before delicately pawing at a loose brick in the wall. You slide it from its position just enough to create a domino effect, the brick falling directly onto the woman's gun-holding hand.

A small, satisfied mewl leaves your throat as the woman wails in pain, her broken wrist cradled protectively in her grip. The two teens immediately seize the opportunity to make their escape, scrambling out of the alleyway. The gun slips from the woman's grasp, and she drops to her knees clutching her wounded hand. Your ears fold back and a low hiss escapes your lips at the sight, but you remain perched on the roof-top, unmoving. You slowly lower back down to take your package, then turn away. Your paws hitting the nearest rooftop with a small thump.

Your paws carry you further and further away from the robbery, the events replaying in your mind like a vivid, disjointed dream. You launch yourself from roof-to-roof in a series of quick dashes and leaps, your body seemingly on autopilot as you weave through the city's darkened backstreets. The silence of the rooftops envelops you like a comforting blanket, the city below finally at rest. A cool night breeze caresses your untamed fur, rustling its unkempt strands. Balancing the package carefully in your mouth, you bound toward your home’s familiarly cluttered balcony.

Your eyes scan over the cluttered balcony, taking in the random assortment of books, clothes, and trinkets strewn across the small space. Your padded paws land quietly on the rough wood, a subtle thump breaking the silence. Your muscles relax ever so slightly as the familiar surroundings wash over you. Without a second thought, you make your way to the edge of the balcony, lowering the package with your paws before curling up beside it, your ears folding back in an almost contented manner.

Your eyes had just shuttered closed as you basked in the soothing midnight breeze, when the sudden crash of metal yanks you from your reverie. Your ears perking up and pivoting towards the source of the disturbance. A low, frustrated huff escapes your snout. You stretch out your limbs, your tail flicking in annoyance as you lower yourself from the edge of the balcony and peer over the side.

Peering down from your perch on the balcony, your eyes widen in surprise. It’s...a boy? Wearing a skin-tight red and black bodysuit with a vibrant yellow cape. A flicker of familiarity sparks in your brain; you’ve seen this one before. Red Robin.

You observe him silently from your vantage point, tilting your head to the side as your eyes rove over his frame. He lets out an exaggerated groan, grappling awkwardly with an unfamiliar piece of gadgetry. A low, scoffing hum leaves your throat and your tail lightly thwaps against the wood, twitching in amusement. You had only seen him in pictures before, but damn, they didn’t lie. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

You lower yourself with a single, fluid motion onto the metal stairwell, feeling the rough surface scraping against your little paws. A small hiss of displeasure escapes your throat, but you brush it off and continue. You approach him curiously, taking a moment to inspect him. Your nose twitches as you sniff at his cape before finding a comfortable spot to sit and look up at him expectantly.

He doesn’t immediately notice your approach, his mind seemingly occupied by the malfunctioning gadget in his hands. You watch as he fiddles with the device for a few moments before his attention finally snaps to you. He visibly jumps, startled by your sudden proximity. He lets out a startled breath, eyes widening. You had gone to him.

You let out a snort of derision. Him, a vigilante? A detective? Unlikely. The thought of him trying to solve a case or outwit a criminal is absolutely absurd. You let your gaze wander over his costume once more, imagining how differently he would react if you were in your human form right now.

He slowly lowers the gadget, his eyes fixed upon you as you recline before him, behaving like an awaiting house cat. He observes you with quiet, analytical interest, his gaze roaming over your small form, taking in your twitching tail and reasonably-groomed fur. He seems to ponder the sight of you, weighing in on your not-quite stray, yet not-quite pampered appearance.

You gingerly shift closer, standing on your hind legs before pawing at his pants. A small indignant huff of disappointment escapes your lips as the material refuses to tear, the tightly-woven fabric holding firmly against your claws, unable to even tear the slightest thread, but you mask it with a small, almost cute "mew". Nevertheless, you are determined to make the most out of this situation. Planning on coaxing all the pets you possibly can out of this man.

He shoots you a curious look, tilting his head to the side. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain. He then slowly reaches out a gloved hand, hovering it over your head hesitantly, waiting for your response.

The end of your tail gives a happy flick, betraying your eagerness for his touch. You press your cheek against his knuckles, enjoying the sensation of his fingers against your fur. Instinctively, your ears fold back, granting him better access to run his fingers further through your soft fur. Sucker.

A soft, delighted purring sound fills the air as your eyes flutter closed, your purrs becoming a constant, steady low rumble in your chest as he continues to gently stroke your head and down your neck. Oh, this is heavenly. Your tail swishes contentedly, and you lean into his touch, almost shamelessly seeking out more.

His gloved hand is much bigger than your entire head, the soft fabric of his suit brushing against your fur. Yet, his touch was gentle and deliberate, slowly tracing the outline of your ears and down your spine, causing a blissful shiver to run through your small body. Your eyelids droop further, nearly closing completely, your purring becoming louder as you relax into his touch. You don’t notice the pleased knowing grin that crosses his face.

The weight and warmth of his gloved hand was almost soothing, his fingers weaving between your fur with a sort of rhythmic motion. You let your body go limp, your head rolling back to further expose the underside of your chin, silently begging for more of those slow, careful caresses. Your eyes are almost completely closed now, a small rumble in your chest the only sound you remember how to make. God, you haven’t been pet in weeks.

His hand moves from your spine to the base of your tail, and a low sigh of pure contentment leaves your mouth. He seems to sense your delight and focuses his attention there, running his fingers through the base of your tail, causing you to involuntarily arch your body towards him, purring in approval.

He seems to know exactly what to do, his touch deliberate yet tender. A little too well. It's as if he's somehow mapped out each and every spot that you secretly adore and is now exploiting it to great effect. The constant caresses, pets, and scrabbles have worked you into a sort of euphoric, almost trancelike state, your mind becoming blissfully devoid of conscious thought. All you can focus on is the warm, firm touch of his gloved hand.

The moment is shattered, however, as deep voice from his comms shatters the sweet, blissful moment. Your little pointed ears perk up, instinctively responding to the sudden intrusion of sound. “Tim? Why does it say you’ve stood still?”

You pull yourself from your blissful state with a reluctant huff, the sound of the deep voice in his comm jarring you back to reality. Your ears flick back, annoyed at the interruption. Tim– Red Robin seems to tense up, his hand frozen in mid-pet. He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, looking down at you. "Sorry, I got…distracted."

Your tail lazily swishes against the stairwell, silently expressing your irritation at having been interrupted. You can practically hear his sheepish, nervous chuckle, can practically sense the tension in his frame. "Distracted?" The voice in the comm questions, but you huff, tuning out the conversation.

You let out a small, frustrated huff before turning your focus back onto Tim's still form. Ignoring the man's comm conversation, you push your little, fluffy face against his leg, letting out a needy demanding mewl to regain his attention. You're not done yet, damn it.

His eyes flick back over to you, a mix of apology and amusement evident in his gaze. He resumes his prior motions, sliding his hand down your spine with a soft, comforting caress, tracing the same path he'd followed before. All the while, his other hand is fiddling with the comms device, probably replying to the man on the other end. Good. As long as his hands are still touching you, you don't particularly care what he's doing. “You found them?”

You sigh and let yourself relax once again, the soothing motions of his fingers against your fur quickly working you back into blissful indifference. You let your eyelids flutter closed, sinking back into the soothing rhythm of his touch. The only sounds you can focus on are his breathing, the soothing rasp of his glove against your fur, and the low hum of the comm conversation. This is nice.

He continues this motion for what feels like an eternity, the blissful sensation of being pet taking over your senses and dulling your brain into a euphoric, mindless state. You find yourself leaning heavily against his leg, the steady rise and fall of his chest and the low rumble of his voice against the comms acting as an oddly soothing background noise. Damn, you could get used to this....

Gradually, you become aware of him shifting, his hand leaving your spine. A low whine escapes your throat, your eyes opening to look up at him with a mixture of annoyance and pleading. Come back. You meow, demanding.

You let out a low grumble of complaint as he stands and picks up the device once more. Irritated at the interruption of your moment, you bat at his leg with your small paw, then quickly scamper away, leaping back onto the balcony from before. Now alone, you let out a sigh and circle the small space multiple times. The wood scraping against your claws sharply.

With a quick shift, you transform back into your human form, the small package clutched delicately in your hands. Turning, you slide open the door to the balcony and step through, the cool night air rustling against your clothes.

Tossing the small package onto the countertop, you drag yourself over to the couch. Your limbs ache with exhaustion as you collapse into the cushions with a thud. You bring the well worn blanket with you, wrapping your tired body in its familiar comfort. Your muscles are screaming out for rest. Which you happily oblige.

You're wrenched out of a fitful sleep, eyes fluttering open as the familiar, infuriating sound of construction greets you. Fuck. A loud, frustrated groan escapes your chapped lips. You pull a nearby couch pillow over your head, desperately trying to muffle the noise. With bleary eyes, you squint at the digital clock reading 5:42. You want to die.

The relentless hammering, banging, and drilling outside the thin walls of the apartment pierce your eardrums. You swear you can feel each blow of the hammer, every screech of the drill, deep in your bones. Make it stop. You press the pillow more firmly against your ears, trying in vain to block out the incessant din. You silently promise yourself that if you ever meet the city planner responsible for approving this construction, you'll kick him square in the nuts... Or right in the vagina– whatever. Now is not the time to debate over this.

With a groan of irritation and an abundance of hissing, you force your tired body into a sitting position as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. You take a moment to rub your temples for some relief from the dull ache forming behind your eyes.

You open your red rimmed eyes and swing your legs over the side of the couch. The exhaustion from last night feels ten times worse now after being woken up prematurely by the construction racket. You mentally curse whoever’s in charge here, and their entire bloodline. Silently wishing for the noise to stop. Maybe you can sleep in the bathtub later...

You brace one hand against the side of the couch as you use it as support to rise to your feet. A series of satisfying cracks and pops resonate down your spine. By the sound of it you’re a chiropractors wet dream.

You let out a low sigh of relief as you straighten, your back now less taut than it was a few moments ago. Small mercies, right?

With your hands clamped tightly over your tender, sensitive ears, you stumble into the kitchen. You begin searching through each cabinet with a desperation that borders on violent. Your mission? Find the strongest headache pills you have.

After hastily flinging open each cupboard and shelf, you finally find what you’re looking for. A small, white bottle filled half way with little white tabs. With a quick twist, you pop the lid open and pour two pills out into your palm, before downing them dry.

You lean against the kitchen counter, eyes squeezed shut as you press the heels of your hands firmly into your temples. Come on. Work already..

You wait in silence, only the buzzing of the refrigerator and occasional hammering outside filling the air. You press your palms against your temples, as if physically willing the pills to work faster. The tension between your shoulders tight as piano wire.

You let out a frustrated groan, turning the tap on, lowering your head under the rushing water. You gulp down a few mouthfuls, letting the water run over, through, and past your lips. The noise of the tap muffling the sounds of the construction. The coolness of the water temporarily soothes the ache behind your eyes.

You let the water slide past your lips, closing them to savor the cool sensation. Your mind grows blank as you lose track of time, lost in tranquility despite the racket outside. Then, with a shaky hand, you turn off the tap, stepping back as you reach for a tea towel to dry your face and neck. The cloth rough against your tender skin, but the motion is calming, and your shoulders loosen the slightest bit.

You lean back against the counter, the cold marble seeping through your shirt, almost numbing any sensation on your skin. You take another moment to towel dry your hair, the rough material scraping against your scalp, and sending a pleasant shiver down your back. The small action temporarily distracting you from the pounding in your head.

You drop the towel, letting it fall onto the counter behind you. A long exhale escapes your mouth, your shoulders dropping as you relax. For a moment, the water seems to have worked. Unfortunately, the relief is short lived as the headache slowly creeps back in. A low growl escapes your lips. Ugh.

You scan over the bottle, reading the small print. Only twenty minutes before the damn things start to kick in. Shit. You shove the container back inside the cupboard, a frustrated huff leaving your lips. You drag your body over to your room, every step a tedious task.

You stumble into the room and collapse onto your bed, face first. You let out a low groan as your body lands on the soft, fluffy mattress. It welcomes you with open arms. You let yourself go limp, letting the comfort and softness of your bed lull you into a quiet state of half numbness. You can’t tell if it’s the lack of rest, or the pills finally starting to work, but you’re suddenly feeling incredibly woozy.

With a sluggish effort, you shift your head up, wincing at the sharp, persistent thrum in your skull. Despite the throbbing, you slowly extend your arm to reach for the pair of shorts laying on the edge of the bed.

With a weary sigh, you shuck off yesterday’s cargo pants and pull the new shorts up your legs. The simple motion feels like climbing a mountain. Deciding that the headache pounding through your mind was too much to change your shirt, you collapse back onto your bed. The sheets cool against your overheated skin.

You lay there for a moment, letting the comfort of your bed take hold. Despite the headache still pounding through your head, exhaustion slowly starts to take hold of you. Your eye lids flutter as sleep slowly creeps in. But just as you’re about to doze off, your stomach lets out an obnoxious gurgle, the sound piercing the silence. Great.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you shift up from the bed, grimacing as you do so. Your untamed hair sticking up in random directions. You rub your temple, as your stomach lets out another loud grumble. You let out an annoyed whine as the realisation sinks in. You’re out of groceries.

With a disgruntled huff, you haul yourself up for the second time. Reaching for your jacket as you quickly make your way towards the front door. This time choosing to forego the balcony and just walk like a normal person. You swing open the front door and step out into the hallway. The fluorescent lights buzz annoyingly overhead.

You step into the hallway, your shoes slapping softly against the tiled floor. The sound of the construction is no longer muffled, the endless banging and grinding now clear as day. You wince as the onslaught suddenly becomes unbearable. You quickly make your way to the staircase instead of the elevator. You can’t handle being jammed into that tiny space with the sounds of hell right now.

You take the steps of the staircase two at a time, just wanting to get out of this damn building as soon as possible. Each step echoes with a rhythmic thudding against the cold concrete as you make your way to the ground floor. The headache pills have finally started to work, but the pounding construction outside is slowly undoing their efforts.

You stride past the workers, shooting each of them a murderous glare. It’s not their fault they’re just doing their job. But goddamn it, the headache is worsening and it’s all you can do to not snap at them. Instead, you settle for shooting them a glare that could rival Batman himself.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the angry words building within you. Just keep walking. It’s fine. They’re not at fault here. It’s stupid to be angry at them. You repeat the mantra in your head like a broken record as your legs carry you further down the street. Further away from that blasted construction noise.

You keep walking, your shoes thumping against the concrete as you go. The further away you get from the construction, the more the headache starts to abate. You let out a quiet, shuddering breath of relief as you glance around at your surroundings. Barely anyone was out at this hour, the streets still mostly asleep.

After walking another ten minutes or so, you pause in the middle of the street and let out a string of quiet curses under your breath. The stores won’t be open for at least another four hours, and your stomach is starting to demand sustenance again.

Frustration builds inside of you, your teeth clenched tight together as you shuffle in place. You can’t go back to your apartment because of that goddamn noise, and all the stores that aren’t run by mobsters are closed.

You sigh, resting your tired body against the graffiti-filled wall behind you. There was another option you could try. But whether or not you were desperate enough to do it was something else.

You chew on your bottom lip in contemplation. You hadn't eaten much more than a small yogurt cup yesterday, and your stomach was protesting it's emptiness in a loud, gurgling complaint. You release a long sigh, doing a quick glance around to ensure no one was nearby before shifting into a cat.

The transformation is swift and graceful as you shift into the form of a sleek cat. Your body shrinks, limbs elongating and changing shape as soft multicoloured fur sprouts from your body. You stand on four paws, tail swaying languidly. You give yourself a quick shake, licking your little paws for good measure before looking around again.

You take a moment to get used to the new body you’ve assumed. Everything felt a tad bit more sensitive in this form. Your ears swivel around at minuscule sounds as you sniff the air with your sensitive nose, picking up on the various scents floating through the street.

You decide to try your hand at pity first, before resorting to thievery if your first plan fails. You slink down the street, your paws silent against the pavement beneath you as you search for some poor unsuspecting soul to assist you.

You stalk down the street, ears pricked and head tilted as you listen for the sounds of anyone making their way through the quiet street. You make yourself as adorable as possible: wide, begging eyes and sticking out your chest. A pitiful meow leaving your little cat mouth every so often, just for good measure.

You make your way through the city, heading towards the more upscale side of Gotham. You sway your tail idly behind you, the appendage brushing against the concrete and gathering the dirt that sticks to your fur. You make sure to rub up against some objects, gathering enough dirt and debris to make yourself appear slightly disheveled, but not enough to set off your instincts to want to groom yourself immediately.

You reach a neighbourhood of opulent high rises and well manicured lawns, plush houses and gated communities starting to become more frequent, a stark contrast to the graffiti-filled blocks you had passed before. Your fur is dusted with enough dirt to look untidy without feeling uncomfortable, and you let out a small meow as you glance down the street, scouting for a likely target.

You spot a man of considerable height, around 6 foot tall, with an intimidatingly built physique. His shirt clings just slightly too tightly against his chest, leaving little to the imagination. A scar mars the side of his face, making him look even more menacing. But you’ve seen far scarier looking men loitering at the end of your street. Saying that, doesn’t mean you’re any less scared of his imposing figure. So you quickly duck under the nearest parked car, attempting to conceal yourself beneath it.

You watch in trepidation as the man begins strutting towards the vehicle you’ve hidden yourself beneath. He kneels down in an unhurried, smooth motion, and peers right under the car. His gaze instantly locks onto you, your eyes widening in response to his intense stare. For the briefest of moments, you could have sworn there was a look of softness in his eyes, as if he hadn’t expected to see you.

“A cat?” The man lets out a small huff, shaking his head in what seemed like disbelief. His gaze drifts to your disheveled appearance, taking in the dirt that clings to your fur. He lets out a low hum, continuing to watch you with a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His muscles slowly relax. A smirk appearing on his face as he studies you closer.

Your tail sways behind you, your ears perking up at his relaxed gaze. A sly little grin of satisfaction threatens to rise to your face, but you hold it back, instead letting out a pitiful meow as you slowly shuffle closer to him. He doesn’t move away, watching your every movement with unwavering eyes.

You lower your head, slowly moving towards his boots. You let your body press against the soles of his shoes, a soft purring sound escaping your little feline mouth. The dirt from your fur slowly coats the previously clean material of his boots, but he doesn’t seem to mind the mess.

You continue to press your body against the hard leather of his boots, leaving behind a dusting of dirt. He crouches down, gently reaching out a big hand, careful not to scare you off. You can see the muscles in his arms flex with the action, the veins prominent on his knuckles. He gently runs a finger over your head, scratching just behind your ears.

The feel of his big hand against your head is gentle, his touch unexpectedly tender as he lightly scratches at the skin behind your ear. You let out a rumbling purr, unable to fight the comforting sensation that slowly starts to take over. Despite his intimidating appearance, he’s surprisingly sweet towards you.

He’s a hard-looking man, his appearance disheveled and weathered, a white streak through his jet black hair. His wide physique is almost intimidating, but you can see his heart already start to soften after a few moments. It seems even he isn’t immune to the charm of a pitiful stray cat begging for food and affection.

"What are you doing all the way out here, kid?" The man's deep, slightly grating voice calls out as he continues to gently scratch behind your ear. He's staring down at your small form with an odd expression of concern on his face, his eyes drifting over your disheveled fur.

Your ears perk up at the sound of his voice. Something suddenly seems terribly familiar about it. You tilt your head, glancing up to get a clearer look at the man’s face as you try and place where exactly you’ve heard his voice before.

You look closer at the man, studying his features with a furrowed brow. There’s no mistaking it now, you’ve definitely seen this guy somewhere before. You’re sure of it. But there’s no way you’d ever know anyone this big and intimidating before… right?

The man stands, gently scooping you up into his arms. He gives you a light pat on the head before he starts to move. “Come along then, I don’t need that little shit on my ass for leaving their little obsession stranded so far from home,” he mumbles, as if he’s talking to himself and not you.

You’re left blinking in surprise as you’re lifted from the ground, cradled in the man’s arms. You look up at him as he starts walking down the street with you, a bewildered look on your face. Obsession? Stranded? What the hell is this dude on?

The man continues walking, his stride even and unhurried. He glances down at you and scoffs, as if he’s amused by the sight of you. He mutters something under his breath as he walks, something that sounds like “God dammit, B.” He brings his hand up to give you a gentle scratch under your chin, the gesture almost affectionate.

Your stomach chooses the perfect moment to let out a loud grumble, the sound amplified by being so close to the man’s hand. You can feel his hand twitch against your belly slightly, and he lets out a low chuckle.

“Hungry, huh?” The man drawls out. He stops his stride for a moment, pulling out his phone as he keeps you cradled in one arm. You can’t see anything from this angle, but you can hear the sound of him making a phone call.

It’s only a few rings before someone picks up on the other end. You can faintly hear a voice chatting softly on the other line, even though you can’t make out what they’re saying. The man lets out a small huff of annoyance before holding the phone up to his ear, shifting you in his arms to keep you comfortably balanced against his chest.

“Hey,” he says into the speaker, his voice gruff but surprisingly soft. “Yeah, I’m out on the east side. I found something.” There’s a pause as the person on the other line responds, and you can faintly hear them say something, although it’s muffled and indistinct. The man snorts, his eyes drifting down to you for a moment before he continues.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m bringing ‘em back. Relax,” The man responds to the person on the other side of the line, rolling his eyes. You watch the side of his face as he talks, your ears pricked, ears catching snippets of the conversation. Relax? What do they mean by that? Are they talking about me?

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it,” the man says, shifting you around again as he begins to resume walking. “I’ll be back in an hour.” The person on the other end says a few more words before there’s a beep signifying the call’s been cut. He shoves his phone back into his pocket before bringing his hand back to keep you cradled against his chest.

You huff softly, feeling a strange mix of irritation and intrigue swirling inside of you. In an attempt to distract yourself, you reach your small paw up, lightly tapping it against the man’s cheek.

It’s a small action, intended to be nothing more than a curious little jab. But against the rough, scarred skin of the man’s cheek, your tiny little paw seems almost affectionate. He glances down at you at the contact, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.

He studies you for a moment, a look of almost curiosity on his face. It’s a far cry from the gruff, hardened exterior he had been portraying up until now. He stops his stride for a moment, lifting you closer to his face to look at you more closely.

He seems almost… fascinated by you. His eyes rove over your soft fur and little face, taking in every detail. He lets out a low hum, slowly reaching out a hand and gently stroking your back. “The kid’s is gonna kill me for letting you get all dirty.”

The hand stroking gently down your back is surprisingly soft, despite the callouses and ridges of his fingertips. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, probably trying to deduce what to do. “You’re a mess,” he mutters, his gaze drifting over your disheveled coat.

You can feel the urge to roll your eyes at the man’s words, the comment practically begging for a sarcastic reaction. But you hold it back, reminding yourself of the delicious meal you’re hoping to get out of him. Better hold back on the sass, for now.

Instead, you let your tail flick idly, trying to appear as innocent and pitiful as possible. Come on, man. Have a heart. Feed me.

The dude glances down as your tail continues to flick against his arm, almost as if you’re trying to lure him into doing something for you. A light snort escapes his mouth, his fingers trailing down to give you a little scratch on the head. “You’re a sly little bastard, ain’t ya?”

His statement is more of an off-handed comment rather than an actual critique. He continues to scratch behind your ear, seemingly unable to resist giving you a little affection. His gaze drifts over your disheveled form, taking in the dirt-matted fur and slight exhaustion in your eyes.

He lets out a soft grunt, his touch gentle as he runs his hands through your fur. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, his eyes never leaving your disheveled appearance. “How long you been out here all alone, huh?” he mutters, his voice gruff but strangely sympathetic.

The man lets out a low huff, glancing down at you with an almost sympathetic look on his face. “It’s earlier than we planned,” the man mutters, a hint of regret coating his words. His hand still softly stroking through your fur. “But the renovations are nearly ready,” his eyes taking in your exhausted form. It’s hard to say if he’s talking to you or to himself, a note of assurance in his voice. “So soon, kid.”

You look up at him with a bewildered expression on your face, your little mind still trying to make sense of his words. What is he talking about? Renovations? Who’s he talking to? Who are the people he keeps mentioning? What is even happening right now? But you quickly cover it up and let out a tired-sounding meow, hoping he won’t notice the hint of confusion in your little feline face. He glances down at you, his hand slowly rubbing a soothing circle on your back.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he murmurs, his voice still gruff but the tone softer this time. “You’ll be safe soon enough.” He gives you a gentle pat on the head before resuming his stride. You can feel his arms cradling you against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat almost lulling you into a sense of security.

Even as your mind races with unanswered questions, the beat of the man’s heartbeat seems to soothe you, acting as a strange form of comfort. His warm arms keep you tucked against him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest steady and unhurried. It’s an almost reassuring presence.

The man carries you down the street, the rhythmic sound of his footsteps and steady rhythm of his heart slowly lulling you into a trance-like state. The exhaustion from the past few days is finally catching up to you, a small yawn escaping your little mouth before you can try to fight it.

You can feel your eyelids growing heavy, exhaustion taking over your small body. The steady rhythm of the man’s heart combined with the gentle rocking of his arms as he walks send a wave of fatigue through you. You try to fight back the overwhelming tiredness, but another small, squeaky yawn escapes your little mouth.

With a soft contented sigh, you stretch out your little paws, making yourself comfortable in his arms. The man lets out a low chuckle as he watches your little legs extend, giving you a gentle pat on the back.

It’s strangely comforting, being held in the man’s strong arms. The sound of his laughter rumbles through his chest, and you can almost hear a hint of affection in the gesture. You feel the weight of your fatigue start to increase, your eyes slowly blinking shut against your will.

You blearily blink your eyes open, suddenly finding yourself lying on a soft cushion. The fabric feels luxurious against your fur, the plush material enveloping you in a comfortable embrace. You dazedly look around, trying to recall how you ended up on this soft surface.

Your little ears fold back as you look around, slowly taking in your surroundings. A brief moment of confusion washes over you as you realize that you had fallen asleep in the man’s arms. But seeing him still here, you let out a relieved sigh, your entire fluffy body moving up and down in the process. Thank everything that he didn’t leave me on the side of the road.

He glances over at you, noticing that you’re now awake. “You finally back with the living?” he says gruffly, his voice tinged with amusement. You can see a hint of a smile on the man’s face, betraying his hard exterior.

You lift your chin up in a defiant huff, letting your tail flick against the soft cushion as an additional statement of irritation. The man lets out a snort, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter at your small act of feigned irritation.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” he mutters, his voice taking on a slightly amused tone. He reaches a hand out to give you a small pat on the head, his rough fingers gently stroking your fur.

Your chest lets out a soft rumble, purring at the feeling of his hand stroking through your fur. Your gaze drifts around the room, your nose twitching as you pick up on a delicious scent. Food, your stomach rumbles. Please, be food.

The aroma is tantalizing, making your little stomach grumble loudly in response. You wonder if it's your imagination, or if the man actually has food nearby. The man lets out another amused huff as he notices your nose twitching and your stomach rumbling. “Impatient little thing, eh?” he mutters, lifting his hand from your head to look at you with a slightly entertained expression. Your little paws twitch slightly, as if you’re preparing to go searching for where the wonderful scent is coming from.

He chuckles at your eagerness, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Calm down, bud,” he says gruffly. “Food’s coming in a minute. Ain’t gonna starve ya.’” He gives you another gentle pat on the head, his hand large enough to practically cover your entire body.

You let out a dissatisfied huff, your gaze still darting around to try and find the source of the delicious scent. You want to rush out and find the food immediately, but the man's large hand keeps you pressed firmly on the soft cushion. You squirm a little impatiently, your tail flicking idly against the fabric. Your cat instincts taking over.

He lets out an amused laugh at your squirming, your restlessness making it hard for him to keep you in place. “Hold still,” he says gruffly. “You're making it hard to keep you in one place.” He reaches his hands out again and gently holds you down, preventing you from moving around any further.

You’re not a fan of this guy keeping you down, your instincts flaring up in defiance. Despite the delicious promise of food in the air, you’re tempted to lash out and scratch him just for holding you in one spot. Release me, your inner self growls.

You pause in your struggle, your little ears perking up and your whiskers twitching as the clink of dishes and the soft sound of footsteps approaching comes from nearby. Your nose twitches with anticipation, the delicious smells in the air becoming more concentrated. Food.

You crane your head to get a better look at the approaching figure, your little body shifting slightly on the cushion. The man holding you down also looks up, watching as someone walks into the room carrying a tray of food. Your little mouth starts to salivate, the enticing scents wafting over to you and making your stomach rumble loudly.

The guy releases his grip once you stop squirming, letting you move freely again. You can feel your instincts taking over your little body, your tail curling around your side as you focus your attention on the tray of food being presented in front of you. “Here you are, Master Jason.”

Your eyes are almost glued to the tray, filled with the most tantalizing smells that you've come across. The man– Jason watches you quietly, amused by your little display. The person holding the tray sets the food down in front of you, the various dishes arranged in an almost tempting manner.

You want to purr in delight as you look at the food laid before you. Thank god there’s none of that dreadful cat food in sight. You've had your fair share of people trying to feed you that horrible kibble in the past, and you're definitely not a fan. This food smells a million times better than anything that ever came out of a can. Meat.

You shoot him a glance of appreciation before hopping onto the table, greedily pouncing on the food in front of you. You dive right in, devouring the food with gusto, your little tongue lapping at the meat hungrily.

You pay no mind to him as you feast on the delicious meal laid out in front of you. The smells, the texture, the taste; it’s all absolutely heavenly. You eat like you've never eaten before, your little body almost shaking with contentment. This might just be the best meal you’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.

Meanwhile, Jason watches your little display with a slight smirk on his face. He doesn’t say anything, just watching as you devour the food on the plate in front of you with relish. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, quickly taking a picture of you digging into the food to send to the family in case they ask how you're doing. He lets out a soft huff of amusement at your behavior, a hint of fondness in his eyes.

You're so lost in the food, you don't even notice the older man taking a picture of you. All your focus is singular, eating as much as you can before it’s taken away. The man watches you with a mix of amusement and something else that you can’t quite place. Too absorbed in your meal to notice his reaction.

Once you’ve practically licked the plate clean, you finally feel a sense of fullness, your little belly pleasantly satisfying. You give yourself a little shake, a little bit of food still stuck to your whiskers. Jason chuckles slightly, watching your little satisfied display. He breaks the silence as you finish cleaning yourself off.

“Had enough?” he asks in a gruff voice. His words are gruff and blunt, but you can sense the touch of amusement within them. You let out a little huff, feeling satisfied but also a little bit embarrassed at how fast you had eaten. Too much food, you think, your little stomach feeling a bit bloated.

The next thirty minutes pass by in a blur, your mind fuzzy and filled with the sensation of being inside Jason’s leather jacket as he mounts his bike. He doesn't have a bag or carrier to keep you secure, so you cling onto his shirt for dear life, your little claws digging tightly into the fabric. The wind whips through your fur as the bike roars to life, the force of the breeze making you instinctively cling even harder.

You had assumed that Jason was simply taking you back to the spot where he had found you under the car. After all, there was no chance in hell that you were going to poke your head out of the top of his jacket to check yourself. However, as he stops the bike and unzips the jacket, revealing your familiar surroundings, your tail begins to fluff up in surprise. Your eyes widen as you realize you’re at home, as in, right outside your apartment. The fur on your back bristles, ears folding back. You’re quick to jump off of the vehicle, backing away. What the fuck?

You scramble off Jason's lap and onto the sidewalk, your little paws almost slipping in your haste. The moment you land on the pavement, you take a few stumbling steps back, your tail puffed up and your fur standing on end. How could he possibly know where you live? You hadn’t given away any indication that you lived here, or anywhere for that matter. You had been so careful to stay out of sight, blending into the shadows. There was no way he could have known. And yet… here you are, outside your home. You take a tentative step back, your little feet moving instinctively. Your instincts are screaming at you to run, to get away from this guy who seemingly knew too much about you.

Your eyes dart from the man to the building behind you, your mind racing. Everything inside you is telling you to run, to flee and go hide. You were supposed to be so careful, so cautious about keeping your identity a secret. And now this man standing in front of you, this guy you barely knew, had just pulled up right outside your home. How the hell did he know where you lived? Run, your instincts yell. Run, run, run.

You take another jerky step back, your little paws almost slipping on the rough pavement. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. You almost trip over your own feet, your mind flooded with a mix of fear and confusion. How does he know? How the fuck does he know!? You’ve been so careful, covering your tracks, making sure no one followed you home. But here he is, standing in front of you, looking all too calm and collected. You don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he knows where you live or how calm he seems about it.

You don't waste another second, your little feet moving as fast as they can. Your instincts are screaming at you to run and get away as fast as possible. So that's what you do. You take off like a shot, darting away from the bike, from the man, from everything. Your focus is on nothing except getting away, getting somewhere safe, somewhere away from this guy who apparently knew more than he should. You dart upstairs faster than you thought physically possible, breath coming out laboured as you panic, not bothering to check if anyone’s nearby as you shift back to human, unlocking your door and slamming it closed behind you.

Jason let out a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair in frustration as he watches you scamper off. "Fuck…” he mutters under his breath, watching as your small form quickly disappears from sight. "I didn’t think that through." He scowls, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected you to panic quite that much.

Your knees suddenly give way, and you collapse to the floor with a thump. Your hand instinctively moves to press against your chest, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart. Your mind is racing, your body shaking from the adrenaline and panic of the situation. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of your own breathing, your chest heaving as you gasp in sharp breaths.

You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest, the adrenaline pumping through your veins making it feel like it’s about to explode. You can barely breathe, your gasps for air coming in quick, sharp pants. Your head is swimming, the world around you seeming to spin and tilt with each jerky movement. You can’t think straight, your mind filled with a swirling mix of panic and confusion. It feels like everything is closing in on you, the walls of your apartment suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

You try to focus on taking deep, calming breaths, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. Your breaths come out ragged and uneven, each one feeling like a struggle. Your chest is heaving, your heart pounding against your ribcage so hard you’re starting to wonder if it’ll burst. You drop your head down, resting your forehead against your knees, trying to steady yourself. Your mind is racing, thoughts and questions and doubts swirling in a confusing mess.

You desperately try to calm down, to ease the frantic beating of your heart. But nothing seems to work, the panic and confusion making it nearly impossible to think straight. Your head spins as you struggle to take deep breaths, each one catching in your throat like a lump. You can feel your body trembling, your muscles tense and coiled like a spring about to snap. The thought of the man outside your door, the man that knew where you lived, makes your stomach twist in knots.

It feels like your privacy has been invaded, your safe sanctuary no longer feeling so safe. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a small, trapped animal. Your mind races, trying to come up with some kind of plan, some kind of solution to this messed up situation. But you’re too lost in your own head, too focused on calming your panicked breathing to come up with anything coherent.

You feel like you’re drowning, your body overwhelmed by the flood of emotions and the physical response. You need to get yourself under control, to get your thoughts sorted out and figure out what the hell to do. But it feels like your mind and your body are in a constant tug-of-war with each other, neither one willing to give in. It’s like being stuck in a nightmare that you can’t wake up from.

You’re suddenly aware of the silence in your apartment. It’s an eerie stillness that seems to echo the chaos in your mind. The only sound is the soft rush of your own breathing, the beat of your heart a steady drum in your ears. It’s too quiet, and yet it’s almost deafening at the same time. You stay slumped on the floor, your head still against your knees, too overwhelmed to even think about getting up. You can’t breathe.

Your lungs feel like they’re on fire, each breath a struggle against the tight feeling in your chest. Your body is shaking, the adrenaline and panic having physical effects that you’re powerless to stop. You try to focus on calming yourself down, to get your breathing under control, but it’s like trying to hold onto water. Your lungs seizing up with each gasping breath. You try to focus on your breathing, trying to steady the erratic rhythm. But it’s like your body won’t obey, each inhale sharp and uneven, each exhale ragged. You can feel your pulse throbbing in your temples, echoing the desperate rhythm of your heart. You need to get yourself together, to calm down. You need to calm down.

You try to mentally force yourself to calm, to slow down your breathing, but it’s like every part of your body is working against you. Your thoughts are a tangled mess, swirling around in your head like a storm. Your heart is still racing, the panic and fear making it almost impossible to concentrate. You try to focus on something, anything to try and control the chaotic mess that is your mind. But your thoughts keep slipping away, dancing just out of reach every time you try to grasp them. You can't think, you can't breathe, you can't move.

You’re trapped in your own mind, your own body. You feel so small, so helpless, so utterly alone. The silence in your apartment is deafening, adding to the feeling of isolation. You try to will yourself to move, but you’re stuck, paralyzed by your own fear and panic. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, the erratic beats echoing in your ears as you try to force your lungs to take slow, steady breaths. You need to calm down. You need to.

You force your shoulders to relax, your eyes fluttering open. Okay, okay… You can do this. You try to remember the steps you learned for managing panic attacks. Breathe in for four, hold for… You can’t think. Your brain is fuzzy, filled with a jumbled mess of thoughts and memories. You try to remember the proper way to do it but your mind refuses to cooperate. Four or seven? Or was it nine? Exhale for eight. Fuck, I can’t think.

Your mind is a blur, your thoughts chaotic and tangled. You can’t remember the step-by-step process. Something about breathing in for a certain number of seconds, holding it, and exhaling for another number of seconds. But the details are a hazy mess, your panic making it impossible to remember clearly. You try your best, sucking in a shaky breath and holding it for what you think is the right amount of time. But your heart is still racing, your hands still trembling. It’s not working. Why isn’t it working? Why the fuck isn’t it working?

Jason stands against his bike, his gaze fixed on the window of your apartment. He's on the phone with Bruce, his voice low and filled with frustration. "I know, I know…" he mutters, raking a hand through his hair. "I fucked up," he admits, grimacing at his own carelessness.

He listens as Bruce responds, his eyes never leaving the window. He can feel the weight of his mistake sitting heavily on his shoulders. He should have known that you'd react the way you did, and he should have stuck to the plan. But he didn’t. He just acted, without thinking. Just like always, his conscience needles him.

Jason sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly as Bruce continues to speak. He knows Bruce is right, he always is. He’s good at saying the things that are hard to hear but desperately needed to be said. It’s part of what makes him great, but it also makes him irritating sometimes. Like right now.

"I know," Jason replies, his voice slightly sharp. "I get it. But what am I supposed to do now?"

There’s a pause as Bruce replies, his voice muffled over the phone. Jason’s face tightens, his jaw clenching as he listens. Yeah, yeah. Be patient. Easy for you to say.

"I know,” he repeats, his voice strained. "But the kid bolted before I could even get a word in. Now they’re probably scared shitless in there."

There's another pause. Jason can hear the steady timbre of Bruce’s voice on the other end, his words blending in a stream of low, soothing murmurs. He rolls his eyes, bristling at the older man's calm, steady tone. It always makes him feel like a kid being lectured, even though a part of him knows it’s not entirely untrue.

He lets out another sigh, his body sagging against his bike. "I’m trying," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I messed up, alright? I’ll give ‘em time to cool off." He glances back at your apartment, a pang of something he can’t quite identify tugging at his chest.

He nods along to whatever Bruce is saying, his eyes flickering back to your apartment window. He wonders if you're watching him from behind those blinds, if you’re scared, angry, confused. Probably all three, his mind supplies.

He winces at the thought, his hand tightening around his phone. He hates the thought that he might have screwed this up before it even really started. Bruce is probably right, he should give you space. But the thought of just leaving you alone and confused chafes at him, makes him want to just go in there and fix things already. He knows Bruce can feel his tension, can sense the turmoil roiling beneath his stoic exterior. Damn Batman and his stupid emotional intuition.

"Yeah, I get it," he mutters into the phone, his voice tight. "I’ll back off, give them space. But I don’t like it." There's another pause as Bruce responds, his voice low and steady.

It soothes something in him, a part of him that still yearns for guidance and approval, even though he knows he’ll never admit it. It’s a part of him that he usually denies, pushes down, but moments like these have a way of bringing it to the surface.

He's silent for a moment, letting Bruce speak. The older man's voice is steady, a low, grounding murmur that somehow manages to both soothe and irritate him at the same time. He's always been good at that, somehow finding the exact words needed to either calm him down or piss him off even more.

Jason clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth together in frustration. He’s torn. Part of him wants to just march up there, kick down the door and force you to talk to him. But he also knows that would just make things worse. He’s not good at the whole patience thing, but he knows that just charging in like a bull in a china shop is only going to make things more difficult. Damn it. He swings his leg over his bike, settling onto the seat. He takes one final look up at your window, his gaze lingering there for a moment. He can almost feel the weight of your fear and confusion from here, like a tangible thing. It makes his stomach twist into knots, his hands clenching on the grips.

But he knows he needs to let you be, to give you the space you clearly need. So, with a heavy sigh, he revs the engine and pulls away.

You wake up with a start, your body jerking out of a fitful sleep. Your body is covered in a cold sweat, your clothes sticking to your skin in an unpleasant way. You sit there in the darkness, your breathing heavy and your heart thumping hard in your chest.

Your room is still, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft sounds of the city outside your window.

Three long weeks have passed since you last saw Jason. The days have slipped by in a blur of routine and monotony. You go to work, come home, eat, sleep, repeat. It's like you're living your life on autopilot, your thoughts often drifting to the man who showed up at your door that night.

Since that night, you haven’t shifted. Something deep inside you, some instinctual feeling, tells you that it’s not safe to do so. So you stay human, your animal form buried deep within you, a constant low hum of unease. The feeling of something bad happening if you shift is a constant nagging in the back of your mind, a feeling you can’t shake despite your attempts to dismiss it as paranoia.

The longer you stay human, the stronger your instincts become. You catch yourself acting cat-like in subtle ways: tilting your head to the side when you're listening, twitching at sharp noises, even finding yourself kneading at your shirt when you’re frustrated. It’s a constant internal struggle, your instincts demanding to be let out while your rational mind tells you to keep them contained. You know it’s not healthy, not sustainable, but you can’t shake the feeling that shifting is just too risky right now.

You’re acutely aware of how unhealthy this is. You can feel the tension building within you, the constant battle between your human side and your animal side wearing you down mentally and emotionally. Your thoughts are constantly consumed with the need to shift, the need to be in your animal form, the need to let your instincts take over. But something inside you is holding you back, some primal fear that won’t let you let go. It’s a constant struggle you can’t escape, a constant mental strain that's slowly but surely eating away at your sanity.

You groggily stumble out of bed, the cool night air hitting your skin like a refreshing splash of water. It’s late, the digital clock on your bedside table reading 2:47 AM. You shiver slightly, your muscles tight and cramped from your restless sleep. Despite the chill in the air, you can’t help the feeling of relief as you step out onto your balcony. The city is quiet at this hour, the usual bustle of the day replaced with a soothing, almost eerie calm.

In a moment of clarity, you realize you’re being ridiculous. You’re tired, you’re frustrated, and damn it you’re tired of living in constant fear. You’ve been tormenting yourself for weeks over this, letting your instincts fester and your body ache from the strain. And for what? What's going to happen in the middle of the night on a Wednesday? Nothing, that’s what. And you’re not going to keep making yourself ill over some bastard stalker.

With a rush of determination, you finally give in. You let your instincts take over, your body shifting and contorting into your animal form. The relief is immediate, the tension in your body melting away as you shed your human skin. The cool night air is even more refreshing in this form, your senses heightened as you take in the night around you. Finally, you feel like you can breathe again, the weight of your human anxieties falling away like a heavy coat. You felt free.

The world looks different through your animal eyes, the details sharper and more defined. Your ears twitch, picking up sounds you'd never notice in your human form. Your muscles twitch as your animal instincts kick in, a low purring sound rumbling through your chest. It's been so long since you've let yourself be like this, since you've just been. It's exhilarating, freeing, like coming up for air after being stranded underwater for too long.

You pad over to the edge of the balcony, your paws making almost no sound on the wood. You look out at the city, the glittering lights and silent streets a stark contrast to the chaotic hum during the day. It’s quieter, calmer, a sense of peace that you haven’t felt in ages. You take a deep breath, the air filling your lungs and making your fur stand on end. You feel more alive here, more yourself, than you have in weeks.

Your muscles ripple under your fur as you stretch, arching your back and tilting your head back. A low, rumbling purr vibrates in your chest, the contentment filling you almost overwhelming. You close your eyes, letting the sounds and smells of the city wash over you. You’ll deal with everything else in the morning. For now, you’re going to stay like this and enjoy the freedom.

You sit there for a while, enjoying the cool night air and the sensation of being so deeply in tune with your instincts. The city sounds become a soothing background noise, a comforting hum in the air. You roll onto your back, stretching out your body and letting your limbs go limp. Your tail swishes lazily back and forth.

You roll onto your stomach, your muscles coiling as you prepare to spring. With a powerful leap, you propel yourself onto the nearby roof. Your paws touch down silently, the soft pads muting any sound. Your heart is racing now, the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you break into a run. Running as an animal is different than running as a human. It’s more instinctual, more right. You can feel the ground underneath your paws, the muscles in your legs bunching and releasing with every step. You tear across the rooftops, feeling more alive than you have in weeks. The night air whistles in your ears, the city passing by in a blur.

Your stride is effortless, muscles straining as you push yourself faster, the wind ruffling your fur and making your tail fan out behind you. You leap effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop, your body a blur of motion. You’re not even thinking about where you’re going, your only focus is on the sensation of speed, the feeling of freedom. Gotham flashes past you in a dizzying array of lights and shadows, your world narrowing down to your heartbeat and the rhythm of your paws hitting the roof.

Time seems to blur together as you run, the hours flying by like seconds. The city blurs past you in a wash of colors and sounds, the lights of Gotham like stars in a night sky. You don’t focus on how long you’ve been running, or how far you’ve gone, or even where you’re going. For once, none of that matters. All that matters is the wind in your fur and the feeling of freedom coursing through your veins. Your body is sore and your heart is racing, but you feel alive.

You're so focused on the run that you don't notice the black boots in your path until you're upon them. You slam on the brakes, your body slipping and sliding as you come to an undignified halt in front of a pair of long, outstretched legs. You hiss in surprise and frustration, your heart racing from the sudden stop. You glare up at the figure towering above you, tail lashing.

Nightwing chuckles, a soft, amused sound that you can hear clearly even over the pounding of your heart. He lowers his eskrima sticks, holding them loosely by his side as he kneels down to your level. The hero's eyes are sparkling with mirth, his smile slightly crooked.

"Well, hello there." he says, his voice smooth and rich.

He tilts his head to the side, studying you with a curious gaze. You're still panting from your run, your body tense and braced for a fight. Nightwing's smile widens at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with intrigue.

"You're pretty fast," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice. He extends his hand towards you, the black, latex covering his fingers gleaming in the low light. He stops just millimeters from your face, allowing you to sniff and inspect him for a moment. His scent is clean and crisp, a hint of something sweet mixed in.

After a few seconds, he starts gently petting you, his gloved hand scratching behind your ears in a soothing motion. “You’re even prettier in person, kitten.”

A wave of unexpected pleasure washes over you as he starts petting you. His touch is firm yet gentle, just the right amount of pressure to soothe the tension in your body. His hand moves from behind your ears to scratching behind your chin, the soft hiss of latex against your fur the only sound in the quiet night. The petting feels ten times better after not shifting after such a long time. You lean heavily into his palm.

“You’re a runner, huh?” Nightwing murmurs, his voice a soft rumble. “Bruce isn’t gonna like that.”

His words are casual, almost conversational, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness to them. He continues to pet you, his hand moving in a slow, soothing rhythm.

“Running around Gotham like this,” he continues, his tone dropping lower. “It’s dangerous. You should stick to the rooftops, little one. Makes it harder for the baddies to get to you.”

As your attention is occupied with looking up at Nightwing, you don’t recognise the second pair of boots that approach. You’re jolted out of your thoughts as another pair of warm hands suddenly scoop you up, grabbing your stomach and lifting you off the ground. The sensation is so sudden and unexpected that you don’t even have time to react. A startled yowl escapes you as you’re lifted off the roof and held against a broad chest.

Your body stiffens in surprise, a low hiss escaping your clenched teeth. Your instincts are screaming at you to flee, to lash out, to fight, but the hands have you in an unbreakable grip.

Nightwing straightens up, sliding his eskrima sticks into their holsters with a practiced flick of his wrists. He casts you a glance, his eyes softened with concern as he looks at your tense form in Robin’s arms.

"Careful, Little D," he says, a slight edge to his voice. "The kitty hasn’t been out in a long time."

Damian just scoffs in response, his grip on you tightening. His body is tense, his hands clenching in your fur, but there’s a gleam of curiosity in his eyes that betrays his indifference. His voice is as haughty as ever, a touch of impatience in his tone. "I know that, Grayson. I'm not a child."

Nightwing hums at Robin’s attitude, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against a nearby AC unit with a slight sigh.

"Sure you're not,” he responds back to Robin with a playful tone of annoyance.

Damian just huffs, tightening his grip on you, causing you to let out a surprised, muffled meow in response. His eyes dart down to you, a slight flicker of fascination in his cold, calculated gaze. He loosens his hold subconsciously. Petting your head in a silent apology.

The younger boy doesn’t respond to Dick’s remark, motioning for him to hurry up already.

With a grin, Dick holds his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. He reaches into his utility belt and procures a small, emerald green and black collar. A symbol you can’t recognise embroidered onto the back where the latch is.

This isn't any average collar that you can find at a pet store. This is high-tech, bordering extravagant. There's a small, golden bell hanging from the front, jingling softly with every little movement made, and there’s a silver, gold-edged tag already attached with some information you can't see yet. But what catches your eye, and fills you with a sense of dread, is the blinking red light on the centre, where it latches onto your neck. With these hook-like latches all around the inside that look all too much like they’ll pierce into you.

Before you can even think to react, Nightwing's already moving. He's faster than you can even register, the collar snatching around your neck in the blink of an eye. It tightens automatically, locking into place with a soft click. You can feel the hooks pierce into your fur and you let out a strangled whine.

As the collar locks into place, the bell on the front gleams in the low light, a soft jingle sounding as you jerk your head back in surprise.

Nightwing steps back, taking in the sight of you in the collar with a critical eye. He reaches forward and gives the bell a couple of light taps, the sound chiming softly in the night air.

"Looks good," he comments, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Tim did good."

Damian hums in agreeance with a slight nod, his grip on you still firm and unrelenting. He casts a scrutinising glance over your form, his eyes lingering on the collar for a moment before moving back to you. He brings his thumb to the latch, pushing into the embroidered symbol. “What was the cast?”

As Damian brings his thumb to the latch, pressing into the embroidered symbol, you hear a soft click, followed by a low chime. You feel the collar loosen around your neck, but it still stays in place. For a moment, you consider trying to tear it off, but a warning tug from the collar's hooks and a glare from Damian stop you short.

Dick grins. “It’s our kittens name, D.”

Damian scowls, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he turns his attention back to you, his eyes studying your form intently. It's almost unnerving, the intensity of his gaze.

He presses his thumb against the seal harder, his voice a murmur as he utters your name. When you feel the collar tighten around your neck, you try to jerk your head back out of the way, but the collar holds fast, the hooks attaching themselves deeper into your fur. You try to resist, but the more you struggle, the more your mind grows fuzzy. An intense drowsiness rushes over you, your eyelids growing impossibly heavy. Your vision starts to swim, the world around you growing dark at the edges. As the collar locks into place, the hooks latching more snugly into you, you suddenly feel trapped. Your legs buckle underneath you, sending you sprawling into Damian's arms. The latch on the collar is gone, replaced by a solid, unbreakable ring. There is no way to take it off.

The collar appears deceptively normal, made of a thick dark green leather-like material with a simple golden buckle to secure it. The only thing that gives away its high-tech design is the absence of a latch to clip it open. Most people would overlook it, mistaking it for a regular, ordinary collar.

As you black out and lay heavily in Damian's arms, Dick coos softly, bringing a hand out to rub along your fur. His touch is gentle, his tone affectionate.

"Aren't they so cute asleep?" he whispers, his gaze softening as he looks at your unconscious form.

Damian nods silently in response, his embrace around you tightening just slightly, tugging you closer against his chest. He brings his face down, gently nuzzling his chin into your soft, multicoloured fur, hiding the hint of a smile on his lips.

Dick steps forward, a smile on his face as he watches his younger brother hold you close. He reaches out to ruffle Damian's hair affectionately, before speaking up.

"Let's go home."

Guess who spent three days working on this

Anyway, it’s finally out! Send a comment or msg if you would like to be @ in chapter two and for any anon answers that I do for the fic

I had milk and warm cookies while making this, like a child.

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littlexdeaths · 6 months ago

Text

what are friends for? - e.m.

best friend eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: period talk/period blood, eddie is the sweetest as always, grinding, fingering, one singular use of daddy

a/n: thank you to @callsignraver for the title idea 🤭 the eddie edit was made by me! you can use it, just please credit my side blog (strangergraphics), if you do. now enjoy xx.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me,” he sounds so sincere, which is why you can’t even look at him.

Because looking at him would just open a set of floodgates that you aren’t prepared to deal with right now.

Looking at him is only going to fuel the fire that is raging in your lower abdomen— that was lit the moment you stepped foot in the trailer.

A fire that he’s been steadily stoking with each brush of his fingertips against yours as you reach for more popcorn. Or when his knee bumps casually into yours as he shifts on the small sofa.

Which for someone as fidgety as Eddie Munson— was a lot.

“I promise I’m not gonna laugh or anything, just tell me what’s wrong.”

Your best friend had been able to pick up on the shift in your mood almost immediately. But he chose not to comment on it until now, unable to handle it any longer.

But how in the hell were you supposed to tell him that it’s his fault? That he’s driving you crazy?

That you want nothing more than to have his fingers buried inside you?

“You wouldn’t get it,” you sigh, shifting your body further away from him on the sofa.

Clinging onto the arm for dear life as you pretend to watch the clash of light sabers on the tv screen.

His snort has your eyes rolling.

“Try me.”

Your hands move up to rub your temples, eyes slipping shut.

“It’s a dumb girl thing—”

He jumps up off the sofa before you can even finish your sentence, returning from the bathroom mere moments later with a bottle of Advil in tow.

Eddie doesn’t register your confused expression as he stands before you, holding out the bottle.

“Cramps, right?” he asks, a kind smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You feel embarrassed, because of course that’s what he would think. He’s heard you drone on and on about it over the years. He only wants to help, like the kind friend that is he is.

Friend, being the keyword here.

“I um…” you mumble, taking the bottle from his outstretched hand.

You attempt to ignore the heat that continues to pool in between your thighs as you stare at the veins protruding from his hand. The way his thick fingers were previously gripping onto the pill bottle.

How they would feel gripping your inner thighs….

No. Stop it.

You mentally scold yourself, chewing on your lower lip as he takes a seat on the sofa.

“I appreciate it, but that’s not the issue.”

Now he’s the one who looks confused, leaning forward as he scratches at the stubble on his jaw.

“Then what is it?” he prods.

Eddie knocks his knee into yours again, tingles shooting up your spine from the subtle touch.

“It’s just, I’m feeling…”

“Tired?”

“No.”

“Bloated?”

“No!”

“Hangry—”

“Horny!” you shout, startling you both, “I’m horny.”

Your voice has gone soft, a near whisper compared to your previous volume. The air around you is suddenly thicker, and you are once again unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh,” he says after a long pause.

“Yeah, oh.”

You feel the tips of your ears warming as you continue to stare down at your lap. The beginning chords of the imperial march are the only thing filling the uncomfortable silence between you.

“I mean, I could always help you,” he replies finally.

His words cause your eyes to shoot up in surprise, your head turning to meet his molten hues.

“That’s— I wouldn’t ask you to do that, Ed.”

His ringed hand suddenly reaches over to rest on your knee, fingers slipping beneath the rips in your jeans.

“What if I want to?”

Now you’re the one rendered speechless.

“What if I have wanted to… for a long time,” he continues, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek.

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, determination in his eyes as he leans further into your space. You can’t help how your body gravitates towards him, your hands clutching onto the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

You can feel the way his breath mingles with yours, nicotine and movie theater butter. But it’s the flecks of honey in his eyes that break down your remaining defenses.

You answer him with a kiss, lightly pressing them to his. Testing the waters. Eddie eagerly deepens it, pulling you in closer until you’re in his lap. Your thighs bracket his hips, his hands encircling your waist.

The kiss becomes heated, faster than either of you are prepared for. You lower your hips harder onto his lap, inhaling his soft gasp as your bodies meld together. His grip tightens on your hips as you eagerly grind yourself against his crotch, welcoming the friction.

“Hold on, baby.” He groans again, his large hands stopping any further movement.

Baby.

He’s never called you that before.

Your lower lip juts out in a pout as he maneuvers you off of his lap, and back onto the soft cushions of the sofa. The male quickly sinks to his knees, his hands splaying across the tops of your thighs as he works himself between them. He chuckles at your expression, shaking his head slightly.

“Patience, pretty girl,” he hums as his hands slide further up your thighs until they reach the button on your jeans. “Let’s get these off, yeah?”

Your nerves suddenly kick back into gear, despite the flames continuing to lick your skin. Eddie has become so tuned into your emotions over the years that he can sense this new shift immediately. This was an emotion he has seen plenty of times, but it was never because of him.

The notion has his hands freezing as they hover over the closure of your jeans.

“Shit, did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head, letting out a nervous laugh. “I just… don’t wanna make a mess.”

His expression softens as you gesture to the tan sofa beneath you. The male rises to his feet without another word, darting over to the laundry basket that is seated on top of their washing machine. He digs through a pile of clothes until he finds whatever he’s searching for.

A dark maroon towel.

He clutches the soft fabric in his hands as he makes his way back to you, resuming his previous position between your legs. He sets it next to you, his brown eyes nervously shifting between your thighs and your face.

“You can touch me, Eds,” you say, carefully taking his hands in yours to guide them up to the clasp on your jeans.

Eddie doesn’t need to hear anything else.

He makes quick work of removing your jeans, tugging the denim down your thighs. His eagerness has you giggling, the tops of his cheeks flushing a light pink even in the muted light.

He pauses for a moment, leaning back as he drinks in your newly exposed skin. His eyes darken even further as his calloused fingers grip the hem of your cotton panties.

“God, take them off— please,” you whine, no longer caring if you sound pathetic.

You’ve waited far too many years for this to happen, and your patience has finally run out. Eddie chuckles, sliding your panties (pad and all) down your thighs. The male carelessly tosses them over his shoulder, ignoring your small protest.

“Lift up,” he hums, motioning you to guide your hips up.

He easily slides the towel beneath you, letting your body relax against the plush material. Eddie gently rests his hands over the tops of your thighs once more, beginning to spread them even wider. Your cheeks warm as his eyes zero in on your core, whining softly as he licks his lips.

“Christ,” he breathes, inhaling deeply as he notes the way your arousal shines in the glowing light of the tv.

He leans back for a moment, dark eyes flicking up to meet your gaze as he slowly slides each of those gaudy rings off his fingers. Eddie takes his time in doing so, the clink of metal echoes in your ears as he gathers them in his palm.

“Gimme your hand,” he says softly, but the command in his voice lingers all the same.

You hold out your left hand towards him, ignoring the way it trembles as he begins to slide each of his large rings onto your fingers. His dimples indent his cheeks as he grins, carefully lifting your knuckles to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to each one, ensuring that he keeps his eyes trained on you as he does so.

“Keep those safe for me, sweetheart.”

He winks playfully, leaning forward to brush his lips over the bare skin of your shin. His hands hook under your knees, allowing you to drape your legs over his shoulders. His movements have slowed drastically, taking his time before his fingers finally dip between your thighs.

Your soft gasp spurs him on, his fingers running through your drenched folds. He gathers your arousal on his fingertips, dragging them up to encircle over your swollen bud. You let your body relax against the couch cushions, allowing your eyes to slip shut as he continues his gentle touches.

But as soon as his touch starts— it stops just as fast.

A whine spills past your lips as his large hands wrap around the meat of your thighs and squeeze.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he coos, pressing his lips to the curve of your knee.

His teeth lightly nip at the skin there, causing your eyes to flutter back open.

“Yes, sir,” you giggle as he groans.

His fingers are back on you before you have time to mention his reaction, circling your entrance before dipping inside slowly. It causes your breath to hitch, his middle finger able to stretch you out better than any of yours ever have.

Eddie curses under his breath as he adds another, your body almost greedily sucks him in. Your hand instinctively reaches forward to grip onto his bicep. The rings that adorn your hand are biting into his skin, the thought alone makes his jeans impossibly tighter.

“God, you’re so wet,” he moans, guiding his fingers even deeper inside you.

You reply with a soft whine, your thoughts entirely too jumbled to provide him with anything else. His eyes have momentarily dropped from your face to where his fingers are nestled inside you. He slides them back out, admiring the sticky pink mixture that’s coating his thick digits.

“Eddie, don’t tease,” you huff, guiding your hips back towards his awaiting hand.

Your impatient attitude has him chuckling, those dark hues flicking up to meet yours again.

“Oh, you want these back, baby?” He taunts, his other hand gripping onto your thigh as he eases three of the digits inside your entrance.

The brunette holds them there, enjoying the way your body begins to squirm beneath him. Taunting you.

“Go on, say it, sweetheart.”

He raises a brow at you, slightly pushing his fingers in deeper, before he quickly retracts them with your continued silence. Repeating the action.

“I want…” you start, but the curl of his fingers makes you lose your train of thought.

“Hmm, you want what?” he prods.

He completely removes them from your entrance, ignoring your pleading eyes as he slides them back up to dance around your clit.

Your soft mewl of his name does nothing to deter his actions, it only slows them.

“Come on, use that pretty little head of yours,” he hums as the tips of his fingers graze over your swollen bud.

“God, just— please!” your voice raises an octave, taking on a breathy quality.

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smirk as he tilts his head at you. His fingers dip lower, circling over your puckered hole.

“Ya know, while I usually prefer something along the lines of master… or even daddy,” he muses, noting how your breath hitches.

“God, sure has a nice ring to it.”

His head falls back as he laughs, a playful pout adorning his lips as you swat at him. Those simmering embers have quickly morphed into a raging fire, ready to engulf you both in the flames.

“Eddie, I swear to God. If you don’t put those fingers back inside me, I will—“

The rest of your threat gets caught in your throat as he thrusts his fingers back in, a strangled moan takes their place.

“See, was that so hard, princess?” he teases.

You don’t answer him, instead grinding your hips down to meet his palm. Eddie pumps his fingers faster, his thumb pressing onto your clit. The wet squelch that follows has him moaning, nuzzling his face against your knee.

Your hand releases his bicep, slipping down his arm to tangle your fingers together. He holds them tightly, beginning to curl the others inside you. The calloused tips brush against your sweet spot, pulling another whine from your throat.

“Oh, right there,” you pant, chest heaving as his thumb firmly massages your clit.

That fire continues to burn brighter with each thrust of his fingers, ready to swallow you whole.

“That’s it,” he grins, watching in awe as you make a mess of his fingers, streaks of red and pink dripping down his knuckles.

“Makin’ such a mess f’me, baby.”

You barely register his words as your back arches up off the sofa. Your eyes squeeze shut as white hot pleasure bursts behind your eyelids. His rings dig into your skin from how tightly you’re grasping him, legs trembling as he coaxes you through your high.

Your ears are ringing as you finally collapse into the lumpy cushions, whining as he continues to gently thrust his fingers inside you.

“Come ‘ere,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

His cheek is smushed against your inner thigh, only breaking your heavy lidded stare to slide his fingers out of you. He hums, carefully lifting his fingers towards the dim light from the tv. He rubs them together, gazing in utter fascination at the sticky strings they leave behind.

You already miss his warmth, tugging playfully on his unruly curls to grab his attention. He chuckles, wiping his fingers on the towel beneath you before he’s hovering over your body. Hips pressed into yours, not caring if you make a mess on the front of his pants.

“Thank you,” you whisper, twirling one of his curls around your ringed finger.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart.” He grins down at you, his dark eyes almost sparkling.

“Besides…” he pauses, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “What are friends for?”

tagging: @xxbimbobunnyxx @undead-supernova @munsonhoneybaby @hippiegoth97 @cinemabean @strangerstilinski @corrodedcorpses @curlyjoequinn @mugloversonly @eddiesxangel @hellfirenacht @splendiferous-bitch @razzeith @aleisashortcake @ali-r3n @eddie-is-a-god (i tried tagging you i promise 😭)

#the freak writes 🫧#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #best friend!eddie munson x fem!reader #best friend!eddie munson

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leclerc-hs · 1 month ago

Text

save a bull! - cl16

pairing: bull rider!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which a city girl meets a cowboy OR charles finds himself infatuated with the visiting city girl warnings: language, NOT PROOFREAD, no smut (maybe in part 2 if y'all want smut), bad writing (sorry lol) word count: ~4.4k author's note: HI. did you miss me? i sure as FUCK missed y'all. so I started writing this MONTHS ago but then took a very long break from this website and writing. it might be very shitty so i apologize for that. it was originally going to be just 1 part but I found myself writing so much that I think 2 parts will be better in the end. PLEASE REACH OUT TO ME WITH ANY FEEDBACK. sorry if this sucks. love you all.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Will you please just consider it!” Abigail pleads beside you on the sidewalk, weaving through the bustling crowd with an effortless grace. The sun casts dappled shadows on the pavement, and the scent of street food mingles with the crisp urban air.

The city feels particularly relentless as you trudge along the crowded sidewalk, your third cup of coffee from the corner deli clutched in one hand, its steam mingling with the bustling street air. Your shoulders droop under the weight of fatigue, a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of the city around you. Each step towards your office tower feels heavier, as though the concrete beneath your feet has turned to lead.

The tall buildings loom overhead, their steel and glass facades glinting under the midday sun, but their gleam only seems to amplify the oppressive weight of your exhaustion. The vibrant hum of the city—a symphony of honking taxis, chattering pedestrians, and distant sirens—becomes a monotonous drone.

Your dress, once crisp and sharp, now feels more like a burden, its fabric slightly rumpled from a day spent at your desk.

“I can’t take that much time off of work,” You say, your voice tinged with frustration but softened by a hint of regret. You’re caught in that all-too-familiar tug of war between professional obligations and personal desires. You finally get the chance to turn your head to look at Abigail as you reach a crosswalk, blinking not to cross. You see the disappointment flicker in your friend’s eyes.

“I get it,” Abigail says, her voice steady and tinged with understanding, “I know how demanding your job is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t work from home. Or take personal time. I know you have that option.”

You chuckle softly, admiring her persistence to some degree. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“When is the last time you even took a personal day.”

The answer was never. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Will you stop begging me every second of every day if I say yes?” You ask, half in jest but with a trace of genuine curiosity.

“Obviously,” she replies, her smile widening as she sees the shift in your stance.

The pedestrian light turns green, and as you start to cross the street, you take a deep breath, blinking to steady your thoughts. “Fine.”

Abigail’s face lights up with a victorious grin, her eyes sparkling with triumph. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Nestled amidst rolling green hills and expansive grasslands, Abigail’s small family farm is a picturesque retreat. The scene unfolds like a charming pastoral painting, with vibrant hues of green and wheat fields stretching out as far as the eye can see, interspersed with splashes of color from blooming wildflowers.

At the heart of the farm stands a quaint, cozy house, its charm amplified by a wraparound porch adorned with potted flowers. The house itself is a delightful mix of rustic and charming, with its whitewashed clapboard siding, and a steeply pitched roof.

Adjacent to the house, a well-tended vegetable garden thrives, it’s neat rows of tomatoes, lettuce, and peppers bordered by a low wooden fence. A couple of well-worn garden tools lean against a small shed nearby, evidence of the daily care given.

Further out, a classic red barn structure where a white trimmed roof sits atop. The sounds of clucking hens and the occasional bray of donkey create a lively atmosphere. Near the barn, sits a small paddock with a couple of playful horses, their sleek coats gleaming in the sunlight.

The fresh air of the farm is almost a sensory overload compared to the city’s fumes. Unlike the city’s dense cocktail of exhaust fumes, asphalt, and various street food vendors, the farm air is pure.

As you sit at the kitchen table, the warmth of the farmhouse envelops you. The rustic charm of the kitchen, with its large wooden table and mismatched chairs, is filled with the sounds of cheerful conversation and shared laughter.

Abigail stands at the center of the room, animatedly catches her family up on the latest happenings in her city life. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, her gestures lively and expressive. The tales of the city hustle almost seem foreign in this serene setting.

Danny and Luke, her two older brothers, sit across from you at the table. Danny, with his sandy blond hair and easy-going demeanor, leans back in his chair, his face lit up with a relaxed smile. He listens attentively, occasionally interjecting with teasing remarks or playful banter. His presence is warm and reassuring. His wife, Gianna, sits beside him with a small baby boy on her lap.

Luke, on the other hand, exudes a quiet strength. His dark hair is neatly tousled, and his gaze is both thoughtful and amused. His demeanor calm yet engaged.

“It’s so nice to finally meet the girl who makes our Abigail so happy in the city,” Abigail’s mother continues, her voice carrying a note of heartfelt sincerity. “She’s always spoken so highly of you.”

You feel a flush of warmth at the compliment, a mix of gratitude and slight nervousness at the attention all on you.

“Thank you so much for having me,” You smile softly. “I don’t know what I would do without Abigail in my life.”

With a playful glint in Danny’s eye, he chimes in, “I do.”

The room erupts in a chorus of laughter, the sound ringing out with genuine warmth and affection.

You decided right there you may just like it here a lot more than you thought.

The silk dress that adorned your body was utterly unsuitable for the rugged rodeo environment, but you didn’t really care. The delicate fabric, with its soft sheen and flowing lines, clashed vividly with the dusty, rough-and-tumble atmosphere of the rodeo.

As you moved through the arena, the contrast became more pronounced. The silk, while beautiful, struggled against the elements—dust from the arena settling onto the fabric, and the occasional splash of beer threatening to leave their mark. The sight of your delicate dress among the crowd of rugged cowboys and cowgirls in their jeans, boots, and plaid shirts drew curious glances.

But you didn’t care. You liked your clothes, the luxurious feel of the silk against your skin, the way it draped with effortless grace. The expensive fabric was a statement of your personal taste, and you embraced it fully, regardless of the setting.

“You could’ve borrowed some jeans, you know?” Abigail chirps beside you, her jeans mostly ripped and worn matched well with her cowboy boots.

You shrug your shoulders in a noncommittal way. “I’m going to head to the bathroom before this starts. Grab me a drink?”

“Duh. See you at the seats?” Abigail laughs before sauntering off towards a beer vendor.

You stand still for a moment, observing Abigail and her brothers joking around as they stroll across the lively rodeo grounds. You can’t help but smile at their playful banter, you didn’t have growing up.

As you watch, lost in the charm of the moment, a rough shoulder unexpectedly collides with yours. The sudden contact jolts you out of your reverie, and you turn to see a burly cowboy in worn jeans and a dusty plaid shirt.

You swore he was one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen in your life until he opened his big fat mouth.

“You lost?” He laughs, his green eyes bright and mischievous as he adjusts the hat on his head.

“Excuse me?” You reply, a mix of confusion and irritation threading through your voice.

“The city is a long way from here,” He drawls, the smirk on his lips widening with a hint of amusement.

The combination of his cheeky grin , the twinkle in his eye, and the dismissive tone ignites a flicker of anger within you. It feels like a mix of condescension and teasing that sends a sharp heat coursing through your veins. You roll your eyes, unable to hide your annoyance.

“Thanks for the information, jackass,” You snap, shoving past him with a forceful nudge. You march away with purpose, the silk of your dress swishing around your legs with each determined step.

Unbeknownst to you, as you walk away, he can’t help but turn his head to watch the sway of your hips in the thin, delicate fabric. His gaze lingers for a moment longer than necessary, a mixture of surprise and lingering admiration in his eyes as he takes in your retreating figure.

A hand lands firmly on his shoulder, and a voice calls out, “C’mon Charles, you need to get changed.” The words cut through his moment of distraction.

With a slight jolt, he snaps back to reality and glances over, meeting the eyes of his friend who is already gesturing towards the changing area. Reluctantly, he shifts his focus and starts to follow, his gaze now shifting into a more focused, practical demeanor.

Finally settled into your seat, far too close to the metal fence for your liking, and smothered between Abigail and Luke, you feel yourself relax as Luke places a tall boy can of beer in your hand, the wet condensation soaking your hand.

“Hope you can handle a beer,” Luke states, a smile on his lips. “It’s all they had left.”

You bring the can of beer to your lips slowly, savoring the crisp, cool sensation as you take a smooth sip. With a playful glint in your eye, you send a wink in Luke’s direction. “I promise I can handle a beer,” you say with a teasing smile.

Luke’s eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement, and he lets out a hearty chuckle. He lifts his own beer in a casual salute, the gesture accompanied by a nod of approval. As he takes a sip, the cool amber liquid reflecting the warm light of the evening, he meets your gaze with a grin that mirrors your playful confidence.

“So how does this work?” You ask, turning your full attention to Luke while Abigail and Danny are engrossed in their own conversation on the other side of you.

Luke raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “How does what work?”

You gesture broadly with your hands, waving them in animated circles as you take in the bustling rodeo arena before you. “This,” you say, trying to encompass the entire scene with your sweeping motions.

As if gaining a sense of clarity, the corners of Luke’s lips tug upward. “Why don’t you just watch and find out? It’s about to start.”

You turn your head back to the dirt ring, feeling the adrenaline of the moment as you witness a big brown bull in the chute. Its snorts are visible through the gaps in the metal fences, each exhalation a cloud of steam in the crisp air.

A handsome cowboy, his broad shoulders accentuated by a fitted vest, mounts the bull with practiced ease. He glances up with a confident, almost cocky grin that makes your heart race even faster. Your gaze follows every move he makes, captivated by the way he balances on the bull’s massive back as the gate swings open.

The bull bursts into action, hooves flying and muscles rippling as it twists and bucks in an attempt to throw the rider off. The scene is a whirlwind of motion and raw power—an exhilarating display of skill and bravery. It’s almost surreal, the sheer intensity of the bull’s movements and the cowboy’s unflinching composure.

As the bull spins in tight circle, you glance over to the timer mounted on the fence. The seconds tick away, each moment bringing the eight-second mark closer. When the buzzer finally sounds, signaling the end of the ride, the cowboy springs off the bull with an effortless grace. He tosses a hand in the air, his expression nonchalant as if the wild ride was nothing more than a casual stroll.

The crowd erupts in cheers and applause, their excitement palpable as they all stand up with shouts.

You turn your head back towards Luke, one of the biggest smiles on your face as you meet his eyes in pure astonishment.

“How about it?” Luke chimes in, taking yet another chug of his beer.

“This is insane!” You take another sip as well.

Charles lived for bull riding. It was more than just a passion—it was his livelihood. The cowboy lifestyle, with its raw, untamed essence, had shaped almost every aspect of his existence.

To him, the bull was not just an animal but a formidable partner in a high-stakes dance of power and control. Two things Charles always loved to have. Every successful ride was a testament to his skill and courage, a dance with danger that left him both exhilarated and humbled. Like this ride. Right now.

He throws his hand in the air, the rush of pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. The feel of the dirt beneath his boots, the deafening roar of the crowd, and an impressive score of 91, was enough to send him shouting in joy. He let his eyes wander the crowd around him, taking it all in like he always loves to do. He livesfor the attention.

So, when he notices a familiar woman seated right before the metal fence, paying little to no attention to the dirt ring, he can’t help but feel just a little annoyed.

He also can’t help but feel more annoyed when he takes notice of that silk fabric again, immediately remembering when he bumped into your frame mere moments ago. Your cherry lips and silky-smooth hair flash into his mind. For a second, he almost forgets the fact that he’s standing in the middle of a dirt ring.

He can’t quite shake the memory of your demeanor and the way you seemed detached from the rodeo’s thrilling chaos. The way you could care less about who he was. It’s a curious juxtaposition against the fervor of the crowd and the adrenaline that still courses through him.

One thing about Charles was that he wanted attention, yes. But right now, he only wanted yours. With that unshakable desire in mind, he strides confidently toward where you’re seated. The metal fences between you both form a barrier, but that doesn’t deter him.

As he approaches, the crowd senses a shift in the energy and falls into an anticipatory hush. Their collective gaze shifts to you and Charles, creating a palpable focus on the interaction.

Charles, his presence commanding and confident, slips his hat through the gap in the metal fence, offering it to you with a smirk. The hat, wide brimmed and well worn, represents a piece of his world.

“To help you fit in better.” His tone a mix of challenge and amusement.

Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and finally saunters off, his gait relaxed yet purposeful.

“What just happened?” Abigail smacks your arm, the one not jolding the hat, as you walk side by side. Her brothers loom behind you, their presence adding to the charged atmosphere of the moment. “Why did Charles fucking Leclerc just give you, his hat?”

You glance at the hat, a bemused expression on your face. “That guy is a total dick is what just happened.”

Abigail’s eyes widen, her excitement barely contained. “What do you mean!” She practically shouts, her voice a mix of disbelief and thrill. “He’s like famous here. Every girl probably hates you right now.”

“Why?” You ask, genuinely puzzled.

“Are you blind?” Abigail’s voice now full sheer joy. “The dude is practically sex on fucking legs. And he’s one of the best bull riders around!”

You look back at the hat again, it suddenly feels heavier in the grasp of your fingertips. “Charles Leclerc is a big deal around here. And he just gave you, his hat. That’s a huge deal.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the slight flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Well, it doesn’t change the fact that he was a jackass earlier. But I guess it’s good to know he’s a big deal around here.”

Abigail bursts into laughter. “You really are something else.”

The narrow aisles of the tiny market, with their cramped and cluttered shelves, had you aimlessly strolling in circles. The items on your list—given to you by Abigail’s mom—seemed to elude your every turn. The overhead lights cast a harsh glare on the disorganized assortment of product, making it difficult to find what you needed. You stood there, your eyes narrowing in annoyance, at the crumpled list clutched in your hand.

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

The sound of the deep, velvety voice was enough to draw your attention away from the list. You turned to see Charles standing not even a few feet away, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned casually against a shelf. His eyes, green as ever, created a swirl of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

Although you were known for your stubbornness, often digging your heels in even when it wasn’t your best interest, you had to admit you were out of your depth in the tiny market. There were no signs. No directory.

“Depends,” you reply, the hint of a playful challenge in your voice. Charles raises his eyebrows, a silent prompt for you to elaborate further.

“If you call me city girl even once,” you continue, your tone firm but light-hearted, “I’ll knock you right out.”

The challenge is met with a shit-eating grin, so wide on Charles’s face that it seems almost infectious. His cheeks stretch into an exuberant smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. And it takes him one step, and one stretch of his arm, to snag that grocery list right out of your dainty fingertips.

“You’re cute when you’re real mad, y’know?” He drawls, placing the groceries into the bed of the pick-up truck you borrowed from Abigail’s family.

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re right.” He says, placing the final bag into the truck and leaning against the frame of it with an arm propped up. “You’re just cute.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Charles doesn’t miss the subtle flush the tints the apples of your cheeks with a delicate shade of red. The reaction stirs a flutter in his chest, almost like an addiction that he never wants to stop.

You’re undeniably cute, with an effortlessly enchanting beauty that makes it difficult to look away. A magnetic pull that Charles just can’t shake. It’s almost as if he’s addicted to getting a reaction out of you.

It’s been days of settling into the rhythm of farm life—enjoying family dinners filmed with hearty laughter and home-cooked meals, gathering around late-night fires that crackle and warm against the cool night air, and rolling up your sleeves to help with daily chores.

Even had a few more run-in's with the famous bull riding man himself. He was sweet, but you couldn't help but feel at complete unease around him. Not in a bad way, but in a my heart won't stop pounding against my rib cage kind of way.

Like when he covered you in his flannel at the latest bonfire, taming the rising goosebumps along your body.

"I don't need this, y'know?"

"Sweetheart, you're cold. Just wear the damn thing."

Or when you bumped into him at one of the farmer's markets and it took no hesitation for him to grab all of your purchases out from under your arm.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doin?"

"Stealing my stuff"

His laugh shot butterflies right into your stomach. "You're something else, sweetheart."

You make a point to be as involved as possible, driven by the genuine desire to contribute and make a sense of responsibility.

“Should we hit up Rusty Spur’s tonight?” Abigail asks from beside you, her voice light and relaxed as she stands wrapped in a fluffy robe, freshly showered. She’s casually brushing her long, damp hair, the strands falling in soft waves around her shoulders.

“What’s Rusty Spur’s” you ask, leaning over the bathroom sink for a closer look as you apply your last coat of mascara, adding the finishing touch to your makeup.

“The bar,” she replies nonchalantly, her tone suggesting it’s a place she frequents often. “I think we need a night out.”

You glance at her through the mirror, a smile spreading across your face at the prospect of a night out.

“Yes.”

Rusty Spur’s was the kind of country bar that instantly feels like home, even if you’ve never been there before.

As you step inside, the scent of aged wood, spilled beer, and a hint of smoky warmth greets you. The place is packed.

The flimsy spaghetti straps of your short white dress dig into the skin of your shoulders, their delicate fabric offering little support. Despite its ethereal look, the dress feels unexpectedly snug against your skin. The soft white fabric sways with each step you take as you slip your body in between the crowds of people.

Abigail leads you to a cozy corner of the bar. Almost instantly, a bartender approaches, his familiarity with Abigail evident in the easy smile and warm greeting he offers.

You can’t help but notice just how easy on the eyes he is. He’s dressed, like almost every guy in this bar, in snug jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. His casual yet confident demeanor, coupled with the slight scruff on his beard and his easygoing smile, makes him stand out in the dimly lit bar.

Within the span of five minutes, a chilled, neck-bottled beer is placed gently into your hand. Taking in the view of the crowd, which is large but not overwhelmingly so, you scan the faces around you. As your gaze moves across the room, no one stands out as particularly familiar—until your eyes land on a table not too far away.

There, seated with a group of friends, is Charles. His presence is unmistakable. Even from a distance, he exudes a charismatic confidence, the kind that draws attention without even trying. He’s relaxed in his posture, laughing and engaging with his companions, the flannel from earlier now swapped for a casual shirt.

“Wanna dance?” Abigail chimes in your ear, her beer already half gone in the span of a minute.

It was almost as if Charles could feel your presence without even seeing you. The dim light of the bar cast flickering shadows. He leaned back against the worn leather of his chair, his senses heightened.

You found yourself completely immersed in the music, your body moving almost involuntary as your shoes glide smoothly across the weathered wooden floor. You’re not exactly sure when it happened, but your body eventually became pressed up against a random guy you’ve only just met on the dance floor. His presence both surprising and pleasant. He’s cute—definitely cute. His hands are gentle on your waist, guiding you through the steps with a natural rhythm.

He twirls you effortlessly around, guiding your movement with a deft touch that brings a burst of joy. As you complete the spin, you find yourself facing him once more, his eyes twinkling down at you.

With a playful flourish, he slips his cowboy hat onto your head. You can feel the subtle press of the brim against your forehead, much too big for your head. You tilt your head back and laugh, the sound a melodic blend of joy and unrestrained happiness woven into the music.

In this embrace, everything seems to align perfectly—the rhythm of the music, the warmth of the body, and the whimsical charm of the cowboy hat resting lightly atop your head.

“Do you want t-” The words began to leave the man’s lips, but they were abruptly cut off as a firm muscled arm shoved him away from your embrace. The unexpected force sent him stumbling back, surprise flashing across his face and yours.

The man recovered his footing, confusion turning into indignation as he glared at the one who interrupted. Charles. Meanwhile, you stood your ground, heart racing, caught between the thrill of the moment and unexpected clash.

If looks could kill.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Large fingers reach for the brim of the hat atop your head, snatching it right off before Charles shoves it back into the man’s chest. “Don’t ever put a hat on her head again.”

His voice was rough and terse, cutting through the ambient noise like a blade. “Let’s go,” He says, not giving the man or you a chance to react. In an instant, his fingers snake around your wrist, pulling you away from the dance floor and into the shadows of a secluded table ticked into the corner of the bar.

The abrupt shift caught you off guard, and your heart raced as he led you through the sea of bodies. The air between you was thick with unspoken words as he tucks you between him and the edge of the table. His grip on your wrist loosens, but his proximity is too close.

“What the hell was that?” Your senses heightened as your eyes locked onto his. The usual light green of his irises, often warm and inviting, was now obscured by a much darker hue, swirling with intensity and something primal.

His gaze was pointed, sharp, and unyielding. You sensed a storm brewing behind those darkened eyes, and the air around you crackled with anticipation.

“He put his hat on you, sweetheart.” You scoff almost instantly, bubbling anger simmers in your chest as you let out a soft laugh over the situation.

“Really?” You throw your head back for a mere second as the laugh pushes past your throat. “You shoved him over a hat?”

His eyes remain narrowed, the amusement that might have danced there moments ago, no longer present. “Do you even know what that means?” He presses, his voice low and intense as he leans into your ear, the weight of his words hanging between you.

“What a hat means?” Confusion flickers across your features. The question so out of place, and yet the gravity of his tone suggests otherwise.

Before you can grasp the implications, you felt his fingers sneak their way to you, warmth and firmness splayed along your waist. The contact sent a jolt of awareness through you, igniting the tension the crackled in the air. It was a possessive gesture.

His gaze never wavers, and the connection between you deepens.

“You wear that hat; you ride that cowboy.”

For a moment, you freeze.

“And in no fucking world, would I let you wear anyone’s but mine.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fic

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tpwrtrmnky · 3 months ago

Text

outreach

[ID: Five-panel comic with crudely drawn stick people.

Panel 1: A moss green person and an orange dog person are working a stand at some sort of event. They have brightly colored flags, hats and pins.

Moss: "...Why are we here?"

Orange: "Activism is important!"

Moss: "Yeah, sure, but why are we here doing it? I mean, look at the neighbor tent!"

Panel 2: Zoom out. On the left is a nondescript tent with a non-chromoforming grayscale person in a purple hat, with a lime green pin. There is also a visually pink individual wearing orange anime glasses and a blue jacket. On the right is a tent labelled "Lockheed-Nestlé", staffed by a wide purple person, two grayscale people, and a sort of pinkish-red person. A turquoise person is listening intently.

Purple (Not that purple. The cool purple is not this person): "We of course have many career opportunities for chromatic-variant individuals with a passion for assisting the migration of hopeful water molecules seeking to escape from war-torn, impoverished nations."

Turquoise: "Wow!"

Grayscale person from the same tent: "Our diversity initiative seeks to employ at least three hue-diverse drone pilots with in this fiscal year."

Panel 3:

Moss: "It sort of makes me hate this!"

Orange: "But we're doing good by handing out stuff to people"

Moss: "That doesn't cancel out the fascist tent!"

From offscreen: "Hey, Moss!"

Panel 4: The person with the anime glasses gives Moss a high-five. It is the coolest thing that has happened in this particular comic.

Anime Glasses: "Firebombs later, monarch?" (They inexplicably punctuate this spoken sentence with an emoji of a pair of anime glasses.)

Moss: "Absolutely!"

Anime glasses: "Rad. Also a blue hat for my friend."

Moss: "Sure."

Anime glasses: "Hell yeah. They'd ask themselves, but they're scared to."

Panel 5: Closeup on Moss and Orange.

Orange: "See, we're helping people!"

Moss: "Next to the fascist corporation. Do you not see the problem with the fascist corporation?"

Orange: "I decided to be a dog because engaging with politics was too stressful"

Moss: "Right."

End ID.]

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ryescapades · 2 months ago

Text

aubade · ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ°࿐ | kaiju no. 8

— there is you, and then there is him. as dawn breaks, love lays its claim.

fluff prompt: palm kisses <3 characters: hoshina soshiro x gn weapon specialist!reader

genre/warning: fluff, mutual pining, ooc hoshina prolly, indirect confession, takes place after the sagamihara operation's celebration party, narumi cameo bcs why not

a/n: specially made for my lovely moot @/spookuna <3 i'm a bit attached to this one ngl..

2.9k wc

they say it is a soldier's pride to be able to serve the country they've sworn their lives on. duty, honor and discipline; these are all necessary in order to bring out the best in oneself to protect what matters to them.

expectedly, it is no different in the jakdf. bound by duty, the officers, no matter what position or department they're in, are well aware of the obligation they have to adhere to. they hone their skills and take pride in their abilities to be the best version of themselves so as to protect the lives of the people from the onslaught of kaiju in any way they can.

however, as a defense force officer yourself, your pride lies in your weapons. specifically, the weapons that you made.

ever since you were a mere child, all you've ever known was the forging of heated metals and the whirring sound of machines. the you from years ago used to enjoy watching the process of weapon-making, both machinery and man-made alike. hence, it is only natural that you grew up pursuing a career born out of your interest; a weapon specialist in the jakdf.

you were one of their best, in fact. hardworking and dedicated, you were deserving enough to be stationed at the first division base, where all the cream of the crops reside. studying and researching together with your fellow engineers in the process of making kaiju-specialized arsenals have become as natural as eating your daily meals.

additionally, discussing about the weapons with the soldiers themselves for any improvements is something you'd grown to enjoy doing.

and unbeknownst to most of those around you, you might just have the slightest bit of favoritism towards one soldier in particular...

"how was it, the blaze round? or is the explosive one still better?" you inquire during one afternoon in the testing lab. the first division officer turns to you while holding the rifle containing said blazing cartridges, half of it already emptied after the shooting trial.

"it's working well, y/n-san! your idea of flaming bullets is really doing wonders, seriously. but i do think the design could be better though, for instance..." as he drones on about what upgrades you could add to the gun, you listen with rapt attention, jotting down new ideas on your notebook. after the testing session ends, you mull over your notes in the silence of the now-empty lab.

a curious voice, fused with a bit of bafflement then brings you out of your headspace that is previously filled with a bunch of chemicals, kaiju remains and mechanical parts.

"you're still doing tests on that fire gun-thingy?" you lift your head up to see captain narumi waltzing in, the usual air of confidence and nonchalance sticking to him like a second skin.

you perk up, throwing him a quick salute. "yep, as usual! still got a long way to go though. there's so many stuff i need to fix, especially the cartridge and the substance formula. and there's the barrel part too—"

narumi grimaces, "okay, okay, chill, y/n. i'm only here to pick up my weapon, not to hear you nerd out about your little experiment," he huffs, walking over to the corner of the lab where his bayonet case is kept. you only give a responding chuckle and a lighthearted apology.

being the nosy ass that he is, narumi peeks over your figure to glimpse at what you're working on. however, his magenta hues latch on to your hands. in all the years he's known you, narumi has only ever seen you with your gloves on but today, your hands are bare and free from the confine of those military-issued fabrics.

with the case now slung over his shoulder, he's about to interrogate you about the lines he'd just seen on your palms when your phone that was sitting on the desk rings, a familiar name flashing on the screen.

the captain clicks his tongue. "the heck does this asshole want from you?" he questions in annoyance, albeit while sliding the device to you all the same just as you ask him who's calling.

he takes note of the way your eyes light up when they land upon the name of the caller, a smile quirking up on your face as you feel your heart skipping a (few too many) beat. you immediately slide a finger across the screen to put the call on speaker so that you can still look over your findings and talk to him all the while.

right, speaking of favoritism...

"vice-captain hoshina?" you cheerily greet, and narumi forces himself to hold in a gag (spoiler: he fails) when the man on the other line speaks up, "hey there. you free right now?" internally, you almost punched yourself at how giddy you get after hearing the smooth and light baritone of hoshina's voice.

you send your captain a glare before shooing him out with a wave of your hand. gruntling under his breath, the bicolor-haired man rolls his eyes as he pushes the door on his way out. "damn lovebirds,"

you ignore his not-so vague comment, fully focused on the one you're currently in love speaking with. "no, not really. i was just testing out some new stuff. why?" you query.

"you've heard about the sagamihara operation, right? well, ya see... one of my blades broke while i was fightin' no. 8, and the other one is pretty scratched up. i'm afraid i'd have to get the spare ones you keep at the hq," hoshina explains, and your eyebrows raise in shock.

"what? i've only heard that the mission turned out quite the struggle in the end, but nothing about no. 8 showing up. are you okay?" hoshina finds himself to be a lucky man, for you're not there with him to see how wide he's smiling, his cheeks practically hurt from your expression of concern for him.

"i'm all good, don't worry, dear. and besides, i won't be taken down so easily like that, ya know? have some faith in me, yeah?" you blush slightly at the nickname and his teasing tone before letting out a small laugh. "sorry, sorry. i do have faith in you, vice-captain. you hold that 'strongest close-quarters combatant' title for a reason, no?" you muse, not even bothering to keep the sheer honesty from flowing out.

the grip on his own phone tightens, relishing in the subtle praise sneaking behind your words. throughout his years in the defense force, people have complimented him on his hand-to-hand skills, sure. more often so now that he's a high-ranking officer in the third division. but when it comes to you, it just feels... right. assuring, somehow.

hoshina chuckles breathily, "you're right. so, about my swords... should i go there to pick it up or will you be sending a courier for it?"

for a moment you contemplate, weighing over your decisions. on one side, you really don't have any other purpose to go all the way to tachikawa apart from delivering the weapon. plus, your schedule is not exactly flexible enough to be making such impromptu visits to another base.

on the other hand, going to tachikawa means you get to see him. and deliver the weapon, obviously. but the way you see it, meeting him is enough reason for you to confidently set your choice.

"actually... you know what? i'll be going to tachikawa myself,"

if it were anybody else, you would've reprimanded them for disregarding their duties so carelessly like this. why do something so pointlessly time-consuming when there's a more effective way of doing it? or something along the lines of 'you should stick true to your obligation as a defense force officer, something something, blah blah...'

but who could blame you, really. for hoshina soshiro, you would take the tiniest crumb of chance to see him standing in front your very eyes, only to remind yourself time and time again that he's the one your heart longs for.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the hour clock strikes around six in the morning when you step foot onto the third division's turf, the sun still on its way to reach above the horizon for the incoming dawn.

you had taken some good five minutes of lecturing yourself about impulsively making a trip to another base, hands gripping tight on the steering wheel as you eventually came to terms with the fact that you were, indeed, driving by yourself from the ariake maritime base straight to tachikawa.

being the responsible officer that you are, you informed captain narumi of your little quote unquote adventure, which he only cackled at. you definitely did not bribe him with a new disc game of his choosing for his bs5 if he promised not tell on you to your superiors...

now, as you settle your belongings in the third division's library, you suddenly feel the nerves wrecking inside. it's quite a silly issue, really. it's not like this is the first time you're meeting hoshina. truth be told, you think you've seen more of him than captain ashiro, even though the latter is the more frequent visitor to the main headquarters out of the two.

you can't help it. everything about hoshina just makes you feel nervous, shy, but warm and happy all the same. your heart would beat a thousand miles per hour when he's near, heat rushing to every part of your body as if you had just burned yourself. well, maybe that's partly accurate, with how stupidly and ridiculously hot hoshina soshiro is—

a knock on the door interrupts your train of improper thoughts.

a figure stands at the huge opened entrance, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed against his— oh, sweet lord... he's wearing that compression shirt again. it takes every ounce of your willpower to not let your eyes stray anywhere below the turtleneck-line, lest you're in for a lifetime of teasing by the man.

you're a bit unlucky, it seems. because when you finally look at him, there is a knowing glint in his wine-tinted irises, as if he understands exactly what goes on in your mind, though he produces no word to address it.

"vice-captain, hi," you start, then proceed to mentally smack yourself because what the heck is that lame-ass greeting?

hoshina smiles, and your eyes greedily take in the sight of his curled up mouth. "hi yourself. how was the drive? i was worried for a second when ya said you're comin' here alone. you could've taken the shinkansen... or better yet, i could've gone there myself," thin eyebrows furrowing slightly, he approaches where you stand in the middle of the room where a metal table sits among others.

you laugh sheepishly, scratching gingerly on the skin of your cheek. "traffic was okay, thanks. and this is kind of an impulsive idea, really. i went straight to my car without thinking instead of going to the train station. plus, i wanted to give these to you myself," you say, mentioning to the leather sheaths sitting on the table.

hoshina tilts his head, giving you a confused smile, "why so? aren't they the same ol' blades like the ones i've been using before?" he asks, which causes your expression to brighten.

grabbing the weapons in your hands, you excitedly unsheathe the twin swords before displaying them in front of him. the blades are familiar, marked as his signature weapon SW-2033, gleaming sharp in the dim light of the library and shaped as similarly as his old ones.

"they are, but i added some touch ups to them too! i did some tweaking in the metal constitution of the blades to make them lighter, but more sturdy and tough to cut through harder things. they're supposedly more responsive to any change in your combat power too. the new composition has some kaiju remains in it, but you didn't hear that from me, okay?" you whisper the last part cheekily.

hoshina laughs, comfortably taking the swords when you hand them out to him and slowly turning them back and forth for observation, awestruck with your creation when suddenly a small detail catches his eyes. "what's this?" he mutters curiously, bringing the handle of the swords for a closer scrutiny.

you immediately straighten up at his attentiveness, your arms sliding behind your back and your fingers starting to play with the hem of your gloves from the jitters. "ah, that. well, i figured the swords would hold out much longer this time. so i thought it wouldn't hurt to do a little mark of ownership on each of them," you mumble, holding your breath while gauging his reaction all the same.

there, beside the jagged, razor-sharp edge of the dark steel blade, a small and intricate swirl of his first name is carved, along with a pressed mark of your own initials just above the izumo tech logo at the hilt.

there's a lump his throat, his slanted eyes widening in surprise.

bashfulness washes over you when he doesn't say anything, still staring at the weapons. "o-of course, i can remove my name if that's what you're concerned about! the hilt is easy to be swapped so—"

"no, they're perfect... thank you," he breathes.

your own eyes widen, gulping down the nervousness that is starting to dwindle down a bit, thankfully. you inwardly smile, relieved at how this is turning out. "think nothing of it! it's just something i thought to do in passing and it's not like there are many others in the defense force who specializes in swordsmanship." your hand reaches up to brush it off.

hoshina suddenly freezes when his eyes latch onto your gloved hand, the piece of stitched up cloth slightly nudged up from your earlier fidgeting to reveal a smidgen of your palm, causing you to tense slightly. you move to hide your hand from his view but your speed is no match against his; the man snatches it into his own, frowning deeply.

he puts aside the twin blades and takes a step towards you. one of his slender, much longer fingers slides under the dark fabric, exposing more and more of your palm to his amaranthine gaze at such a slow pace that it just makes the embarrassment to settle even deeper, simmering in the depth of your stomach and causing shivers to run down the length of your back.

eventually, the glove comes off and his eyes rove over the skin of your palm. it's soft to the touch, hoshina thinks. even so, he can't help but to stare at the lines upon lines of raised skin, ragged and roughly positioned on the surface. your hand is severely scarred.

you try to clench your hand into a fist and pull back but the swordsman seems persistent enough that you just relent, looking away to avoid his eyes. "it's bad, isn't it?" you smile, no mirth whatsoever.

play with knives, and you're bound to get nicked, you'd heard once.

his downturned expression remains. "it is. did you get them while refining my new swords?" he questions quietly into the air between you. your teeth catches on your bottom lip before you let out a low hum, "i always get them when i refine your swords.” the space around you grows tight, and the next thing that happens causes your chest to be even tighter.

hoshina moves closer into your space, your forehead almost knocking against him as he brings your palm to his lips. your mouth dries and feels like sandpaper as the airy, featherlight sensation continues to descend on various spots on your skin a few more times, your pulse quickening as he trails them to your wrist. he's careful with his fangs, but the sudden appearance of his tongue has you gasping slightly. it's wet, and it's warm against your skin. "w-what..." you stammer.

"it's beautiful. you're beautiful, y/n," hoshina murmurs, causing the sharp intake of your breath as the blood in your veins pumps in a frenzy.

he glances up to see your fluttering eyes and reddened cheeks. with those as the only indications he needs, he closes the distance to press his lips onto yours in a shy, tender kiss.

finally, your foolish little heart wants to scream. after months of lingering eye contacts, of shy touches, whispered praises and not-so-platonic gestures. after months of dancing around these intense, dizzying feelings.

the softness of your mouth gives to the pressure of his, dancing unhurriedly against each other as you savor the heat he emits. hoshina holds you close, your imperfectly perfect hand cradled protectively against his chest as his free hand comes up to steady a palm over your warm cheek.

he pulls back slowly to give you space and take a minute but you follow him, eyes still closed and lips chasing after his in an attempt to be connected once more. hoshina breathes out a chuckle and calls out for you, fondness seeping out from each syllable of your name that has you opening your eyes to peer at his own.

and here, as the first rays of sunlight pour through the windows of the library, casting a golden hue across the room and painting him in such an exquisite way it leaves the air rushing out of your lungs. the bell chimes somewhere in your mind, the musical vibrations synchronizing with the love you hold for the man in front of you.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you’ve never thought so beautifully of your hands ever before.

what i would give to be otp with hoshina like i'm his actual gf ... *cries in non fiction

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

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cherrycolored-punk · 3 months ago

Text

Muse

pairings: artist!Eddie x fem!reader

author’s note: re-posting, originally posted on my previous blog @strangemagicc 🖤 this was going to be a series but for now this is a standalone blurb until inspo strikes

warnings: smutty smut smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (Eddie and reader receiving), slight praise kink, let me know if I missed anything!

w/c: 5.6k

The room was cold, the walls white, a little medicinal. Light cascaded through the windows, hues of tangerine and gold creating a warmth against the expanse of your exposed flesh.

Your head rested against your shoulder, arms pressed into the wooden stage below you, legs posed to the side elongating your body. You could feel their eyes on you, pensive and concentrated but you focused your gaze on the wall behind them. Studied the cracks in the plaster and the splatters of paint from classes before.

The minutes ticked by, slow and tedious. You shifted your gaze to the left, eyes meeting intense chestnut. He smiled at you, small and polite before looking back at his canvas. Lines formed on his forehead, eyebrows raised high as he captured the curve of your waist and the flare of your hips. He was handsome, conspicuously so. Curly auburn hair tied into a low bun, black t-shirt clinging to the muscle of his tattooed arms.

A walking canvas, perfect lines and shadows.

Heat rose to your chest, blossomed in your cheeks and your breathing became more shallow.

Your eyes darted away from him, back to the wall behind him and you remained focused refusing to linger a moment longer on the curve of his jaw or the cluster of freckles on his nose. Worried that he’d noticed you noticing him. Because you had noticed him plenty of times. On campus and in class. Sitting in the back of your art history sketching in his journal as the professor droned on and the minutes ticked by slowly. Sometimes he’d catch you staring, give you a smirk or a small wave to let you know that weren’t as inconspicuous as you thought. Each time heat would rise to your cheeks, eyes darting away. And you would be embarrassed if you hadn’t caught him just as fixated, just as hypnotized.

A timer began to beep alerting the class that you were due for a break, that your pose would change once you returned. You pushed off your hands, stretched your shoulders, and rolled your wrists before grabbing for your robe. The plush fabric was a welcomed comfort, cotton soft against your skin.

Students talked amongst themselves, reviewing each other’s work, their creations of you but no one spoke directly to you.

Over the last few months, you began modeling for the figure art class to make a few extra bucks, to make your way through college, and to get your own art degree.

At first, it was awkward, you were unsure of yourself and how to place your body. Uncomfortable having everyone’s eyes on you for an hour, studying the flesh of your stomach and the stretch marks on the curve of your ass. But it became easier, almost second nature to be bare in front of mostly strangers.

You continued stretching your neck as you walked towards your bag for a snack hidden in the depths of your purse. You needed something, your hunger nearly loud enough for those around you to notice. The granola bar was sweet against your lips, apple and cinnamon. A little stale from sitting in your cabinet too long. Still, you hummed as you devoured it, eyes closed and savoring each bite.

“That should be your next pose,” a deep voice stated from above you. You opened your eyes, chocolate brown looking back at you with a smirk. A whisper of a dimple on his cheek.

“What would you call it? Glutton?” You joked back, taking another bite to cover the way your breath hitched when you got a whiff of his cologne.

“Hmm, I was thinking ecstasy. Something about how your eyes roll whenever you take a bite seems fitting.” You chuckled at his words, heat blossoming in your chest at his sentiment.

Ecstasy.

He popped a grape into his mouth from the bag he was holding, thumb lingering on his lips as he eyed you. A mischievous glint in his eye.

“I’m Eddie, by the way,” he wiped his hand before reaching it out to shake yours, your eyebrows meeting with a crease at the gesture. Seemed a little formal after he’d already seen you naked. But still, you slipped your small hand into his much larger one, felt the calluses on his fingers and the ones against his palm as you introduced yourself. He smiled and repeated your name with a nod, your hand lingering in his as the two of you stared at each other in silence. You shook your head, a little dazed as though he had put a spell on you.

“Aren’t you in my art history class?” Eddie pushed a hand into his pocket and leaned back on his heels as he made small conversation.

“With Professor Blake?” You tilted your head watching as his eyes wandered down your frame and back again.

“Yeah, that guy. Always has a coffee stain somewhere.” You nodded along with his description, watched as he talked with his hands making gestures as he spoke mimicking Professor Blake’s mannerisms and the dribble of coffee he always had.

“That would be him,” you giggled again, wadding up the wrapper to your granola bar.

“How are you liking the class?”

“Something about art history makes me want to stab myself in the eye but otherwise it’s fine. Blubbering Blake makes it pretty entertaining, classmates are pretty cute,” he mused and kept his eyes trained on you.

Your gaze fluttered, an abashed smile found a home on your lips. You cleared your throat as you tried to formulate a response.

“I think it would be more fun if we spent more time looking at the art while we listened to them drabble on. More than just slides y’know? I like to be immersed in it.” As though that weren’t obvious by your lack of clothes moments ago. Your nerves were ignited making you antsy, a little bit of a rambling mess.

“I feel the same way,” he gave you a thoughtful nod, “You can only see or understand so much from a lecture and it’s usually all from a PowerPoint anyways,” he shrugged, gaze lingering on yours. He was unabashed with his staring, the way his gaze wandered over the length of you.

“You know what I’m really excited to see?” He nodded for you to continue, crossing his arms as he listened. Your enthusiasm was evident, wide eyes and a huge smile.

“Yayoi Kusama, her exhibit is going to be in Philly.” His gaze changed, excitement building at your words.

“Seriously? Holy shit, I have to see that. I’ve been following her work for a while,”

“Well if you’re interested, I have an extra ticket for tomorrow. My friend bailed on me.”

Your date had bailed but he didn’t need to know that. You shrugged your shoulder nonchalantly as if he wasn’t a stranger. As if this wasn’t your first conversation and you weren’t asking him to go out. As if you weren’t dying to end the night with him in your bed.

“Fuck yeah, I’m interested,” he nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Great,” you beamed, “it starts at eight if you want to meet there?” Eddie shook his head.

“Absolutely not, I’m picking you up. We can get dinner after.”

“This is sounding a little like a date, Eddie.” You teased him to hide the nervous butterflies that were unraveling at your center.

“I hope so,” he smiled at you fully, one you couldn’t help but return.

The alarm went off letting you know that your break was over, that it was time for your final pose.

“Dinner sounds great,” you whispered over your shoulder as you walked back towards the makeshift stage and dropped your robe. Eddie shot you a wink, dimpled grin on full display as his gaze traveled over you.

———————————

You clawed through your closet for the better part of an hour, your bedroom littered with rejects as you examined your reflection in the mirror.

The black fabric of the short corduroy dress you’d decided on hugged you, accentuating the curve of your hips and ass. Your cleavage pressed into the fabric, the top button hanging on for dear life. You paired it with sheer black tights, a leather blazer, mary jane pumps, and a daring red lip. A little pop of color.

You shook out your hair, teasing it with your hands for a little volume before sliding on your gold necklace and matching hoops. You felt cute, a little hot even, and winked at yourself in the mirror laughing at your own cringe before checking your texts to see one from Eddie that said he was on his way.

Excitement filled you, a motley crew of butterflies swarming your abdomen as you anticipated his arrival and thought over your conversation, exchanging numbers after the class had ended. You’d thought about it since the day before, going about your routine with a little hum, a small smile and now the moment was here.

Eddie knocked at the door softly and straightened out his appearance as he waited for you.

You smoothed out the lines of your dress, fixed your cleavage, and looked at your reflection in the hall mirror one last time before answering.

His eyes widened, jaw slack as he looked at you. You were equally off guard, admiring his simple black button-down paired with black jeans that accentuated the curve of his thighs. He wore rings on either hand, big and intimidating. His hair hung at his shoulders instead of the bun you saw him in yesterday, a small chain tucked into his shirt. Eddie smelled like bergamot and sage, a hint of cinnamon from the gum he had been chewing.

“Y-you look stunning,” he stammered, blinking rapidly as he finally looked into your eyes. You melted under his gaze, flattered was too small of a word to describe how you felt under the intensity of his regard.

“You look pretty handsome yourself,” you complimented, slightly entranced by the smell of his cologne.

“Flattery will get you anything, sweetheart,” he chuckled, hiding the redness of his cheeks as the two of you walked out of your apartment building. His hand stayed at the small of your back, guiding you through the maze of hallways, down the elevator, and out the front door.

The fall night was chilly, a gentle breeze biting at your skin and you tucked yourself further into your blazer.

“Are you okay taking my motorcycle? If not I can get us a Lyft. I didn’t realize until I was on my way that I hadn’t mentioned it when I insisted on picking you up.” He grimaced.

“Let’s take your bike,” you assured him with a smile as the two of you walked in step. His bike was parked near your building, matte black and sleek. You let out a low whistle and walked ahead to get a good look at it.

“It’s so fucking nice,” you enthused, secretly always wanting a bike but knowing you could barely walk on two feet let alone ride on just two wheels.

“Thanks, got her this summer. Took her to the coast and some beaches. Was a pretty kick-ass time.” Eddie grabbed his helmet, adjusted the strap, and turned to you offering it.

“I don’t have an extra, don’t usually ride with a passenger,” he shrugged, “hopefully this will fit you.” He handed you the black helmet, matte to match his bike.

“Are you trying to say that I have a big head?” You scoffed playfully. His eyebrows shot up, devious. Like he didn’t want to be the one to tell you the truth that you were carrying a globe on your neck. You swatted at his shoulders playfully, a small giggle escaping.

“I didn’t even say anything,” he pretended to wince, rubbing his shoulder like it still stung all the while smiling broadly back at you.

“It was so implied in those eyebrows,” you pointed at them, drawing a little circle in the air in case he forgot where they were.

“They have a mind of their own,” he raised his hands as if he didn’t have an explanation and watched as you tugged the helmet on. It was tight against you, cheeks squeezed on the sides like your uncle used to.

“You might actually be right,” you grimaced, thinking of how unflattering the whole thing looked.

“I promise that’s how it’s supposed to fit,” he chuckled reaching over and adjusting the chin strap.

Eddie tapped your head slightly, shot you another wink that went straight between your thighs. He was suave, annoyingly confident but it had you hungry.

Wanting.

He slipped his legs over the bike, the fabric of his jeans bunching around his thighs and you eyed the swell of his ass. Eddie chuckled at the directon of your gaze as he held his hand out for you, helping you onto the bike and instructing you to use his shoulders to get situated. The muscle flexed under your touch, solid. You wanted to glide your fingers along them, skim the hard muscle of his arms into his back.

“How you feeling back there?” He peeked over his shoulder at you.

“G-good,” you stammered placing your hands gently at his sides.

“You might want to hold on a little tighter.” He pulled your hands around his waist, and patted them gently after you interlocked your fingers.

“Better?” He asked.

“Better,” you nodded even though he was no longer looking. He took off, motorcycle vibrating beneath you. You pressed your face into his back, arms tight around his stomach as the wind whipped against you.

—--

Eddie walked you to your door, palm on the small of your back, your body buzzing with the two margaritas you had over dinner and the warmth radiating from his touch. You weren’t drunk, just a little less wound tight. Nerves melted into oblivion. Inhibitions near nonexistent.

The date was good, great even. You had thought of this moment all night, how to invite him in and if you were being too forward. If you’d read into how his hand dipped from the small of your back to the swell of your ass. If you imagined the hunger in his gaze that was mirrored in yours.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you beamed, back pressed into the wood of your door as you looked up at him. A little flirty, eyes batting. His brown eyes searched your face, settled on your bottom lip and he swallowed hard.

“I had a lot of fun too, thanks for inviting me.” He leaned a little closer, bergamot and cinnamon filling the small space between the two of you.

His eyes darted back and forth between your gaze and the pout of your lips.

Debating.

You leaned closer, back leaving the surface of the door, the swell of your breasts brushing against his chest as you did. He crowded your space, pushing you gently back against the wood, one hand resting above your head and the other playing with the hem of your dress. You tried to seem unphased but the way you swallowed had you giving away how his touch affected you.

Eddie dipped his fingers under the hem of your dress tracing the line of your upper thigh to the cheek of your ass. Teasing. Eyes darkening when he noticed you weren’t wearing any underwear.

Your hand moved up his chest, lightly scratching the exposed flesh until they were twined behind his neck, the sweet smell of your perfume making him hum.

He wedged a leg between the two of yours, the sound of his boot heavy against the hallway floor, nose brushing yours as he leaned in watching your eyes flutter close.

Eddie cupped your jaw, calloused thumb rubbing gently against your cheekbone, tracing a line to your bottom lip and pulling against it. A shiver ran up your spine as you felt his other hand move further up your skirt, fingers digging into the doughy flesh.

His breath was warm against your lips, a whisper above yours as he continued to tease you. You whined impatiently pulling him closer until his lips were pressed into yours.

They were softer than you expected, plump against your own and you knotted your fingers into his curls. Pulling softly and eliciting a groan. He sucked your bottom lip, tongue sliding across asking for permission until you opened for him. Your tongues met in the middle, soft as they explored each other.

Eddie’s hand cupped your jaw as the kiss deepened, his knee pressed between your thighs and you began to grind against him. Your clit rubbed against the rough material of his jeans making you shiver with the contact. You felt him twitch against your thigh, the evidence of his arousal pressed into you making you moan into his mouth.

He pulled away from you, pupils blown, cheeks blushed crimson. He eyed your swollen lips, a question on the tip of his tongue but you beat him to it.

“We should go inside,” you stated between breathy sighs. Eddie nodded rapidly, swallowing roughly as he eyed your cleavage before you turned around and began digging for your keys, shuffling around your wallet and tubes of cherry lipgloss.

He pressed kisses to the curve of your neck, tongue darting over the nipped flesh. Length hard against you, rutting into your ass. You were unable to concentrate, head tilting back as his palms created a path until they were cupping your breasts. Your hands stilled as he explored the heavy flesh.

“You better keep looking,” he instructed, teeth grazing your thrumming pulse. You nodded, chest heaving as you dug through your purse again, finally finding the keys.

You pushed the door open with shaky hands, Eddie trailing behind you. You closed the heavy wood in a rush, breaths short as you kicked off your mary jane pumps.

Your apartment was only illuminated by the light in your hallway, creating a shadow over Eddie’s strong jaw. You grazed a fingertip over the bone and he shuddered, eyes dark as he pushed you lightly against the door pressing rough kisses to your sternum.

You reached for the buttons of Eddie’s shirt, fingernails grazing against the tattooed flesh as the material of the black button-up dangled open. He tilted your head back to get better access, kissing down your neck, your chest, and to the top of your breasts. Your skin was warm against his lips, flushed with the heat building between the two of you.

He nipped at your cleavage, fingers starting to undo the buttons that lined the front of your dress, fumbling through them quickly until the material dropped open.

“Fuck,” he breathed a groan as he eyed you, fingers gliding over the flesh of your stomach and up your chest, pushing at the straps of your dress until it fell to the floor with a soft thud.

You were nearly bare, standing in just your tights and your black lace bra. Goosebumps sprouted, a shuddered breath escaped your lips and he was on you.

Rough kisses, all teeth and tongue.

Hungry. Desperate.

He groaned as he felt your perked nipples through the lace of your bra against his muscled chest, big hands finding purchase on the curve of your hips. He squeezed you firmly, flipping you around until your chest was pressed into the door. Eddie rubbed his hands over your ass, warmth radiating through the thin layer separating him from your bare skin.

“How attached to these tights are you?” He asked, voice gruff. He began sucking a sensitive spot behind your ear as he waited for your answer.

“N-not really,” you stammered, distracted. Needy.

Eddie’s right hand cupped your breast wandering under the material of your bra. He squeezed at the nipple as his other hand left a blazing trail down your back and between your thighs. You were soaked, slick arousal making your tights stick to your folds. Eddie traced the outline of them with his finger, breath catching as he felt how wet you were.

“All of this because of me?” His voice was low, warm breath fanning your ear as he pressed into you.

His cock twitched against your ass and you nodded at him, a high-pitched whine escaping your lips as you began grinding against him, hips wiggling against his hard length. He stilled your hips, fingernails digging into your skin creating crescent moons.

“You’re a needy girl, aren’t you?” You nodded again, trying to press harder against him. To feel him against your clit. The friction you so desperately needed.

Eddie smacked your ass and your moan grew louder, needier. Enjoying the sting as his hand rubbed the covered flesh.

“You like that, baby?”

Both his hands rubbed over the dough over your ass, against the seam of your tights, fingers digging until you heard a rip from the nylon and felt the air against the slick between your legs.

Eddie gently pushed against your feet spreading your legs further apart, fabric ripped in half until the tights were two separate halves. He grabbed the fat of your ass spreading you apart bending on his knees behind you.

“Jesus fuck,” he moaned, swiping against your folds.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he hummed, finger dipping close to your cunt.

“Is this all for me?” You nodded but he couldn’t see, gaze trained on how you glistened in front of him.

“I need to hear you, sweetheart,” his hand stilled and you whimpered.

“Yes, it’s all for you.”

“Do you want me to touch you? Make you cum with my tongue?” You nodded again, this time earning another slap against your ass. Your nipples pebbled at the contact, cunt gripping around nothing as your moan filled the space.

“I need you to tell me, pretty girl,” Eddie instructed, spreading you apart again.

“Please, please make me cum Eddie.”

Your nails scrapped against the wood door, clawing at nothing as he teased your cunt with his thick finger. Thumb playing with your bundle of nerves. You felt his warm breath against your wet arousal and shivered, forehead pressing into the door as you bit your lip in anticipation.

You were a second away from begging when you felt his tongue swipe against your folds. He groaned at your taste, lapping up your dripping arousal like a man starved. Your toes curled as he pressed further into you, head twisted so he could work your clit, thick fingers teasing your entrance. You wiggled your ass against his face, a silent plead and Eddie slipped a finger inside stretching you until he was knuckle deep. His fingers curled inside, hitting a spot you had trouble reaching on your own.

Your moans grew louder, reverberating off the walls of your apartment as you got closer to coming undone.

“Fuck, Eddie, oh my god,” your chest heaved, eyes squeezing tight as the rubber band inside you constricted.

He added a second finger, tongue lapping at your juices as you began to constrict around him. You reached behind, fingers wrapping into his curls and holding his head to you.

Your moans matched his pace. The sound of your squelching pussy filling the air around you. Its lewdness egging Eddie on, and his breath was warm against your sensitive skin as his groan vibrated through you.

Whimpers escaped your lips in quick succession, blissed out and close to the edge.

“I-I’m so close, Eddie,” you mewled and he began to suck your clit, your vision going white as the rubber band snapped and you came undone.

Your walls pulsed around his fingers, his name falling from your lips in breathy moans. Body shaking as the orgasm took over. His groans vibrated against your clit making you shudder and he savored every last drop, never slowing. Lapping at your juices. He slapped your ass again, your legs shaky as he left a trail of kisses up your spine and turned you around.

You melted into his arms, looked at him with hooded eyes and saw the evidence of your climax coating his mouth. You stood on your tiptoes, kissing him deep and tasting your sweetness on his swollen lips.

“You taste so good baby, so sweet,” you bit at his bottom lip. Less shy, already hungry for more. To feel the delicious stretch of the hard length that had been pressing against you. You placed your hands on his chest, his muscles flexing under your touch. You pushed back gently, a silent command.

“It’s time for me to take care of you,” you guided him further into the apartment, gaze trained on his as you undid his belt and let it fall to the floor. Your hands worked the button of his jeans, nails brushing the hair that trailed into his pants and teasing the sensitive skin there.

He looked at you with hooded eyes, stopping at the foot of your bed when you got down in front of him. Knees digging into the carpeted floor. You looked at him over your lashes, teeth biting into your lower lip as you took it slow. You pushed his jeans down his hips and he kicked them to the side watching as you grazed the ends of your nails against his legs, up the swell of his muscled thighs. Smiling when he shivered at the touch.

You kissed his clothed length, hand massaging his balls, trailing kisses until you reached the tip. A patch on his boxers wet from pre-cum. You stroked him through the thin fabric, hand wrapping around his girthy cock as you dragged your palm from the base to his tip.

He was big, bigger than you’d ever had, and you ached at the thought of stretching around him. You stood, hand still wrapped his length, and pushed him onto the bed. He spread his stance wide, brown eyes watching as you situated yourself between his legs, his chest rising and falling in short spurts.

You palmed his thighs, finger grazing the spandex of his boxers and pulled them down watching as his cock sprang free. You bit your bottom lip as you eyed his length. He was thick, an angry vein lined the underside, pink head leaking with precum. You grabbed the base of him, tongue flat as you licked a line to his tip swirling over the top to collect the pearly liquid. You moaned at the taste of him, Eddie watching you with a hooded gaze and a shallow breath. You gathered spit, dribbling it down his tip until his head was slick and grazed your flat tongue against it.

“Oh fucking Christ,” his voice was ragged, fingers gripping your sheets as he felt you bob against his length, sucking his sensitive head with a loud pop as you eyed him.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding your head down his length, cock twitching as you attempted to take every inch. Mouth wide, saliva dripping on either side of your gaped mouth. Eddie tensed as he felt your throat constricting around him, swallowing. Taking him deep until you were gagging.

He almost doubled over, veins in his hands at attention as he gripped your hair to try to maintain self-control.

“Fuck, baby, I’m not going to last long like this,” he admitted, head thrown back. A goner.

You licked the underside of his cock one last time, giving his tip a little peck and crawled over his frame, nails scratching lightly across his chest.

He looked at you with a heavy gaze, thumb wiping the saliva that dripped on your chin and back to your lips. You wrapped your plump lips around his thumb, tongue darting across it. A tease.

His cock twitched underneath you as you wiggled on his lap. Needy. He removed his thumb, jaw agape as he watched.

He leaned in, mouth connecting with yours and kissed you until neither of you could breathe. His tongue flicked over the seam of your lips, the kiss deepening as he swallowed your shaky gasps. Rubbing your arousal against his hard length. Sensitive clit throbbing with each swipe. You pulled away panting, eyes heavy with lust. Dazed.

“Fucking hell,” he gasped as he clung to you, his hands reaching up to unclasp your bra. Your breasts bounced out and he kneaded the ample flesh, eyes fixated on your perked nipples.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed as he took one into his mouth, sucking. Nibbling. Watching as you keened at his touch.

You reached beneath you and gripped him firmly, lining him up with your entrance and slowly began to sink down. He eased in easier but was still a stretch. You circled your hips pulling more of him in until your cunt was wrapped tightly around every inch of him. There was a dull ache where you were connected, stretching over his girth. Eddie wrapped his arms around your middle, eyebrows scrunched at the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around his cock.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, fingers digging into your sides and likely to leave evidence of his touch. You adjusted to his length, breathless and stuffed full.

Eddie pressed his nose to your neck as he held you, hissing as you lifted your hips off his lap. His cheeks were flushed pink, sweat beading on his chest. He moved his hands below your ass, kneading it and spreading you apart. You clenched around him as he spread you, both of you gasping at the sensation. Eddie helped ease you up, bringing you back down over his length. The sound of your flesh slapping together filling the room.

His lips were back on yours and he swallowed your moans as you picked up the pace, hips creating circles whenever you reached his tip in a tease. He slapped your ass at every taunt of your hips, and you clenched with each contact of his hand against your butt cheek. He held you firmly against him, arms wrapped around your waist and began rutting into you. Balls slapping against you with each thrust.

“Oh fuck, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you screamed his name, rubber band threatening to snap inside you as he continued.

“Yeah, baby? Going to be a good girl and cum for me again?” You clenched at the nickname.

“Oh you like being called a good girl, don’t you sweetheart?” You nodded, unable to form a sentence or find the words. Only able to pant his name as he continued to stretch you.

“Make sure you ask me before you do,” he instructed, his hand reached between the two of you. His thumb found your clit and Eddie began rubbing it in mean circles. You jolted at the contact, your thighs a mess from your building release. Your nails dug into Eddie’s shoulder, scratching at the muscle as the pressure built.

“Please, Eddie, please let me cum?” You asked between heavy breaths, vision turning white as the climax built.

“Fuck yes, sweetheart, cum all over my cock like a good girl,” he hummed watching as your head tilted and your eyes rolled, pussy fluttering around his length as the rubber band snapped. You could feel the climax throughout your body, goosebumps forming on the skin of your arms as Eddie continued to pump into you.

Overstimulated, tears brimming your eyes as your sensitive cunt was stretched.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m going to cum,” his hips sputtered as he bucked into you with one final thrust. His nails digging into the fat of your ass, his cock twitching as he came. He pumped you full, walls painted with his release.

Eddie held you, hands less firm and rubbing soft circles where he dug into your skin. He pecked your bare chest, lips sliding over your breasts, up your sternum and to your neck. Softer. Sweeter.

He found your lips and kissed you with a saccharine grin. Curly bangs sticking to his forehead. You looked at him closely, his face smeared with the red of your lipstick and you giggled at the mess. He raised a curious brow as you began to wipe it away.

“I’m sorry I made such a mess out of you,” you teased.

“I think I’m the one who should be apologizing,” and you could feel the mix of yours and his release running down your thighs.

Your hearts were beating rapidly, your hands splayed on the muscle of his chest and something about his gaze made you suddenly shy. You hid in his chest, planting sweet kisses along his pecs. Eddie tilted your chin.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” he lifted you gently, placing you beside him on the bed. He gave you a quick kiss before venturing down the hall to find the restroom.

You listened as he grabbed a washcloth, the sound of the water running, and the soft pads of his feet as he returned. He was gentle as he ran the cloth over your sensitive cunt, cock twitching at your gasps. He tossed the damp cloth into the hamper and watched you, admired the outline of your frame.

“I want to draw you just like this,” he remarked, eyes tracing over your frame. Breathing beginning to return to normal, hitching every time you met his gaze. You covered your mouth as you giggled.

“Like one of your French girls, Jack?”

“If you’ll let me, Rose,” he leaned over, teeth grazing your lower lip and you gasped. Returning the affection with a dart of your tongue, sucking on his bottom lip. He groaned, the length of his cock hardening with each pass of your lips against his.

“Maybe another time,” you suggested between kisses, and he nodded already pushing you further up the bed.

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem oc #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fandom #stranger things #stranger things fic

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littlemissgloomexe · 16 days ago

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Some shitpoztz [dirty joke warnin]

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sanarkeo · 7 months ago

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don't stop, play your video game

mina finds it hard to focus when she’s getting eaten out.

alternatively: spying on your gf gives you some really great ideas! gamer!mina x f!reader smut - kinda fluffy kinda vanilla - established wholesome relationship - idk if it counts as voyeurism...

having a girlfriend who’s never had to want for anything, who’s always been more of a giver than a taker, has made special occasions slightly difficult. your anniversary’s coming around again and you’re stuck on what gift you can get her next. another lego set you both can spend a night putting together? artisan yarn to add to her growing knitting pile?

you know that whatever you do give her, she’d love it regardless. last year’s was a home cooked meal with her favorite dishes followed by a movie marathon on that new monitor you got her (and of course she insisted on stepping in and helping you with the chopping, and was the one who did all the tech set up). you still remember how content she looked, her head resting on your shoulder as you snuggled under the blankets. this year though, you want to get her something extra special, and you’re willing to use any means necessary to find out what exactly it is that myoui mina wants.

standing outside the door to her study, you feel the lightest pang of guilt hit your stomach for observing her like this. mina’s always treasured her alone time and you surmise she’s probably just playing that one video game she, chaeyoung and tzuyu have been hooked on recently. you press your ear to the wooden door and hear a muffled buzzing noise. it’s oddly familiar.

curiosity got the better of you and so you turn the handle and open the door ever so slightly, as quietly as possible. peering in, you see mina slumped in her chair in nothing but her baby blue tie-dye hoodie pressing a vibrator to her pussy. you’re honestly glad she has those noise canceling headphones on because she’s making the softest, sweetest grunts and hums as she massages it onto her clit. it’s taking everything in you to not rush in and please her.

when you tear your gaze away from her trembling form and take a look at her monitor, it takes a while to register what’s on her screen, but your jaw drops. mina’s watching porn. of someone getting sucked off while they’re playing zelda on the switch. it makes you giggle a little - obviously, the nerdiest girl you’ve ever known would get off to something like this.

looking back at mina, you can tell she’s getting close by how tightly she’s screwing her eyes shut. yet, with one quivering hand keeping the vibrator steady, she reaches out and clicks on another video (this time with someone getting fucked with a controller in hand). as distracting as it is hearing the monotonous drone replaced by wet squelches when she abandons the vibrator and starts rubbing her clit, you think you might know what could be a good little surprise.

“a-ah- fuck…y/n...”

you twiddle your toes on the lacquered hardwood and scrunch the hem of the hoodie you borrowed off of your girlfriend. the scent of her’s fading away, but still present on the plush cotton. you’ve seen mina naked a hundred times before (and you can’t help but stop and stare every single time). and yet, the image of her nipples, erect and rubbing against the inside of this same hoodie, of her touching herself, the cuffs of the sleeves gliding over smooth thighs - it makes you giddy.

“you can come in!” you hear her call out.

there’s this inexplicable psychic ability mina possesses that you haven’t yet gotten used to. but, the shock soothes the rising tension in your shoulders and you quickly let yourself in. it’s a quick clearing of your throat and a rubbing of your flushed cheeks before you allow yourself to meet your girlfriend’s gaze. she always regards you with a tender, sincere hue to her eyes, and it’s no different right now. she looks like she would give you the world, and in a way she has.

“i’m sorry angel, i’m in the middle of a game,” she apologizes with a pout, pulling a stool out from under her desk and patting the seat lightly. “but you can come and watch ‘til i’m done?”

if she hadn’t sneaked a look over to her screen and double clicked on something, you might’ve felt a tad bit sorry for what you’re going to do to her. you know mina as the kind of girlfriend who’s attentive to a fault; normally she’ll abandon everything to see that you’re well cared for. so it humbles and amuses you to watch her balance her attention between gawking at you and focusing on that convoluted game. tiptoeing her way, you quirk an eyebrow up as she examines what you’re wearing with darting eyes.

you throw out a rhetorical question: “playing league again?”

she’s played league everyday for over a week.

she sends you a nod and her signature gummy smile, then immediately snaps her head back to the monitor, her fingers fluttering over her keyboard as vivid circles form on the screen with a flurry of clicks. the sunshine rushes through her window to illuminate her silhouette. those bulky headphones look silly framed against her delicate features, but the way she clenches her jaw, the slope of it shifting up, makes you feel some type of way.

when her sight lands on you again, her mouth is set somewhat agape and she’s leering at your legs. “are you not cold, love?” after a couple more clacks of the keys, mina reaches out and strokes your bare skin with her knuckles. “you’re not wearing an awful lot,” she probes, and squeezes your thighs. she’s taking her time to skim the back of her hand over your knee, then to just under your hip. you shudder and the wool of her sweatshirt tickles you. you wonder for a second if she’s already clued into what you’re up to, or if maybe just this is enough to make her want to pin you down.

“you can warm me up then?”

she presses her tongue against her teeth while you pull her chair back. and for once, as you swing your leg to the other side and climb up on her lap, she looks at you for longer than a few beats. you slide your hands under her sweatshirt and wrap your arms around her waist, gripping onto the small of her back. at the expense of blocking her view for the slightest bit, you give her the lightest kiss on the lips, then sneak another on her nose, near her mole.

“love, it’s ranked…” she trails off, drawing a staggered breath. mina’s trying to ignore the heat that’s emanating from between your upper thighs, the wetness that spread since she layed her palm on you. she’s trying to pretend she doesn’t want to take your lip between her teeth and suck ‘til it swells, but she’s bad at acting and you love how visible restraint shows on her face.

“luckily, i don’t know what that means,” you joke and draw heart shapes into her skin like some lovesick fool. her eyes fall to somewhere between your thighs and her lap and the tip of her tongue peeks out of her mouth. your hearts become spirals thinking about how it’d feel on your heat. you clear your throat.

“focus on your game baby. don’t want you to lose, do i?”

you push her chin away and pause until you’re sure she’s got some of her attention back on her match. when you hear the clicking of her mouse and the striking of keys, you decide it’s a worthy distraction to begin bunching up the fabric of the hoodie and adjust yourself on her lap. mina stops muttering about minions in the game (when did she start, again?) as soon as she feels the warm, damp lace of your underwear pressed onto her thigh. you love how the curve of it arches perfectly to kiss your covered clit.

your girlfriend tries to gulp down her arousal: “honey…”

“yes?”

“i can’t… i can’t focus when you’re like this.”

mina has such telltale signs for when she’s turned on and you’ve memorized every single one of them. the way she starts breathing so hard with the erratic rising and falling of her chest, it nearly looks like she’s panting. the way she purses her lips, forming a little line. the way you can feel her contain and control her lust for you with how she doesn’t know what to do with her hands.

they’re trembling in mid-air.

you can feel the thumping of her heartbeat on your chest when you give her cheek a peck. “yes you can, baby. concentrate on it,” you’re trying to be encouraging, yet you grind down onto her thigh, feeling the muscles in her leg tense up.

“do it for me, babe?”

she gulps, feeling you stain her sweatpants. mina peers over your shoulder to wince at how badly she’s doing. she gives it another try, clicking and launching an attack furiously but is washed by defeat when she sees you strip the hoodie off, revealing a set of matching lilac lingerie.

“my mina’s said she’s been liking this color a lot lately, right?”

“princess, please…” with closed eyes, mina lifts her head, withdrawing her hands and gingerly placing them on your hips. her palms feel slightly cold, but it just sends jolts up your ribs. “i can’t- i really, i don’t know.”

abruptly, you get off mina’s lap, and her eyes pop open in surprise. “i think you know, you know what i wanna do.” you crawl on all fours to get under her desk, and situate yourself on your knees, right in front of her. you have the perfect view of her thighs, now squeezed closed. your eyes trail the veins along her arms till they stop at the smallest hint of her tummy peeking through.

“didn’t you hear me?”

she cocks her head.

“d’you rather me do this while you’re playing zelda?”

she blinks slowly then looks down but away from you. a hand moves up to cover her mouth.

“how many times have you seen me?” she asks, and her words are muffled.

“what? you’ve watched that kinda porn more th-”

mina whimpers and her fingers slide down her chin, and she strokes at her neck. you wet your lips as you notice her fingertips trembling, hovering over her throat.

“don’t, please,” she mutters.

you push up her sweatshirt and take in the glossy sheen of sweat over her abs, rising and falling, tensing up every time the pads of your fingers graze over her skin. you spread your hand over her abdomen, toned and smooth, and glide it up her sternum to prod at her bare tits. her breath hitches when you cup her breast with the palm of your hand and brush your thumb over her hard nipple.

"my prettiest baby."

you spare the torture and hook your fingers into the band of her sweatpants and tug. she arches her back, allowing you to tear her sweats and underwear down to her ankles. she’s looking down so intently at you, her knitted brows shading a firey gaze, eyelids fluttering. the sight of her, so very eager for you to be buried in her pussy, choked whimpers amid the slight soundscape of the game coming through her headphones - it makes your mouth water. you lean closer to her and give her a smirk.

her scent is unmistakable and intoxicating. it strains at your chest. her legs are milky but defined, and you slide your impatient hands between them to push them apart. mina’s inner thighs glisten with her arousal, and dew pools at her entrance, needy, ready. you wonder if making love with mina will always make you feel like this - like you’d do absolutely anything to hear her make those little sounds of satisfaction. and you look up at her again as if you’d even need her assurance to go on.

mina looks like she’s writhing in pain.

“love…”

she reaches a hand down to stroke your cheek. it’s gentle and saccharine and her gaze is burning you with want. the idea of the game dissipates somewhere in the middle when you stick your tongue out and sink its breadth onto her aching, soaking pussy. the taste of it is sharp and it’s sickly sweet as your mouth is swathed by her delicate folds. you try to keep eye contact but she screws her eyes shut as soon as your tongue reaches her clit.

“hnn- ah… ah-fuck!” she cheeps.

when your tongue dips into her hole, you feel the pressure of her thighs dig into your temples. you lap up her warmth, tease at her sensitive bud with the faintest licks, and ghost your lips over hers. her moans are music but frustratingly subdued, and you swallow her juices. nails scrape against your scalp and you feel your girlfriend’s fingers catch locks of your hair. mina twitches, drops her hips and tugs your head up slightly, shoving your mouth against her clit.

“please, honey-” mina throws her head back. “please.”

you leave kisses on her thighs to test her a little, but give into the force of her grip that makes your core throb with eagerness.

“only because you asked nicely.”

you suck her nub into your mouth and flick at it, the edge of your bottom lip beginning to feel her hole clench around nothing. her moans settle into whines, each one growing longer, higher in pitch with every stroke of your tongue coming quicker than the one before. your chin is coated in her wetness and your fingers are itching to slip into her. mina near crushes you between her thighs now, your mouth so unbearably hot and good on her cunt, she can barely think.

“i’m so close- so close, ah!-”

her hand in your hair moves to join the other with urgency to paw and claw into the armrests. you paint spirals over her clit, and the anticipation flowers in you when her whines turn to desperate groans. mina sees white first before the mounting pleasure bursts into ecstasy. when she cums, she grabs your head again and suffocates you in her pussy.

“oh my god… oh my f-”

without letting another word slip past her lips, you stand up and yank the collar of her sweatshirt up to tug it off her. then, kneeling once more, your hands find her lower back again, and you pull her chest closer to roll her nipples between your teeth, to give them as much attention as you did her clit for at least one moment. mina stares at you, bewildered, drool beading at the tip of her tongue. pulling away from her breasts, you crawl to your right and swivel the chair to have her face you again.

“you lost, didn’t you?”

immediately, mina whips her head to examine the text on the screen and her lips form into a pout. “and i got reported,” she mewls with a sluggish nod.

“and you got reported,” you repeat at her and she huffs at you. patting the floor beside you, you tell her: “come down here, babe.”

“why?”

“c’mon, minari,” you coo, and the corners of your mouth droop down as you furrow your eyebrows to get her to fold.

and mina crumples, her gaze softening while she slides down her chair to move to the ground. she doesn’t expect it when the caress of your hand massaging her shoulder changes to a grip, and she’s shoved down with a yelp, back to the rug. she blinks in disbelief. but your girlfriend, attentive and hungry for you, soon devours your lips, chest, waist, hips with her eyes. you straddle her. you trace her clenched jaw, the sweep of her collarbone, the wave of her overworked ribs, the slope of her abs.

you wonder if fucking mina will ever stop being this fun.

“what else do you imagine when you’re watching that kinda stuff?”

it's finally up, no edits no proofreading just prayers!! 1000% done w this but mina today was sooooo 🤕 i just needed to do something about it. i think it says a lot about me that i take way longer to write about cute sweet loving than my usual pervy shit. had to cut it shorter than i wanted. well!!!

#wlw #sapphic #lesbian #twice smut #mina smut #myoui mina smut #mina x reader #mina x reader smut #twice x reader smut #twice imagines #mina imagines #myoui mina imagines #twice mina imagines #mina #myoui mina #twice mina

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droneshotmediany · 3 months ago

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#DroneShots DRONEshotMedia 🌇 Capturing the Magic Hour in Albany #New York! 🌆 �� Drone Shot Media brings you this breathtaking aerial panorama of Albany at sunset. The vibrant hues of the sky blend seaml #creating a mesmerizing view. 🌅 igphotography nature_photography droneofficial instadrone photographynature dronedaily dronegram dr

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slorgfest · 1 month ago

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list of things ive observed after watching tfone 2.5 times (the 0.5 was because i was speeding through looking for image proofs etc)

starting with something funny: B's cogless form has an energon compartment.

assuming that this is standard for all cogless models, it makes it especially hilarious to think that OP during the intro chase sequence either didn't think of storing his energon, or that he's just hungy enough and he's snacking as he runs

2. cameo guesswork (excluding jazz, since he was the only one that got formally mentioned and any screentime outside of main cast). has varying confidence/accuracy levels. here we go.

moonracer, prowl, perceptor (or sideswipe), ironhide, wheeljack, hound (if it is hound, at a later scene a mech of a similar frametype had a line in a fem-sounding voice), sunstreaker, arcee, red alert, and chromia (caught only because the announcer said so lmao. im more used to her darker blue paintjob like in idw and cyberverse). i think i also saw a helm that looked like drift (not deadlock, drift) but i can't really confirm.

3. bots that appeared on the iacon 5000 leaderboards but to my knowledge no screentime otherwise (can also be seen as a list of bots that are cogged and will later join the autobots, assuming the timeline will follow traditional bot/con division):

silverbolt, deadend, slingshot, cliffjumper, motormouth; powerglide, jetstorm, blurr (of course. this is his natural habitat after all); swindle and tailgate.

admittedly i found the inclusion of swindle so so funny because like?? dude i thought you'd be running the betting rings rn lol.

4. sentinel's characterization (outside of g1, i watched reruns as a kid but i don't remember them anymore) has always been either someone grossly incompetent or a menacing/suppressive force on cybertron. i thought it was interesting that they made him devious and actually kind of cunning this time around.

anyway. i also thought his paintjob was based off of tfa, but no his g1 counterpart laid the groundwork there.

they did away with the cheeto orange (goodbye cheeto orange) but the gold is striking. really gives him that image of glamor and opulence.

telesync kinda fucked up the colors but: elita's optics have a greenish hue to them, more aquamarine/cyan than the regular autobot blues that B and OP have. D's is, of course, yellow.

verging into speculation territory, i wonder if there's a reason why they gave D distinctly hexagonal optics? the yellow is pretty obvious, its easier to transition from yellow to red than blue to red. but the hexagons are very eye catching (pun intended), given how they spin around. it's not exactly something people would miss. tune in later for my Outlier/Point-One Percenter D theory

6. sentinel's guards (excluding airachnid) are kinda weird.

theyre very homogenous in shape, no individual characteristics, not even a little kibble to separate them from one another. and when they speak its very stiff, almost droning. its most certainly not an animating/funding/studio issue, given that almost all other cybertronians (even in the background) have been personalized one way or another.

so: possibly cold-constructed mechs, mass produced and onlined for the singular task of serving sentinel. think of the eradicons/vehicons from tfp, the shapes are certainly similar enough.

7. in the cave scene after the sentinel/quintesson reveal, D stomps on something, breaking it.

that's his worker's tag. all the miners have them. pictured: D's, OP's, and jazz's. elita and B all have their own tags too.

what i found most interesting though, that directly after the sentinel surface encounter, D crushes his (as said before), B and elita remove theirs (it left a faint indent on B, which begs the question how old he actually is and how long has he been working, exactly?), but OP keeps his tag on.

(continuing in a rb, ive hit image limit lmao)

#transformers #transformers one #tf1 #tf one #transformers one spoilers #tf one spoilers #optimus prime #orion pax #megatron #d 16 #elita one #elita 1 #bumblebee #b 127 #sorry ultrakillers im back on my tf bullshit again...#anyway why does tfone have so many variant tags?? how are we tagging this???#makes me long for the days of tag maccaddams and boom we're done #im so normal. everyone trust me.

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gammasnippets · 8 months ago

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[CHANNEL_9] fromis_9 '채널나인' EP60. Spotlighting 🐿️ Part.3

fromis_9 Lee Chaeyoung

11,660 words (Co-edited by @digipigichopshop & @dnd-writes)

After "reviewing" an intense office romance starring fromis_9's main vocalist, Park Jiwon, you are now left with 8 more alluring videos featuring the remaining members to explore and indulge in. You feel teased after witnessing the explicit nature of the first video. Watching Jiwon's naked body as she partakes in what might be the best sexual experience caught on film got you pitching a tent underneath your pants. But that doesn't seem to be enough. After all, what's not to say that the other videos won't push your limits even further?

You choose among the many files that fill your computer folder, looking for the next video to review. The first thing that catches your eye is the thumbnail with the group’s playful and charismatic rapper, Chaeyoung. The entire fromis_9 is full of pretty faces and hot figures, but you've always been drawn to Chaeyoung's magnetic charm. She's funny, talented, and has a captivating stage presence… And now you find yourself eager to see how she can ignite your desires in this next video.

You press the play button and the "Channel_9" intro plays alongside its colorful intro card. As their video editor, you ponder what elements can be included in this video to tie it to the first one seamlessly. With a mischievous grin on your face, you decide to include a recap from the previous video where Jiwon's sensual encounter left you craving for more. You think it's a wonderful idea, but watching this current video to its completion comes first.

After the intro, the video shows a huge indoor swimming complex. The video shows its many pools and amenities, filled with many hues of blue and sparkling with crystal-clear water, and inviting everyone to dive in. It then shifts to an aerial shot of Chaeyoung outside of the area walking towards it. The camera switches to that of the crew following her to have a better view of this video’s main star, wearing a creative mix of a red strapless dress over a white buttoned shirt and red heels. Her long figure is accentuated by the dress, giving her a seductive yet sophisticated look.

However, as the camera focuses on her, Chaeyoung seems to look more hesitant than anything, curious as to what might be inside.

"Is this really the place?" Chaeyoung wonders aloud, her voice full of excitement and anticipation.

"Yes," one of the crew softly replies.

"What is this place? It could be like an indoor pool," Chaeyoung suggests, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

She walks a bit further and reaches the entrance of the indoor swimming area. It didn't take long for her to realize that her assumption was correct.

"An indoor pool? Oh wow, it really is," Chaeyoung exclaims, her voice filled with awe.

As she steps further inside, the view switches to a bird's eye view of the entirety of the swimming area from a drone camera. Despite her tall frame, the captured angle makes Chaeyoung look like a small figure in this large aquatic paradise.

"Wow. This place looks nice," she murmurs to herself. "They even have big slides!"

She continues to explore the vast complex, taking in the many sights and sounds around her. Her eagerness to take a dip in the many pools becomes more and more evident as she starts to softly whine every time her eyes catch anything new and exciting.

"You want to swim, don't you?" one of the crew playfully asks Chaeyoung, teasing her.

"Of course," she replies with a mischievous smile, before letting out a deep sigh. "I wish I didn't wear this outfit."

"But you look good in it."

"But I want to swim," she pouts, defeated as she looks at her clothing.

The crew chuckles at her cute yet disappointed expression.

"Can we go back here again?" she asks.

"Maybe?" the crew replies, a teasing tone in their voice.

Her eyes widened in hope and excitement. "Really? We can?"

"Well, we can certainly try to make it happen," they respond, their tone filled with amusement.

"Yes!" Chaeyoung claps her hands in glee.

"But this is a filming studio, after all," they point out.

"Ugh…" Chaeyoung groans, sounding frustrated.

"So we should coordinate with them first if we can use this place again," they suggest.

"It's a shame we can't just go here whenever we can," she pouts.

The crew again laughs at her remarks.

Her witty nature, paired with her playful banters, makes Chaeyoung a delight to work with. She's more than just a pretty face, her vibrant and welcoming personality makes her a good addition to any project. Many fans often discuss how she rarely lands any invitations to shows or events, be it as a guest or a host. Her level of professionalism, paired with her natural charm, will make her a great asset to any production.

Chaeyoung and the crew continue to explore the huge swimming facility, stumbling into more breathtaking pools and attractions along the way. They then end up in a huge yet shallow pool. What's interesting is that despite the water being shallow, it doesn't look like a pool meant for children. The pool is decorated as if it's a sports arena, with goals on each end and border lines drawn on the bottom. A scoreboard is also visible, adding to the air of competition and excitement.

"Wow! This area looks great!" Chaeyoung exclaims, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

She then proceeds to walk further into the pool area, trying to get a closer look at the intricately designed space. But as she takes a few more steps, the crew then takes their leave to let her explore on her own. She waves and bows at them as her way of appreciation for accompanying her thus far. As they part ways, the camera view then switches to those inside the area, capturing the entire place from much better angles.

As she goes deeper into the pool area, she notices a man nearby who seems to be doing some stretches.

"Uhh… Hello," Chaeyoung tries to grab the man's attention with a friendly tone as she steps closer to him.

"Ah! Hello there," the man turns to her and slightly bows, a polite smile on his face.

"Hello to you as well," she responds with a warm smile before bowing in return.

The man stands up from his task and walks closer to Chaeyoung, offering a friendly handshake.

"So I will be your partner today."

She softly giggles before accepting her handshake. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," he replies, his voice calm and friendly. "Chaeyoung, is it?"

"Yes. I guess I'm in the right place," she says with a playful grin.

"I guess you are," he chuckles. "So, are you ready?"

Chaeyoung then looks at him, dumbfounded.

"Eh?"

"I was told that we're going to have a friendly game of water polo," he explains, pointing towards the goals and lines in the pool.

She is then left speechless for a moment, her eyes staring at nothing in particular as she looks as if she's processing her situation.

"So, are you up for it?" he asks her again, his voice filled with anticipation.

Chaeyoung then chuckles, still staring into nothingness, before looking at him. "I wasn't even informed that I'll be swimming today."

She then turns her attention to one of the many cameras surrounding them as if looking at the staff themselves.

"Why did you make me wear this?" she yells at them laughing, playfully pointing at her outrageous office get-up.

Her partner then bursts out laughing at her unexpected reaction. "Wait. What's wrong?"

Chaeyoung then looks at him, still laughing but looking defeated. "I can't swim in this!"

He scratches his head in amusement as he has never been in a situation quite like this before, let alone see someone attempt to swim wearing office attire.

"Well that can be a problem," he says, chuckling.

"Oh no," she then starts to worry about the challenge at hand. "Do I immediately fail the challenge?"

"I don't think so. No," he attempts to reassure her worries as he thinks of a way to salvage the situation.

Suddenly, one of the monitors in the room turns on, catching their attention. On the screen, a message appears where it says the following;

“SPOTLIGHTING CHALLENGE: SPLASH & BLAST>

Aim to be the best water polo player ever!

Score as much as you can against your opponent.

Regular water polo rules don’t apply. Do whatever you can to win!

Complete this mission to earn your group a reward.

GOOD LUCK AND HAVE FUN!"

They both read the message on the screen, their eyes widening in surprise. Chaeyoung then looks at him with eyes full of concern.

"A time limit? How much time do we have?" she asks, feeling lost and nervous.

The scoreboard suddenly hums to life, catching their attention. The timer displays 120 minutes on the clock, making them realize they have a generous amount of time to complete the challenge.

"Oh, neat," he remarks. "We have plenty of time."

“Yeah,” She nods as she thinks about her situation. "But I'm wearing these clothes…"

"Right," he responds with a small chuckle.

"What should I do?" she asks, her worry slowly getting the best of her.

As he struggles to think of a way to help her, he shrugs his shoulders. "I guess you'd have to take them off."

"Sure," She chuckles nervously. “But you see…”

“Yes?” he asks.

"I don't have any swimsuits on me," she admits, blushing.

He then let out a chuckle at her sudden confession. "So you're just in your underwear, then?"

She nods at him. "Yep."

"If that's the case," he pauses for a moment, before adding, "Then it won't be much different from regular water polo."

"Really?" Chaeyoung's eyes widened, curious to hear his thoughts.

"Yes. Some beginners play water polo in their underwear, with the lack of preparation and all," he further explains, chuckling as he goes.

"I see…" she nods as she understands the situation. "So my case is actually a common thing, huh?"

"Correct," he nods, smiling. "Even professionals do their practice rounds wearing underwear when they forget to bring one."

“Is that so?” She laughs. "So it's just practice for me then."

He chuckles. "You can say that."

Suddenly, all her worries seem to have vanished. She smiles and nods at herself, a look of determination in her eyes.

"Alright," she exclaims, excited to accept the challenge. "I'll take the challenge then."

"That's the spirit!" He cheers her and gives her a thumbs up.

"So…"

Chaeyoung's eyes then begin to wander around the pool area, as if looking for something.

"Should I just strip here?"

Her query catches him off guard, blushing before laughing at himself. "Ah, right. The nearest changing room is a bit far from here. It might take you a while to walk there."

"I see," she responds, understanding the situation. "Guess I’ll do a quick one here."

"Sure. I’ll stay back," He tells her as he steps back a few steps, raising his arm as he does.

"Right! Let's do this, then…"

Chaeyoung steps a bit away from him and begins to undress.

Her partner is then left to watch her as she attempts to remove every article of her clothing. Her high heels come off first, then the belt that holds the entire ensemble, followed by her orange tube dress. As she is halfway through unzipping the dress, she suddenly stops, looking at him for a moment.

"Oh. Umm…" She looks at him, feeling shy.

"What is it?" he asks, curious.

"Can you…" she pauses, her hands pointing at the stuck zipper.

"You want me to help you with that?" He asks again, smirking this time.

She nods, feeling embarrassed.

"Yes, please…"

"Sure thing," he nods and approaches her.

He grabs hold of the zipper with one hand, the other resting on Chaeyoung's shoulder. His strength easily resists the dress, as it slides downwards without issue. She then sighs with relief, another piece of clothing is peeled off her body.

"Phew," she sighs, relieved. "Thank you."

"No problem," He smiles at her before gesturing at her if he can let go of the dress. "May I?"

"Yes," she replies with a smile, her eyes glancing at his hands.

He lets go of his hands and like a swift wind, her orange dress slides down her body. Chaeyoung’s partner stands there, admiring her figure as she is left in her white buttoned shirt with a hint of her blue panties peeking from the bottom.

"Wow. You look beautiful," he compliments her, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Thank you," he smiles and blushes.

She then goes back to business and unbuttons her shirt, revealing her bright blue bra. She slowly slides the garment down her arms, slowly revealing her slender body to him. He can't help but have his mouth open, his eyes admiring her beautiful physique. If anyone else was in his position, they would've pounced at her and ravished her right then and there, but he doesn't. He restrains himself as much as he can. And who knows? Maybe something interesting will happen along the way.

After a few seconds of gazing at her, he snaps himself back to reality, remembering the challenge at hand.

"So?" he asks her. "Ready?"

She nods, smiling. "Yes. Shall we?"

"After you," he gestures at her to dip in first.

Chaeyoung nods again and walks closer to the pool. She steps in it, slightly wincing as the water comes up to her calves.

"Ooh! It's cold," she whines, slightly grimacing.

"Are you okay?" he asks, curious to hear her response. "Is the water good?"

"I'm fine," she says, reassuring him. "Just a little chilly."

"Good to hear," he giggles, following her into the pool.

They perform quick stretches before they position themselves to face each other, ready to play a game of water polo.

"So, the goal is to score as many goals as I can, right?" Chaeyoung asks, feeling excited and nervous about the challenge at hand.

"Yes. So do your best," he replies with a wide grin, excitement evident in his tone.

"Right," she smiles, nodding at his response. "And go easy on me."

"I'll try," he chuckles, his eyes smiling along with his lips.

Chaeyoung then nods and readies herself to play.

The clock begins to tick, counting down before starting the game.

3… 2… 1…

And with a loud horn, the game starts.

The slightly serene water of the pool is replaced with large splashes as the two move fast toward the ball floating in the middle. Chaeyoung’s partner was able to reach it first with his long arms, but she swiftly reacted by swatting it away. Both then swim as fast as they can to recover the ball. Luckily for her, the water moves the ball closer to her position and she can reach it just before he does.

"Not too bad," he comments, impressed at how fast she is.

She smirks as if she already has a plan in mind. "You better get ready!"

Chaeyoung rushes toward the goal as fast as she can. In response, her partner moves towards it as well to defend it. As they near the goal, Chaeyoung, with the ball in her hands, attempts a big swing towards it, aiming for the side. He catches onto her plan and immediately positions himself in front of the goal, blocking it. With no time to waste, she lets out a loud grunt as she propels the ball out of his hands, hoping that it lands in the goal.

Unfortunately, the ball falls short, falling inches in front of him instead.

She grimaces as her attempt to score fails.

“Ah, no way!”

"Nice try, though," he says, smirking.

She hesitates to approach the ball for another attempt. But as she sees him, who is much closer, reaching for it, she abandons her plan.

"Oh, no…" she hisses. "Not on my watch."

Without a moment's hesitation, Chaeyoung drags herself towards her own end of the pool, leaving her partner with the ball. As she gets nearer to her goal line, she looks back to check his position. And to her surprise, he's already behind her, halfway through the pool, with the ball in his hands.

"Okay!" he yells, smiling. "My turn!"

"Wha—?!" she reacts, her eyes widening.

"Got you!" he says, as he winds her arms for the throw.

"Wait! That's unfair!" she frantically swims away, attempting to put some distance between them.

With the ball in his hands, he throws it straight towards the goal. As Chaeyoung desperately tries to catch up to the ball, she slips backward. This causes her to flail her arms and legs wildly. But with a stroke of luck, as she stumbles around in the pool, her feet catch the ball, hitting it. The ball then flies outside of the pool, landing on the hard floor of the facility.

"Oh!" he exclaims as he watches everything unfold. "That was something else."

After a few moments, Chaeyoung recovers her footing and is then left standing in the shallow pool, still disoriented from the tumble.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concerned.

She nods and raises her hand as if giving him a thumbs up. She wipes the water from her face and her hair, taking a few breaths as she recollects her thoughts.

"I'm okay," she chuckles, trying to catch her breath.

"That was quite a tumble you did," he comments, his voice full of concern.

"Yeah. I slipped," she replies, slightly shaking her head.

"I saw that," he giggles. "Are you good to go?"

"Yeah. Just a little bit dizzy," she reassures him, a hint of exhaustion in her tone.

"Okay. Let me just go get the ball," he says, getting off the pool to retrieve the ball.

"Wait. Where did it land?" she asks, scanning her surroundings for the lost item.

"It flew outside of the pool," he then pointed towards a spot outside. "Over there."

"Oh…" her eyes widen as she realizes her blunder. "I can't believe I kicked it that far."

He chuckles. "It happens to everyone. It's fine."

He quickly gets to where the ball is and picks it up.

"Let me get that," she says, moving towards him.

"Thanks," he smiles before softly tossing the ball to her. "Here you go."

"Oop!" she yelps, catching the ball in her hands. "Got it!"

"Nice catch," he praises her, smiling as he tosses himself into the pool.

"Thanks!" she smiles and waves, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Alright. Another round?" he asks, eager to start another round.

She nods. "Sure."

They again position themselves before resuming the game.

"Since you touched the ball before it went outside the pool," he says, looking at her. "The possession goes to me."

"Ah…" Chaeyoung sighs. "Fair enough."

He chuckles. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance to score."

"Yeah, yeah," she nods, smiling. "Do your worst."

She then throws the ball to him as they're about to start another round.

"No hard feelings?" he asks, a hint of teasing in his tone.

"Nah," She chuckles.

"But don't underestimate me."

"We'll see about that," he smiles as the horns sound, resuming the game.

Chaeyoung’s partner immediately makes a beeline towards the goal. His slim yet muscular build allows him to cut through the water with ease. But Chaeyoung isn't just a pretty face, as her lithe frame helps her keep up with his speed. Together with her silly and rather "unorthodox" methods of blocking him from scoring, her strategy is paying off, even though her opponent is much bigger than her. Neither of them is advancing any further, the two seemingly in a deadlock.

"You're good at this," he asks, impressed.

"Am I now?" she replies, smiling.

"Yes," he grins. "You should consider doing water polo as a hobby."

"I guess I should," she responds, giggling.

He chuckles. "Good to hear."

Their game goes on for quite some time with them in the same spot, neither of them scoring anything. Chaeyoung is doing everything she can to block his every move and eventually steal the ball from him, while her partner tries to get past her and keep the ball from her. They are growing tired of this stalemate, but neither of them is giving up anytime soon.

"Okay, now…" he suddenly pauses, raising his arms in the air.

"Eh?" Chaeyoung is left confused. "What now?"

"Time to score," he makes a sudden dash towards the goal.

"Hey! Wait!" she yelps, attempting to block him.

His sudden burst of energy catches her off guard and causes her to stumble again. He quickly uses this opportunity to gain more ground. He is slowly getting past her.

"Wait up… Nghh!" she groans as she desperately tries to catch up to him.

"This is it!" he declares, his voice filled with excitement.

He then winds up his arms for a throw. But as he is doing so, Chaeyoung quickly recovers and desperately halts his movements just in time, her arms locking with his, rendering him unable to shoot the ball.

"No, you won't!" She grunts, determined to stop him.

He is left powerless as he feels her strength, her hands clasping his tightly.

"Woah! You're strong," he gasps, taken aback by her power.

She looks at him, her eyes gleaming with confidence and determination.

"Not gonna let that happen!"

They continue to struggle against each other, their bodies touching as they attempt to overcome one another. As the situation for the first goal becomes tense, their clashing bodies cause them to stumble and fall into the water. But even after falling, Chaeyoung's hands remain firm on his, determined not to lose. In such desperation, she tries to grab a hold of him in any way that she can. She manages to get a grip on his waist, but that's when things take a turn for the worse.

As Chaeyoung’s partner finds a way to let go of her, her hands unknowingly grab her trunks. With not a lot of options in his hands, he decides to just sprint for the goal. But as he does so, her tight grip causes the trunks to slide off his waist, revealing his privates.

"What the?" his eyes widened, caught off guard by what happened.

"Ahh!" she lets out a yelp, surprised.

His face flushes in embarrassment as he tries to cover his private area with the ball in his arms.

"Wait a minute. Lemme just…" He fumbles around, trying to pull his trunks back up.

"Ah! Uhh… Sorry!" she apologizes, feeling flustered.

"Heheh… No worries," he giggles, feeling awkward about the situation.

She blushes, avoiding his gaze. "I'm really sorry about that."

"No, really. It's all good," he says, smiling.

"I wasn't thinking that…" she says, shaking her head.

"No need to worry. It was an accident," he says, grinning.

"Right," she responds, nodding. "Still, I'm really sorry."

"It's alright," he reassures her. "We can still continue the game."

"Mhmm… Sure," she nods, still looking flustered from the incident.

"Hmmm…" he inspected her for a moment, thinking. "Are you sure you're good?"

"Yes. I'm fine," she replies, nodding.

"Okay. If you say so," he responds.

"But how about we take a break?"

"Can we?" she asks, feeling excited at the thought.

"Sure. Seems like we both could use a breather," he says, grinning.

"Well… Alright then," she giggles.

He then extends his hand, gesturing at her to take his hand.

"Shall we?"

She grabs her hand as he helps her get back up.

"Thanks," she says, smiling.

"No problem," he grins.

They then get off the pool, walking towards a row of lounge chairs placed nearby.

"Ahh…" she sighs as she sits on the chair stretching her body. "That was exhausting."

"Yeah," he nods as he hands her over a pair of towels. "But was it fun?"

"Definitely!" she smiles as she grabs one of the towels. "Thank you, by the way."

“Don't mention it," he grins. "So how about some drinks?"

"I would love to," she smiles as she wraps herself in the towel. "I'll wait here if that's alright with you."

Chaeyoung's partner then heads over to the bar nearby to get some refreshments. She is left to her thoughts, thinking about how the game went so far.

“Jeez. This is really exciting.”

A smile spreads across her face, feeling delighted about the current situation. She then feels a slight tingle down her thighs, as if she's getting turned on.

"Nghh… This is bad," she whispers to herself, stroking her thighs, attempting to calm her urges.

She then looks at where her partner is, watching him grab a couple of drinks at the bar. He seems to be taking his time doing so.

The coast is clear.

She shifts her thighs, trying to ease the sensation. But instead of stopping, it only gets stronger. She lets out a soft moan, her body feeling the familiar heat.

"No, not here," she whispers to herself, her hands stroking her thighs, attempting to calm her urges.

As if she can't control her body anymore, her fingers wander downwards. A sudden wave of pleasure washes over her as her fingers gently touch her pussy.

"Fuck… So good," she murmurs, her fingers continuing to play with her wet lips.

Chaeyoung, unable to resist the temptation, decides to give in. Her fingers continue to tease her body, her pussy getting wetter with each touch. She begins to slowly up the pace, muffling her moans as her fingers thrust in and out of her pussy.

"Hngh!" she hisses, biting her lip. "So close…."

She begins to quicken her pace, her fingers plunging deep into her pussy. The intense stimulation causes her legs to buckle, her toes curling with pleasure.

"Ugh… Yes…" she gasps, her fingers fucking her pussy fast.

Her fingers reach deeper into her, sending a powerful surge of pleasure up her spine. She is close to the climax.

But just as she's about to reach her orgasm, the sudden sound of her partner's voice causes her to freeze in her tracks.

"Hey, Chaeyoung…" his voice rings in her ears.

Her eyes dart towards the direction of the voice. He's getting close.

"Shit! What timing," she hisses, frustrated, quickly removing her hand from her pussy.

She then quickly pulls her hands up and wipes her juices on the towel. She adjusts her sitting position afterward, trying to make herself look natural.

“Sorry, I took so long,” he apologizes as he hands her a cold bottle of soda. “Here’s your drink.”

"Oh! T-thank you," she replies, her hands shaking as she grabs the bottle.

"Hmmm…" he looks at her, curious. "Are you okay?"

"M-me? Yeah! I'm fine," she replies, laughing awkwardly.

“Are you sure?” he continues to stare at her, looking as if he doesn't believe her. “You look red.”

"R-red? Me?" she giggles awkwardly. “I-it’s probably the… Heat. Yes! T-that’s it.”

"Well…" he says, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know if I grabbed a good drink for you. The bar doesn't seem to have much to offer."

"It's fine! T-this is nice," she giggles.

"Well that's good to hear," he smiles, before laying down on the chair next to her.

She opens her bottle and gulps down half of the content as if her throat is parched.

"Phew…" she sighs, wiping her mouth.

"You seem thirsty," he comments.

His sudden query almost made Chaeyoung spill her drink.

"T-thirsty?" she frantically responds, almost stuttering.

"Yeah. You seem to be sipping your drink fast," he points out.

"Ahh… That. Hehehe," she awkwardly giggles, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "Well, y’know… It's been a hot day."

"Yeah. It sure is," he replies, relaxing his body. "This weather makes me feel hot and sticky."

"Sticky, huh…" she murmurs to herself, trying to keep her composure.

"So how's the game so far? You're holding up well," he compliments her, a playful grin on his face.

"Ah, yes," she nods, laughing. "I, uhh… I'm doing my best."

"You have the makings of a good water polo player," he adds, his grin growing wider.

"Is that so?" she continues to laugh, her cheeks blushing.

"You gave me a hard score, after all," he remarks, chuckling.

"I did, didn't I?" she giggles, feeling embarrassed.

"Yeah. You're creative in your tactics, too," he adds.

"C-creative?" she asks, curious.

"Well, you know…" he then slightly tugs her swimming trunks, reminding her of the silly incident earlier.

"O-oh," she blushes, remembering what happened. "That one…"

"It was a pretty bold move if you ask me," he chuckles, amused.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen," she apologizes, looking embarrassed.

"You don't have to apologize," he says, his voice calm.

"I… I got so into the game that I didn't notice what I was doing," she explains, looking embarrassed.

"Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, right?" he jokes, smirking. "I might even do the same thing if the situation calls for it."

Chaeyoung's eyes then widened, surprised at his answer. "R-really? You mean…"

"Just kidding!" he bursts into laughter, finding her reaction amusing. "You're only in your underwear, so I wouldn't consider doing that."

"But you're only wearing trunks yourself!" she exclaims, chuckling. "We're pretty much on the same boat here."

"So are you proposing an 'equal' fight, then?" he grins, teasing her.

"Well… I mean…" Chaeyoung blushes, feeling shy. "Ah! Forget what I said."

"Come on now. Don't get shy on me," he teases, smirking.

She hesitates to let out what's on her mind. Granted her sexual frustration and her partner's teasing are getting the better of her, but she eventually gives in.

"Fine," she grumbles.

"So what is it?" he asks, his voice calm and patient.

"Well," she pauses for a moment, her eyes wandering. "I was just saying that maybe it's okay if we could just—"

The horn suddenly blares aloud, interrupting her speech.

"Oh. Time's up already?" he asks, getting back up.

Chaeyoung then sighs at the impeccable timing. "So it is."

"Well, shall we go back?" he asks, lending her a hand to stand up.

"Sure," she replies, nodding. "Let's go."

They then both head back into the water to continue where they left off. They are left with 23 minutes on the clock.

"Ready for more?" he asks, smiling.

She smiles, her body ready. "Yeah. Let's do this!"

And with another loud blare of the horn, the game resumes.

Both of them hauls ass towards the middle, trying to get to the ball first. Chaeyoung manages to reach the ball first and firmly grasps it with both hands.

"Aha!" she declares. "Got it!"

"Nicely done!" her partner applauds her, smiling.

"Hehe… Thanks," she replies, giggling. "Now it's my turn!"

She does all she can to reach the goal as fast as she can. However, his athletic frame makes him move to block it before she can reach it.

"I want to see you try scoring again," he says, smirking.

"Aish…" She grunts, her eyes determined. "We'll see about that."

As Chaeyoung approaches the goal, she slowly thinks of a way to overcome him. An idea then suddenly pops into her head, giving her a newfound motivation.

"Okay…" she mumbles, as she comes up with a plan.

"Ready when you are," he firmly stands in his position, his eyes fixed on the ball.

Suddenly, she then attempts a flurry of fake shots, jumping in all directions in the hopes of baiting him to fall off-balance. As silly as she looks, her partner reacts in kind, trying to block her in every direction she jumps.

"I'm gonna get you!" she declares, giggling.

"Try if you can," he retorts, his grin widening.

As competitive as they get, a glimmer of joy and fun is present in their eyes. They're having fun. The fierce tension in the air doesn't stop them from enjoying themselves.

After a few moments, Chaeyoung finally takes the bait and dashes straight towards the goal, the ball in her hand. Her partner follows suit, hoping to stop her. They both rush towards each other to accomplish their own plans. As they come closer to each other and the tension continues to rise, Chaeyoung decides to jump out of the water as high as she can and throws the ball towards the goal.

"Get in there!" she yells as she lets go of the ball.

He reacts by reaching for the ball with his hand, attempting to block the shot.

"Got it!" he said in glee.

But in the nick of time, Chaeyoung swats the ball away with her hands, sending it upwards towards the goal.

They were frozen in their tracks, watching where the ball would land. A mix of emotions fills them both as it comes nearer to the goal.

"Did I score?"

"Did she miss?"

The ball then touches the edge of the goal, sending it bouncing to the side and landing a few inches away from the goal line.

"Agh! No!" Chaeyoung cries as the ball falls short of the goal.

"Whew! That was a close one," her partner exclaims, a bit exhausted.

He then rushes to recover the ball, attempting to score his own. But despite her failed attempt, she is quick to react and runs for her side of the pool to defend her goal.

"No way am I letting you score that easily!" she declares, smirking

He chuckles. "Good. Bring it on, then."

He winds up his arms for a big throw, while she prepares herself for his next move. He throws the ball as high as he can, far from her reach. But Chaeyoung isn't going to let him win that easily. She jumps another time, and with her long reach, is able to grab the ball in mid-air. It sends the ball out of bounds, outside the pool.

"Nice!" she exclaims, pumping her fist in the air.

"Ugh…" he groans, slightly annoyed. "That was a good block."

"Thanks," she smiles. "I have a good opponent."

"I'm honored," he chuckles.

After exchanging compliments and a few seconds of rest, they again prepare themselves for more water polo. They continue to attempt to score a goal for themselves as the other party tries their best to block their every move. Their restraints are slowly coming off as the two of them are willing to get up close and personal with each other during the game. With how serious the two of them are getting, Chaeyoung's partner can't help but exert a bit of his strength tussling against her. His hands, in a desperate attempt to retrieve the ball, accidentally end up grasping the softness of her butt

"Hngh!" she suddenly lets out a sharp gasp.

"Oh. Sorry!" he apologizes, retracting his hands.

"It… It's fine," she quickly recovers, smiling. "D-don't worry about it."

"Alright then," he says, still looking a bit apologetic.

They continue playing, but the situation seems to have shifted into a more sexual one. It's evident in their eyes the fire that makes them determined to win the challenge. But at the same time, the same fire emanates a more intense passion between the two of them. Gone are the subtleties they have for each other from the first few minutes of the challenge, now they're going all out, showing no signs of holding back.

As the game goes on, the two's bodies are getting closer and closer. Their touches aren't accidental anymore. They're deliberate, seeking a certain sensation from each other. And as their excitement grows, so does the tension in the air. The desire to get to each other becomes more apparent with each passing moment. This isn't just a game anymore. It has become a test of wills—a battle to see who'll succumb first. Getting physical is the name of the game, after all.

A few moments later, they again find themselves at a stalemate, the two staring at each other intently, neither giving up their guard.

"You're getting better at this," he comments, smirking.

She chuckles. "Not gonna let you score that easily."

"You think so, huh?" he asks, teasing her.

"Yeah, you bet," she replies, smirking.

"Well have at it, then," he says, challenging her.

As they are about to have another go, the horn blares out loud, catching their attention.

"Huh? Is it over already?" Chaeyoung asks, surprised.

"Doesn't seem like it," her partner responds, his gaze fixated on his timer. "We still have several minutes to go."

"Hmmm… Then what seems to be the—oh! Look at the screen."

They both then turn their heads toward the big screen in the middle. A message is being displayed, informing the players of another challenge.

"ATTENTION BOTH PLAYERS:

As neither player hasn't scored so far, we have decided to change the current challenge."

They are both confused, not expecting this sudden change.

"What does that mean?" Chaeyoung asks, perplexed.

"I have no idea," her partner shrugs. "Let's see what else is there to know."

The message on the screen changes again. It reads the following:

“SPOTLIGHTING CHALLENGE: SPLASH & BLAST

1. Can you be the best lover in the pool?

2. Try and make your partner cum as much as possible! There are no rules!"

3. Whoever cums the most loses.

4. Win this mission to earn your group a reward.

GOOD LUCK AND HAVE FUN!"

"Huh? What in the world is that?" Chaeyoung exclaims after reading the text on the screen, blushing.

"Woah!" his jaw drops, his eyes wide. "That's some challenge."

"So, are we really gonna…" she asks, looking at him, her face flustered.

"Looks like our game took a different turn, didn't it?" he chuckles, smiling at her.

"Yeah. I guess so," she giggles, her hands fiddling.

"Shall we… Do the challenge?" he asks, curious as to how she'll react.

She hesitates, her mind conflicted. However, the need to fulfill her lust and desires seems to overwhelm her, as she has no choice but to go with it.

"Uhmm… You see," she starts to say, her tone soft and a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

"You haven't done this yet, have you?" he asks, his expression calm.

"I mean…" Chaeyoung fiddles with her fingers, not looking him in the eye. "N-not that I haven't, but…"

"It's fine," he reassures her, smiling. "Bad experience?"

She shakes her head. "N-not with the real one, at least."

"I see," he nods, his hand grazing over her arm. "It's alright. We can just take it slow."

"Y-yeah, I guess…" she nods, agreeing.

They slowly approach each other, their bodies becoming closer and closer. They stare at each other's eyes, their bodies shivering. He then reaches out his hand and gently holds her chin, lifting it up, his face moving closer. She feels the warmth of his breath, their lips a mere centimeter apart.

"So, shall we begin?" he whispers, his voice soft and gentle.

She doesn't respond. Instead, she closes her eyes and presses her lips against his, sealing the deal.

Their bodies are pressed against each other, their skin touching, as the kiss grows deeper and longer. She wraps her arms around his waist, her hands touching his back. He, on the other hand, moves his hand down her hips, grabbing her buttocks.

"Mmmh…" she moans softly as their tongues intertwine.

Chaeyoung’s partner then slowly moves his hands towards her breast, his fingers fondling it. She lets out another soft moan, feeling his fingers rub her nipple.

"Feeling good?" he asks, breaking the kiss.

She nods, "Y-yes…"

He smiles, happy to see her reaction.

"I'll take it further," he says as he begins kissing her neck.

"Ahh… That tickles," she giggles, his kisses causing her body to tingle.

He continues to kiss her neck, his tongue tracing the curves of Chaeyoung's delicate skin. She moans softly, enjoying the sensation. His hand then slowly moves downwards, cupping her buttocks.

"Mnnh!" she gasps, his hands kneading her ass.

He smirks, amused at her reaction.

"Liking it?" he asks, grinning.

"Ahhh! Y-yes," she stammers, her body shuddering.

"Good," he says, his tone gentle. "I hope you're ready for more."

He continues to knead her soft butt, his hands grabbing a handful of her soft, round flesh. She lets out a series of moans, her body shivering with pleasure.

"Ahh, fuck…" she moans, her breathing getting heavy.

Her partner then continues his advance. As he moves his lips down her neck and onto her chest, he slowly unclasps her drenched bra, freeing her breasts from its confinement.

"Oh, wow… Chaeyoung-ah," he whispers, his eyes fixed on her chest.

Chaeyoung's nipples are already erect and glistening with the water from the pool. He then looks at her, his eyes burning with lust and desire.

"How cute," he whispers, his fingers gently tracing her nipples.

"Not there, not—hngh!" she whimpers, her body jolting from the touch.

He then continues to fondle her breasts, his fingers massaging her nipples. Her face turns red, feeling a tingling sensation in her body.

"Fuck… So good…" she pants, her voice soft and weak.

"You're really sensitive here, aren't you?" he teases, his voice playful.

Chaeyoung nods, her face flushed. "I… I'm just not used to—nghh!."

He chuckles, finding her reaction adorable.

"Let's move on to something else, then," he says, his voice calm.

"W-what is it? What are we going to—"

He places his index finger on her lips, signaling her to stop talking.

"Hush, Chaeyoung."

Her partner then lowers himself and grabs her panties, slowly sliding them off. He tosses her soaked underwear outside the pool, leaving her fully naked.

Chaeyoung attempts to cover her body with her hands as much as she can, her cheeks burning from the embarrassment.

"I-I hope you're l-liking the view," she stutters, her face turning a deep shade of red.

"Of course I do," he replies, his voice firm.

"I-I don't think I'm that—"

"Shhh…" he again interrupts her. "There's no need to be shy."

"O-okay…" she replies, nodding.

"Just relax and let me take care of you," he says, his voice soft and gentle.

His words send shivers down her spine, her body shivering from his words.

He slowly moves Chaeyoung's hand that covers her crotch and spreads her legs open, exposing her wet pussy.

"Such a pretty sight," he murmurs, admiring her glistening pussy.

"Mmmh… Can you stop?" she groans, her pussy aching with need.

"Oh, I’m sorry," he chuckles, his hands gently caressing her thighs.

"I'll get right into it."

"P-please… I can't wait," she stammers, her face red.

His hands slowly move upwards towards her inner thighs, his fingers grazing her delicate skin.

"So soft… So warm," he whispers, his fingers touching her folds.

"Aah! T-that's so good," she whimpers, her breathing getting heavy.

His fingers continue to explore her wet pussy, his fingertips caressing her sensitive clit.

"You're so wet, Chaeyoung," he teases, his fingers brushing against her swollen clit.

"T-that's because we… We're in w-water," she stutters, her body trembling.

"Excuses, excuses," he laughs, his tone playful. "You know what I mean."

"I-I can't help it!" she whines, her face flushed. "You're making me… Feel s-so good."

"Then let me make you feel even better," he says, his fingers now slowly penetrating her tight pussy.

"Ahh! Oh fuck," she yelps, her body shivering.

"Looks like you liked that," he whispers, his fingers pumping inside her.

She nods in response, her body shuddering with each thrust.

He adds another finger, his digits begin to thrust faster and harder.

"Fuck. So tight," he compliments, his voice husky. "You're taking my fingers so well"

"Ahhh! It's so… Deep!" Chaeyoung moans, her eyes shut tight.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, his fingers moving at a steady pace.

"Y-yes! Oh, shit. Yes!" she stammers, her body shuddering.

"Looks like you can't last much longer," he teases, his fingers continuing their assault.

"P-please… I'm gonna…" she looks at him with pleading eyes.

"Then go ahead. Cum for me," he commands, his fingers plunging deep.

Her body shakes as her orgasm approaches. She tries to grip whatever part of his body as best she can as her muscles tighten.

"I’m… I'm gonna!" she pants, her eyes squeezed shut.

"That's it, Chaeyoung. Just let go," he encourages, his voice gentle.

Finally, her body twitches and shudders, her pussy squeezing his fingers as her orgasm hits her hard. Her hips buck wildly, her body squirming as waves of pleasure wash over her. She elicits a loud moan as her pussy contracts, her juices spraying all over his hand.

"Yes! Oh fuck!" she yells, her body spasming.

"Good girl," he compliments her, his fingers still thrusting inside her.

"I'm cumming! Fuck! I'm cumming!" she cries, her voice quivering.

"Keep cumming," he instructs as he continues to finger her, his fingers reaching deeper inside her.

"Please! Ahhh!" she moans, her body shivering with ecstasy.

"Come on, Chaeyoung. Let it all out," he says, his voice calm.

"I-I can't! I'm gonna… I'm gonna—ahhh!" she screams, her pussy squeezing his fingers one last time before releasing a huge gush of fluid, like a floodgate bursting open to the pool.

"Yes! Yes! Agh!" she screams, her body convulsing as she cums, her juices spraying onto her partner's hand.

He slowly pulls out his fingers, his hands sticky from her fluids.

"You sure did cum a lot, Chaeyoung," he comments, a playful grin on his face.

She doesn't answer, her face red, her body shivering with aftershocks. Her chest heaves, her breaths coming in ragged pants.

"So how was it?" he asks, curious about her thoughts.

"I'm… I can't think," she murmurs, her voice weak.

He chuckles, amused by her reaction.

"Seems like you liked that," he says, his tone teasing.

As much as she hates to admit it, she replies with a subtle nod.

"Though I hope you're ready for more," he whispers, grinning.

"Fuck. You're gonna be the death of me," she grunts, her breath still shaky.

"Don't worry," he replies, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'll be more gentle this time."

"For some reason, I don't believe you," she responds, her voice a mix of frustration and excitement.

"Oh, come on. I promise," he replies, his tone playful.

She sighs at his silly plea. "Fine. Whatever."

"So, anything on your mind?" he asks her, an excited glint in his eye.

Chaeyoung tries to think of something interesting to do with her partner. After a few seconds, she giggles before looking at him with a seductive smirk.

"How about…" she pauses for a moment, trying to build the tension.

"What is it?" he asks, his eyebrow raised.

"Hmmm… Come with me first!" She then grabs his arm and pulls him towards the edge of the pool.

He complies and allows her to drag him with her. Once they reach the edge, she pulls him in for a kiss before playfully pushing him, his back now against the wall.

"What now?" he asks, curious.

She doesn't reply, instead, her hands slowly move downwards. He gets the message and lets her work on removing his swimming trunks.

Chaeyoung's delicate hands slowly pull his shorts down, freeing his half-hard member. It seems that it hasn't reached its full size yet, but her eyes are fixed on such a huge object.

"Mmmh… It's so big," she murmurs, her eyes staring at his cock.

"I'm flattered," he smirks, his voice calm yet playful.

"You must be popular with the girls," she says, a playful smile on her face.

He chuckles. "You can say that."

She continues to stroke his member, her soft hands rubbing against his shaft. He closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation of her hands touching his skin.

"Ooh… Yeah," he groans. "You feel so nice."

"T-thank you," she giggles, her eyes glimmering with lust. "I'm trying to make this fucking cock bigger."

"Well, you're doing a good job," he grins, his cock slowly growing hard.

"Glad you're liking it," she replies as her pace gets faster, her hands quickly moving up and down his cock.

"Ugh… That's so good," he grunts, his hips rocking as her hands work their magic on his throbbing shaft.

"Enjoying the service?" she teases a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

"Why wouldn't I?" he responds, his voice calm. "You're good at this."

She giggles, amused at his comment. "Beginner's luck, I guess."

"I can't tell if you're serious or joking," he replies, chuckling.

"Who knows?" she winks. "Does it matter?"

He pulls Chaeyoung closer, their faces mere inches from each other. The tension between the two continues to build, their breaths coming out hot and heavy as they stare into each other's eyes.

"Not in the slightest," he says, his tone deep and husky.

Without warning, his lips crash into hers, his hands pulling her even closer. His tongue slides into her mouth, exploring every inch of her soft, warm cavity. The young lady, as inviting as ever, reciprocates with an eagerness of her own.

Their tongues intertwine, their lips locked together. The two are locked in a passionate embrace as if they are two lovers who haven't seen each other in years. They continue to press their bodies against each other, their breaths becoming louder and hotter as the kiss becomes more intense.

As their kiss grows more and more passionate, his cock throbs in her hands, her pace getting faster and faster. As his shaft becomes harder and harder in her hands, it pulsates and begins to twitch.

"Are you close?" Chaeyoung breaks the kiss, a seductive smile can be seen on her face.

He nods, his cock fully erect and ready to burst.

The response from her partner causes her to increase her pace, her soft, delicate hands stroking his shaft vigorously. His hips begin to rock, his breathing getting heavier and faster.

"F-fuck… I'm so close…"

"Yes. Let it out," she purrs, her voice sultry. "Give me all of it."

"Chaeyoung-ah, I'm gonna…"

With one final stroke, his cock bursts, releasing a massive load of thick, white cum, covering her hands. She does her best to catch all of his semen in her hands, but the excessive amount he releases proves to be too much for her to handle and drips to the water below. She continues to stroke his shaft, milking his cock as her hands are fully covered in his seed.

"Oh, fuck…" he groans, his cock twitching as his load spurts out of his cock.

"You liked that, didn't you?" she asks, smirking.

"Hell yeah, I did," he chuckles, his body feeling exhausted.

"I can see why you're popular with the girls," she teases, her fingers scooping his seed and licking it off her fingers.

"Delicious."

He smiles. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"But.." she smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief. "The game's not over yet."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Chaeyoung quickly lowers herself, her face now positioned right in front of his member. Without hesitation, she engulfs his cock with her mouth, her lips wrapping around the tip. Little by little, she forces herself to take his girthy shaft, her throat struggling to fit his length.

"H-hey!" he exclaims, surprised at her bold move.

She ignores her partner and continues to suck his cock, her pace increasing. Her mouth makes slurping noises, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks him vigorously.

"Mmmh," she hums, his cock deep in her mouth.

"F-fuck… That's so good," he moans, his voice heavy with pleasure.

"I know," she mumbles, her lips wrapped around his cock.

"God… So good," he growls, his hips moving.

She continues to suck him, her head bobbing up and down his shaft. She looks up at him, her eyes filled with lust and desire looking straight at him. Her eyes are like that of a predator, her prey now at her mercy.

"Ugh, shit…" he mutters, his breathing becoming heavier. "You're eager to get ahead of me, huh?"

She didn't answer. But her increase in speed and intensity is proof of her determination to beat him.

"Yes, that's it. Just like that," he praises, his voice heavy with arousal. "Fuck… Your mouth feels so fucking good."

She retreats and releases his member, a thick strand of cum and saliva connecting his swollen tip and her soft lips.

"Hope you don't mind me getting another point," she teases, a playful grin on her face.

"Just get on with it, " he grunts, smiling. "Fuck, you're a lewd sight."

"Oh shut up and enjoy, will you?" She teases, her tone sultry.

"You don't have to ask me twice," he chuckles, amused.

Chaeyoung again engulfs his shaft, her tongue lapping on his sensitive skin. She takes him whole in one go this time, his cock hitting the back of her throat. Her eager attempt causes her to choke, but she does her best to not gag.

"Fuck… You're too good," he praises, his voice shaking.

She resumes to suck his cock, her head moving up and down his shaft. Her throat quickly adjusts to his size, allowing her to take him in deeper and deeper. Her eyes never leave him, her gaze fixated on him as her mouth is full of his member, her head bobbing furiously.

"Fuck! I think I'm gonna cum again," he grunts, his breathing becoming ragged.

Like a signal, her pace increases. She is determined to make him cum again. She wants more of his semen. She is hungry for it.

"H-holy fuck," he pants, his eyes shutting tight. "I'm close, Chaeyoung!"

Her pace increases even more, her head wildly bobbing up and down his length as she attempts to make him cum. She can't seem to resist his taste, as if it's a drug.

"S-shit… I'm gonna explode!" he growls, his body twitching.

She feels his cock pulsating in her mouth, his length fully erect and ready to burst. She drives herself to the brink of madness, her pace so fast and violent that she begins to gag. She doesn't care. She wants his semen. She needs it.

With a loud, guttural moan, his hips buck and his cock explodes, sending a massive load of his hot seed inside her mouth. Her eyes widen as she struggles to take it all in, but his release is too much, catching her off guard. A thick trail of his cum drips out of her mouth and down her chin. She gags and chokes, but she does her best to swallow every last drop. His orgasm continues for a few moments longer, his load continuing to spew inside her mouth, his cock pulsating and throbbing.

"Fuck! S-so good," he pants, his body shuddering.

After an almost non-stop stream of cum, his cock finally stops releasing, and Chaeyoung slowly withdraws from him. Thick strands of his semen and saliva connect his shaft and her lips, making an erotic mess of her. It seems crazy how such a pretty girl like her can look even more attractive with the amount of cum on her face.

"Goddamn," he says, his breathing heavy. "That was amazing."

She licks her lips clean, his cum still dripping down her chin.

"How was it, hmmm?" she asks, her voice sultry.

"Amazing. Best blowjob ever."

"Good," she smiles, her expression smug. "I can tell you enjoyed it."

"You bet I did."

"It's not everyday an idol would give anyone a… Special fanservice."

"Guess I'm a lucky fan, then."

"Lucky indeed. Though the game's not over yet, is it"

"What do you mean? I already came twice."

"Doesn't mean we're done, does it?"

Despite spurting such a huge amount twice in a row, her words seem to excite him still. His cock springs back to life, already at half-mast.

"You're right," he grins, leaning closer to her. "We're not done yet."

"That's the spirit," she smiles. "Though I'll be taking the lead."

"Oh?"

"You can rest for a bit," she says, her tone playful.

"You think I can't keep up with you?" he asks in an intrigued yet playful tone.

"Not really," she giggles. "You just look like you're about to pass out."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah," she replies, chuckling. "And what are you gonna do about it?"

Feeling challenged, he quickly grabs Chaeyoung by her legs and lifts her up the water.

"I'm gonna show you that I can still keep up," he growls, his eyes full of determination.

"W-woah!" she yelps, taken aback by his sudden move. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you a ride," he responds, his hands firmly gripping her thighs.

"Eh? A r-ride?"

"That's right," He nods, smiling. His cock slightly grazes against her inner thighs, slowly nearing her crotch. "You wanted to lead, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Then here's your chance," he interrupts, grinning.

"Wait, what are you—oh! Oh fuck!" she gasps, suddenly feeling his cock penetrating her pussy.

He enters her with a powerful thrust, his shaft sliding all the way inside her tight, warm walls.

"Shit. So tight," he groans, his cock throbbing inside her.

"F-fuck… Y-you're so big!" she whimpers, feeling his girth stretching her insides.

"And you're soaking wet, Chaeyoung," he smirks, amused.

"W-what are you talking about? I'm not—ahh!" she moans, her body jolting with every thrust.

"I'm not gonna let you win that easily," he grunts, his pace slow but firm.

"Oh yeah? Nghh! Y-you… Think you're gonna w-win?"

"Still underestimating me, huh?" he growls, his fingers digging into her fleshy butt.

Despite the tough shell she displays, his aggressive moves make her moan involuntarily. Her arms wrap around his neck, while her legs lock around his waist. Try as she might, the immense pleasure seems to be flooding her inhibitions away.

"Nghh! F-fuck…"

"You're liking this, huh?" her partner taunts her as his pace quickens.

"Ahh… S-so good," she whispers, her voice shaking.

"That's what I thought," he smirks.

He continues to pound her with his cock, his shaft reaching her deepest depths.

"F-fuck! D-don't… Go faster!" Chaeyoung screams, her face flushed.

"Who do you think will win, huh?" he teases, his voice full of arrogance.

"Fuck you!" she snaps, her body trembling.

"I like it when you talk dirty," he chuckles, amused.

He thrusts his cock deep inside her, causing her to gasp.

"Nghhh! Shit!" she yells, her pussy tightening around his shaft.

"Feeling good?"

"N-no! I'm just… Mhhh!" she protests, her voice weak.

"Just admit it," he says, his cock pulsating inside her.

"Aghhh! T-that's cheating!" she complains, her body shuddering.

"Excuses, excuses…" he smirks, his thrusts becoming deeper and stronger.

"I'm gonna… W-win, you know," she boasts, challenging him.

"Really, huh?" he chuckles, looking at her dazed eyes. "Looks like you can't even think properly."

"You're just… Nghhh! You're moving too fast!" she exclaims, her voice weak.

"Then if that's the case…" he then walks slowly towards the pool stairs, his cock still deep inside her.

"W-what are you… Hahh! What are you doing?"

"Giving you a proper ride," he says, his tone smug.

He takes slow but heavy steps as he carries her towards the pool stairs, making her squeal with each movement.

"You… Y-you're so mean," she whines, her pussy tightening.

"Sorry, Chaeyoung. But we're against each other here," he says, his eyes full of mischief.

"Fuck!" she whispers angrily to herself in frustration.

"What's the matter?" he taunts, his cock sliding inside her with ease.

"N-nothing… Hngh!" she grunts, her teeth gritting.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Fuck! Just… Just fucking fuck me! Goddammit!" Chaeyoung admittedly yells, her face red and flushed.

"Now that's more like it," he smirks, amused.

Her partner resumes his relentless assault, pounding her hard and deep as they near the edge of the pool. Chaeyoung's moans are getting louder and louder, her body quivers as if she got shocked by lightning.

"Shit… You're so big…" she whispers, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Feeling good, aren't you?" he taunts, his pace steady.

"Nghh… No!" she replies, her trembling in frustration and pleasure. "T-this is… Fuck!"

"That's what I thought," he sneers.

"Ahhh! When are you gonna stop?" she whines, her voice full of desperation.

"When I'm done," he answers, his tone casual.

"Y-you…" she grunts, her face red. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Of course," he answers with a smug grin on his face.

"Oh, fuck me…" she whispers, her breathing heavy.

"Looks like someone's getting close," he comments, his voice full of amusement.

"No I'm not! I'm—fuck!" she snaps, her voice shaking.

"Come on. You're denying it but you're pussy's getting tighter," he teases.

"Nghh… Fine!" she finally gives in.

"I'm… Fuck! I'm gonna cum!"

"There we go," he smirks, his cock throbbing. "An honest answer."

"B-but… Not before you!" she shouts, her pussy squeezing his cock.

"Heh. Still got some fight left in you, huh?"

"M-maybe… I-I don't know!" she yells, her face red.

"Well, if that's the case, then I better make sure you can't keep up," he sneers, his cock pounding her with reckless abandon as he exits the pool. Despite his aggressive movements, he gently lowers Chaeyoung to the pool’s deck, his cock never leaving the tight embrace of her walls.

He then continues his relentless assault, his thrusts deep and rough. He moves his hands to her breasts and starts to massage her perky, erect nipples.

"F-fuck… Not my nipples!" she whimpers, her pussy clenching around his shaft.

"Feels good, huh?"

"Hahh… Y-yes," she admits, her face flushed.

"There’s a good girl," he smiles, his fingers pinching her nipples. He then leans forward to suck on them, his tongue swirling around her sensitive nubs.

"Aghh! Don't suck on them!" she whines, her voice weak.

He doesn't answer. He keeps on sucking her nipple as his cock pounds her as deep and as hard as he could.

"Fuck! I'm gonna go crazy, you asshole!" she yells, her face red and hot.

"That's what I like to hear," he chuckles.

"But I'm not… Losing… To you!" Chaeyoung grunts, sounding determined despite her weak position.

"We'll see about that," her partner replies, his pace picking up.

"Ahhh! Fuck! You're going too fast!" she protests, her hands reaching for his back, her nails digging into his skin.

He continues his relentless assault, his pace unrelenting as his cock ravages her insides.

"S-stop…" she whispers, her body shivering with pleasure. "I can't take it anymore!"

"Then cum," he says, his breath heavy. "I know you want to."

"B-but… But I…"

"Shhh…" he shushes her. "I'll do it with you."

"Nghh… B-but I'm not gonna lose to—"

His lips interrupt her words, gently crashing into hers. Chaeyoung tries to resist, but her mind becomes blank as his tongue slides into her mouth.

Despite the feisty attitude she's showing towards him, she kisses him back as their tongues intertwine in a passionate dance. Gone are their antagonistic antics against each other, and the only evident thing are fervent thrusts and muffled moans from the two of them.

The tension builds and their kiss grows more intense. Their hips move together as one, their bodies grinding against each other. They are locked in a passionate embrace, their desire burning deep within them.

"Fuck," he groans. “Your pussy feels so fucking good.”

"Aghh! S-stop… You're making me…" she stammers, her voice soft.

"Come on, Chaeyoung. Give me all you got," he whispers, his cock pounding her deep.

"F-fuck…" she grunts, her eyes squeezed shut. "I'm gonna cum again!"

"That's right," he coos in her ears. "Let me feel you cum."

"Y-yes!" she cries, her voice strained. "Oh shit… Ahh!"

With a loud moan, Chaeyoung’s pussy clenches his cock, her body convulsing as her orgasm hits her hard, waves of pleasure washing over her. She can't do anything but hold onto her partner’s back as her orgasm ravages her body, her arms and legs locked around him. Her juices spray uncontrollably out of her, covering his cock with her sticky fluids.

"Ahh! Fuck!" he yells, his body shivering as his orgasm approaches. "My turn… Hngh!"

"C-cum inside me, p-please…" she begs, her voice weak.

"Here it comes… Nrgh!"

After a few wild thrusts, his cock bursts inside her, releasing a huge load of his thick, hot seed. His hips rock and buck as his cock spews a massive stream of cum, his semen overflowing from her tight pussy.

"Yes! Oh fuck! Your cum feels so warm inside me," she moans, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

"Ugh… Take it all, Chaeyoung!" he growls as he continues to thrust all he's got inside her.

"Fuck… I can feel it coming out of my pussy," she moans, her pussy still squirting her fluids.

"Shit. You're so hot, Chaeyoung" he grunts and goes to kiss her once again.

"Mmmh… I love your cock," she purrs, her body shaking.

They continue this sensual moment, their bodies pressed together, their mouths locked in a passionate embrace. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure for the two of them, and they reveled every second of it. Despite being filmed, they didn't care. All that mattered was the moment they were sharing that burned deep within their minds.

As the intense lovemaking subsides, their lips break apart from each other. He withdraws himself from her, his cock covered with their mixed juices that connect from her freshly fucked pussy. He then moves a few inches away from her, trying to take a seated position with his exhausted body. Chaeyoung on the other hand, is left panting, her body trembling, her chest heaves for air and her pussy gushes out their mixed fluids, leaving a trail of love juice that pools below her.

"Hahh… Hah… Oh fuck…" he breathes, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Nghh… Are you… Okay?" Chaeyoung asks him, her voice barely audible.

"I'm… Whew. I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah… I'm… I think I'm good," she replies, her body still shuddering with aftershocks.

"Fuck… That was good," her partner groans, his voice heavy.

"Do you… Want more?" she proposes as she tries to lift herself up the floor into a more comfortable position.

He crawls towards her, his seemingly tired body ready for yet another round.

"If that's what you want…"

The young lady is already feeling the effects of his relentless assault, her body trembling as she anticipates his cock pounding her once more with reckless abandon. But the pleasure of having her insides ravaged by his girthy shaft is too much for her, and she is helpless to resist his advances.

"Mmmh… Keep going," she urges him on, her voice shaky.

But as they ready themselves to have another go, the buzzer rings, indicating that time is up.

"Huh? Already?" the young man groans.

"Looks like we got carried away," she giggles, her breathing heavy.

"Yeah," he snarls. "I got so lost in all that."

"So… Who won?" she asks, her tone curious.

"Not sure," he shrugs. "You?"

She looks confused.

“Me? I don’t know.”

The screen then showed the result of this rather interesting game:

"RESULTS:

3-2 in favor of Chaeyoung!

CONGRATULATIONS! You succeeded in the challenge!"

"Oh wow," he smiles.

"Really? I did! Yay!" she cheers, clapping her hands in excitement.

"Yeah, you did. Good job, Chaeyoung," her partner congratulates her, clapping his hands as well.

"Thank you!" she replies as she gives him a hug, her face beaming with joy.

"You're a great partner," he praises her. "It was a lot of fun."

"Thank you again," she blushes. She then looks around her.

"So what now?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "No one told me what to do after the challenge."

The screen then shows a new message for the two of them:

"Congratulations on completing the challenge. The pair should then proceed to the final area after a signal in a few hours. In the meantime, you can do whatever you want together in this area. Have fun!"

"Huh. So we're gonna wait, then," Chaeyoung concludes, reading the message.

"Looks like it," he replies, shrugging.

"What are we supposed to do until then?"

"Who knows," he shrugs, then looks at her with a sly smile.

"We can… Start where we left off, you know?"

"Hmmm…" she smiles, her cheeks slightly turning pink. "We can do that."

"Fuck. Aren't you restless?"

Albeit struggling due to the intense fucking from earlier, Chaeyoung still chose to stand up on her feet, her legs wobbling. Luckily for her, he’s there to give assistance. She then gestures to her partner to stand up, to which he obliges. As soon as they've gathered their footing, she suddenly gives him a rather obvious gaze.

"M-maybe we can do something else first," she suggests, grinning mischievously.

"Uhh... What did you have in mind?" he asks, curious.

She then walks back towards the pool, gently tugging him along.

"I just want to swim around for a bit," she replies, smiling. "Do you mind joining me?"

"Sure," he replies, his eyes fixated on hers. "I suppose a little swim would be nice."

"Great." Chaeyoung beams with joy.

"Let's go."

As the two dip their bodies into the pool, the camera follows them from above as they enjoy each other's company in the water. They swim around, playing and laughing together. They exchange more playful banters and even more sensual moments with one another. It is clear that the two of them have hit it off quite well, and the sexual tension between them continues to build. Even as the video fades to black, you know Chaeyoung and her partner are just getting started.

Two videos down, and many more to go. Reviewing videos for long periods is tiring, but not in this case. Instead of exhaustion, you are filled with renewed excitement and anticipation. With a quick check of the time, you realize that lunch break is coming up. But your stomach would have to wait.

You close the current window and open the next video file.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author’s Notes:

As promised, this is the next chapter of my "Spotlighting" series. It wasn't easy to pick an idea that'll suit Chaeyoung. I originally wanted her to do an "indoor surfing" challenge. But I quickly realize that I'd rather want her to be rag dolled by her partner than by the waves. 😂 And as wimpy as this tall squirrel can be, I don't think she'd back down from a challenge, especially when there's something promising on the line. So I guess playing water polo suits her.

Now that I thought of it... It's find it interesting for the idols to have some sort of "competition" with their partners. It really makes for some really wild ideas where neither of them is backing out, even when doing the deed. 😏

Once again, thank you to the people that helped me make this fic readable. 🤣 @digipigichopshop and @dnd-writes... Thank you so much, you two. 🙇 Be sure to follow them if you haven't already. As well as @braaan for another great poster. You guys are the best. 👍

Again, thank you very much for reading! 🙇

#smut #kpopfanfiction #kpopfanfic #kpopsmut #fromis9smut #chaeyoungsmut #leechaeyoungsmut

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