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rizzanon · 2 months ago

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02 | A QUITTER?

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The words hung in the air, heavy and absolute.

Bruce’s brows furrowed, his usually calm expression giving way to faint confusion. “You’re… quitting?”

“Yes.”

For a moment, silence filled the cavernous Batcave, save for the faint hum of the Batcomputer. He studied you, his piercing blue eyes narrowing slightly as though trying to read your mind. “Why?” he asked finally, his voice measured, almost clinical.

You froze, caught off guard. Why? Why had you suddenly decided to quit? Sixteen-year-old you wouldn’t have even entertained the idea. This life was everything she had worked for—every patrol, every bruise, every sleepless night fueled by a desperate need for validation. Why had the words come so easily to you now?

Your mind reeled, racing to string together an explanation that made sense. After a long pause, you took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Because�� you were right,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “This life… it was never meant for me. I was just too dumb to realize it before. But now, I do.”

The admission felt strange, almost foreign. Sixteen-year-old you wouldn’t have said that—not to him, not to anyone. And yet, as the words left your mouth, they felt right.

Bruce didn’t respond immediately. He just watched you, his gaze intense, cold, and calculating. You could almost feel him inspecting every inch of you, every nuance in your expression, searching for cracks in your resolve or signs of insincerity. The weight of his scrutiny was almost unbearable, and you found yourself holding your breath.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned back slightly and nodded. “If that’s what you’ve decided,” he said simply, his tone unreadable. Without another word, he turned back to the Batcomputer, his eyes scanning the reports as if the conversation had never happened.

You blinked, stunned. That easy? He really just let you go like that?

For a moment, a flicker of relief passed through you, but it was quickly overshadowed by another thought: Just how much did he not want you to take up the Batgirl mantle? The thought gnawed at you, but you shoved it down, forcing yourself to nod.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked back toward the staircase, your footsteps echoing in the vast space.

As you ascended, you couldn’t help but glance back once, but Bruce didn’t move, his attention fixed on the screen. You pressed your lips together and forced yourself to keep going.

Bruce heard your footsteps fading up the stairs, each one echoing through the cavern like a countdown. He stared at the Batcomputer, his hands resting motionless on the console. But his eyes weren’t scanning the reports anymore.

He couldn’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder as the clock door slid shut behind you. His expression hardened, his brows furrowing deeply.

Something about this felt… wrong. Letting you walk away like that—it felt final, like a line had been drawn in the sand. A line he couldn’t cross.

You’d said you were quitting because the life wasn’t meant for you. Bruce should be relieved that you were no longer putting yourself on the line, no longer risking your life for the sake of crime-fighting.

But now, it was as if he was watching you slip through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Should he have said something? Say what exactly? That you shouldn’t quit being Batgirl? That he wanted you in his this life?

Bruce clenched his jaw and forced himself to look back at the screen, willing the unease in his chest to go away. He told himself it was for the best. He already long knew that this path was never meant for you.

And yet…

A faint, nagging voice whispered at the back of his mind, telling him he’d made a mistake. That letting you go like this wasn’t just about the Batgirl mantle—it was about you. About him. About the growing distance between the two of you.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on it, not now. Pushing the thoughts aside with the same discipline he applied to every other personal distraction, Bruce returned his focus to his work.

But that unease lingered, a heavy weight in his chest that no amount of reports or missions could quite shake.

“Richard,” Damian began, his tone flat and serious. “What does it mean when a girl cuts her hair short?”

The fast-food restaurant buzzed with the usual cacophony of clinking trays and murmured conversations. Damian sat stiffly across from Dick, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed in a way that made it clear he’d rather be anywhere else.

Dick, mid-bite of his burger, froze. Slowly, he put the burger down, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. Then, with a sly grin, he leaned forward. “Why’re you asking? Is there someone who caught your eye, little D? Someone from school, maybe?”

Damian scowled, his cheeks tinging slightly pink. “Do not be absurd. This is not about me.”

Dick chuckled, brushing crumbs off his hands. “Oh, so it’s not about you. But you want my expertise on the matter? Man, I didn’t know you valued my opinion so much.”

“I don’t,” Damian snapped, his glare intensifying. “But you’re a certified idiot when it comes to women, so your insight into their ridiculous behavior might be useful.”

“Ouch.” Dick placed a hand over his heart, feigning injury. “And here I thought we were bonding.”

“We’re not,” Damian replied flatly, though his posture shifted in discomfort.

At that moment, Tim approached the table, balancing a tray piled high with burgers and fries. He slid into the booth beside Dick, setting the tray down with a thud.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked, popping a fry into his mouth.

“Damian here wants to know why a girl would cut her hair short,” Dick said, his grin widening. “And apparently, I’m the expert on ‘ridiculous behavior.’”

Tim raised an eyebrow at Damian, who was now scowling at both of them. “Uh… okay. Who are we talking about?”

“It’s about… (name),” Damian muttered.

The lighthearted teasing immediately stalled. Tim and Dick exchanged a quick glance, their expressions shifting to something more serious.

Dick, however, quickly recovered, leaning back in his seat. “Nah, no way. (name) wouldn’t cut her hair. She’s been growing it out for years. You’re making this up.”

“I am not,” Damian snapped, crossing his arms. “You’ll see for yourselves later if you’re too thick-headed to believe me.”

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Dick said, grabbing a fry. “Second, I don’t know, man. She’s always been pretty attached to her hair. Like, she used to freak out if even half an inch got trimmed too short when she was younger.”

Damian scoffed audibly, narrowing his eyes at Dick. “Tsk. It’s not just a trim, Grayson. She cut her hair to her shoulders.” He said the word shoulders like it was a personal affront. “And it looks ridiculous.”

Dick frowned immediately. “Don’t say that, Damian,” he chided, but then his voice trailed off as his mind wandered. Shoulders? That was… really short.

His brow furrowed slightly as he thought about it. Had you really cut your hair? You were always so particular about it. He remembered vividly the offhanded comment you made years ago about how you liked your hair long because it made you feel elegant, pretty—like yourself.

Wait, years ago?

That sinking feeling began to gnaw at him. Sure, people changed their preferences all the time, but this felt… odd. Why now? Why so drastic?

“Grayson?” Damian’s sharp tone cut into his thoughts. “Are you malfunctioning, or have I rendered you speechless for once?”

“Huh?” Dick blinked, refocusing on the youngest Wayne.

“Useless,” Damian muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “I should have known better than to seek advice from you.”

Dick snapped out of it, shooting Damian a half-hearted glare. “Hey, you came to me, remember? And cutting hair isn’t ridiculous; it’s just a personal choice. People grow, Damian. Maybe she just… wanted a change.”

Damian raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Wanted a change? That’s the best you can come up with? Tt. I thought you were supposed to be insightful.”

“Okay, first of all,” Dick said, pointing at him with a fry, “you’re lucky I don’t throw this at you. And second, you’re the one acting all worked up about her hair. I’m just trying to figure out why you even care.”

“I don’t care,” Damian replied curtly. “I simply have standards, unlike you.”

“Oh, trust me, buddy, we know your standards are very high.” Dick smirked. “For someone who claims not to care, you’re putting a lot of energy into this.”

Damian glared, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I will not waste further time explaining myself to a fool.”

“Love you too, Dami,” Dick said with a cheeky grin, earning an eye roll from the younger boy.

Tim, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “Alright, so… are we just going to sit here debating haircuts, or are we going to eat?”

“Good idea,” Dick said, popping a fry into his mouth. But the momentary distraction didn’t stop his mind from circling back to you.

Why did you cut your hair? Was it really just a preference change? Maybe.

Damian’s voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts again. “Grayson, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Staring into space like a dim-witted cow.”

Dick sighed, shoving a fry into his mouth. “Great talk, Damian. Really helpful.”

“Likewise,” Damian muttered, clearly unimpressed.

But Dick was already tuning him out. He needed to check in with you later. He heard you had patrol tonight—or at least that’s what Barbara had mentioned. Wait, why didn’t you tell him that yourself?

Whatever. He’d figure it out. If you were on patrol, he’d just join you and ask about that then. That is, if Damian doesn’t insist later on being his patrol partner…

Maybe it was nothing…

Tim sat in the booth, idly picking at a fry as his mind wandered. He’d been the one to steer the conversation away from your haircut, but now he couldn’t help but think about what Damian had said. You cut your hair? That didn’t sound like you at all.

Then again, what did Tim really know? It wasn’t like the two of you were close. Despite living in the same manor for the past three—almost four—years, there had always been this… distance between you.

He frowned, resting his chin on his hand. It hadn’t always been that way. He remembered the earlier days, when both you and him were just starting out. Back then, you used to ask him the most ridiculous questions about cases and missions—questions that made him pause and wonder if you were even paying attention to the briefing.

“What do you mean, ‘How do you know which lead to follow?’” Tim had asked once, incredulous. He’d given you a look, that signature are you serious expression he reserved for when someone asked something truly baffling. Then, as always, he ended up solving the issue himself, bypassing the need to answer you at all.

At the time, it was mildly annoying but manageable. He figured you were just trying to find your footing. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal. But gradually, the number of times you came to him for help lessened. At first, Tim thought it was progress, that you were finally figuring things out on your own.

But no.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that your work was slipping. You’d miss key details, overlook evidence, or focus on the wrong leads entirely. And every time, it was Tim who ended up fixing it behind the scenes, covering for your mistakes before they could turn a case—or worse, a mission—into a disaster.

He hadn’t minded at first. But as it kept happening, as he kept watching you barrel forward with that same stubborn, hard-headed determination, something shifted.

Tim’s frustration grew. He started to wonder why you were even in this line of work. If you couldn’t handle the basics, what were you doing risking your life out there? Of course, he never said it out loud. He wasn’t that cruel, and he knew voicing those thoughts would probably lead to a fight neither of you wanted.

But still, it gnawed at him. That unspoken tension built over time, creating the invisible wall that now sat between you. He’d distanced himself on purpose, convinced that staying out of your way was better for the both of you.

But was it?

Tim sighed, pushing his tray of fries away as Damian and Dick bickered in the background. Now, the idea of you cutting your hair had wormed its way into his thoughts, and he couldn’t shake it.

You cut your hair.

It wasn’t about the haircut itself—it wasn’t about aesthetics or style. It was about what it represented. Something had changed. Had you?

And while Tim told himself he didn’t care, deep down, a small part of him wondered if he’d made a mistake keeping you at arm’s length all this time.

“Hold up, Babs, why exactly am I needed at the Batcave tonight again?” Stephanie said, twisting the tool in her hand to tighten a small screw.

She sat at Barbara’s clocktower, absentmindedly flicking through her phone while doing a small repair on one of her gadgets. She was content, for the moment at least, doing something mindless and waiting for whatever task Barbara would assign her for the night.

But when Barbara called her name and asked her to suit up for the night, Stephanie couldn’t help but frown.

Barbara sighed, her voice a little tired but still managing to hold a calm tone. “Tonight, we’re a little short-handed, Steph.”

“A little short-handed?” Stephanie repeated, letting out a disbelieving scoff. She glanced up at Barbara, clearly unimpressed. “How can it be short-handed when she’s around?”

Barbara knew who Stephanie meant by “she”. Why? Because you used to grab every mission or patrol you could, like you were always hungry for action, hungry for validation. There had always been this one-sided animosity between you and the blonde—more so you toward her. And it wasn’t like Stephanie was oblivious to the reason why.

It was because she’s Batgirl too. When Barbara and Dick allowed her to don the cowl during the events after Bruce’s “death,” Stephanie had been given the opportunities you wanted for yourself. Barbara knew that too, but she had chosen not to intervene, thinking that the animosity you felt would die down after a while.

Well, it did. But not in the way anyone expected.

Barbara adjusted her glasses as she leaned back in her chair. “(Name)’s not around tonight.”

Stephanie raised an eyebrow, confused by the simple statement. “Well that’s a first. Why not?”

Barbara hesitated, the words slow to come. “She… she quit.”

“…..”

“WHAT??!?”

Barbara didn’t flinch at the outburst, her calm demeanor masking her own lingering confusion.

“Wait, wait,” Stephanie said, waving her hands in the air like she was trying to physically stop Barbara from speaking nonsense. “She quit? Are we talking about the same person? (Name) Wayne? The same person who basically begged to be Batgirl?”

Barbara shrugged slightly. “Bruce told me earlier today. Said she came into the cave, and told him she was done, and walked out. That’s all I know.”

“That’s all you know?” Stephanie repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. She shook her head, scoffing. “That’s insane. She’s gotta be pulling some kind of dramatic move. Like, I don’t know, trying to get some attention or whatever. She’ll come back. Give her, like, two days, tops.”

Barbara frowned, though she didn’t entirely disagree. You were the type to make bold, emotional decisions, always seeking to prove yourself in some way. But there was something about how quiet and decisive you’d been when you quit that didn’t sit right with her.

“You don’t think she’s serious, do you?” Stephanie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Barbara admitted. “It’s… unlike her, I’ll say that.”

Stephanie scoffed again, shaking her head as she stood up to grab her Batgirl suit. “Whatever. I’m calling it now—she’ll be back, and when she is, I’m going to remind her just how ridiculous she’s being.”

Barbara watched Stephanie slip into her suit, her mind racing with questions she didn’t have answers to. This wasn’t like you at all. You were persistent, stubborn even. You fought tooth and nail for the Batgirl mantle, always pushing to prove yourself despite the doubts and obstacles.

For you to just walk away, without warning, felt… wrong.

As Stephanie tightened her utility belt and prepared to head out, she didn’t notice the far-off look in Barbara’s eyes. Even if you were planning to come back, the decision to quit felt too deliberate, too final.

And for the first time in a long time, Barbara found herself worrying about you in a way she hadn’t before.

After telling your father that you quit—and seeing how easily he let you go—you couldn’t stop replaying the scene in your head.

You walked through the halls of Wayne Manor, your mind heavy with frustration, confusion, and a gnawing emptiness that you couldn’t quite name. As you turned the corner, too lost in your thoughts to pay attention, you bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” you muttered automatically, not even looking up at first. But when you did, you froze.

Cassandra.

She stood in front of you, already suited up in her sleek black Bat costume, the faint outline of her emblem catching the light. She looked ready for patrol, or maybe she was just on her way to the Batcave. Her mask wasn’t on yet, so her sharp eyes were trained directly on you, studying you in the way that always made you feel exposed.

For a moment, you two just stared at each other in silence.

You were the first to move, brushing past her quickly without another word. But before you could make it more than a few steps, her voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Your hair.”

You turned around, confused, and caught her still looking at you with that unreadable expression of hers.

“Yeah,” you said, your tone clipped. “I cut it. I know. I get it. It’s awful.”

You made a move to leave again, but her next words surprised you enough to freeze you in place.

“No,” Cassandra said simply, her voice softer now. “It looks… really nice.”

You blinked, staring at her like she’d grown a second head. A compliment? From Cassandra? That wasn’t something you were used to.

“Thanks,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. “I guess.”

Without waiting for her to say anything else, you turned and headed back to your room. Your mind raced with the strangeness of the interaction as you climbed the stairs, the faintest trace of heat rising to your cheeks.

It wasn’t just her compliment that threw you off. It was the fact that she’d initiated a conversation at all. Cassandra had always been silent around you, her communication limited to nods, gestures, or the occasional word when necessary. For her to speak up, to make an effort, felt… different.

Weird, you thought as you closed the door behind you.

Uncharacteristic.

But as you sat on the edge of your bed, you couldn’t help but replay her words in your mind.

“It looks… really nice.”

For some reason, they lingered longer than you expected.

From the moment Cassandra bumped into you in the hallway, she could tell something was off. The way you carried yourself, the weight in your movements—it was different. Subtle, but undeniable. She couldn’t quite place what had changed, but it unsettled her.

As she descended into the Batcave, the low hum of tension greeted her before she even stepped off the elevator.

Bruce and Damian were mid-argument, their voices sharp and escalating. Damian’s fists were clenched tightly at his sides, his face twisted in anger, while Bruce’s tone was firm but weary, as if he’d been repeating himself for the hundredth time.

Nearby, Dick stood between them, hands raised in a futile attempt to diffuse the tension. Stephanie leaned casually against the wall, scrolling on her phone while occasionally glancing at Tim, who was tinkering with one of his gadgets. They were the only ones who seemed unaffected by the brewing storm.

When Cassandra stepped into view, Steph looked up and gave her a warm smile. “Cass! Finally, someone sane. Come join us before this place explodes.”

Tim glanced up as well, offering a quick wave before turning back to his project. Cassandra hesitated for a moment but walked over to join them, her eyes still flicking toward the argument at the center of the cave.

Damian’s sharp voice cut through the relative calm of her corner. “Why is Brown here? Isn’t it supposed to be (Name)’s turn to patrol tonight?”

Stephanie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Wow, thanks for the warm welcome, little guy,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Damian ignored her, his gaze locked on Bruce. “Well?” he demanded.

Bruce sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s not patrolling tonight.”

Damian’s brows furrowed, his tone growing more impatient. “And why not? Where is she?”

The tension in the room thickened as Bruce finally answered. “She quit.”

For a moment, the entire cave went still. Everyone except Stephanie and Bruce froze, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What?” Damian said flatly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Dick was the first to intervene, stepping forward and addressing Bruce directly. “What do you mean, she quit?”

Bruce’s tone was even, but there was an edge of finality in it. “Exactly what I said. She told me she quit, and I respected her decision.”

Damian’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. “And you just let her?”

Bruce gave him a calm but firm look. “If that’s what she wants, who am I to stop her?”

Damian’s expression darkened, his anger bubbling over. “Unacceptable,” he growled. “There’s no way she just quits. Something’s wrong.”

Before Bruce could respond, Damian spun on his heel. “I’m asking her myself,” he snapped, already storming toward the elevator.

“Damian—” Bruce started, but Damian ignored him, disappearing up the elevator shaft before anyone could stop him.

The silence that followed was palpable, the weight of Damian’s fury lingering in the air.

Dick broke it first, his voice calm but resolute. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Bruce hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Go. Make sure he doesn’t do something reckless.”

As Dick followed after Damian, the remaining group stayed quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Cassandra’s gaze lingered on Bruce, her mind still replaying your distant expression from earlier. Something about all of this felt… wrong.

And she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

The peace and quiet of your room shattered when the door slammed open without so much as a knock. You looked up, startled, to see Damian standing in the doorway, his eyes blazing with fury and confusion.

“You quit?” he demanded, his voice sharp and biting, his tone leaving no room for pleasantries.

Caught off guard, you blinked at him. “Good evening to you too, Damian,” you said dryly, already bracing yourself for the argument that was clearly brewing.

He stepped inside, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “What do you mean you quit? You seriously quit? Why?”

You let out an annoyed sigh, already tired of his interrogation. “Why? Can’t I quit?” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

Damian’s jaw tightened, his expression shifting from anger to utter disbelief. “Are you right in the head?” he shot back, his voice rising. “What kind of madness is this? Did all those late nights finally drive you insane?”

Ok, that ticked you off. Slightly.

“Seriously?” you deadpanned, giving him a pointed look. “You think this is about me losing it?”

“Yes!” Damian barked, his voice ringing through the room. “First, you cut your hair off like it didn’t mean a damn thing to you, and now you suddenly walk up to Father and say you’re done being Batgirl? Just like that? You’ve completely lost it!”

You frowned, irritation creeping into your voice, but you kept calm. “Nothing is wrong with me,” you replied firmly. “I made a decision. I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Not my business?” Damian repeated, his voice incredulous. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at you. “This affects all of us! You can’t just make a decision like this without considering what it means for the rest of the family!”

You stood up, arms crossed. “And why does that bother you so much? You’ve never cared about what I do. All you’ve ever done is criticize me, undermine me, act like I don’t belong here in the first place! So why do you care now?”

“I don’t care!” Damian snapped, though his voice faltered for just a second. “I care about what your actions mean for our family. You walking away like this—it’s selfish, reckless—”

That was it. The breaking point.

“Selfish?” you shot back, the irritation in your voice finally boiling over. “You’re calling me selfish? After everything I’ve done to prove myself? After all the crap I’ve put up with just to show all of you that I deserve to be here? And you have the audacity to call me selfish?”

Damian threw his hands up in frustration. “This isn’t just about you! Do you even realize what you’re throwing away? What your actions say about the rest of us? You’re acting like—”

“Like what? Like I’m done?” you yelled, cutting him off. “Because I am, Damian! I’m done trying to live up to expectations that no one even thought I could meet in the first place! I’m done being the one who has to prove herself every damn day just to get a shred of acknowledgment!”

“That’s ridiculous!” Damian shot back, his tone defensive. “Father wouldn’t have given you the mantle if you didn’t deserve it. You’re just—”

You cut him off again, your voice sharper, harsher. “He gave me the mantle because I practically begged him to. Not because he thought I deserved it. And every day since, I’ve tried to make up for it, to prove that I do deserve it. But nothing ever works. I get sidelined, tossed aside, whenever Father or Dick or anyone else decides I’m not good enough to help.”

Damian scoffed, crossing his arms. “You don’t get sidelined. You’re just making things up.”

“Oh, shut up,” you snapped, your tone biting now. “Don’t act like you know what I go through.”

Damian opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off again, your voice rising. “No, don’t you dare. You don’t know. You don’t know how it feels to constantly feel like you’re not good enough, to be compared to everyone else and always come up short. You don’t get it, Damian, and you never will. Because you’ve always been the heir, the one Father sees as his true successor. But me? I’ve been nothing but an afterthought.”

Damian’s face faltered for a brief moment, something unspoken flashing in his eyes. He hated the way his chest ached at your words.

“That’s not true,” he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Isn’t it?” you challenged, your voice trembling with exhaustion and frustration. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it. Not when I’m constantly being sidelined, not when I have to fight for scraps of approval while everyone else gets a free pass. And definitely not when even you can’t see me as anything but second-rate!”

Damian hesitated, caught off guard by the raw emotion in your voice. He quickly shook it off, doubling down. “This is beneath you,” he said coldly. “Throwing a tantrum and walking away won’t fix anything.”

“A tantrum?” you echoed, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and hurt. “You think this is a tantrum? Damian, this is me saying I’ve had enough. I’m tired of breaking myself for a family that doesn’t even see me!”

“Then make them see you!” Damian countered, his voice rising again. “You don’t just quit because it’s hard! You don’t just give up!”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Of course, that’s your answer. Just fight harder, right? Because that’s all you know how to do. But I’m not like you, Damian. I can’t keep pretending that this fight is worth it.”

“Not worth it?” Damian repeated, his tone disbelieving. “Are you actually kidding me? Richard told me that fighting for family is always worth it—”

“Well Richard can go fuck himself for all I care,” you snapped, cutting him off. “For someone who prides himself as a family guy, he’s done a great fucking job proving that, hasn’t he?”

Damian bristled, his voice rising. “Don’t talk about Richard that way—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I forgot he actually gives a damn about you. No wonder you have such a biased perspective on how he really is.”

Damian froze, stunned into silence by your words. The room grew unbearably quiet, tension heavy in the air.

Finally, Damian let out a sharp breath, his voice low but laced with finality. “This isn’t over,” he said, turning on his heel.

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone, your chest heaving from the intensity of the argument. You sank back into your chair, exhaustion settling in as the adrenaline faded. But the ache in your heart lingered, sharp and unyielding.

Damian’s words echoed in your mind, each one like a sharp jab to the chest. Selfish. Reckless. The words rang in your ears, infuriating and unfair.

Damnit. You hadn’t meant to blow up on him. But everything was just… too much. It wasn’t like you could keep pretending it was fine anymore.

Your fingers dug into the armrest of the chair as you shut your eyes, the headache beginning to set in behind your eyes. You could almost feel the physical ache of the emotional turmoil. I don’t care… You repeated the words silently, but it only made the ache in your chest worse. You had always cared about this family. You had tried so hard to belong, to prove yourself.

But what had it gotten you? You fought tooth and nail for the mantle of Batgirl, begging for the chance to prove you were worthy of it. Yet, here you were, useless in Damian’s eyes, ready to walk away. Maybe he was right—maybe you were being reckless, selfish. Because if you weren’t being Batgirl, who were you anymore? You certainly didn’t feel like the Bruce Wayne’s daughter.

You scoffed bitterly, shaking your head. They’d be fine without you, you thought. They always are. It wasn’t like your role in the family made a difference. You had always felt like an afterthought, never quite fitting in the way your siblings did. They all had their roles—Damian was the heir, Tim was the brain, Jason was the wild card, Cassandra was the silent powerhouse, and Dick was the one holding everyone together. You? You were just… there. Batgirl, but only when they needed you, only when it was convenient. When Stephanie wasn’t around. You hated to admit it, but she was undeniably a better Batgirl than you could ever be. You only saw that now, after everything you’ve been through.

“I should’ve quit a long time ago,” you muttered to yourself, your voice hollow.

They didn’t need you. Not really.

You clenched your fists at your sides, frustration building again. But then, as much as you tried to convince yourself that quitting was the right decision, you felt the doubt creep in. The sting of Damian’s words lingered like a cut, refusing to heal. What had you really thrown away?

Damian thought it was selfish? Well, maybe it was. But that wasn’t all there was to it. He couldn’t see it. He didn’t know the pain you’d been carrying all this time. The weight of the mantle, the pressure to be someone you weren’t sure you could be. You literally died because you wanted to prove you deserved this mantle.

But Damian didn’t know that. No one in the family did. To them, you were still 16. But you were 20, somehow in your 16 year old body. And frankly, you didn’t think anyone would have believed you if you told them. They’d probably rule you off as delirious.

Was it selfish to want to take a step back, to breathe, to figure out who you were without the costume, without feeling the need to live up to unrealistic expectations?

You ran a hand through your hair, pulling at the ends of the newly cut strands. It felt different—lighter, maybe—but it didn’t fix anything. The ache in your chest remained.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and walked over to the window, staring out at the Gotham skyline. The night was quiet, peaceful even, but you felt nothing but turmoil inside. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to feel so lost, so empty after making a decision that was supposed to bring you peace.

But all you felt was the sting of Damian’s words, the echo of a family that would carry on without you. Maybe you weren’t meant to fit in. Maybe you were never meant to be Batgirl. Maybe quitting was the only way to let go of the weight you couldn’t carry anymore.

But the thought of it didn’t bring relief. It only brought more questions. More doubts. And the ache in your chest kept growing.

Dick made his way out of the Batcave, the soft hum of the cave’s equipment still echoing in his ears as he began his search. He knew the halls of the Batcave well, had spent hours running through them as a child, but for some reason, he couldn’t place exactly where Damian had gone.

Where would he be?

He knew Damian wasn’t the type to go off and brood in silence. No, if Damian had something to say, he’d say it—loudly. So the question was: Where would he go to find you?

Dick’s feet moved without thought, his mind running through options, trying to remember every possible place Damian could have gone. There was the training room, sure, but that didn’t seem likely. The library, maybe? No. He probably went to look for you in your room.

Dick’s boots echoed softly on the polished floor as he headed toward the hall where your room was supposed to be. His steps slowed, however, as a troubling realization settled in his chest.

Wait… where was your room?

Dick froze in the hallway, blinking in confusion. His gaze wandered down the corridor, his mind grinding to a halt. He’d known you for years, shared the same space, even lived under the same roof for what felt like forever—but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember where your room was.

It was a simple enough question—where was your room? He’d been there countless times, right? He’d spent so much time around the Manor, yet now, all he could think about was the fact that he couldn’t pinpoint the location of your room. The door had been right there, hadn’t it? Near the end of the hall? Or maybe down by the study?

Dick’s breath caught in his chest, and he quickly shook the thought off.

This is ridiculous.

He was probably just overthinking it. He was the oldest, the one who had been around the longest. It didn’t make sense for him to suddenly forget something so simple. Get it together, Grayson.

But the more he tried to focus, the more his thoughts twisted into a spiral. He knew where everyone’s room was.

How could he not know? Sixteen years. He’d known you for sixteen years. He’d visited this house, stayed in this house, lived in this house for years, and yet…

His breath hitched. The realization was almost too absurd to comprehend.

He knew where Damian’s room was. Knew where Tim’s was. Knew Cassandra’s, hell, he even knew where Jason’s childhood room was—Jason, who didn’t even live here anymore. He even knew the little quirks about each of their spaces: the sword display in Damian’s, the books stacked haphazardly in Tim’s.

But your room?

His mind was blank. He couldn’t even picture it.

Had he ever been to your room? Surely, he must have at some point. Right? His stomach twisted as he tried to remember, as if dredging up a memory he wasn’t sure even existed. Why couldn’t he see it in his mind? How could he have let this slip past him?

Panic began to rise in his chest as the uncertainty clawed at him. He’d been part of this family for years. He knows you the longest out of everyone. He should have known this.

Dick stood in the middle of the hall, mind reeling. How could he forget?

Before he could descend further into his spiral, he heard it. Muffled voices, raised in anger, followed by the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut.

Your room.

Without thinking, Dick’s instincts kicked in, and he started moving toward the sound. He rounded the corner just in time to see Damian storming off, his face set in a mask of fury. He didn’t even spare Dick a glance, his steps quick, purposeful.

“Damian!” Dick called, jogging after him, a mix of concern and confusion flooding his mind. “Hey, wait up.”

Damian didn’t slow down. If anything, his pace quickened, and he shot a look over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “I don’t have time for this, Grayson.”

Dick’s frustration only grew. “What’s going on? What happened in there?”

Damian’s fists clenched at his sides as he turned his head back toward the direction he was walking. “Nothing you need to know.” His voice was tight, clipped.

Dick’s steps faltered, but he wasn’t about to back down. “Damian, come on—don’t shut me out. What happened with you and (name)?”

Damian, however, wasn’t interested in talking. His head jerked up with a scowl. “I don’t need you to fix this, Grayson. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Dick, unwilling to let it go, caught up to him and blocked his path. “Damian, I’m not trying to fix anything. I just want to understand what happened. Why are you so upset?”

Damian’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something more than anger. “Because I don’t understand it!” he snapped. “(Name) quit. She quit, Dick! And you’re all just standing around pretending like nothing’s wrong! That it doesn’t matter!”

That stopped Dick in his tracks. His heart sank as the weight of Damian’s words hit him. Standing around and pretending like nothing’s wrong? That it doesn’t matter? Of course not. He’s worried too. You quit? It didn’t make sense. But before Dick could respond, Damian was already pushing past him, practically shoving him out of the way.

“Damian—” Dick started again, but the younger boy cut him off, raising a hand to silence him.

“Don’t. Just don’t. I’m done with this conversation.”

Dick’s hand shot out instinctively, grabbing Damian’s arm before he could walk past. “Damian, stop. Just talk to me for a second.”

Damian whirled around, his eyes full of frustration and barely contained rage. “Why? So you can tell me everything’s fine? That we’re just supposed to accept this?” His voice cracked, just slightly, and Dick saw the sharp pain beneath the anger. “You don’t get it, Grayson. She quit. She walked away, and it feels like no one’s doing anything about it. No one cares!” His fists clenched tighter, the tension in his body radiating off him like a live wire.

Dick felt a heavy lump settle in his throat, a mixture of confusion and concern. He understood Damian’s anger—he was angry too, but his reaction was much more raw, and far more personal than Dick had anticipated.

Dick’s hand remained on Damian’s arm, his grip tightening ever so slightly, trying to ground him in the chaos of the moment. He stared at Damian, confusion and concern evident in his eyes. “What do you mean by that?” Dick asked, his voice softer now, tinged with confusion. “Of course I care about her, Damian. But getting upset won’t change anything.”

Damian let out a sharp, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “Sure, you care now,” he scoffed. “But it doesn’t feel like that to her, does it?”

Dick froze, his hand still gripping Damian’s arm, but now it felt more like a lifeline for him, trying to hold onto something solid in the midst of this emotional storm. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his heart starting to pound. “You’re not making sense.”

Damian pulled his arm away sharply, his movements tense and jerky. “Whatever,” he muttered, his voice growing colder. “I don’t have time for this. I’m going to the cave.” He turned on his heel, striding away, his anger still hanging heavy in the air.

Dick stood there for a moment, his mind reeling. Damian’s words were like a punch to the gut, and Dick couldn’t make sense of them. It doesn’t feel like that to her. What was he talking about? Was Damian implying that you didn’t believe Dick cared about you? That you’d somehow gotten the impression that no one cared, that no one was doing anything to stop you from leaving?

A knot of anxiety formed in Dick’s stomach as the implications of Damian’s words settled in. Did you really think he didn’t care? The thought gnawed at him, twisting and turning in his chest.

He had always assumed you knew how much he valued you, how much he cared for you—as family, as his sister. But now, he wondered if he’d ever truly shown that.

Damian’s words continued to echo in his head as he stood there, frozen for a moment longer. What did he mean? Dick couldn’t fathom why you would feel that way.

With a sigh, he pushed those thoughts aside, his mind refocusing. He had to find you. He couldn’t let this go on any longer, especially if you thought you weren’t seen, weren’t valued. He had to fix this, whatever it took. But when he makes his way to your room, Dick just freezes in his place. What should he say to you? What would make you feel better? Dick hates how nothing instantly comes to his mind, hates how he couldn’t form a solution to try and resolve whatever conflict you had with Damian.

Without another word, Dick turned towards the cave, his resolve hardening. He’ll just wait until you’ve calmed down from your emotional argument with Damian, and then talk to you.

how we feeling about this chapter 😘

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saintrosalyn · 2 months ago

Text

BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths.

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep.

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him.

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room.

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself.

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine.

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge.

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift.

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside.

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you.

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst.

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate.

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels.

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver.

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence.

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him.

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in).

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone.

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again.

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong.

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.”

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments.

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head.

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall.

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach.

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon is such a meanie #He's gonna give reader an ulcer fr

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lady-of-endless · 1 month ago

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Front Man/Hwang In-ho (player 001) x player!reader headcanons (season 2)

Author's Note: This season cured my writer's block. I'm sorry but I'm down bad for this red flag. I hope you'll enjoy it! Click here for a masterlist because there's more to come.

- He infiltrated the game either to make sure everything goes accordingly, either for a sick wish to mess with the players because he's empty inside (but not for long), or both.

- Unfortunately for "player 001", his charm and manipulation are obvious to you and you're not that pleased to see him getting close to the team you're in. Gi-hun (player 456) team. What could you do? Manipulate the manipulator.

- A game within a game, a calculated and dangerous play. In-ho senses and accepts this indirect challenge from you. He's interested, he feels excitement once again after such a long time.

- However, that's not his priority. He will push away his aroused interest to keep his duties as the Frontman and keep the game going despite Gi-hun's tries to end it.

- But one day, he noticed your mask falling for a moment, a crack in the role you played with him and that got him hooked again. He wondered what it took to break through that facade of yours and see the real you.

- There's a thrilling dance of fake smiles and fascination between you two that no one else sees. Just two capable, trustworthy, charming players.

- In-ho has a very cold but intense gaze, especially when he's shamelessly admiring you. However, you can't tell if he's admiring you or scheming against you.

- When your glass is full, you come up with a plan to corner him and confront him about his intentions with the team, without alarming the others. The plan was flawless in theory. In-ho sensed that something was up from the moment you asked him to join you under the bed bunks for better safety during the night. He complied out of curiosity, with a smirk on his lips. Every plan that's perfect in theory, it's never perfect in practice. The closeness, the intimacy, the tension, and the pent-up frustration all lead to something else entirely. Your planned interrogation switched to pure instincts and denied feelings.

(If you like this idea, let me know, I'll write a one shot)

- Since that night, something has shifted in your dynamic. During the games, it seems that he's trying to... protect you? It was clear to you during the mingle game when he was dragging you forcefully with him no matter the number the speakers announced. You didn't question it, you just followed him. You didn't have a choice; his grip and determination were too strong. God have mercy on those who try to attack you to get inside the room with him. You already saw his impeccable fighting skills so it doesn't surprise you when you see him in action. However, it's shocking when he gets to even drastic measures for you (like eliminating other players, we've seen it).

- In-ho is guilty of many things and one of them is also jealousy. He's subtle with it though.

- There's something unsaid between you two. He doesn't know if it's attachment or not, thinking that he might not be able to feel that again. Especially for you. But he's wrong, and he sees that clearly when, during a risky game, you almost got eliminated. He was about to lose it; his fingers were digging into your skin when he embraced you to "congratulate you." It was more than that. There was something desperate in the way he held him against you and you could feel that.

- At night, after that incident, he tells you his reason for participating in the game. Even though you can't decide if he tells the truth or not, you can see his expression getting vulnerable and his eyes watery nonetheless.

- Since then, whenever he stares at you, he's thinking of a way to take you away from this mess, next to him. He also thinks of ordering the guards secretly, to make some circumstances in your favor during the next games.

#squid game #squidgame #hwang in ho #front man #player 001 #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho headcanons #squid game fanfic #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game x y/n #front man x reader #squid game headcanons #squid game 001

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em-ontv · 4 months ago

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Get a room.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: After a particularly bad hunt, you were patching Dean up in the motel room, but he said he needed to be healed up the right way.

Content: fluff(?), kisses, Sam kind of being the third-wheel, no use of y/n, mentions of injury

English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 698

You and Dean had just stumbled back to the bunker after a long, exhausting hunt. It was one of those hunts where everything that could go wrong, did. Dean had taken a hit from some nasty vamp, even after you told him to be careful, but Dean? Nah, that word wasn't in his vocabulary. And while he made no big deal of the gash, you knew it was serious enough to need a little patching up.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off, grimacing slightly as you cleaned up the deep cut on his shoulder.

"Ow—! Careful," Dean grimaced, shooting you a mocking glare. "You trying to finish me off, sweetheart?"

"Quit being a baby," you shook your head. "You're lucky this didn't go deeper."

“I’m always lucky,” Dean responded, a smirk spreading across his face despite his slight wince when you dabbed the cloth on his wound again.

"Uh-huh. I should just leave you to bleed out next time, it would save me a whole lot of trouble." you muttered, beginning to bandage him up, nodding in approval of your work once you secured it.

Dean shifted, sighed, then flashed you a lopsided grin. "I think you missed a step, sweetheart."

"What step?" you raised an eyebrow, confused.

“For me to fully heal… there’s only one thing that’ll work.”

“What?" you almost rolled your eyes. "Lemme guess, whiskey and pie?”

He grinned wider. “Nope. Kisses. Specifically, from you. On my face. All over. Only way this wound’s gonna close up right.”

You snorted. “Right. Because that's definitely how medical science works.”

Dean winced dramatically. “You don’t believe me? It’s a foolproof healing method. I swear it.”

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging here—this is life or death." He added for good measure, tapping a finger to his cheek.

Despite yourself, you laughed. “You are so full of it, Winchester.”

“One kiss. Or like… fifty. But who's counting?” He shrugged.

You sighed, fully aware you were playing into his game but too tired to fight it. You leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, where his finger tapped relentlessly until you gave in.

“There you go,” Dean said, clearly pleased. “But you missed a spot—” He pointed to another area, so you kissed it too. “And there—” Another kiss. “And the forehead—” You kissed his forehead. “And—”

“Okay, Dean, that’s enough."

"Not enough. I can still feel the pain." He let out an over-the-top groan.

You sighed in exasperation, considering to either just punch him across the face or keep giving into him—you chose the latter.

Just as you were placing more kisses onto his face—the grin on his lips made him look like a love-drunk idiot—the door swung open.

Sam walked in with some takeout bags, he froze in the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the scene: you, practically sitting on Dean’s lap, showering his face with kisses, while Dean looked way too proud of himself.

“What did I just walk into?” Sam groaned, immediately making a beeline to the table to avoid getting another glance at the two of you.

"Hey, it's a part of the healing process, Sammy." Dean smirked, looking over to his brother.

Sam blinked, then made a face like he just swallowed something sour. “Gross. Seriously, guys, get a room.”

“We’re technically in a room, you know.” you said, getting off of Dean who seemed too reluctant to let you go.

"A room that you walked into." Dean added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Sam set the food down, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, well, next time, maybe give me a warning first so I know not to come in while you guys are having a whole smooch-fest."

"You're just jealous."

"You two are impossible."

"Buzzkill."

Sam just groaned in annoyance again, starting to unpack the food.

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling a bit guilty—though not that guilty. You glanced at Dean, who tugged on your hand with a happy expression.

"Next time, we're giving you painkillers." you said, lifting your hand up and running your finger through his hair.

"Not a chance." Dean smiled.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #spn #dean winchester oneshot #spnfandom #spn fanfic #spnfamily #dean winchester spn #supernatural family #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction

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vampireistic · 2 months ago

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failed replaced!MC AU

ཐི synopsis: diavolo has sent down a brand new human exchange student! one that, unfortunately, seems to be very keen on stealing all the limelight for themselves…with such pathetic results it’s almost endearing.

ཐི feat. demon bros

ཐི warnings: mentions of blood/injury, second person

ཐི a/n: yanked this idea from @squeakyducky ! ٩( ᐛ )و named the human exchange student “notus” after the greek god of the south wind because in the comic the MC is called ��zephyr” after the god of the west wind (not directly in opposition of one another in mythology but i thought it would be fitting). + also this is kinda long…(;_;)

You weren’t upset about having a new human exchange student, no-one really was, but just the gut feeling that Diavolo was going to throw you in as their guide was really starting to irk you (having to deal with several argumentative debate-lords thirsty for your attention doesn’t give you much energy to deal with newbies).

Who knew though? Maybe this was exactly what you needed; a break from all the fantasy in the world for a touch of realism. A touch of home.

However, soon as that portal twinkled to reveal a rather attractive human figure bursting with confidence, your latent arcane abilities smelled trouble. But then again, you were rarely right about first glance opinions on people, maybe this was just another instance?

Ok, well, when you tried going up to introduce yourself you were met with a glare so maybe you weren’t so wrong after all. Benefit of the doubt, you repeat to yourself. You remember being particularly snappy to people within your first arrival - it’s natural instinct! I mean the brother’s also threatened to eat you on the first day here, perhaps they’re just naturally standoffish.

“This is Notus, our newest human exchange student! Please be sure to give them a warm welcome.” Diavolo’s voice boomed across the council hall, eyes gleaming with excitement. Like the first time, the brothers introduce themselves one by one, each a little more on edge than the last - maybe they felt that weird energy too?

Whatever, you pushed those thoughts aside for the time being and took on the role as the newest babysitter for a human that seemed to have a much unnecessary distance while walking next to you.

──────────────────────

It started off fine:

Occasional misplacement of your items; an untied shoelace that makes you trip (with Mammon getting a heart attack as he pulls you up by your wrist); messing up an elixir you were sure that you measured correctly; and opening your bag to find your homework gone.

Childish antics that you tried your best to push blame onto either your own forgetfulness or a misplaced prank that was meant to mess with Lucifer. But somehow, it got so much worse - and that little demonic human decided to finally take fault of their pranks by flaunting it off with pride.

“Oh, MC?” Notus caught your attention with a double tap on your shoulder. “Did you enjoy the nature reserve?” Mammon tilted his head to the side, confusion scrunching his face as he looked over at you.

“It was really lame, Thirteen would’ve done better.” Of course you were not referring to an actual excursion, no, you mean the wild animals that had magically found themselves a snuggly home in your bed as well as the plethora of Devildom-specific deadly mushrooms and herbs that replaced your old plant pots.

“Hah? What are you two yappin’ about?” Mammon huffed, clearly annoyed that he wasn’t part of this big secret that you two seemed to share. Notus smugly cuddled up to him, arms wrapping around his bicep a little too tight. “Oh it’s nothing! Just a little…gift, I got MC as a thank you for being such a great guide!”

“Oi! How come I never got anythin’ from ya when I had to babysit?” His brows furrow as he clearly attempts to, rather nicely, shrug off the unwanted attention. This is the first time you’ve seen Mammon look so visibly uncomfortable - clearly oblivious to such a fact, Notus continued snuggling themselves closer, trailing their fingers up and down Mammon’s arm.

Of course, you ended up telling all of this Lucifer, to which he implemented a special spell on your lock so no sneaky human that’s barely acquainted with magic could unlock, with the reassurance that if these “pranks” and unwanted behaviours escalate, it would be taken to Lord Diavolo directly.

──────────────────────

Mammon was an obvious first victim for this weird power trip of a game - he’s as kind as a lamb and just the teeniest bit dumb (lovingly so, you reassure him) - but somehow the antics got more assertive and the targets much more hazardous. Satan. Honestly at this point, all you could feel was pity as you sat in the living room, nose buried in a book that Solomon had instructed you to study.

Notus had lived alongside you for a little over two weeks now, and while those small pranks continued, this is the first time you’ve seen them take on an “opponent” that would be way too much to chew. Sliding onto the couch with a careless saunter, Notus cozied themselves up into a cushion right near Satan’s arm, their breath basically ghosting over his neck. His face twitched.

“What?” Satan scowled, a face you haven’t seen in a while crunching his usually stoic expression to a frown.

“Sataan, can you please help me study? I’m struggling in Seductive Speechcraft and need a bit of…” their hand awkwardly inches closer to his hair, “guidance.”

“Go find a book or ask your lecturer.” He aids somewhat clamly, before that mask slips off momentarily to threaten them: “Don’t bother me, you’ll regret it.”

Well, that ended quicker than you expected. Guess even the ever so bold exchange student cowers at the icy glare from the Avatar of Wrath? You can’t help but giggle from where you sat, to which Notus immediately looks up for, facing twisted in an ugly scowl.

──────────────────────

After the failure that didn’t even really begin that was the day before, Notus went for someone much more gullible and easy to please. The favourite orange-haired glutton. Offering him a massive, drool-worthy sponge cake from the human world that they swear, “MC asked me to deliver!” He wasted no time in scarfing down the citric frosting soon as that familiar melodic sound of your name hit his ears.

Beelzebub isn’t known to be someone who’s reluctant to not eat things - unless it’s Mammon’s or Solomon’s sacrilegious cooking - but in this case he wished he could control himself when it came to things that look and smelt promising. Because soon as that icing coated his tongue, his belly grumbled with a heinous rage. Not one born from hunger, no, but rather nausea. Thankfully, Beel’s a big dude who can handle pretty much anything, so it’s not like whatever poison or foul-tasting potion that was slipped between the buttercream did him any damage (apart from ruining his mood), but nonetheless, he felt horrible and got a lengthy scolding from Belphie to boot.

He doesn’t blame you, you might’ve just messed up somewhere and that’s ok! Beel sets the rest of the cake aside with a little warning label that it made him feel ill and if it did him, it could probably kill anyone else, before scurrying off to find an actual bite to eat. Guilt did gnaw at him for a while because, normally, he’s easily able to eat anything you make since you make it with so much love! But Beel can also recognise foul play when he sees it and also comfortably assess that the icing used wasn’t mixed in the way you do it.

──────────────────────

These little instances stopped for a while, which made you foolishly believe that perhaps they learnt their lesson and decided to turn in for the better. Notus manages to surprise you once again - instead of targeting the brothers, the attention comes back to you. The original plan was; conjure up a curse on your pillow that forces you to have perpetual nightmares, which henceforth makes you irritable and hopefully slip up in front of the brothers, preferably make you so grouchy that you say something irredeemable.

What factor Notus failed to account for is the fact the brothers also LOVE your room, and a person who specifically loves stealing shit from you is Belphegor, who so unfortunately kidnapped that one pillow ridden with a curse while stumbling into your room with a drowsy head.

The House of Lamentation isn’t known for being quiet, so the bickering downstairs over breakfast overwhelmed the space per usual, but soon as those thumps of heavy footsteps echoed down the flight of stairs connected to the twin’s room - the house went eerily silent. An overly irritated Belphie ghosts into the room with darker eyebags than normal, his face hauntingly pale with a vein popping from his forehead, body limply dragging itself.

Notus felt the hairs on the back of their neck stand up as Belphie saunters behind them, looming over like an owl would a mouse before growling: “Do you always ruin the things you touch, or is this a hobby?” Belphie may be the youngest and therefore the weakest, but when it comes to anything dream and curse related, he will know exactly who’s behind it. And if you hadn’t taught him the slightest bit of mercy, he was sure Notus’ skin would serve Asmodeus as a nice handbag.

──────────────────────

Speaking of the jewel Asmodeus, Notus’ technique was much more…social sabotage based. Spreading a vile rumor around RAD that you made a disparaging comment about Asmodeus’ character was a sure fire way to get some sort of hate train going. Rumours spread fast around RAD, especially when concerning one of the Devildom’s most infamous partygoers, after all - and the drama was sure to escalate when the oddly beloved MC was involved. Notus devilishly giggled to themselves, before knocking on Asmodeus’ room, hands clasped together in faux prayer.

The door swings open to reveal Asmo adorned with silver jewellery that coiled together like moonlight kissed webs, earrings curling into shiny heart shaped crystals that he seemed to still be putting in. With a raise of a brow he smiled politely: “Yes, hon?”

“I saw the awful things MC said about you! I’m so sorry…you must be going through so much pain,” Notus sniffles, that drama class they took back in Year 9 really paying off for once. “If it’s any consolation I think you’re amazing…I mean even all your jewellery know looks like it was practically designed with your image in mind, it’s so glorious!”

Guess they took Satan’s advice after all.

Asmo is kind. Somewhat - ish…But not when it comes to people that use cheap tricks against his beloveds. Sure, the flattery was great, but appreciation is always better when it’s genuine and sincere, specifically your praise was something his vain heart sought afer. “Aw dear,” Asmodeus cooed, hands cupping Notus’ face gently, an act that makes them smile a little unnervingly. “If you knew me at all you’d know I designed these, quite recently in fact.”

Shit.

Notus felt their face heat up in embarrassment, hands suddenly clammy with sweat. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t feel so great to be caught in a scorpion’s tail. “Sweetie,” he laughs, patting Notus’s shoulder with mock sympathy. “You could never turn me against MC. They’re real, and you’re just…trying too hard, aren’t you?”

The grip on Notus’ face suddenly tightens, that orange hue in Asmodeus’ eyes tinting a more saturated shade. “Feel free to say whatever you wish about me, but utter another word about my MC, and I’ll drain your marrow and leave your bones bare of sinews.”

A not so nice reminder that bloodlust is still a form of lust.

That backfired spectacularly. Instead of you getting bombarded with hate and being shred apart in anything you posted, it was the newest exchange student that was the prime highlight of what desperation and pathetic self-esteem looked like. Comments ranged from anything like:

“Lord…this is just embarrassing for them lol”

“thanks for the tutorial on social suicide <3”

“an attempt was made…but it should’ve been with a rope.”

Much to you and the brother’s greatest dismay, the forum that was freely spouting random comments about the situation was gradually shut down under Diavolo’s leadership. He did find it the teeniest bit funny though…

──────────────────────

In naming pathetic self-esteem, a particular water dweller comes to mind: Leviathan. He was going to be a tricky one to lure (said in a hopeful manner as if the others weren’t total failures). Not particularly because he’s the third oldest, making his raw power single-handedly capable of wiping Notus away from existence. No, it was the depressing fact that he’s a recluse that seethes to himself whenever you giggle at a joke someone other than him has made.

Although, they did manage to misuse his social awkwardness to their advantage - by acting shy and nervous as they sweetly ask if they can also join the gaming session with you and him. Levi chose a multiplayer dungeon crawler, the kind where cooperation is key — and where you certainly have excelled before. Notus, however, had other plans.

Small, inconsequential mistakes didn’t bother Levi too much…you and him were good enough for the time being, but by level, these “mistakes” of theirs just spiralled uncontrollably. Taking up important loot meant for you, and even using rare healing potions on themselves at the wrong time, leaving your character on the brink of death.

“Oh no!” Notus gasped, hand to their mouth. “I didn’t mean to—uh, sorry, Levi! I guess I’m just not used to such a complicated game.” They glanced slyly at you, a smug grin creeping onto their face.

Levi frowned, his tail twitching with irritation. “It’s not that complicated,” he muttered. “You just...have to listen.” You don’t even remember when he switched into his demon form, but you can somewhat presume it was around the second the first whine gasped from their lips.

Despite their blunders, Notus managed to turn the situation into a chance for attention, constantly praising Levi in exaggerated tones. “Wow, Levi, you’re so good at this game! I mean, you basically carried us, right?” They laughed, shooting another smug glance your way. “MC must feel so lucky to have someone like you showing them the ropes.”

 Levi blinked, looking between Notus and you. His face flushed, but not in the usual embarrassed way—it was frustration. “What are you even talking about?” he snapped. “MC doesn’t need me to ‘carry’ them. They’re actually good at this!”

Notus tried to backtrack, laughing nervously. “Oh, sure, sure! I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“Just stop.” Levi's voice was uncharacteristically firm. His eyes darted to you, softening. “MC doesn’t need someone like you pointing out their skills. They’ve already proven themselves. Unlike, uh, certain people who don’t even know how to play.”

The match ended shortly after, with Levi muttering about how “toxic noobs ruin games.” He didn’t invite Notus back for another session.

──────────────────────

Lucifer’s patience had worn thinner than a threadbare string. The complaints from his brothers about Notus's antics had escalated from minor annoyances to full-blown disruptions of their routines. Asmodeus couldn’t walk down the hallway without Notus latching on to him, Leviathan’s game nights had been interrupted by bizarre "accidental" server crashes, and even Belphegor muttered in frustration about charms slipping into his blankets to make him "dream of Notus."

Through it all, you have endured the worst of it — every petty prank, sabotage attempt, and unwelcome spell aimed at undermining your place in the Devildom. You’ve handled it with your usual grace, brushing off bruised egos and minor inconveniences with an easy smile. But this time, Notus had gone too far.

Self efficacy is quite the funny theory - the more you believe in yourself, the more likely you are to succeed. The more successes you have, the better your confidence. So how come even without that, Notus seemed to be as determined as ever to ruin your mood?

The prank seemed harmless at first—a minor tripwire spell meant to tangle your legs and leave you stumbling in embarrassment. But Notus, in their reckless desperation to make you look bad, underestimated the strength of the curse. When the trap activated, you didn’t just trip - you were violently flung forward, crashing into a jagged edge of a chair (there’s too many of them in the House of Lamentation as you just got to personally establish).

The sound of breaking wood reverberated through the house. You hit the floor hard, crimson spilling from a deep gash on your arm where wood had pierced skin. Placing your fingertips on the gush of blood pooling around the scratches, your hands webbed with red iron.

Lucifer arrived almost immediately, his presence a storm brewing in the hall. His brothers, frozen in stunned silence, stood back as he knelt to examine you. His gloved hands trembled faintly as he carefully removed the shards and inspected the various wounds that differentiated in size and depth.

Notus tried to deflect, stammering about how it was just a joke gone wrong, their confidence cracking under Lucifer’s piercing glare. “I-I didn’t mean for it to—MC is just so dramatic, they—”

“Silence.”

Lucifer’s single word was sharper than a blade, and the room fell into an oppressive silence. His wings, usually tucked away, unfurled slightly — a stark warning of the fury he struggled to contain. He rose to his full height, towering over Notus, his face a mask of cold fury.

“You’ve been a disruption from the moment you arrived, but this? This is beyond forgiveness.”

──────────────────────

Notus didn’t learn their lesson, of course. Their jealousy burned too brightly to let them stop. But this time, you’ve sincerely had had enough, and with Thirteen’s help, you concocted a poetic dose of karmic justice mingled with a touch of the classics.

Diavolo was long informed of the incident involving you previously, and further filled in on all the previous attempts of ruining both your reputation and relationship with your family. A little meeting in the RAD council room was in due order - one which all of the affected were invited for a silly show.

Lucifer stood impatiently next to a stone-faced Diavolo. You would find it slightly threatening if you didn’t know what was going to happen in just a few moments. Thirteen sat next to you, swinging back and forth on a chair as she grinned at you with every wavering gaze at one another.

And like moth to a flame, blazing with both frustration and smugness, Notus strolled on in. Well, I say stroll - I mean struggle with opening the door before they accidentally put too much pressure on the handle, leading to the doors gushing open with a far swing, and the buckets utop the bar to drop down like catharsis.

A greedy sorcerer from sorcerer’s society that just so happened to notice you when you came in one day with a few of the brother’s and Solomon the Wise himself - Notus couldn’t bare the idea that a little thing like you could swoop in and charm them so easily.

Now covered in a disgusting, webbed display of pig’s blood and some sticky consistency of water mixed with honey, Notus simply stands there, allowing defeat to settle in while the crescendo of giggles cuts deep into their pride.

“Alright alright, I’ve got enough of a laugh out of this,” you clap your hands, whispering an incantation that forces a gush of water to rain down upon them, washing away the weird concoction that coated their skin.

“Aw what, that’s no fun lol.” Leviathan pouts in the background.

“Whaaat!! What a bore…” Mammon grumbled to himself, looking away from the sopping wet dog once his eyes accidentally caught theirs.

“MC…” Notus sniffled pitifully, looking up at you through tear-stained lashes.

“Yes yes, I know,” you sigh, hands on your hips as you try your best to articulate your reasoning for this baseless morality. “This isn’t forgiveness or anything, the stuff you’ve done warrants actual apologies but hey, I’ve had a few of the demons in here attempt to kill me before,” Belphegor coincidentally looks away, “a few jabs at my reputation with failing results was honestly a little funny.”

Notus’ eyes glimmer with shiny stars and fat blobs of tears as they murmured a very simple:

“Fmnf…I love you.”

“…”

“Huh?”

#also kept exchange student GN bc…it feels weird to make them either or lol #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me nb #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #asmo x reader #beelzebub x reader #beel x reader #belphie x reader #belphegor x reader #obey me x reader #obey me x you

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maskedbyghost · 2 months ago

Text

Shadows of Obsession

TW: stalking, home invasion, emotional manipulation, obsessive behavior, Simon in his stalker era

The first bouquet of lilies appeared on her doorstep two months ago, crisp and white, with no note attached. At first, she thought it was a mistake. Maybe a neighbor’s anniversary or a delivery error. She even asked around, but no one claimed them.

The second bouquet arrived the following Friday, just as pristine and silent.

By the fifth, unease began to settle in.

Then came the notes.

The handwriting was precise, the words simple: “You looked beautiful today.” “The world doesn’t deserve your kindness.” “I see you.”

She told yourself it was harmless, a misguided admirer, nothing more. But deep down, she knew better. Each note felt like a pair of eyes on her back, a shadow stretching too close.

Simon was the last person she suspected.

She didn’t know him well—no one did. He was a phantom, his face always hidden beneath that mask. She’d worked with him a handful of times, enough to catch glimpses of a sharp mind and a colder demeanor. He was a man of few words, fewer smiles, and no visible vulnerabilities.

Yet somehow, he had decided she were his.

It started subtly: a fleeting glance that lingered too long, his voice softening when he spoke her name. Then the coincidences—running into him during her evening walks, finding him already at the café she frequented. Always nearby, always watching.

She tried to ignore it, brushing off the unease with excuses. But tonight, all those excuses evaporated.

She woke to silence, the kind that presses down on her chest and suffocates. Something was wrong. Her apartment, usually filled with the ambient hum of life, felt still.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, scanning the room. The shadows were where they should be, the clutter untouched. Yet the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

And then she heard it: a faint creak of a floorboard, too deliberate to be a trick of the wind.

Her pulse surged as she reached under her pillow, fingers brushing against the knife she’d started keeping there. She slipped out of bed, her movements careful, her breathing shallow.

The hallway stretched before her, the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the blinds. She followed the sound, each step a battle against the growing dread coiling in your stomach.

When she reached the living room, she froze.

Simon stood there, his skull mask catching the faint light. He was utterly still, a predator who had been waiting for his prey to notice him.

“Simon,” she breathed, the name heavy with disbelief and fear.

He turned slowly, his movements measured. His hands hung at his sides, empty, but his presence was suffocating.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up,” he said, his voice low, almost regretful.

Her grip tightened on the knife. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

He took a step toward her, his head tilting as if she’d asked a question he didn’t quite understand. “Keeping you safe.”

“By breaking in?!” Her voice shook, anger and fear warring within you.

“You don’t understand,” he said, his tone soft. “You don’t see how exposed you are. How vulnerable. The world isn’t kind to people like you.”

Her stomach churned. “You’ve been watching me, haven’t you? The flowers, the notes—they were from you.”

Simon didn’t deny it. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze boring into her. “Everything I’ve done was to protect you.”

“Protect me?” you spat. “You’re the one I need protecting from!”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, something flickered behind the mask—hurt, maybe. “I’d never hurt you,” he said firmly.

“Then leave.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost pleading. “You don’t understand, love. I see what’s out there. I’ve seen what happens to people who don’t have someone looking out for them. You need me.”

“No, I don’t!” Her voice cracked, but the knife in her hand didn’t waver.

Simon’s gaze dropped to the blade, then back to her eyes. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer. She pressed herself against the wall, the cold seeping into her skin.

“You won’t use that,” he said. “You don’t need to. I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her skin. “You will.”

The weight of his words settled over her like a shroud. She didn’t know whether to scream, fight, or collapse under the realization that Simon wasn’t going anywhere.

part 2

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

what do we think babess??

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley #simon riley

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mariasont · 1 month ago

Note

hi!!!!

I'm soooo in love your work. bimbo!assistantreader wil always have a special place in my heart!!!

Now i have this of idea that i think can work for either aaron or spencer, but basically bau!reader who kind of always wears the same type of outfit in the field that's always really modest. Buttttt when they kind of like "know" it's just going to be a paperwork day she likes to were skirts... short skirts and Aaron/Spencer are just feral for them...

Can either be fluff of smut... I trust you indefinitely xxx

Short Skirt, Long Day - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi hiiiiiii!!! ugh thank u sm i kinda took this an interesting route so let me know what you think!!!! im also heavily thinking about writing a smutty pt 2 for this but id love to hear everyone’s opinions

masterlist

pairings: perv!aaronhotchner x bau!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, suggestive content, aaron being a straight PERV!!! (im into idk man), aaron imagining scenarios he didn’t shouldn’t at work, idk this is quite different from my usual postings but i kinda fuck with it

wc: 1.4k

Aaron Hotchner loved paperwork day.

Days like these meant the ringing of phones and panicked conversations were replaced by the only the sound of air conditioning (when it worked) and the occasional sneeze or cough. It’s the kind of morning he appreciated—time to breathe, to recalibrate without the air of an active case breathing down his neck.

But that's not why his pulse is thrumming more than heavily beneath his skin.

Hotch glances at the clock on his desk. It's early—too early for most of the team to be here yet, save for a couple agents whose faces barely register in his peripheral vision. His focus is elsewhere, fixed on a singular thought. Or, rather, on a singular person.

You.

Hotch leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as a shameful type of heat rises to his face. It's a little pathetic, he thinks, how predictable he's become—it's not the work that makes these mornings bearable anymore. It's the anticipation.

The knowledge that, any minute now, the elevator doors will part, and you'll step out, wearing something that will completely dismantle his carefully constructed composure.

Hotch had noticed a pattern (of course he did, that was his instinct honed to a razor's edge). In the field, your outfits are a study in practicality: slacks, fitted jackets, muted tones--professional to a T. Nothing flashy, nothing that would draw undue attention. He’d even go as far to say you dressed more modestly than most.

But in the office, when the cases are shelved, and the team is left to wade through stacks of paperwork... it's different.

And it drives him insane.

The image takes root before he can stop it: the curve of your thighs, tantalizingly framed by a skirt that seemed designed to test his limits. The way the fabric molds to you when you move, clinging in places that his eyes are all too quick to follow.

Hotch exhales sharply, clearing his throat as if that could somehow clear his mind. It's unprofessional—he knows this, knows better than to let his thoughts stray so far from where they belong but yet…

The ding of the elevator pulls his attention like a magnet, and there you are. His grip on the pen tightens instinctively, the knuckles blanching as his gaze locks on you.

You're wearing that skirt today—black, fitted, and infuriatingly short, hugging your hips in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.

He tells himself to look away, and for a second, he manages it—his eyes dropping back to his desk, his breath coming out slow and measured. But that reprieve is fleeting. His gaze flicks back before he can stop it, drawn helplessly to the curve of your waist as you laugh at something one of the other agents say.

You're too good. Too sweet. Too damn oblivious to realize what you're doing to him.

And he knows it's wrong—knows he's toeing a line he has no business approaching. But the way his body reacts to you, the pull you have on him, is beyond reason. It's instinctual, raw, and completely out of his control.

He calls out your name. "Could you come in here for a moment?"

You turn, blinking at him with wide, curious eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to grab something for me," he replies, his voice level, though every syllable felt like a tightly coiled spring. He motions towards the cabinet near the corner of the room. "The Marcus file. Bottom shelf."

He was a terrible terrible man.

Without hesitation, you step toward the cabinet, crouching slightly as you begin to sift through the lower shelf. The moment your body lowers, his eyes start trailing down where the hem of your skirt lifts, just barely revealing the soft curve of where your thighs meet your ass. Then, as you bend further, shifting your weight slightly to reach deeper on the shelf, the fabric stretches taut, clinging to your ass in a way that sends a jolt straight through him.

Hotch's throat feels tight, his breathing shallow as he drinks in the sight before him. You're so close, just feet away, and the angle offers him an unobstructed view. The shape of you, the smooth expanse of skin that's always just out of reach in the field, is right there—so achingly close he feels like his chest might explode.

He knows if you dipped any further, your panties would be on display and he couldn’t help but wonder what color you had on.

You’ve always had a meticulous attention to detail, choices leaning towards deliberate but understated at the same time. In the field, you favored muted tones—greys, blacks, navies. But here in the relative safety of the office you allow a little more personality, more femininity.

His mind turns to your preferences—pink, maybe.

Hotch swallows hard, pulse roaring in his ears. The thought gnaws at him, insistent and unrelenting—he needs to know.

“Careful,” he says, feigning concern. “You might need to check further back on the shelf. Sometimes the files get pushed out of sight.”

You glance over your shoulder at him and he swears he could combust. “Further back?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair to appear casual, though his grip on the armrests were anything but. “Yes.”

You turn back to the cabinet, shifting your weight again as you crouch lower, leaning further to search the back of the shelf. The motion sends the bottom of your skirt riding higher, and for a brief, heart stopping moment, the lace of your panties is on full display.

It was a pink barely there strip of fabric.

His mind betrays him, conjuring images he knows he shouldn't entertain. He imagines his hands on you, running over the curve of his hips, gripping your thighs, sliding that damn skirt higher until there's nothing left to hide. The thought of you like this, pliant and completely unaware of the effect you're having on him, makes his pulse pound in his ears. He wonders what you would do if he were to push those panties to the side and slide a finger in you.

You shift again, leaning deeper into the cabinet as your voice drifts back to him, murmuring something about not seeing it. His jaw locks, teeth pressing together as he fights to maintain control. His fingers dig into the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking faintly beneath the strain. It's a futile effort, though; the pressure building in his chest, his body, is relentless.

The heat pools low in his abdomen, simmering and insistent, a sharp pulse of arousal tightening every muscle in his body. He's painfully hard now, the evidence uncomfortably against his slacks, but he doesn't dare move. His mind a blur of want--what he wants to do to you, what he knows he shouldn't do, and the precarious line he's treading just watching you like this.

The tension in his body seems unbearable, and for a fleeting second, he considers how easy it would be to walk over, to let his hand graze your hip, to tilt your chin up so you'd look at him and see the wreckage you've left in your wake.

But he doesn't. He can't.

Instead, he forces himself to remain still, staying rooted, the self-restraint biting and bitter.

"Are you sure it's under here? I still don't see it."

Hotch's lips twitch, the smallest shadow of a smirk threatening to break free on his face. He leans forward, feigning surprise as he picks up the file from the corner of his desk.

"Ah," he says, waving the file. "Looks like it's been right here the whole time."

You straighten abruptly, brushing your hands down your skirt and turning towards him with a soft laugh. "Hotch! So I was practically upside down in that cabinet for nothing!"

He shakes his head, giving a small chuckle to match yours. Not for nothing. The satisfaction still simmers low in his chest, a private indulgence he knows you'll never suspect--the movement was far from wasted.

"My mistake."

"Well, I guess we all have our moments. Let me know if there's anything else you need, okay?"

When the door finally closes behind you, he exhales shakily, the breath spilling out like a confession. Leaning back in his chair, he presses his fingers to his temples, his entire body tense with the effort of restraint. He feels unmoored, like a man balancing on the edge of a precipice, one misstep away from losing everything he’s worked so hard to keep under control.

But for now, he’ll settle for watching, for imagining, for wishing—knowing full well that nothing could ever come of it. And yet, as he glances at the door where you’d just been, a part of him wonders how much longer he can hold out.

It’s going to be an impossibly long day—but the most troubling part of all is how much he’s starting to enjoy the torment.

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #perv!aaronhotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem reader #hotch #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader

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soov · 1 month ago

Text

CUSTOM-MADE。 yang jungwon

fem reader & fashion student jungwon ᗢ 15OO words ━━ fluff ꕀ college!au, situationship, repost ⌗ WARNiNGS pet names, kissing, suggestive (?)

“Do you like it?”

The black pen that was being spun around between Jungwon’s fingers stopped its movements as he held it with a bit too much force. He tilted his head towards you and chuckled sweetly, “Love it, even. Give me a twirl?”

Doing as he requested, you smiled bashfully like every other time you tried on his pieces. “Feels a bit awkward to breathe in this shirt, Won. The right side’s too tight.” You took wary steps towards him, fiddling with the ends of the miniskirt carefully so as not to prickle your finger with the pins.

He hurried to your side with his measuring tape in hand, “Really? It looks perfect on you.” Jungwon frowned, worrying more about your comfort than having to redo the shirt.

“Yeah, but I don’t think you need to adjust it.” You commented as his tape encircled your ribs. You had to suck in a breath when he playfully squeezed your side to ease you up. “Did you wash it? The cotton could’ve shrunk.”

“Mm, yeah, I did. Must be it.” He nodded and wrote down your measurements before approaching you again with a cheeky grin.

Jungwon grabbed your hands into his soft ones and guided you to the studio’s mirror. “Look at you.” He went behind you so you’d have a better view of yourself. “You look so beautiful in this set.”

And he wasn’t lying when he said that. He had been working on the beige blazer, plaid skirt, and snug shirt for the past few weeks. Jungwon felt incredibly happy with the outcome and how it fits your body; after all, he knew it like the back of his hand, and it would be surprising if something — apart from the minor washing incident — went wrong.

”You’re flattering me too much, Won. You should be proud of yourself first.” Staring at your attire, you did your best not to react to how he wrapped you up in his arms, his broad chest glued to your back.

“Oh, I am. I’m getting better, right? But I’m not flattering you enough.” Jungwon spoke lightly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You look stunning. It would be a sin not to praise how gorgeous you look in it.”

You looked away from the mirror at how vocal the fashion student was. It was common to see him make a few nice comments and go back to grumbling about how he should’ve used a different kind of fabric, not kiss the ground you walked on.

His caresses, on the other hand, were too familiar, even when you two were stuck in a weird friendship with lover benefits. You didn’t mind it when one of you snuck a quick kissing session between his sewing and clothing adjustments, which also seemed to be his subtle plan for the day.

Jungwon dipped his nose to your neck, right before the collar of your blazer started, “I have a new project for my next class. Might make you that dress you wanted so much.” The boy mumbled, lazily pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

Holding the strong arms that were around your stomach, you tilted your head back to give him more access and gasped happily, “Really? You’re not joking, right?”

“Of course not.” He let out a small laugh and the sound reverberated against your skin. His plump lips pressed to the sensitive spot under your ear for a few seconds before pulling away. “You’ve been my model since senior year, I need to start making more of the clothes you want.”

The promise was so simple and stupid, but you still turned to latch yourself onto him.

“You’re the best, did you know that?” You cupped his cheeks and pecked his whole face, to which he replied with a satisfied, wolfish grin.

After your kisses landed on every possible place but his favorite one, Jungwon raised his index and meekly tapped his mouth. “Missed a spot.” He reminded you cheekily with his eyebrows raised.

His tap on his lips made you laugh, happiness bubbling inside you. Jungwon didn’t even bother to move his eyes elsewhere when you caught his gaze, maintaining eye contact for as much as possible.

You took a moment to drink in the sight of him as he did to you. His bangs fell perfectly just above his eyes, and his mouth curled up in a beam. He looked so cute when he was excited — you could see the stars in his irises just from knowing he’d get a kiss. Unhurriedly, you leaned in, your hands still cradling his face, and pressed your lips to his.

The act was tender and quite desperate, but there was no one to blame except the three weeks when the boy had been cooped up in his studio. Jungwon’s lips were so sweet that you swore you were going to get a cavity just from the kiss.

He was getting so lost into you, nearly whining as his hands squeezed your body, head dizzy. But then, almost as if afraid of crossing an invisible line, Jungwon pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His eyelids were still closed, his breathing uneven, and you could feel his nervousness in the way he held you.

“Relax,” you soothed despite digging your fingers into his strong triceps.

He responded with another hum, his palms slipping under the fabric of the shirt he had made, his fingers brushing against your warm skin. The tailor trailed his mouth along your cheeks, up to your temples, the sensation littering your skin in goosebumps.

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face as he mumbled, “You’re everything to me.”

Truth be told, he wanted to be yours, needed you, but didn’t dare to voice it. The fear of crossing this fine line, the fear of trying something new, held him back. Instead, he let his actions speak for him.

Repeatedly, Jungwon pecked you and leaned back with a kissy face. Then, with a soft chuckle, he said, “I guess I should finish adjusting the shirt.”

“Yeah, you should,” still a bit dazed, you agreed, though part of you wished you could stay like this forever.

As he went back to work, measuring and pinning with a focused look on his face, you couldn’t help but feel the urge to touch him. You moved closer again, your fingers brushing against his as he adjusted a pin. Jungwon glanced up, catching your loving eyes on him.

He smiled, a soft and genuine smile that made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. ”Thanks for being my muse,” he said quietly.

You took in the sight of him so close, his features soft in the dim light of the studio. The curve of his nose, how his thick eyebrows arched highly, and his feline-like eyes that crinkled with his beam, all didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Jungwon…” You whispered, not even sure what you wanted to say. No words felt adequate.

“I…” The tailor began, but his tongue seemed to fail him too. Instead, he cupped your jaw with his nimble fingers, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin in a gesture so careful it made your heart ache.

There were so many things you wanted to say, try and ask why you didn’t just get together, or why you were being so hesitant, but it was obvious that none of you had the answer for it.

While you leaned into his touch, you murmured a question, “What are we doing?”

Jungwon’s thumb stilled on your cheek as he pondered over your puzzle. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “I... seriously don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Jungwon’s palm slid from your cheek to your neck, creating a path down to your collarbone. The touch was almost imperceptible, however, your breath hitched at the sensation. He seemed to be remembering the feeling of you after being too busy with his projects.

Your own hands moved on their own accord, one slipping to his nape, the other resting on his chest, feeling the quick beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Neither of you spoke, but you could sense how the other wanted to open their mouth and address the elephant in the room.

Finally, unable to stay quiet any longer, your lips brushed against his once more in a kiss, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words. Jungwon let out a soft groan, his hands tightening on your lower waist as he tugged you closer.

It was different from the previous one — not as urgent, but an attempt to communicate wordlessly. The boy backed you into sitting on his desk, knocking some of his precious utensils off to make you space and ensure your comfort. In all honesty, he couldn’t care less about them.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. Jungwon’s pupils were completely blown, his gaze holding yours in a silent question.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “We’ll figure it out,” you assured, “one piece of clothing at a time.”

Jungwon nodded with an amused laugh at your dumb joke. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “One piece of clothing at a time.”

𔓕　LETTERS FROM REi ━━ i always wanted a brother is such a goated song

2024 © SOOV

#ㅤ𝓡.#enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen jungwon #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha imagines #enha drabbles #jungwon x reader #jungwon fluff #jungwon drabbles #yang jungwon x reader #yang jungwon fluff #yang jungwon #yang jungwon drabbles

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months ago

Text

Title: Homesickness.

Pairing: Yandere!Silver x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 1.6k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @felix-the-lemon-king.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Physical Intimidation, Arranged Marriages, and Manipulation.

“You’re going to miss the ball, beloved.”

You flinched into yourself as you heard his voice, accompanied by the sound of clipped heels against stone floors and the slight reverberation of both disruptions against barren walls. A foolish, naïve part of you had convinced the rest that a royal guard – no, a general would have too much pride to be found absent from his own betrothal celebrations, let alone be seen in a servant’s hall, but you should’ve known better. There were many in Briar Valley who let their pride distort their vision, countless who allowed their rank and titles to overshadow even their most basic sense of rationality. Silver was, tragically, not among them.

And Silver was, tragically, the only resident of the valley you were engaged to.

You didn’t rush to respond. Patiently, you counted the seconds until he was standing at the base of the stairwell you’d took refuge in – not unlike the way you used to hide in spare bedrooms and vacant parlors as a child, whenever your parents were entertaining guests who had too many questions about your pointed ears and the scales on the backs of your hands. And, tangentially, you couldn’t say the bolt of dread that would always strike your chest when you heard you parents calling you out of that day’s chosen hiding place was totally dissimilar to the fear that knotted in the back of your throat as Silver stepped into your line of sight, coming to stand in the doorway at the stairwell’s base. He was still dressed in his regalia, his clothing evenly divided between the pitch-black armor of the royal guards and the formal attire that would be expected, given the occasion. His sword was sheathed at his waist – a sight that, weeks ago, might’ve made you somewhat wary, but that you’d since grown desensitized to. No part of you found comfort in the fact that he seemed to be constantly within arm’s reach of a weapon, but it was hard to be scared of something he never seemed to draw.

It took him a moment to find you in the darkness, his eyes more limited by it than your own, but he seemed to soften as his gaze finally landed on you. “You’ll miss the ball,” he repeated, his tone concerned rather than irritated. Another small blessing – for a knight, your betrothed seemed remarkably slow to anger. “Is something wrong? I know Malleus took charge of the arrangements, but if something doesn’t suit your preferences, I can—”

“It’s beautiful,” you assured, because it was. Because it had been. Because for any little girl from the Briar Valley or any other fae land had been in your place, this all would’ve been nothing short of a dream come true, but you weren’t a little girl, and you weren’t from Briar Valley, and you found very few things beautiful about the idea of getting married at all, let alone to a man you had only recently met. “It’s only…” You curled your hands around the fabric of your own attire. “I’m afraid I’m just… not very good at parties, I guess. I’m sorry.”

You half-expected Silver to frown, to urge you back to the banquet hall he’d come from, but he only sighed, shaking his head in a sympathetic sort of way before taking to the stairs and seating himself beside you, leaving a measured gap between your body and his. “You don’t have to apologize. I know you’re not used to being here, just yet.” He paused, flashed a small smile in your direction. Even at the best of times, you struggled to read his expression – not because he was overly cold, but because he always seemed to radiate that same uncanny, only a touch above off-putting warmth. At least a portion of it had to be insincere. Fae or human, there wasn’t a person alive who could be so consistently affable. “It took me months to adjust, the first time I left the valley. Everything was so alien – if I hadn’t been travelling with my father, I wouldn’t have lasted more than a day.”

It was difficult, but you did your best to smile, to laugh. Although your pairing had seemed strange at first, it did make a twisted kind of sense – a fae born without magic, raised by the human nobility of a country with only negligible ties to Briar Valley, arranged to marry a human with magical prowess in spades, raised in service of a fae king, for the mutual benefit of their homelands. You wouldn’t have been surprised to find out it was a part of some elaborate joke, the type it was rumored your kin were so fond of. It was only unfortunate that you had to be the target of their humor.

“The dark bothers me more than anything,” you admitted, before you could think better of it. “Where I come from, it’s almost always sunny. Having to live someplace without light and with so little warmth—” And so many cruel faces, and so many gnashing teeth, “—I suppose I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“It’s not always like this.” It was the most eagerly you’d ever seen him speak. “You’ve come during a poor season for it, but the view from the castle’s highest tower on a clear day is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and the valley’s coasts get much more sun. I’ve heard they tend to hold their festivals around this time of year, too.” He seemed to pause, to consider, then went on, “After the wedding, I’d be my pleasure to take you to one.”

At that, you let yourself relax. He was aloof, sure, but he was kind, too. You could be thankful for that, if nothing else. “I was planning to return home as soon as possible, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to stay a little longer.”

“Of course.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought you heard him moving closer to you. “Malleus suggested we continue to stay in the castle while you settle, but… it would be nice, if we had our own home.”

Your delicate smile wavered. “Silver, I know we haven’t talked about this but—”

“Unless you’d like to stay here, I mean. But, I’d still like to show you the cabin where—”

“Silver,” you tried, again, letting out an exasperated laugh. “I meant that I’m not going to stay in the valley at all after the wedding. I understand why I’ve been asked to marry you, and it’s not that I haven’t enjoyed my time here, but—” Another laugh, a pleading glance in his direction. “I don’t belong here, as you wouldn’t belong anywhere but Briar Valley. You know that, don’t you?”

Now, it was Silver’s turn to go quiet. When you found the nerve to look toward him, you found him staring blankly ahead, his lips ever so slightly quirked downward. Huh.

So that was what he looked like, after he’d gone cold.

You didn’t see him draw his sword. His hand was on his hilt, grip tight enough to bleed the color from his knuckles, and then, your back was pressed against the harsh slant of the staircase, the flat of his blade pressed to the base of your throat and Silver above you. You didn’t scream. You didn’t move. You might’ve forgotten to breathe, too, if you hadn’t been shocked enough to let out a single, airy gasp – just loud enough to be audible.

“After the wedding,” he started, speaking slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid you might not understand. “I think you should remain in the valley, with me. I’ll build us a house – a cabin not far from the castle – and you’ll be safe and warm for as long as I can take care of you. Would you like that?”

You opened your mouth, but suddenly couldn’t remember how to move your tongue. Silver angled his wrist, the slant of his blade pressing into tender flesh. “Would you like that, beloved?”

“I---” You forced yourself to swallow, to shut your eyes. “I want to go home, Silver.”

This time, you felt something razor-sharp and frigid bite into the skin just below your jawline, drawing the thinnest possible trail of blood. “And you will.” Then, after a measured pause, “And that home will be with me.”

He wasn’t cruel enough to make you say it aloud. All it took was a quick nod, a pathetically fractured whimper, and he was drawing back, returning his sword to its sheath as he pushed himself to his feet. There was no mention of swords or cabins or the blood now dripping down your neck – only long, weighted look, the implications of which you didn’t wish to examine. “Stay here.” Almost reflexively, you moved to stand, but all it took was a tilt of his head and a flash of his blade to have you falling back into place, paralyzed. “I’ll tell Malleus that you won’t be returning. When I’m finished, we’ll return to our chambers together.”

You hadn’t formerly been sharing chambers, but pointing that out felt redundant, if not entirely useless.

You watched as he started to turn away, only to hesitate and return to you. With a deliberate kind of slowness, he lowered himself onto one knee in front of you, taking your limp hand in his. “Of all the people I could’ve been betrothed to, I’ve found myself increasingly glad that I’m betrothed to you.”

His smile was warmer than it ever had been, and yet, you’d never felt so cold.

“And, eventually, I know you’ll feel the same.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twst xreader #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere silver #silver x reader

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explicit-tae · 2 months ago

Text

Repent

Jungkook goes through highly desperate measures so he, the shy and reserved church boy that he is, could pleasure you just as you do him. Of course, it never goes in his favor.

Word Count: 6.613

Warning: porn watching, jungkook being embarrassed lol, kissing, smoking, nipple sucking, grinding, slight dirty talk, oral (f), fingering,

Part 1 | Part 2

“Why don’t you try watching some porn?”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, biting the inside of his cheek. He inhales deeply, yet of course he should’ve known his friends wouldn’t be that helpful, but they haven’t teased him yet.

“You’re acting like such a virgin, Kook.” Taehyung snorts.

Well, it was good while it lasted.

It was 12 am and Jungkook couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was you - you and your lips. Your tongue. It drove him crazy the entire day and now night.

Jungkook enjoys his time with you, even without the sexual actions. You brought a side out of him that he never knew he could experience outside of a relationship; especially a marriage.

Now, Jungkook wants to pleasure you. He wants you to be on the receiving end of pleasure instead of him. It took him several hours to come to terms with this, but he and you were so far down this rabbit hole that there wasn’t any stopping now. You wanted him and he wanted you just as much.

“Cut him some fucking slack.” Yoongi grumbles. “At least he’s finally doing something about himself.”

Jungkook opens his eyes and huffs. “Is porn really going to help me?” he asks. “Isn’t that all…fake?”

“Eh, some of it.” Jimin says. “Who cares. That Y/N girl seems cool enough. Just ask her what she likes.”

Jungkook springs up, phone pressed to his ear. “I can’t ask, Y/N.” he murmurs. “She’s…so perfect at everything and-”

“God, he’s in love.” Hoseok laughs.

“Fuck you.” Jungkook mumbles.

The phone is silent, as is Jungkook. He isn’t one to curse, especially not around his friends. He knits his brows at how smoothly it comes from his lips.

Suddenly, there’s laughter from the other line and Jungkook can feel his cheeks rush with blood.

“Did Kook just cuss at us?” Namjoon questions, slight amusement.

“His little crush has him acting out.” Jimin cackles. “I like this new Kook.”

“You are never any help.” Jungkook groans. “I’m trying to ask for help with…with…”

“Eating a girl out.” Taehyung comments.

“And fingering. You have to know how to finger, too.” Yoongi adds.

“Look, Kook. I’m going to send over a few videos, okay?” Hoseok says. “You do with them what you will. You should try to get something to help you.”

“Help me…like what?”

Jungkook isn’t sure what would help him learn how to pleasure a woman well.

“Like…something you could use your tongue to assist. You know like licking ice cream? That’ll help.” Hoseok states. “Something. Anything. Just imagine it’s her.”

This is how Jungkook finds himself doing this. Headphones in, porn on his phone screen and a peach in hand. He feels idiotic for listening to his friends, but is there any going back now? After you had done many things to please him? He just wished to do the same for you.

Jungkook just didn’t know how - not really. There had to be more than just eating you out. You had to be aroused. You had to like what he was doing, too.

“Just watch the videos I sent, Kook.” Taehyung said. “If her peach is truly ripe and she’s enjoying it, juices will be everywhere. That’s what the peach is preparing you for. Duh.”

Headphones in, Jungkook does as he was told to do. It feels wrong doing this. He was violating a peach in order to get the feel of what it was like pleasuring a woman.

“You need to get your dirty talk under control, too!” Jimin told him. “No girl wants to hear “vagina”. Just say pussy.”

The sweetness of the peach hits his tongue and he has to admit it tastes good and does cause him to lick further, the loud squealing of the moans from the porn he was watching blasts through his ears. Watching porn felt just as wrong, but he would be lying if he didn’t find it hot; the act of eating you out just as good as the man on his phone screen did to the woman. Getting to hear you squeal and moan his name, maybe have your own manicured hands run through his hair.

Jungkook’s hard, his pajama pants tightening around him as time goes on. His mind flashes to you as he squeezes his eyes shut, his tongue lapping over the cut peach. The way your body would look beneath him. The way your face would look stretched in pleasure. The way now he would be the reason for it - him using his tongue or hands to satisfy you.

Jungkook flinches visibly when his door crashes open. He drops the peach on his lap, the porn on his phone sounding loud through his headphones. His eyes are wide, like a deer in headlights. His lips and chin are dripping from the peach juice and he begins to shake his head.

“Y-Y/N…Meana…?” Jungkook cannot hear himself speak at first. His cheeks are deep crimson and he goes to immediately turn off the porn and throw his headphones across his bed. He turns back to the two girls - Meana, whose eyes are wide with shock and equally as embarrassed as him. You, however, are smiling like a cheshire cat and appearing to hold back laughter.

“Kookie…” your voice is low and teasing. Your eyes are always mischievous, but now they are something more.

“W-What are you two doing here?” Jungkook wipes his lips with the back of his hand, wishing that God would strike him down right now. One, for being dumb enough to do this, at all. To allow his friends to corrupt his mind even further to go as far as to violate a peach.

That, and for not locking his cabin door. Jungkook never saw the reason to as no one ever roamed the halls at night.

No one except you, Jungkook should’ve known.

“I-It’s not what y-you think-”

“Save it.” you raise your hand to silence him. You close the cabin door and release a short giggle. “I know exactly what you were doing. It’s alright.”

“It…it is?” Jungkook glances at Meana who immediately glances away. She’s just as horrified as Jungkook is. He could die right now.

“Yes, Kookie. It is.” you assure. It’s now he notices that you’re holding Meana’s hand. You must’ve dragged her along to his bedroom to cause mischief, whatever your reason being is unknown. “We’re all growing young adults, right? We’re all interested in sex.”

Meana and Jungkook flush and all you can do is chuckle.

“I forgot who I was speaking to.” you shake your head jokingly. “Sex is the forbidden word for single individuals. Meana, come.”

Jungkook widens his eyes when you and Meana begin to walk towards him on his bed. He sits straighter and even goes as far as to turn on his desk light for more light, as the only light illuminating through his room was the street light shining through outside his window.

“So, who were you watching?” you say as you plop down onto his bed.

“Who?” Jungkook furrows his brows. “I’m not sure who. It was only a ten minute video.”

“You must not watch porn often.” you simper, finding the man utterly cute. You couldn’t wait to ruin him and show him just what you know to be true about him.

“I…” Jungkook’s eyes connect with Meana, and once again the mousy girl looks away in utter embarrassment. This had to be terribly awkward for the pair of them. “...not really…”

Meana crosses her arms a bit, warmth flowing through her entirely just as it did with Jungkook.

“Not…like I don’t want you two here.” Jungkook speaks, swallowing that uncomfortable lump in his throat. “You are my friends but…why…are you here so late?” Jungkook questions. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Jungkook couldn’t say it was weird for you, seeing as you were determined in your own right. You had broken many rules on the first day. Meana, however, was a different story. You and her being together was a work of your doing no doubt.

“Something like that.” you respond with a giggle, laying on your side without a care. “Have you two ever smoked before? Or is that a sin, too?”

You’re joking with them, of course.

“No…” Jungkook shakes his head. “Does vaping count?” he then asks. Taehyung had managed to get him to do that, a blueberry flavor that he wasn’t sure he enjoyed.

You giggle again at Jungkook’s question, but you don’t answer.

“Have you ever gotten high?” you sit up on his bed and go through the fanny pack wrapped around your waist. “Do you want to?”

Meana watches as you release a lighter - bedazzled with sparkling rhinestones - and an already rolled joint.

Jungkook’s eyes slightly widened.

“I take that as a no. Here,” you pass the joint towards Jungkook who grabs it with shaky fingers. “put it between your lips.”

Meana is just as intrigued as Jungkook. Your hand flickers the lighter as Jungkook puts the joint between his lips and you light the end of it.

“Inhale”

Jungkook does as you say, the burning sensation hitting his throat and immediately, he coughs uncontrollably.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “That was a rough hit.” you say. “Not that hard, Kookie. Start off slow. Then exhale.”

Jungkook feels his eyes water, his cheeks bright red. He was beginning to hate himself for having to be taught everything. He should’ve listened to his friends for years when they told him to let loose. If he would’ve known a woman like you would come into his life and change it in such a short amount of time, he possibly would’ve considered it.

“Do you want me to get you some water?” Meana questions, already getting up to go to the corner of the cabin where the mini fridge was. She opens it to find several rows of banana and strawberry milk and a few flavored soda. She grabs one half filled bottle of water.

“Thanks.” Jungkook murmurs, unscrewing the top to chug the rest of it down. “I suck at this.”

You shake your head with a grin. “I was worse my first time.” you admit. “Let’s try again, yeah? It’ll get better.”

Jungkook nods, placing the joint back in his lips and doing as you told him to. Inhale slowly…take it in…exhale.

Jungkook nods his head a bit. “Okay…I think I got it.”

“Meana. Why don’t you try?”

Meana is just as nervous. Her palms are already sweaty when her fingers take them from Jungkook’s. She lifts it to her own lips and tries to do the same as Jungkook. She coughs just as much as he does.

It takes about 30 minutes for Jungkook and Meana to be low-eyed and a bit giddy. They both appear to have let loose, laughing and joking along with you. Once tense shoulders now are relaxed and it appears to be not a care in the world.

“Feels better, right?” you say, your eyes on the ceiling. You lay your back against Jungkook’s soft bed.

“A lot better.” Jungkook hums, besides you on your right while Meana on your left. The three of you all staring at the ceiling - possibly past it. “I feel so…”

You wait for Jungkook to speak.

“...calm.” Meana responds.

You want to cackle at how they’re acting, but instead you push yourself into a seated position. Looking towards the two church goers and you tilt your head.

“You’re very pretty, Meana.”

Meana’s eyes blinked towards you, a light flush on her cheeks.

“Thank you…” Meana mumbles.

You grin at the girl. “You must’ve had a lot of boyfriends.”

Jungkook turns his head towards Meana and you, not speaking but highly intrigued into the conversation.

“Not really.” Meana snickers, pushing herself into a seated position like you. “I wasn’t allowed to date until I was 18.” she admits, her demeanor relaxed and not as shy and reserved as her prior self. “Now…I’m kinda awkward. I never really been on a date either.”

“That’s kinda sad.” you say without thinking. You’re prepared to apologize but Meana agrees with you with a rapid nod of her head. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Jungkook is more intrigued now, fully turning over on his side to watch Meana and you.

“If you count a kiss that you were forced to do in a closet with your friend's brother during a sleepover at the age of 12 then…sure?”

You nod your head slowly. You begin to hum, looking towards Jungkook. His eyes are slightly red and obviously heavy. You reach your hand into your fanny pack and release the tube of glittery lip gloss and begin to coat your lips with it.

“Do you want to try it?” you question Meana.

Meana looks down at your tube of lipgloss and shrugs her shoulders. “I can-”

“I mean,” you place the tube aside carelessly. “do you want to try kissing me?”

Jungkook feels all the slumber he once felt immediately subside when he hears your words. Meana herself is taken aback, her cheeks now fully coated with rushing blood.

“I-I don’t-”

Meana snaps her lips shut when you place both of your hands on her cheeks. She’s eerily still with wide, confused eyes.

“Let’s give it a try.”

Jungkook licks his lips, doe-like eyes unblinking. He watches you intently, as if the world suddenly begins to slow down. Any sound that would distract him appears to fall upon deaf ears and his breath hitches when he sees your lips - glossy and glittery - fall upon Meana’s.

Meana is entirely stiff as your lips are on her. She’s truly an awkward individual but you cannot blame her. She was raised in a strict household and church and didn't get the regular experience normal teenagers had growing up. This wasn't your first time kissing a girl.

Meana can smell your perfume during the kiss that further intoxicates her as your lips move along hers. It’s citrusy and soft; much like your hands on her cheeks.

Jungkook feels ashamed of the feeling of his pajama pants growing tighter. He was already semi-horny due to the video but as time went on with you and Meana in the room with him it was slowly dying down. However; it’s light his cock instantly began to become excited once more at the sight of two women kissing.

It was so childish, Jungkook thinks. Then again, everything he was experiencing was so delayed. He was a man but he felt like a teenager with all the emotions he’s feeling.

This was wrong , Jungkook thinks. It was an invasion of privacy to be watching you two. He was sexualizing you and Meana and that’s not what he wanted to do; but it was hard to take his eyes away from the sight.

“I-I…”

Meana is tongue tied when you lift your lips away from her.

“How did that feel?”

Meana’s cheeks are burning at your question. She was hesitant to speak about how much she enjoyed the simple kiss.

“A-Alright?”

“Is that a question?” You chuckle with a tilt of your head.

“No,” Meana shakes her head. She swallows. “It felt nice…” she says meekly, like a mouse that wants to run and hide from a predator. “I…I have to go.”

You watch for a moment as Meana gathers herself and stands from Jungkooks bed. He is even placed out of his daze for a moment.

“Are you okay, Meana?” Jungkook calls after her but she’s already halfway towards the door.

“I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?” you call for Meana, going to follow after the girl. Maybe your approach towards her was too strong. You were just being playful and sometimes others didn’t find it enjoyable.

“I’m fine!” Meana assures with a nod of her head. “I have to get back before my sister notices…”

The door closes quietly and you and Jungkook are left seated together. It’s silent for a moment, Jungkook staring at his closed door that Meana walked out of.

“Kookie…?”

Jungkook blinks your way and swallows when he finds that you’re closer than he expected.

“Yes?”

“What are you thinking?” You question him. “Your eyes are cloudy.”

“I..I don’t…it’s not important.”

Jungkook’s cheeks burn with embarrassment at how much he enjoyed you and Meana kissing, even if it was innocent. It felt wrong how much he wished he could watch the pair of you.

“Tell me.” you insist, though you had a thought. The tent in his pajama pants are noticeable.

Jungkook doesn’t have the chance to respond before you’re tackling him to his bed. Both of your legs lock him between you and you sit directly on top of his hardened length. You knew exactly what was wrong with him - you thought it was cute. You just wanted Jungkook to tell you himself.

“You’re hard.”

Jungkook grunts, swallowing the lump in his throat so he can respond. “I-“

“Did that excite you?” you question, interrupting him. “Watching Meana and I kiss?”

Jungkook nods his head with haste as you begin to slightly grind against him. “Yes. I know…I know it’s wrong-“

“Why would it be wrong?” you ask. Possibly because of his religious beliefs.

“It’s not right to sexualize you and Meana!”

Jungkook’s words caused you to laugh and halt your grinding. You allow your head to fall backwards and let out another laugh that Jungkook himself believes to think he’s said the wrong thing.

“Y/N-“

“You’re so cute, Kookie.” you coo, lowering your face to his in a swift movement that he barely has a chance to register. “So, so cute.”

“Thank you..?” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheeks. “That isn’t much of a compliment.”

You frown a bit. “Why not?” you question. “You are cute.”

“I don’t want to be cute.” Jungkook murmurs, this time placing his hands on your hips. “That’s embarrassing.”

“To be cute?” You snicker. You rub your nose against his. “Why? Do you prefer to be ugly?”

“No.” Jungkook squeezes your hips. “I want to be…I don't know. Hot?” he’s humiliated at just saying it aloud. “I…being called cute is too childish for me.”

You nod along to Jungkook’s sentiments. It was hard not calling him cute as he was such an honest person . So truthful and kind that you couldn't help but coo - and want to mount him.

“You are hot.” you deadpan. “I can tell you but you have to believe you are yourself.” you state. You proceed to kiss along his cheek before pushing yourself away. Your hands lay upon his chest. “What were you watching earlier?”

Jungkook releases a sigh.

“You were-“

“Please don’t remind me. My friends,” Jungkook closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “said that…a peach is like…you know.”

“Eating out a girl?”

Jungkook nods meekly.

“Who are you looking to eat out?”

Jungkook blinks. “Are you asking me that seriously?” he asks.

You couldn’t help but grin. “There’s other girls that could want to mount you like I do, Kookie.” you say teasingly, though you find the act of him wanting to practice for you endearing.

“I don’t really talk to girls outside of work and the Church. They don’t really approach me.”

“I think you’re lying. That, or just oblivious.” You state. There’s no way a man like Jungkook can walk the streets and not have a single girl approach him. “You just think they’re making small talk and not flirting.”

Maybe you’re right, Jungkook thinks. Yet he doesn’t find his eye wandering to women who interest him often. That was before you came along. And maybe that's because you're very apparent with what you want.

“So…you want to eat me out?”

Jungkook licks his lips and nods sheepishly. “You always do things for me.” he murmurs. “I want to do something to pleasure you.”

You smile down at the man. “You’re so-“

“Hot.” Jungkook states, his eyes squinting at you slightly. “The c word is forbidden for you to say in times like this.” Jungkook squeezes your hips and you nod at how serious - and cute - he was.

“Hot.” you grin.

“So…can I?” Jungkook doesn’t wish to sound too eager or desperate. But he was high and already horny. You being on top of him at this moment also didn’t help.

“You can.” you murmur. “We should probably take it one step at a time.

Jungkook nods slowly.

You place both hands onto his cheeks and press your lips to his.

With each peck you speak.

“You,” Peck. “have,” Peck. “to,” Peck. “set the,” Peck. “mood first.”

Jungkook nods with each peck of your sweet lips. His hands roam up your back and to the back of your neck, slightly massaging it.

“I’m sure you know what to do outside of porn.” you tell him. “Right?”

Jungkook nods a bit, still unsure by what you mean. He hums a bit.

“Like…foreplay?”

You nod your head. “Yes. Kissing is a form of foreplay. We’re doing that now.” you murmur, pressing your lips to his jaw. You send soft kissing upwards until you reach his ear. “Touching…licking…it’s all foreplay for what’s to come, okay?”

“Okay.” Jungkook murmurs back. His lips are eager to feel yours again, finding the feeling of them to be intoxicating. He presses his lips against yours and hums in satisfaction, finding that he doesn’t want to let go of you at all. He was afraid that this could be another wet dream of his that he would wake up from.

“Give it a try.” you say, leaning away from Jungkook’s warmth.

Jungkook is unsure what he wants to do, his mind clouded because he wants to do it all.

Your lips twitch, but you wouldn’t ruin the moment. If you laugh now - though it was harmless - Jungkook would think that you were laughing at him and his lack of experience. That wasn’t the case. Jungkook was cute to you - but you couldn’t say that now.

Your hands place themselves onto his shoulders. “You work out a lot?” you question, slightly rubbing them.

Jungkook nods a bit. “It’s fun.” he states.

You tilt your head. “Fun?” you snicker. “Take your shirt off.”

You don’t lift yourself from Jungkook’s lap but you do allow him to sit up so he could do as you say.

You place your hands on Jungkook’s biceps, finding them interesting. He did work out like he said he did and now you’re even more confused as to why the man acts the way he does; shy and reserved. He could be a fuck boy if he truly desired.

“What turns you on, Kookie?” you ask him, your eyes lifting from his shirtless form to his eyes. “What do you like?”

“I don’t-”

“Everyone knows what they like, right?” you interrupt. “This can be easier if you show me what you watch.”

Jungkook stiffens. He doesn’t want to show you the porns he watched. He prayed upon it several times to allow the sick and perverted thoughts to go away. They weren’t normal in the slightest and it would obviously turn you off -

“Why do you look like you’re about to pass out?” you laugh. “I just want to know what you like. Are you…vanilla?” you raise a brow. “Maybe you like to be a little rougher?”

Maybe you were enjoying teasing Jungkook a little too much. You weren’t expecting to come into his bedroom and find him in the act of watching porn and performing on a peach - but it was a start!

“How about I tell you what…I envision you doing to me?”

Jungkook’s breathing intensifies a bit as he nods.

“I envision…” you press your thighs tighter against his small waist, caging him right beneath you. He had no true intentions of moving you, either way. “...you being rough with me.”

“R-Rough?” Jungkook gulps.

“Mhm,” you nod your head. You lower yourself so you can whisper in his ear. “fucking me against the bed. Maybe the floor.”

Your tongue is warm against the rim of Jungkook’s ear, toying with him further.

“Slapping me a bit, too. Choking me.”

Jungkook’s breathing hitches. He squeezes his eyes shut.

The sinful, perverted thoughts were returning. The acts he has watched (shamefully) were being spoken aloud by you; you wanted him to treat you in such a shameful way.

“You…you wouldn’t be upset with me?”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling. Not at him, of course, but it brings you back to how cute you thought Jungkook was.

And how much you wanted to bring the man deep inside of Jungkook out.

“Why would I be upset with you, Kookie?” you murmur, your tongue sliding up his ear once more.

“I…” Jungkook swallows, his hands sliding up your back once more to feel your body. He flutters his eyes open. “...I thought about it. A few times…” he admits, warmth flowing through him at actually speaking it aloud. “...I don’t want to disrespect you in such a way.”

“It’s not disrespectful if I like it.”

Jungkook breaths a bit harder, his cock twitching. You felt it and you yearn to have it in you now, but you wouldn’t. Not tonight. He was already going through a lot in such a short amount of time that you would wreck him completely.

“Can I eat you out?”

Jungkook’s voice is eager and it comes out smoothly. No stuttering in sight.

“I never have before but…I want to.”

You hum, slowly lifting yourself in a seated position. You tilt your head.

“Do you want me naked?”

“Yes…please.” Jungkook’s cheeks are a dusty pink at your question. He hasn’t seen you naked since the first time you and he were together and the thought makes his mouth salivate.

“Okay.” you tap his chest lightly. “Why don’t you help me then?”

Set the mood, Jungkook thinks to himself. His hands softly glide upwards towards the end of your shirt. He slides his hands up, glancing to your face to see if it was alright - even if you had given him prior permission.

Your shirt is off within seconds and now you remove yourself from his lap, much to his dismay. You unhook your own bra - a simple, grey colored one that you toss aside confidently.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek once more as you sit yourself on his bed beside him.

Jungkook takes the initiative to go towards your shorts next, his fingers hooking into the hem and sliding them down gently.

“You’re very beautiful, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs, his face close to yourself. It’s gentle - his tone - and it makes you want to fuck him even more.

You’re naked now; this time on his bed. Jungkook wants to take it in for a moment. Lock the sight into his mind - maybe have a chance to draw you later on if his memory allowed him to.

Jungkook kisses you once more, his body hovering above you. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his clothed body to your naked one.

It appeared as slowly, Jungkook was opening up and adjusting. His palms are a bit sweaty as he touches you, but it doesn’t bother you. They roam your naked skin with such urgency, gripping eagerly at the softness of it.

“So, so beautiful…”

Jungkook murmurs, his lips going towards your neck. He inhales you for a moment, the familiar scent of your perfume you wore daily.

Your mouth falls open to moan slightly when you feel Jungkook’s tongue lick upon your skin, your arms only gripping onto him tighter.

Jungkook kisses begin to go lower. His right hand glides towards your sides until it lays upon your breast. He grips it, knowing you liked it just by the way you moan out.

“Can I-”

“You don’t have to ask, Kookie.” you murmur.

“Hm,” Jungkook hums. “Consent.”

You release a snort and nod your head. “I suppose you’re right.” you agree. “Yes.”

Jungkook lowers his head towards your breast, his tongue poking out to lick along your nipple. It’s something he hasn’t done before either and was told that it was something else girls enjoyed. He didn’t believe everything in porn was real, but this had to be right?

So Jungkook does what he’s seen, suckling onto your nipple while he grips onto the free one. He isn’t sure himself why the action turns him on. Maybe it’s because of the way your back arches slightly and you’re moaning? It tells him that he’s doing a good job; that you’re enjoying what he’s doing. That for once he’s pleasuring you.

Jungkook grinds against you a bit, his cock wishing to feel you entirely. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist to bring him closer, hands tangled into his hair. He goes towards the other breast, suckling onto it like his life depended on it. His breathing is more heavy now, his grinding quickening but you aren’t complaining. You were enjoying the Jungkook that wasn’t shy and reserved - the Jungkook you knew was there deep down.

Jungkook’s hands are greedy as they roam your naked skin. From gripping your breast to sliding down your curves to your thighs. He pulls it closer to him so he could feel you against his cock even more, groaning against your breasts.

“Kookie…”

Hearing how sweet his name sounds from your lips, Jungkook groans. He lifts his head a bit to look at your face that’s twisted into pleasure. “Yeah?”

You lick your lips, your eyes fluttering open to look at him. “You’re really good at this.” you say, your fingers slightly gripping his hair.

Jungkook’s eyes widened a bit, his cock twitching. He nods slowly, feeling a sense of pride throughout him.

Jungkook, eyes still on you, kisses your breast. They aren’t rushed. Instead, they’re slow as if savoring the moment. He goes lower, reaching your stomach. It causes you to giggle a bit as you are a bit ticklish, an act that Jungkook himself finds cute.

“I might not be good at this.” Jungkook admits, giving a final kiss towards your abdomen.

“It’s not rocket science, Kookie.” you respond. “You can try following what you saw in the video.”

Jungkook nodded, though he was skeptical. He didn’t want you to be disappointed in him. He was already embarrassed enough as it was that he didn’t have experience. What if you laughed at him? He would have no other excuse but to dig a hole himself and allowed his life to slowly diminish-

“You’re thinking too much into it, Kookie.”

You place a hand on top of Jungkook’s head. He’s now right between your legs, having stared at you far too long that you were beginning to wonder that maybe he wasn’t ready for this.

“If you don’t want-”

“I do want to!” Jungkook insists, fingernails digging into your thighs as he didn’t want you to leave. “I just…want to make sure you feel good.”

You widen your legs a bit, a glint in your eyes.

Jungkook finds that if he doesn’t do anything now, you would assume he was a scared puppy with his tail between his legs.

And Jungkook wasn’t. He was a man. Not a cute one like you insisted - a hot one. He could do this.

Jungkook presses a kiss against your folds before laying his tongue flat against your clit, slowly running his tongue against it. The action causes you to flinch a bit, but before Jungkook reacts, you press yourself firmly against his tongue.

It takes a few minutes, but Jungkook actually was getting the hang of it. You were surprised, truly. He hasn’t moved and lifted his head up for air and instead continues to suckle onto your clit. His embrace on your thighs are even tighter than before, truly assuring you don’t leave.

Your moans are what's driving Jungkook further. His will is purely fueled by the way you moan his name. The way your hips grind against his tongue and your hand tug on his hair.

Jungkook’s mind wanders to what Yoongi had said earlier about fingering. He isn’t sure how that would work or if it would truly pleasure you, but he was going to try. Whatever it took to hear you moan his name like you were right now.

Jungkook raises his head a bit, his right hand releasing its grip onto your thigh to center itself at your entrance. He glances up for your reaction, tilting his head a bit to see if what he was doing was right.

Your mouth falls open a bit as Jungkook slowly inches his fingers inside of you. He always see’s the men in porn start with two - he cannot imagine putting his whole fist inside of you; wouldn’t that hurt?

You’re tight, pussy gripping around his fingers. Wet, too, and it even causes Jungkook to groan at just how warm and inviting your pussy feels around him. He licks his lips, deciding to pump his fingers inside of you.

“You’re doing good.” you murmur, biting your lip. Maybe Jungkook was a fast learner - a few more practices and he would be as if he wasn’t once the shy little church boy.

“How do you want me to do this?” Jungkook asks. He assumed you wanted him to be rougher by your earlier words.

Jungkook hovers above you a bit, admiring how beautiful you were. It felt like a dream that he hopes he doesn’t wake up from. He lowers his lips to yours, and you find the act far too exciting. Tasting yourself on Jungkook’s lips just wants you to further have him in whatever way you can.

Your hand wraps around Jungkook’s wrist as he pumps his fingers inside of you, squeezing it for support.

Dirty talk - was that something that counted now? Jimin told him that girls enjoyed it and he’s sure you had to, as well. He doesn’t want to sound utterly disgusted that it turned you off. But…there was no way he was going to say vagina in a time like this.

“Does it feel good?” Jungkook murmurs, his forehead now pressed lightly against yours.

“So good.”

“You’re very…very wet.”

“Because of you.”

Jungkook feels you squeeze around his fingers.

“You…don’t have to be scared to be rougher, Kookie. I know you want to.”

Something like this felt so wrong - being on a cabin trip that’s a part of the Church. You sneaking into his bedroom and him engaging in such sinful acts with you. However, it felt so exciting not looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching you and him. It brought him through the roof in knowing that out of any man you could have, you chose him. Jeon Jungkook - the shy and reserve church boy in a fuckboy’s body.

Jungkook takes your advice and begins to pump his fingers into you at a faster speed, astonished by how even more wet you were becoming. It coats his palm entirely and he’s flickering his eyes from you to your pussy, unsure where wants to set his eyes on.

“Your…pussy’s so wet.” Jungkook hums, marvelling. “And pretty.”

You giggle between your moans. Your lips press to Jungkook’s cheek and you peck it before speaking. “I never knew church boy Kookie could speak so dirty.”

“I have a dirty mouth.”

Jungkook wants to try something he’s also seen in porn - and something he’d think you’d like.

“I want to make you cum.”

Jungkook’s warmth besides you is eliminated, but he makes up for it when he goes back between your legs. He begins to pump his fingers harder inside of you, digging against your tight walls. His tongue places itself back onto your clit, flickering between your folds more confidently. Now that he has an understanding of what you like, he is fully intended on doing this until you indeed cum.

It’s all surreal for Jungkook. He never knew that he would actually enjoy doing this. His tongue savors the sweetness of your juices that only appear to form more as he continues to lick. He’s like a dog starved, his head shaking back and forth.

Your back arches and your pussy squeezes around Jungkook’s shoulders. You cannot bring yourself to watch anymore as the sight of the once shy Jungkook between your legs was far too exciting. Your hands cup your breast, squeezing them for support.

“Slow down, Kookie…I’m gonna cum if you don’t-”

Jungkook doesn’t as that was the point. He wanted you to cum against his tongue just as you allowed him to the day prior.

“I want you to cum, though.” Jungkook says, rather innocently, between your legs. But you know better, especially when you open your eyes to look right at him. His eyes are dancing with mischief just like yours was when he was once in the vulnerable position.

“Y-Yeah?”

Your hips buckle against his tongue. Jungkook lays it flat to allow you to, yet his fingers continue to thrust deep inside of you. It was as if something came over Jeon Jungkook; an entity had entered him entirely and took over entirely.

You enjoyed this Jungkook.

This Jungkook was going to make you cum.

“Shit, Kookie…” you can feel it coming. Your stomach was clenching. “...I’m gonna cum…!”

It’s exactly what Jungkook wanted. He wanted to taste you cum all over his tongue - God forgive him for partaking in such heinous activities before marriage, but he’d repent for them. This was just a slip that he had to get off of his shoulders as if he hadn’t, who knows how he would’ve reacted. Maybe his body would have given out and there wouldn’t be anymore Jeon Jungkook.

Possibly he was just being dramatic as he could survive without tasting you - but he’s unsure if he could go back to normal after this.

You squeeze Jungkook between your legs as you come, body trembling. He doesn’t find it as alarming as he should that any moment he could pass out without any air - but it would be an amazing way to go, he thinks.

“Stop-”

You yank Jungkook’s hair roughly to get him away from your overstimulated clit. He licks his lips, doe eyes wide. “Overstimulated…” you murmur, though your body is screaming at you to let the man continue.

You lift your body from Jungkook’s bead and sit yourself up. You were growing tired.

“I should probably go.” you say.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, the both of you sitting in silence.

“You can stay here if you’d like.” Jungkook suggests. It was still late, after all, and you didn’t look like you wanted to walk back to your own cabin. “You look tired.”

“I am.” you admit with a chuckle. “You made me cum so hard.”

Church boy Kookie has returned, his cheeks reddening at your words.

“I can stay…if I’m not intruding.” you say. You lay your head back down, this time on one of his pillows.

“No. No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re not intruding.” he murmurs.

“Aren’t you going to lay with me?” you’re amused. You grasp the covers and expect for him to lay right besides you. “Cuddle me to sleep.”

Jungkook nods hastily, going into his bed and doing just that. He wraps his arms around your waist and you snuggle against him, head on his chest. The act alone causes his heart to race and he hopes you don’t hear it.

“Night, Kookie.” you murmur, eyes fluttering close. His heart rate was endearing, you think. You’d tease him about it tomorrow.

“Night, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs back, holding you a bit tighter.

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #bangtanwritershq #btswritersclub #jungkook smut #bangtan smut #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #repent #trivia-yandere #explicit-tae #church boy jungkook #shy jungkook

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bunny-jpeg · 2 months ago

Note

i have a prompt hehe it’s jenson x seb x kimi x reader. jenson convinces reader to wear a vibrator, but then seb and kimi find out and soon they’re tossing the remote between the three of them and not giving her a break, even in public 😩😩😩 she tries to grab it from one but he tosses it to someone else and she’s soooo overstimulated. shaky legs, tears, permanently hard nipples.

but of course she loves it too. maybe even lewis gets in on it later ;)

jenson button + sebastian vettel + kimi raikkonen with a small dash of lewis hamilton (set: 2012-ish era) - complete

i do accept prompts besides the bakery menu, the menu is there to help people figure out what they want a little easier! but, if you have an idea burning away in your brain and you want someone to write it. then hit me up! i'd love to write it for you!!

cw: smut/pwp, sex toys, needy!reader, over stimulation, crying kink, free use, groping, dirty talk, jealous!kimi, reporter!reader

this started with sebastian's cunning smile. with you on your back in his hotel room and your legs spread for him. the skirt you wore was on the on the floor and your nipples poked through the tight t-shirt you wore.

"you're going to be good for us, right?"

you nodded. sick desires often meant sick solutions. and you were happy to give these men anything they wanted. they could each have their own pretty model on their arm, but according to them, they can be rather prude.

however, the little reporter who seemed to get under their skin perfectly, was great to shove a toy in and have a little fun. and when sebastian got it between your thighs, secure in your pretty cunt. you held onto the covers a little as he thrusted it in and out for you a few times for extra measure.

he then tapped your cheek and waved the remote in your face, "today you're ours, right?" and you looked up at him, with a soft nod you signed over your fate. you'd be a good girl with three of the most powerful men in formula one.

it started normal. once you were in the media area you could feel the familiar weight of the toy inside of you. your pussy clenched around it as you walked around the paddock. you were all smiles like nothing was wrong.

you were surprised that the men were being so well behaved. but when you started to get curious, as part of the job. that was when the trouble started. you were too close to sebastian's car. while you tried to keep your glances from being too nosy, he could tell right away what you were doing. and when the toy started you felt a tremble in your knees as you tried not moan out loud.

you could feel the vibrations in your teeth. sebastian came closer and put his hands on your pretty clothed tits. he palmed them heavily when no one was watching.

"there she is. our little reporter." he chuckled as his fingers teased your nipples and you bit back a loud moan. he was always so rough with you, his hard cock poked your lower back. you were certain if he fucked you over the hood of the car it would probably be less stimulating than what you were feeling at that moment.

you felt hot all over, wishing you could strip yourself of your clothes. but wouldn't the be a scandal? you'd be stripped of all of your media passes and your job. but, you were certain that the three men who had a grasp on you would love that. if you went from reporter to pet. instead of asking the questions, you'd be on your knees. hard to ask for anything with thick cock in your mouth.

"you look so good." he chuckled as he continued to grope you. you held onto his strong forearms and felt the heat thrum in your body. it almost took it all of you to not topple over.

"seb." you swallowed. the vibrations made you shudder."

"aw, don't get upset there, beautiful." he said as he yanked at your hard nipples, "if i let you off early, then the others will get mad. and you don't want to see jenson all mad, right?"

you didn't last long. you never did. that was what made you so popular, any stimulation left you feeling like a live wire. you continued to grip onto sebastian as the toy continued to feel alive inside of you.

you quickly came and you almost ended up bent over the car. your cheeks felt like they were stained pink as you used the car for leverage. your legs were trembling, but you kept yourself upright. sebastian groped your ass one last time before he said, "don't get too nosy, schatz." he ran his fingers through your hair.

"seb.. please."

you wanted that damn remote, you felt like they loss privileges to freely use you. but before you could collect yourself, sebastian was whistling to himself as he left the area. acting like he wasn't hard.

the toy died between your legs and you felt able to continue with your day. even if the sun on your back felt more oppressive. and your nipples were sore under your top from sebastian's abuse on them.

"someone looks a little red." you heard lewis said.

"oh you know, it's just the weather. plus the plane ride here was hell, so it's just so much." you smiled at him as if the steady weight of a vibrator wasn't between your legs not knowing who the remote was with.

but that wouldn't be a mystery for long.

the toy started and you could feel kimi's gaze on your back. you reached for lewis to steady yourself, but made it seem like it was simply a friendly pat on the back.

lewis could feel kimi's gaze too, and looked down at you. he held his smile as he said, "is everything alright, seriously?"

you nodded, even though your body was heated once more. even though the mess between your legs felt soaked. and the toy nudged against your g-spot and it made you unsteady once more. you found your words as you said, "oh yeah, just a little too much sun." then flashed him a smile before you could hear the heavy steps of kimi's stride and his hand on your lower back.

"lewis, what are you doing with our little reporter. she was work to do." and you felt yourself cling to kimi a little harder. your knees felt like jelly as you held onto him.

lewis looked at you then kimi, "kimi, i'd be careful about getting too close to a reporter. you don't want her writing a hit piece on you." he laughed. even though you were certain that you were playing it off cool, lewis knew that kimi had you wrapped around his fingers. he was curious about how he was making you tremble so beautifully.

"of course, lewis." he chuckled, "but i don't think that she's that much of a troublemaker. don't you think, lewis."

you tried to keep eye contact with lewis but held onto kimi while the toy rumbled in your soaked cunt. lewis laughed and slapped the other man on the shoulder. he knew something that up, he could see it in your glassy eyes.

lewis turned away to go back to what he was doing. and you were almost on your knees. if it weren't for kimi's support on you. he held to you tightly and watched you shiver. with his hand in his pocket and held onto the remote. he watched your movements.

"don't stray off too far." kimi said, "remember, you belong to us. you're ours. no need to get too involved with anyone else." his other hand reached for your ass and you felt like you could easily pass out from the heated lust in your brain.

damn sebastian, damn kimi and damn jenson.

his hand groped your ass while you clung to him tightly. and his praise filled your brain, "good girl. see. you can be good for us."

you nodded pathetically and kimi placed a hot kiss onto your lips. you then came once more, and you had to hold onto kimi for support. your nose into his chest as you tried to keep yourself upright as you felt the after shivers of orgasm. you almost cried and when you looked up at kimi you had a few stray tears in your eyes.

kimi wiped them away and licked his thumb to taste your tears. he chuckled, "aw, so lovely. you look pretty when you cry." then combed his fingers through your hair.

when kimi left, you realized that he still had the remote in his hand. and while he kept in on for a little while longer which made you cling to the edge of a wall to keep some form of balance before the toy came to a stop and you could get some relief.

you panted heavily and tried to compose yourself before you attempted to go back to work. but the vibrations continued, sporadically. it left you digging your nails into your palms as you tried to go about your day.

you tried to ask kimi for the remote, but he didn't have it. instead he ruffled your hair and told you that couldn't help you. and sebastian didn't have it. so that meant one thing, jenson had it.

"jenson." you said as you reached for him. your hands into his racing jacket anf your face up against it. you whimpered as the vibrator continued to buzz between your thighs. you were heated and panting, "take it out. please. i can't work like this."

jenson took you by the behind and rubbed his hard cock up against your front. you tried to squirm out of his grasp. you whimpered and put your face into his chest. the vibrators could be felt in the back of your throat.

"oh.. i don't want to. you're a lot better like this." he said as he held onto your hip, only adding to the bruises that the other men left on you. you were a free use slut for their liking, "i like you better this way, you get into less trouble."

"jenson." you panted quietly as he groped your soft hips. he loved the fat on them, you were just so soft under his touch. so easy to bruise. you trembled against him and whimpered a little louder then with the other men. everything felt on high alert in your body.

he loved this.

you came for a final time, and you ended up on your knees. your hands planted on the concrete floor and you looked up at jenson with big tears in your eyes.

"please, jenson... i can't take anymore." you said pathetically. and if jenson had more time, he couldn't bruised that pretty throat of yours. but that would have to wait till tonight.

"i can't do that. not when you're so pretty. especially on your knees." he tapped your chin and could see the lack of focus in your gaze. dumb little girl.

he chuckled and pushed the hair out of your face. the vibrations died down once more. he left you like the others did when they made you cum, you didn't even have the remote. and you needed to get somewhere to decompress yourself. you felt hot all over and your brain felt over stimulated. being free use between these men was a bad idea. but you loved it.

it was a sick little obsession that made you feel hot in all the best ways. to have you go about your day with the toy nudged into your sweet pussy.

you were seated, thankful that the toy was turned off now. you panted heavily off to the side and pushed your hair out of your eyes. your cunt still kept the toy snug inside of you. the weight of it was almost comforting, but at least it was nice to not have it constantly buzz inside of you.

"thank fuck." you said to yourself, but then lurched forward to hold onto your knees. your eyes squeezed shut and you clenched onto your knees. you let out a small moan, and when you opened your eyes and looked up. it wasn't kimi, it wasn't jenson, it wasn't even the devil sebastian.

it was lewis hamilton who smiled at you with the remote in hand. he slowly turned up the volume and you were practically trembling like a leaf. you swallowed and said, "please."

he tapped you on top of the head with the remote and chuckled, "oh, you didn't complain when the others used you. why start now? at least if you give me what i want. you can get yours soon after." then put the remote down to get his cock out of his pants.

and you had no choice, hair out of your face and eyes closed. you went to work. you promised to be good after all. <3

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ivyasproperty · 3 months ago

Text

Necklace.

agathario x fem!witch!reader

summary - You made an impulsive decision and bought a necklace adorned with gems. Why?

warning(s) - some cursing

word count : 967

A/N : here reader is also a witch, but it's mentioned only once soooo..

men / minors dni!

You have no idea why you bought it. You were already struggling financially, so why in gods name did you buy a necklace worth almost your entire fortune?! You tried to calm down your racing mind, sweating buckets as you try and figure out why you made the impulsive decision to buy a necklace. You thought maybe because it was beautiful, adorned with purple and green gems, but you've seen multiple magnificent things in life and you've never made the stupid decision to buy it, even when you wanted it so badly, so when egged you to buy this monstrosity?

As you paced around your living room, necklace in hand, a sudden knock at your front door caught your attention. With how loudly and rapidly they were knocking, they've probably been at it for awhile now. You rushed to the door, not wanting to keep the person waiting and seem like a bad person, but stopped halfway. You were living in the middle of nowhere. The reason being running away from the witch hunters. Yes, you had powers, powerful ones in fact, but harming others never sat right with you. And if harming someone or something didn't sit right with you, don't even mention killing someone.

So as quickly as you could, you placed the necklace down and grabbed a nearby frying pan, just for extra measures, and rushed to open the door, but not before peeping through the windows. After seeing who was outside, you sighed in annoyance and reluctantly opened the front door. Standing there was the one and only infamous witch killer, Agatha Harkness, and beside her, Lady Death, also known as your past lovers. Things were rocky after your break up, and even though it took you awhile for your heart to heal, you managed. But seeing them in front of you brought back all the buried up emotions you spent forever to get over.

"What do you want?" "We need somewhere to camp out, pet.", said Agatha. Before you could even reply her, she brushed past you and welcomed herself into your humble abroad. "Yes, do come in," the sentence was very obviously dripped with sarcasm, but Agatha decided to ignore it. You looked back to the front door, not surprised Rio wasn't standing there, she probably teleported herself inside. As you closed the door, Agatha spoke up "What's this necklace doing here? I have to say, it is a beauty, but aren't you like... broke?" "Don't be rude." said the green witch. You snatched the necklace out of her hands and rolled your eyes, "It's none of your business, Agatha."

And as you walked away to the kitchen, necklace still in hand, that's when you realized the reason you bought the necklace Well fuck, you were in deep shit. You kept asking yourself a certain question, didn't you get over them? And you always said yes, but I guess your dumbass still hasn't gotten over them. But who could blame you? Agatha's crystal blue eyes, Rio's dark brownish hair.... oh god you were trailing off again.

As you stood there in a daze, Agatha and Rio stared at you with utter confusion. You've always been a responsive and quick-witted person, so seeing you just standing there in your own world was certainly a new experience. "What's wrong with her?", whispered Agatha, "How the hell am I supposed to know?" You came back to your senses while they were whispering, not sure how to stay calm. You were supposed to be over them! Gone! Out of your heart and mind! But as you looked back down at the necklace in your hands, you couldn't help the longing stare you gave to both the necklace and them.

Rio could sense it, the longing, the wanting them back. She nudged the witch standing beside her, whose attention was occupied by the horrid decorations of your home, which you tried make do. As she looked at you, she too couldn't help but notice the stare you were giving them. To be honest, the reason the two witches came to your doorstep was because they wanted to try and mend the relationship you guys once had. Sure, they were content with each other, but you were still etched into their minds. And with that, they just needed to exchange a knowing look and went along with their plan to win you back.

You didn't notice them moving from their spot, too focused on the necklace in your hands. So it was an understatement at the fact you were startled when two pair of hands wrapped around you. But you didn't jump away from their embrace, instead leaning into the two pair of arms. You missed this, the warmth they radiated from their bodies. Rio took the necklace and clipped it around your neck as Agatha hugged you tighter, not willing to let go as she inhaled your scent, not wanting to forget it even though it was already embedded into her senses.

"I missed this," whispered Agatha. "We all did, and we're sorry, darling. For what we've done. Agatha and I were wondering if.... you'd like to give it another chance?" It was rare for Rio's voice to be this soft. She's always been this cold hearted woman, but the vulnerability in her voice didn't startle you, instead it brought a warmness to your heart. You stood there in their embrace for awhile, contemplating whether you should accept their proposal or not. "Last chance," you whispered.

And as you three stood there together, their hands traveled to the necklace around your neck. And you felt a tingly sensation in your stomach. You should've realized the reason you bought the necklace sooner, considering how the gems that adorned it were the signature colors of your two lovers.

A/N : not that big of a fan of this but whatever!!!! hope you enjoyed this! don't hesitate to give a request!!! ><

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal #rio vidal x reader #marvel #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha x reader #agatha x you #rio x reader #rio x you #ivyawrites.ᐟ

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chososdiscordkitten · 11 months ago

Text

I'm Stuck!

artist: yunonoai on twt

Synopsis: Gojo buys new washing machines nd chooses a shitty placement for em ⸜( ´ ꒳ ` )⸝

Pairing: Gojo x Fem!Reader Content: smut, implied reader is thicker than a snicker, established relationship, teasing, r gets stuck between a wall nd said machines, dirty talk, multiple orgasms (f), a sprinkle of manhandling, he refuses to admit he's wrong, cream pie

(a.n) if u wanna see what I picture- look at this

MDNI

When you first moved in with Gojo, you became all too aware of the fact that he was very particular about his design choices. Almost all your suggestions were vetoed the minute you would offer them.

And when the cheap washing machines that came with his apartment broke; You saw this as an opportunity to control at least one room in the now-shared apartment.

You stood beside Satoru in the laundry room- eyeing the small space and telling him, “If you put them here,” referencing the back wall of the rectangle room, “-it’ll feel more open.” you pointed at the wall. Looking at his pensive expression.

Gojo was just petty enough to ignore your suggestion. Holding a measuring tape and looking at the 28-inch mark. “The website says they’re this big-” looking up at you as he measured.

Even if you were kinda right- Satoru wanted to put the washer and dryer pair on the opposite side. Leaving only the entrance of the small room- and a small gap between the wall and the massive machines.

You parted your lips- about to speak. Remembering the photo Satoru had shown you of the machines- far better and more modern than the old ones that opened at the top.

These new ones had doors that opened outwards- and as you looked at the gap between where the machines would go, and where the wall was. You were sure they wouldn’t be able to open fully.

But you held your tongue- knowing Satoru would mull it over for a few days before telling you that you were right.

The space was small- sure. But you were sure it was enough space to fit through, and besides, how long would Satoru let those machines sit in the wrong place before calling someone to help switch their placement.

On the day of delivery, Satoru looked at the machines as though they were his pride and joy, like he was the one who did all the washing in the house.

The way the handymen looked at your idiot boyfriend was laugh-worthy. “They’ll go against that wall”, he instructed.

You were sure the men struggled more in placing them where Satoru instructed than if they just flipped them and pushed them to the back wall.

Satoru generously tipped them for their efforts, and once they left, you stood at the small doorway. Looking at the washing machines placed against the wall as though it were a laundromat.

“I hate saying it-” he clicked his tongue, leaning against the machine and looking at you smugly. “But I told you so~”

You grinned- amused at how right he thought he was. You winced, “Do me a favor real quick-” fighting off the laugh about to rumble from your chest. “Open one of the doors.”

Satoru furrowed his eyebrows at your request, dragging a hand down to the circular door. Smugly popping it open, only to hear it ding against the wall. You puffed a small laugh from your nose at how his face fell.

“And..” you started, walking towards him and fwipping your hand up and down- guiding him to move.

Stepping into the small gap between the machine and the wall with the door open, and letting a small giggle leave your lips as your thick thighs pressed against the metal.

Satoru looked down at your hips that were flush against the machine- he measured how much space the machines took up. But Gojo didn’t account for the space you would need to do laundry properly.

You turned your head, looking at him over your shoulder. Watching him pull his lips to the side, thinking up some snide remark about how he was still right.

Even a week after having those machines in the most inconvenient place- Satoru refused to admit he was wrong. He refused to call the handymen back and have them move the machines where you told him to.

You were more affected by his mistake than he was. Bothersome little doors that had hit you more times than you could count when they would bounce off the wall.

And all the times you would feel your hips brush against the open machines- you would furrow your eyebrows. Recalling how petty he could be.

Truth being- Satoru hadn’t called the handymen to fix the minor problem because when you first stepped into the small space of the laundry room- Seeing your thighs press against the machine made him hope you would get stuck one day.

As though he had manifested it- the day came.

You were doing laundry per usual- struggling with the stupid doors and growing more and more irritated by the second.

And when you thought you were finally finished- slamming the dryers door shut and hearing it whirr.

You turned around to see a discarded sock on the ground, thinking nothing of it and stepping back into the small space- hips pressed against the slightly protruding door of the dryer. Picking up the sock with a small huff.

Straightening back up and aiming to take a step back. Only to feel resistance from the wall- you tried shifting with even more strength. Only for the wall and machine to refuse to let you go.

You looked to the machine- recalling all the times this very same scenario had happened. Wondering what went wrong this time. And seeing the clear plastic bubble-like door trap your hips. Add that with the bending- causing your hips to widen in the slightest.

You sighed- frustrated that you had actually managed to get stuck in the small space. You tried a few more steps- a small wiggle, a aimed step back- nothing worked.

And wearing mini shorts- practically underwear that left your plush thighs exposed against the wall and the plastic door. Knowing it would only hurt if you pushed yourself out.

You held the stupid black sock in your hand as you contemplated calling out to the idiot that waited for you in the living room.

You shouted his name once- waiting a few seconds to see if he would come running to see what was wrong.

Only Satoru was sat with a handful of unfolded socks in his lap, watching the show you normally watched together- so focused on the scene playing out before him.

You closed your eyes- cringing at the cliche you were in. Calling his name once more- with more urgency and a gruff to it. That’s what pulled Satoru from his focus on the tv show.

His hand reached for the remote and pressed pause- trying to determine if he was just imagining things or if you actually called out to him.

And when you called out to him a third time, Satoru tossed the socks from his lap and ran to the laundry room. All the urgency in the world.

Worried you had seen a bug, or a home invasion- or every single dangerous thing he could picture happening. Running into the room asking you what was wro-

His lips parted in amazement once he saw your bottom trapped between the machine’s door and the wall. Staring at your exposed thighs and the crease of your ass.

“Don’t just stand there- go get some baby oil or something to get me ou-” Satoru reached a hand out to your bottom, causing you to silence your directions. His cheeks flushed and eyes glimmering full of the possibilities.

Satoru sighed and smiled, looking up to the ceiling with closed eyes to thank the deity that had granted him his wish.

Looking back down to your ass- slightly bent and you trying to reach a hand back to push him off, all but telling him again to go get something to help you out.

But knowing your boyfriend and his peculiar tastes- this was brewing in his mind from the minute he saw your hips against the small space.

“I prayed for this.” he whispered, earning a small ‘what?’ to leave your lips.

Satoru placed both of his hands on your bottom, his long fingers sliding beneath the light fabric of your shorts. Softly groping at the skin and peaked his eyebrows. You only clenched your jaw and closed your eyes.

Hearing the ramblings of the man behind you. “You should’ve just listened to me.” you scoffed, planting your hands on the wall in front of you as though Gojo was doing a body search, trailing his fingers down your clothed core.

His eyes dimmed- watching the light goosebumps form on your skin, lightly pressing his fingers against the little mound beneath your shorts. Earning a small exhale laced with a whimper to leave your lips. His other hand groped firmly at your ass, enjoying the view below him.

“No. I know now I was right not to listen to you.” Satoru grinned menacingly, watching your hips try to shift against the whirring machine next to you.

The tips of his fingers against your clothed core making you let out a shivering huff. “You still want me to help you out?~” Gojo asked- too smug to be considered as a genuine offer.

Satoru made light circles on the little mound at the top of your cunt- shivers running down your thighs as you tried to muster the words.

“You must’ve planned this-” he scoffed, trailing his fingers to the side of your shorts. A small damp spot formed on them, telling Gojo all he needed to know. “Prancing around all day wearing this-”

You parted your mouth- feeling the cool air hit your dampening cunt that pulsed with every accusation he spouted at you.

Satoru sucked his teeth- placing the tips of his fingers on your clit, causing a small gasp to fall from your throat. You let out a ragged breath, his fingers starting small circles against you.

Trying to keep your legs from buckling at the slow pace Satoru held. A small ‘tsk’ left his lips, full of feigned disappointment. “Tryna tempt me allll day.” The smile evident in his tone.

You only breathed a small whimper at his words- knowing it wasn’t true, but what state were you in to deny it?

“M’pretty sure I saw your pretty pussy a handful of times~” he purred- fastening his pace in the slightest.

Your breathing took up in pace- trying not to let out the small moans Satoru was pulling from you with every small circle he made against you.

The bulge in Gojo’s bottoms grew with every little whimper you let out- his hard cock twitching beneath the fabric as soft moans left your lips, landing in his ears as harmonies.

“If you wanted me to fuck you that badly-” he hummed, quickening his fingers and hearing the low squelches coming from your cunt. Knees threatening to buckle as Satoru trailed the hand on your ass up your slightly arched back, pushing up the hem of your t-shirt.

“All you had to do was ask, baby.” he cooed, watching your hands on the wall start to slip as your moans became louder, feeling Gojo’s hard bulge pressing against your ass. Desperate to get some kind of friction, whereas you- were desperate to finish.

An orgasm so close it had one of your eyes shut and the other threatening to follow its movements- “You didn’t have to scheme up ways for me to fuck you.” he teased, trying to dig your fingers into the wall as Satoru watched you come undone, cunt clenching around nothing.

Feeling your core pulse onto his fingertips, small shivering sighs leave your lungs as he works you down an orgasm. You steady your breathing- becoming more aware of Gojo’s bulge pressing onto your plump bottom.

You clenched your teeth- Satoru’s fingers trailing from your clit down to the source of the slick that coated his digits. The other resting on your side to stabilize you. Wouldn’t want you to come unstuck too soon now.

You were glad you were faced away from him- your vision bordering on going double and the heat rising to your cheeks just thinking about the cliche you were in. Thinking of how easily accessible you were to him at that moment.

You started feeling his fingers dip into your entrance- too slow and far too eager to prep you. “Just-” you huffed, feeling his hand halt its movements.

“Just. Fuck me.”

Quiet- but clear enough for Satoru to hear you.

Huffed and urged as you said it- it made Satoru realize you were unwilling to go through his teasing prep- and in no possession of the patience needed for it.

Gojo bit his lip slightly, being able to see the tenseness in your shoulders- it wasn’t about him having a good time anymore. No, your tone made it sound like he was depriving you of something.

Satoru wasted no more than a second in tucking the hem of his shirt between his pearly teeth- a smile on the corners of his lips as he watched you writhe. All but telling him to hurry with the puffs of frustration leaving your lips.

Though his mouth was busy trying to hold his shirt up- his messied hand pulled from your cunt and landed on the band of his shorts, you could hear the muffled giggles of amusement leaving Gojo’s lips as he slapped the tip of his cock onto your ass.

Leaky as he was, Gojo still wanted to hear the words from your lips. “Tellme-m’right” he spoke with clenched teeth- muffled and barely legible and in a smug tone.

You scoffed- biting your lip and peaking up your eyebrows. Knowing Satoru is just petty enough to pull away from you and jack off till he spurt his mess onto your ass. “You were right.” you mumbled, earning Satoru to release the shirt from his teeth with a smile.

“What was that?” lightly tapping your entrance with his tip as your hands pressed onto the wall again- planted to stay upright.

You sighed. “You were right, ‘toru-” you spoke clearly, earning an appeased hum from Satoru.

Taking his hand from his base- quickly taking off his t-shirt and lining himself up with your cunt. The only thought in his mind was praising himself for what a good idea the machine’s placement was.

The second he slowly pressed his tip past your entrance- both you and Gojo could feel the difference between when you would be prepped compared to now.

Soft ringing in your ears as you let out a soft moan, a light sting pulsing in your cunt as he eased himself into you.

And Gojo- he swore he could cum right then and there had it been up to him. His eyes threatened to fall back into a soft roll as a groan tried leaving his throat. Falling from his lips with the sound of a whimper laced in it.

Even if Satoru had slid inside of you countless times- it always made his go vision blurry. Never getting used to how warm and welcoming your cunt always felt against his cock.

Satoru spouted a curse- mixed with a whimper as he held onto your ass, bracing himself as he felt your cunt suck him in.

With clenched teeth- “S-so fuckin’ tight-” he gruffed- making sure to give you enough time to get used to the light sting before he pulled his cock from you. Hands gripping too harshly on the malleable skin of your ass.

His cock felt a light breeze hit the skin lathered with your essence, wasting little time before thrusting back into you- setting a slow but deep pace.

Shutting your eyes tight as Satoru’s thrusts caused your hips to move against the harsh plastic and the wall.

A few more rolls of his hips were all you had to spare- “Satoru I’m gonna fall-” you huffed, feeling his hands grope at your ass firmly- some attempts to assure you that you wouldn’t.

A light sheen of sweat formed on your thigh, causing you to actually start slipping with every little thrust Satoru rolled against you.

Though he was whining behind you, he could feel your hips start to give against the machine’s door.

Gojo mustered all the strength he could, dragging his cock from you. Allowing his leaking tip to kiss your entrance ever so slightly as he gave a hard yank against your hips.

Hearing a low grunt of relief as you felt yourself come loose-only for Satoru’s hands to move you to the free edge of the machine quickly, aligning himself up with your entrance again.

Pressing his heaving chest against your back- bending you over as his head rested the crook of your neck. Clenching his teeth with a low whimper- your hands planted against the whirring machine- bracing for him to bottom out.

Only Satoru planted a hand atop yours- grasping it lightly as he slid himself in slowly.

A sharp exhale took the form of a whimper as it left Gojo’s lips, invading your ear as you raised yourself onto your tiptoes. Giving his cock a new angle, his flushed tip nudging your sweet spot.

A choked moan left your lips, the hand on your ass rising to your neck. Pulling you back to his chest and forcing your back into a harsher arch.

Satoru sped up his pace- barely pulling out and prodding the spongy gspot his cock curved into. Barely pulling his hips from your ass with frustrated whimpers leaving his lips.

His hand mindlessly rising to the side of your face- your parted lips huffing out small whimpers welcoming his fingers. Hooking the digits that brought you to your first orgasm, onto the side of your mouth as he tried to keep a steady pace.

You could feel he was still holding back- unknowing why he insisted on keeping a medium pace with his thrusts. You clenched your walls around him in the slightest- “F-faster ‘toru,” you huffed, slightly muffled from his fingers in your mouth- earning for his hips to halt and his hands to raise.

Satoru gulped- his cheeks flushed and ears hot as his hands hooked onto the ditches of your elbows. Pulling your arms back in tandem with dragging his cock out.

Gojo knew that whenever you bark an order, you were giving him permission to do what every part of his brain was yelling at him to do.

And as he felt the very tip of his cock reach the taut circle of your entrance- he clenched his teeth, inhaling before pushing himself in.

His thrusts were rough- too deep as your shoulder blades pressed against each other- clearer moans falling from your lips. Satoru’s forearms pulling you back with every harsh thrust- unpatterned and sloppy as he whined into your ear.

Your calves started tingling from being raised on the tips of your toes. And almost as though Satoru heard you- he released one of your arms and reached down to your thigh.

A smile took shape in a huff- “Up we go~” he grinned with a breathless tinge.

Assisting you in resting it on the top of the machine, now easily at level with his rough hips. The foot on the ground barely touched the tile- half of your body on top of the machine as Satoru grabbed a handful of ass. Biting his lip as he looked down to your cunt linked with him.

With every tenacious thrust Satoru rolled against you- he watched your ass bounce.

And as though it was instinct, Gojo pulled his gripping hand from your ass and gave you a firm spank.

You whimpered in response- shutting your eyes and muttering a strained, “Fffuck!” his hand soothing the warmth rising onto your bottom- clenching his teeth with muffled groans leaving his pursed lips.

Your hands pressing onto the top of the machine as some sort of attempt to brace for Satoru’s quick drilling hips. Keeping yourself up on your forearms as his hand gripped the malleable skin of your ass. Groaning harsher and harsher as he felt his orgasm build in his tummy.

Satoru knew you were close too- the moans you spewed were now shorter and more breathy. Your cunt twitching around him every other thrust-

“Say m’right.” clenched teeth and a low tone as his thrusts became even more sloppy- bordering on raising himself from the ground from how harshly he was pushing you onto the machine.

Gojo stopped his thrusts- nuzzling himself inside of you entirely. And staying still- knocking the air from your lungs with a gasp- “Say.” pulling his cock , “I’m.” a firm thrust, “Right.” urging you to with every deep thrust.

You whimpered, knowing he was barely bumping his tip against your gspot on purpose.

“You’re r-ri-” he continued his fast pace again- the words trying to make their way out of your lips.

Satoru grunted with an amused smile- “I’m-” he sighed, “I’m what?” out of breath and edging himself.

You bit your lip, the knot in your stomach slowly slipping with every little thrust.

Feeling his unforgiving hips nudge you closer and closer against the wall. Your jaw went slack-jawed as he refused to give you a second to answer.

All it took was another firm spank to push you over an orgasm- cunt spasming around him as he grunted. Sudden tightness sucking him in with every pull he did.

“You’re righ- fuck-” you moaned, “You’reright-” babbling as Satoru let out a breathy giggle. More than pleased with your mindless prattling.

As Gojo succumbed to his own orgasm- you groaned lightly, feeling his seed coat your walls. Warmth filling your cunt as your eyes fluttered closed.

Satoru rode himself down with slower thrusts, still reaching as deep as he could- but slowing them.

Wincing softly as his tip got a shock of overstimulation, heavily breathing as he eased his hands from you.

Leaning over your ass and placing his forehead onto the center of your shoulder blades.

“Call the delivery men,” you breathed- sighing softly as Satoru rested himself atop you. “And tell them to move them.” you demanded- knowing that if they stayed the way they were now- more little instances like these would keep happening.

Satoru huffed against your clothed spine. “You just said,” taking a breath and feeling his heart pound in his chest. “-that I was right?” keeping a teasing tone as you tried easing off the machine.

Wondering how on earth Gojo managed to shift you from the floor to the top of the washer.

I luv him sm <3

2K notes · View notes

mofongomuncher · 26 days ago

Text

𝙏𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 [!𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏¡]

(Ekko X Reader)

❥ cast : ! Ekko and Reader ¡

Ekko stood at the far end of his room, his back to you, arms resting on the edge of his table. He was awfully quiet, his chest rising and falling with unspoken thoughts.

You watched him from a far, leaning against the doorway. His shoulders were tense, muscles coiled as if he were carrying more than he'd ever admit. But that was Ekko, wasn't it?

"You're brooding again..." you said, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

He turned his head slightly, a small smirk tugged at his lips. "And you're lurking again..Guess we're both predictable."

You stepped into the room, your boots scuffing softly against the floor. The air between you two felt electric, like it always did—charged with tension that neither of you could name, let alone tame.

"Still working on that time device?" you asked, gesturing to the intricate gears and wires scattered across the bench.

He turned fully to face you, leaning back against the table. His eyes—sharp, brown, trailed over you for a moment longer than necessary. "Nah.." he said, his voice low, steady. "That's on pause for today. Had other things on my mind."

You raised an eyebrow. "Hm, Like what?"

His smirk deepened, but it wasn't playful this time. "You. Of course.."

The single word hung in the air, heavy and deliberate. It sent a rush through you, but you didn't flinch. You never did—not in front of Ekko.

Instead, you took another step closer.

"Huh, I don't remember giving you permission to think about me?" you teased, crossing your arms.

Ekko tilted his head, his expression softening. "I didn't think I needed permission"

Your breath hitched, but you masked it with a quiet laugh. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he said, pushing off the table and closing the distance between you in two slow, deliberate steps. "And you know what? I think you like it don't you!The way you show up, act like you're just here to check on me...But it's more than that, isn't it?"

His words were careful, measured. You felt the heat rise in your chest, spreading through your body like wildfire. He was too close now, the earthy scent of his was now filling your senses.

"You've got a big ego for someone who spends most of his time hiding in here." you shot back.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah maybe...But I'm not wrong, am I?"

Your silence was answered enough, and he knew it. His hand came up, his rough fingers brushing lightly against your jaw. The touch was barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't pull away.

You couldn't.

"You make it hard to stay focused, you know that right? " he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Every time you walk in, it's like... nothing else even matters anymore."

The weight of his confession settled over you, heavy and intoxicating. You searched his face, looking for any hint of deception, but there was none.

Ekko never played games—not like this.

"You really are trouble aren't you Ekko.." you said softly, the words more for yourself than him.

He smiled, a real one this time, warm and genuine. "So are you huh.."

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until there was nothing but the sound of your breaths mingling, the heat of his body against yours. When his lips finally met yours, it wasn't gentle. It was raw, a clash of need and want and months of unspoken tension.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, his arms, gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. He deepened the kiss, his other hand finding your waist, pulling you even closer.

When you two finally broke apart, gasping for air, his eyes focused on yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"Tell me you don't feel it Y/N.." he whispered, his voice almost desperate.

You swallowed hard, your hands still pressed against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

"I can't" you admitted, your voice barely audible.

His grip on you tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. "Then don't push me away."

"I'm not," you said, shaking your head. "But I'm hoping you can handle all of this."

He smiled at your comment, that same reckless, confident grin that made your heart race.

Before you could say anything about his silence, his hands slid lower, gripping your waist. His eyes searched yours, waiting for the moment you might pull away. But you didn't. You leaned into him instead, giving him silent permission to keep going.

"I feel like you're testing me now.." he murmured, his voice low and rough as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. "Like you want to see just how far I'll go."

Your breath hitched as his hands tightened, pulling you flush against him. You felt the tension radiating off his body, the restraint he was barely holding onto. You could feel it too—an ache building in the pit of your stomach, something you'd ignored for too long.

"how far will you go, Ekko?" you whispered.

He exhaled a soft laugh, the sound laced with both amusement and desire. "Far enough to make you forget how much you like to act all tough." he said, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "You talk all big, but you and I both know you've been waiting for this."

You didn't answer—not with words. Instead, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips against his. He groaned against your mouth, the sound deep and primal as his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve like he'd been imagining this for months.

The kiss grew heated, messy. He guided you back until your hips hit the edge of the workbench, and in one swift motion, he lifted you onto it. His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them apart as he stepped between them, pressing himself against you in a way that made your head spin.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he said against your lips, his voice rough with restraint as his fingers brushed the bare skin of your legs.

"Good.." you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him closer. "Now you know how I feel."

He chuckled, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch. His teeth grazed your skin, just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

His hands moved with purpose, gripping your thighs and pulling you further into him. The heat between you was so overwhelming, as his lips returned to yours—capturing you in a kiss. You were his now, and he was going to make sure you knew it.

With a low growl, Ekko pulled away just long enough to guide you back, his hands never leaving your body as he laid you gently on his bed. The room felt smaller, the air thick with tension, every heartbeat quickening. His eyes never left yours as he hovered above you. His hands brushed the strand of hair from your face, his lips grazing your cheek before pressing a soft kiss.

"And I thought you were all talk.." he muttered, his voice rough, but a faint smirk played on his lips. "Guess I was wrong, hm."

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling on your lips. "You think I'm just talk?" you whispered, your fingers trailing down his chest, moving deliberately slow. "Maybe, I'm just making you work for it."

You watched as his confidence didn't sway, but there was something in his eyes—something more—that told you this game wasn't as easy for him as he was letting on. Smirking, you slid your hands down his chest to his waist, and with a deliberate movement, you pushed him back onto the bed. He didn't resist, and as he fell back, you crawled over him, straddling him with a mischievous grin.

"Wow, would you look at that?" you teased, your fingers lightly brushing over his chest as you leaned down, your lips hovering just above his. "Who's all tough now, hm?"

His breath hitched slightly, but his gaze remained focused. "You really think laying me down means you've got control here?" he asked, his voice smooth, but there was an edge to it that let you know he wasn't entirely sure about where this was going.

"Mmm, Maybe." you purred, leaning in just enough to brush your lips against his.

You lowered yourself, your lips trailing down his neck as you ground your hips against him, teasing him just enough to make his restraint snap. His hands gripped the sheets beneath him, and you could feel the tension building again, both of you barely keeping control.

"What are you trying to do here doll.." he muttered, but you could hear the hint of amusement in his voice.

You pulled away, hovering over him with a wicked grin. "Mmmm" you hummed, your voice soft but full of challenge "I'm just trying to see how you'll react to me.."

The words hung in the space between you, charged and deliberate, and you watched as his throat tried working to swallow whatever response he thought might be appropriate. But there wasn't one.

Not now.

Not when you could see the flicker of tension in his eyes, the way they darted from your lips to yours, searching for permission, for confirmation, for something—anything. But you weren't giving him answers.

You were giving him a challenge.

His hands finally moved, as they found their place on your hips, his touch firm. You felt the heat of his palms through the thin fabric of your clothes, and it sent a shiver racing up your spine. Still, you didn't move. Not yet. You wanted him to squirm a little longer, to feel the weight of your patience pressing down on him, reminding him just how much control you had in this moment.

When you finally leaned in, it wasn't sudden or rushed. It was deliberate, calculated, your lips brushing against his in a slow, teasing kiss that left him gasping for more. His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, no room for hesitation. He kissed you back with a desperation that surprised even himself, his mouth moving greedily against yours as if he couldn't get enough.

It was exactly what you wanted.

You pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, and grinned down at him. "Wow, took you long enough." you murmured, your voice thick with satisfaction.

He let out a shaky laugh, his hands sliding up your sides until they reached the hem of your shirt. "You really are something else, you know that?" he said, his tone equal parts exasperation and awe.

"And yet..." you trailed off, arching an eyebrow as you shifted your weight, grinding against him just enough to make him groan.

"You can't seem to resist me hm?."

That did it. His hands were under your shirt in an instant, pushing the fabric up and over your head in one swift motion. The cool air hit your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze, taking in every inch of exposed flesh. You didn't give him time to linger, though. Leaning down, you captured his lips again, your tongue sliding against his in a way that left no doubt about what you wanted—what you needed.

His hands were everywhere all at once, exploring your body with a hunger that matched your own. You could feel his cock pressing against you, hard and insistent, and it only fueled the fire burning in your veins. Shifting your hips, you grind against him again, earning another desperate moan that vibrated against your lips.

Breaking the kiss, you sat back just enough to take in the sight of his boner beneath you—his cheeks flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes dark with need. "You look so good like this Ekko" you said, trailing a finger down the center of his chest.

"Helpless. And Desperate."

He chuckled weakly, shaking his head.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"Oh, I so am" you agreed without hesitation, your grin widening as you leaned down to nip at his neck.

"Don't act like you aren't too."

His breath hitched as your teeth grazed his skin, his hands tightening on your waist. "I am..." he managed, his voice strangled.

You smirked against his neck, kissing the spot you'd just bitten before sitting up again. Your hands went to the button of his jeans, and you made quick work of it, tugging them down his legs along with his boxers. He hissed as the cool air hit his sensitive skin, but the sound turned into a groan when your hand wrapped around his thick cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly.

"F-Fuck.." he muttered, his hips jerking up into your touch.

"Patience Ekko.." you scolded, squeezing lightly just to watch him squirm.

He groaned again, but he didn't argue. Instead, his hands found their way to your thighs, gripping them tightly as if he needed something to anchor him. You took your time, exploring every inch of him with your hands, your lips, your tongue, until he was trembling beneath you, his body taut with restraint.

Finally, when you couldn't take the anticipation any longer, you lifted yourself up, removing your pants, tossing it across the room—and positioning yourself over him. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of longing and disbelief, and you smiled softly. "Ready?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded wordlessly, his hands moving to your hips to guide you. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him stretch and fill you. It was so overwhelming, the sensation so intense that it nearly stole your breath away. By the time you were fully seated, your thighs pressed against his, you were both panting.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You simply stayed there, enjoying in the connection, the closeness, the way he seemed to fit perfectly inside you. Then, with a soft exhale, you began to move.

It started slow, a gentle rocking of your hips that drew a low moan from him, his fingers digging into your skin. But it didn't stay slow for long. The pace quickened, your movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as the pleasure built within you. His hips met yours with every thrust, driving him deeper, harder—until the room was filled with the sounds of your mingled gasps and moans.

You could feel it building, that coil of heat tightening in your belly, threatening to snap with every movement. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you dropped your forehead to his, your breath coming in short, ragged pants. "Don't stop baby" you pleaded, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

His hands gripped you tighter as he drove into you with renewed fervor

His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curve of your spine, gripping your hips, sliding up to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you, and you arched into his touch, a moan escaping your lips.

"Look at you.." he murmured, his voice rough. His words sent a flush of heat through you, and you increased your pace, your hips rocking faster, harder, chasing that delicious tension building low in your belly. His hands moved to your hips, guiding you, helping you find that perfect rhythm that had both of you gasping for air.

The room was filled with the sounds of your breathing, the slap of skin against skin, the low, guttural noises neither of you could hold back. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you as intense as the physical pleasure coursing through your bodies. You could feel yourself tightening around him, the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

"Fu—fuck d-don't stop..." you gasped, your nails digging into his chest as you rode him harder, faster, chasing that sweet oblivion. He obliged, his thrusts meeting yours, each one driving you closer to the edge. And then, with a cry, you shattered—cumming all over his warm dick, your body convulsing around him. He followed seconds later, his own release triggering another spike of ecstasy that left you both trembling, clinging to each other as the aftershocks rippled through your bodies.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You simply stayed there, breathing in sync, basking in the glow of what you'd just shared. Then, with a soft laugh, you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, slow and tender.

"Let's go again." you hummed, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

"....Guess you can't get enough of me, huh?" he murmured, voice low as he tried to catch his breath, yet the tension in his tone made it clear he was just as eager as you.

Jeezussssss

Check out my Ekko one shots on Wattpad for more stories!! :3

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