#jumping off my roof tonight

[hughschiers]

[chaoticwriting]

Part 1

Gotham New Rogue 2

It's been a few weeks since Danny started to become the Trickster. To be honest, it is working very well. His core is expanding fast as ectoplasm is regenerating faster than ever before. He is also slowly developing new abilities and gaining more control and powers to his already established abilities.

For instance, Danny used to struggle making clones, but now he can easily create dozens of them with just a thought. He can also change his clothes to whatever he imagines using ectoplasm now. His ice power is also stronger and easier to control. His superhuman body is developing and slowly getting stronger and faster.

Overall, Danny will say that make a smart decision to become a rogue especially since no one has caught him yet. Danny is currently laying on top of a building watching the sun slowly set in the horizon. His stomach suddenly grumbles and he decides to hit the shack before he gets to "work" tonight.

Jumping off the roof, Danny lands and walks to the nearest Batburger while still wearing his rogue suit. He has a totally funny idea today and it involves him being seen in public. Entering the Batburger is like entering a library for some reason. As soon as he enters, everyone goes deathly quiet.

Danny slowly walks towards the cashier and orders his food.

Danny: 5 sets of set C please.

Cashier: Ermm, that will be 60 bucks.

Danny: Here.

After paying for the food, Danny gets his food and sits at one of the tables alone. It's only after he is through his 3rd set that reality is set in for the people. They begin to move and contrary to Danny's expectations, approach him to ask for pictures. Danny allows them some pictures and unknowingly raises his status as Gotham's friendliest rogue.

Suddenly, a white man that screams rich guy, a woman with blonde hair and a black guy wearing Signal's merch approach him. Danny has learned a lot of things from his 14 years of life and 2 years of half life and Danny knows when a rich guy approaches you, it's never good (Sam doesn't have the rich vibe).

Rich guy: Hello Trickster! May we have a meal with you?

Danny: Sure.

Rich guy: Ah, how rude of me. My name is Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. These two are my friends, Stephanie Brown and Duke Thomas. You can call me Tim by the way.

Danny: Sure, Tim.

They sit opposite him with their meals and try to make small talks with him while eating. The trio realize that Danny seems to respond a lot better when Steph or Duke is the one to ask the question.

Steph: So, Trickster. Why don't you like my friend here?

Duke: Way to go in being subtle, Steph. Why not ask who is he really next?

Steph: Hey, I can't help it you know. He seems so snarky whenever Tim asks questions. I wanna know if Tim pissed him off or something.

Danny: He is rich, right?

Duke: Err, yes?

Steph: Let's say he is. Why does that matter?

Danny: I hate rich people. And government. But who doesn't hate the government?

Duke: So, eat the rich?

Danny: Yes.

Steph: Cool cool. We are also here just so we could leech him off anyway. We're not really friends.

Tim: Ow, you hurt me by saying that. What happened to our vow of eternal friendships?

Steph: I cross my fingers.

Duke: I lie.

Danny: Hahahaha. You're like my friends.

Tim: You have friends?

Danny: Of course I have friends. And unlike you I don't need money to have friends.

Tim: Sorry sorry. Are your friends also rouges?

Danny: Wouldn't you like to know? Last I need is Batman investigating my friends. I'm sure Batman is part of you rich people group chat or something.

Steph and Duke: *Snickers*

Tim: *Glares at the two* Why would you think Batman is in contact with the rich people?

Danny: Isn't it obvious? Batman has all these high tech gadgets and is always there fast whenever a Wayne is kidnapped. I would even say Batman is being sponsored by the Wayne.

Danny: I also don't like most heroes in general. They are just the government lapdog doing whatever the government wants.

Tim, Steph and Duke frowned at that statement. From the way Danny speaks, it is clear that he has some history against the government. Him being here also means he is at least confident enough to run away if any of the bats are here. Is it just blind confidence or a truly competent ability will remain to be seen.

Tim is just about to refute him when Danny suddenly stands up. All of them tensed up and ready for battle when Danny turns towards one side of the window, waves and disappears right in front of them. They are very confused and when they turn towards the direction Danny was just looking at, they see Batman and Black Bat right on the rooftop across the building.

Batman and Tim nod to each other and they all return to the caves.

-Batcave-

Tim: So you all hear the conversation right?

Dick: Except at the end where the sound becomes blurred for a moment, we hear everything.

Tim: Good. So what are your thoughts on this?

Damian: It is pretty self explanatory Drake. He has a personal hatred towards the government and that extends to all bodies of government or people he thought is connected to the government.

Tim: But why though? Is the hatred towards the government something as simple because he is a criminal? Or is there something else towards it?

Bruce: There is nothing to find about him currently with our limited resources about him. Return to the manor for today and take some rest. We will investigate it later.

All of them return to the manor and rest for the night.

-2 weeks later-

The Trickster is standing in front of an unconscious and tied up Batman. He is giggling loudly that evolves into full blown laughter.

He takes off Batman's belt and starts to pull out stuff one after another. Soon, he found the item that he needed.

Trickster: Hahahahahahaha. I have finally got it. The strongest weapon in the world!

The batfam that is watching the live broadcast shiver as they watch Trickster holds out the black object high in the sky.

Part 3

[silhouette-saloon]

I need to get some fuckin weed to fall asleep i Can Not keep doing this shit its 2 am ill be lucky if im asleep at 3:30

[urcoolgf]

beach day

pairing : bf!rafe x reader

content : fluff

summary : you and rafe take a day trip to his favorite beach and you have an unexpected visitor…

“baby we gotta go! c’mon,” rafe quickly called to you from your shared bedroom. he had been waiting for you to finish getting ready for the past 20 minutes, and he was starting to get impatient.

“hold on, i’m almost done!,” you answered back.

“jesus it’s just the beach– no makeup, no doing the hair– just a swimsuit,” he whispered to himself. as he put the last of his own things into your bag that sat on the bed.

“okay, sorry, sorry! i’m done,” you rushed out of the bathroom with your hairbrush, hair clip, some hair ties, your favorite sunscreen, and some other things rafe couldn’t identify crammed in your hands.

“baby, it’s just the beach, we’ll be back tonight. do you really need all that?,”

“yes! because once my hair gets wet i’ll have to redo it, and i need my stuff! so, unless you wanna look like you’re dating a lion, i suggest you don’t complain,” you replied while shoving your things into the same bag on the bed.

“alright, alright! bring your stuff, but we gotta go,” rafe laughed while picking up the bag that had gained about 5 pounds after dumping your things into it.

the two of you made your way out to his jeep– he had already taken the roof and doors off in preparation for your beach day, which only made you more excited. after you hopped into the passenger seat, rafe placed the bag on your lap so that nothing would fall out on the ride there.

“got it sweetheart?,” he asked, his smirk still made your knees go weak even after all this time, and even if you’re sitting. once he got into the driver’s seat and started the car, he immediately handed you the aux cord because he knew you loved picking music– especially during the summer. so, naturally you click over to your summer playlist and hit shuffle; Dreams by Fleetwood Mac begins to blast through the speakers and out into the hot air.

as you’re singing your heart out on the drive to the beach, rafe can’t help but steal glances at you– completely at peace, in your most natural and beautiful state, totally comfortable in the passenger seat of his car– he loved you like this. his fingers tapped against the wheel to the familiar beat, it was one of your favorites, so of course, rafe knew it by heart.

many upbeat songs later, you arrived at rafe’s favorite beach. this one was never really crowded, and had perfect clear water, and beautiful clean sand. he suspected this was because it was hidden.

“um… pretty sure this isn’t the beach, rafe,” you say as you stare at the forest on the other side of the windshield.

“just trust me, yeah?,” he smiled, turning off the car, getting out, and moving towards your side to help you out. once you were both out of the car, and rafe had taken the bag from you because of course he wouldn’t let you carry it, you began to follow him through the wooded area. there was a faint path, but rafe still had to clear some branches for you first.

once you made it to the edge of the woods, the bright blue water was revealed, and the sun’s reflection off the sand almost blinded you.

“rafe… this is beautiful! where has this place been my whole life?,” you said running out into the warm sand.

“where is everyone?,” you ask, almost excitedly.

“no one really knows about this place– that’s what makes it so special,” he smiled at you. and you just couldn’t help but run over to him as he placed the bag on the sand and unexpectedly jump into his arms. he caught you anyways, hands under your legs that wrapped around him as you grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him into a sweet kiss. once you pulled away, you put your arms around his neck and held him tight, nestling your head into the crook of his neck.

“it’s perfect, baby,” you whispered against his neck, your hot breath driving rafe crazy. he placed you down softly, and with a quick kiss on your forehead you were ready to get into the ocean. you quickly took off your shorts and baby tee that covered your bikini while rafe just stared– eyes moving from your face, down your body, and back to your face.

“what? something on my face?,” you asked, running your hands over your cheeks and lips.

“no. jus’ love you,” he replied with a soft, almost shy, smile. he then pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest you would never really get used to seeing. the faint ab lines that adorned his stomach, and soft biceps had you practically drooling– no matter how many times you had seen it before– thankfully, he wasn’t paying attention to where your gaze was falling. rafe grabbed his phone and speaker, putting your summer playlist on shuffle– it made your heart melt.

“you have my playlist saved?,” you asked softly.

“‘course i do, baby. wouldn’t be a beach trip without it, hm?,”

I Will Wait by Mumford & Sons begins blasting through the speaker as rafe tosses his phone onto the towels he had set up, and you swear you’ve never been happier than in this exact moment.

you begin running towards the water– and even though you got a head start– rafe catches up to you and picks you and tosses your torso over his shoulder, carrying you into the warm water as you’re squealing for him to put you down.

“it’s not even cold, sweetheart! feels nice doesn’t it?,” he said, finally releasing you into the gravity of the water.

“feels perfect. i love you, rafe cameron,” you say quietly, grabbing back onto his shoulders for support and intimacy, one could argue.

“i love you more, baby,” he pulls you in and kisses you– it’s intoxicating and you can feel the world around you stop.

—

you had been tanning for awhile now– rafe reading some book he brought with him– when suddenly, you feel a softness against your leg. startled, you quickly move your leg away and look back.

“oh my gosh! rafe, it’s a kitty!,” you said excitedly, while moving to sit up. rafe looks up to see your eyes widen and a big smile appear on your face.

“would you look at that? hey, little buddy,” he said as you began petting the cat’s soft fur. no tag, no owner? you thought as rafe moved onto your towel, reaching his hand out gently for the cat to smell.

“you think he’s a stray?,” you ask, concerned– but rafe can tell you’re secretly hopeful he is.

“maybe? i mean… he’s got no collar,” he answered hesitantly, knowing where this was going.

—

as rafe drove you both back home from the beach after watching the sunset, the bag that sat in your lap on the way there had been discarded to the floor and replaced with the small animal.

Love Grows by Edison Lighthouse playing softly through the stereo as you gently pet the sleeping kitty.

“so what should we name him?,” you turned toward rafe with a big smile on your face as he shook his head with a smirk.

“i cannot believe i let you talk me into keeping him…”

[confused-squishy]

Weapon Expert Danny Todd from Jason Todd's POV

This amazing idea came from @unadulteratedsoulsweets

Part 1 Part 2

Jason was starting to get worried. He had called his husband's phone a few times since his patrol started and he hasn't heard anything back. Jason knew someone had called in and asked about setting up an appointment for tonight. But Jason thought it would've been over by now.

So Jason called the phone Danny only used in the workshop. It felt like ice water had been poured on him when it went straight to voicemail. Jason quickly shoved his phone into his pocket and took off towards the current safe house he was using.

When he arrived Danny wasn't there. After looking around Jason noticed a few things were missing that Danny usually took with him to meetings. So that let Jason know Danny hadn't come back from the meeting. That made things worse. He didn't know where the meeting was or which workshop Danny would be using.

Jason took a deep breath. Trying to calm his mind. He pulled out the burn phone he uses specifically for Danny. His wonderful husband had made it for him. They both have one and it only works for them. Jason dialed the only number. His heart racing faster and faster as the dial tone continued. He swore loudly when he reached the voicemail.

Something wasn't right. Danny always answered this phone. Always. Jason turned on his coms and took another deep breath. "Oracle... I need you to look for someone. Please." There was a short silence. Before there was a clicking sound. "Who am I looking for?"

Jason took another deep breath. Trying to steel his nerves. "Danny... Daniel Jonathan Todd. He goes by Danny though. He owns a gun repair shop. Called Phantom Guns." There was a stunned silence. "Todd... As in your brother Todd or?" Jason shook his head. "Oracle please. I'll explain later."

"Jason what's your relationship?" Jason bit his tongue at the grouchy sound of Bruce's voice. "None of your business old man." Jason quickly snapped. "Jason if you want help looking for this guy we need all the information." Jason bit back a sarcastic remark. "Fine. He's my husband. Happy? Now can you please focus on finding him?"

There was a heavy silence before everyone was yelling questions all at once. Only for Oracle to snap at them to quiet down. "Jason I found something but I don't think you'll like it." "Whatever it is please. I need to find him. I don't have a good feeling." The coms were quiet before one of his phones beeped.

"There's a break in and mention of an unconscious male that is fitting the description of Danny." Jason's heart stopped before he raced off. Jumping from roof to roof. Jason could barely hear anything except his heart beat. Could someone have called Danny out and attacked him?

No. Danny can usually take care of himself. Jason had made sure of it. He knew the dangers of being with a Wayne child. Adopted or not. Especially with Jason. With what he does at night, not to mention Danny's talent with almost any gun. They both had huge targets on their backs.

Jason was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw the smoke rising into the sky. It was like the air was knocked from his lungs. He almost tripped when he landed on the closest roof but he managed to catch himself before he quickly ran to the edge.

Jason felt his heart sink at the site of one of Danny's favorite workshops looking destroyed. Jason's body moved on auto pilot. He jumped from the edge, landing on the dumpster and quickly made his way to the kicked in door. Jason went to enter before a hand gripped his shoulder.

Jason grabbed the hand to flip the person before his was pulled into a familiar chest. "Calm down. You need to think before you barge in. In case there's a trap or anything of the like." Jason involuntarily followed the order before shoving Bruce away from him. He straightened up and pulled out his favorite Glock. The one Danny had remade for him.

Jason raised the gun before turning on the heat sensor of his helmet. "I only see one body on the ground. Unconscious most likely." He switched off the heat sensor before turning on the night mode. Jason carefully entered the shop. Making sure to look where he was walking.

He froze momentarily when seeing the unconscious figure. There was a good sized puddle under him. That shirt.... That dark hair. The matching ring. "Oh my god. Danny!" Jason rushed over dropping his gun and quickly removing the helmet. He checked for a pulse. He relaxed slightly. It was weak but he had one.

Jason rolled him over and felt the air leave his lungs once more. Jason quickly ripped off his jacket and pressed it against Danny's stomach. "Call an ambulance! He's-His-" Jason sniffed. Feeling tears fill his eyes. He flinched when a rough hand gripped his shoulder. Jason looked up, meeting Bruce's determined look and hesitated before moving slightly.

Bruce bent down. Carefully removing Jason's jacket to see the wound. There were multiple deep gashes and what looked to be an electric burn from his left chest to his left shoulder. Bruce clicked his com. "I need an ambulance. There's multiple deep gashes to his front along with what looks like an electric burn from the left of his chest to his shoulders."

Bruce felt for a pulse. "Pulse is weak. Barely there." Bruce leaned forward. Listening for breathing. "Shallow breathing." Jason gripped the jacket more. How long has Danny been like this? Why hadn't he looked for him sooner?! Jason hadn't noticed his panicked breathing until he was nudged.

Dick was behind him with a sad smile. Dick gently grabbed him and helped him stand. Bruce had laid Danny out and used Jason's jacket to keep the bleeding to a minimum. Jason felt numb as Dick had start pulling him away as sirens sounded. Jason went to shove away dick but was interrupted by Bruce.

"Go home and change. I'll tell you what hospital. But right now you're covered in blood and your Red Hood uniform. I need you to go change before meeting at the hospital okay?" Jason barely nodded. His eyes not leaving Danny's pale face as Dick pulls him away. Once outside Dick pulls Jason to a car and gently helps him inside.

The drive to Jason's closest safe house was quick and silent. Neither saying anything before Jason rushed inside to quickly change so he can get to the hospital. But as he undressed all Jason saw was blood. Danny's blood. Jason shook his head and physically threw the clothes off himself.

He was going to be burning those clothes. He couldn't stand looking at them. He ran into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Turning it to the hottest setting. He didn't care if his skin was burning. He needed to get the blood off. He needed it gone. He needed Danny's blood off him. He needed Danny to be okay. He needed his husband to be alive and safe.

Jason closed his eyes as the scolding water ran down his back. Danny's pale face appeared before Jason's eyes and he shook his head before quickly scrubbing himself and jumping out of the shower. He barely dried himself before rushing into the room.

He looked at where the pile of bloodied clothes laid and felt a small sense of relief when he noticed they were gone and clothes were laid out on the bed. Dick must've taken care of the clothes. Jason would have to thank him later when he.... When he knew his husband was okay. Jason doesn't know how he got from the safe house to the hospital.

He only knows that everything seems to be too loud and bright for his senses at the moment. When he finally sat down he was in a plastic chair used in hospital waiting rooms. He looked around. Dick was with him out of his Nightwing uniform. He was standing a short distance away on the phone. Either with Bruce or Kori. Letting them know the situation.

Jason took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. Just who had set up that Meeting with Danny? Danny always does a background check when someone wants to make an appointment with him. Had someone given a rogue Danny's meeting information? Jason's hands tightened in his hair. Whoever did this to his husband is going to pay. Big Time.

Jason flinched slightly as a hand patted his back. Dick had came back with a slight smile. He must've been talking to Kori then. "Have you heard anything?" Dick shook his head and Jason groaned softly. Dick's smile tightened before he removed Jason's hands from his hair. "I'm sure we'll get some information soon Jay. Just don't pull your hair out before we do okay?"

Jason didn't say anything. Just kept his eyes sweeping across the room. It felt like forever when a Doctor looking unsure. Jason jumped up as the Doctor came over. "Mr. Graysan. Mr. Todd." The Doctor nodded at them. Before he could say anything Jason already was asking questions. "Is Danny okay? Did he make it? Can I see him?!"

Dick carefully pulled Jason out of the Doctors face. Ignoring the thankful look Dick nodded. "Please answer him. He's not doing the best as you can see." The Doctor sent Jason a look of pity and Jason felt his body freeze. Please don't tell him...... "Mr. Daniel Todd came in with multiple deep gashes, broken bones, and a severe electrical burn mark. There were a few.... problems during surgery but we got the patient stable and in a room."

Jason released and sigh of relief. "That great can I see him??" The Doctor shifted and sent him a hesitate look. "You can... But I have to inform you of his condition..." Jason froze. "C-Condition?" The Doctor nodded with a frown. "Due to the head trauma and blood loss I'm afraid Mr. Daniel Todd has fallen into a coma..."

Jason felt his legs give out. If not for Dick he's sure he would've fallen to the floor. Oh Danny.... His poor Danny. If only he'd have looked for him sooner...maybe he wouldn't have been in such a bad condition. Jason heard only ringing as he was brought into Danny's hospital room. Jason sunk into the chair closest to the bed and gripped his husband's hand.

Please..... Please wake up soon.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive, a pinch of angst / word count: 5k

content/warnings: tried sumn different so this is mainly from jungkook’s pov :D !! drummer!oc ur so cool & i’m stealing u from ur bf 🏃— mention of a 10 yr age gap between jk & a guy who likes oc (he’s hella pissed off) ; mentions of (car) s^x ; allusion to a bl^wj^b ; jk just got home from tour & oc is tipsy, needy, & dramatic as hell T_T ; oc /briefly/ touches jk while he’s driving & he /nearly/ loses his shit & crashes the car (he doesn’t) (i’m kidding) + to the anon who wanted to jk’s cheek scar to get a kissy here u go 🥺

> in which masterlist!

note: oc is so shot glass of tears coded especially in this… i’m glad i’m posting this after golden came out just so i could say it 🥰 this takes place after this drabble sooo the end of oct 2018 <3 if u’ve read the prev drabble too, this was when jk said those exact words in the past 🥺 wrote this in the middle of hell week so i was half out of my mind :'] as always feedback & reblogs rrr always appreciated !! 🥺

—

jungkook loves the sound of rain— the gentle knocks on every surface of the earth has always been a lullaby even during daylight.

tonight is a different story, however. it is defeaning, terrifying even. he can barely see what is infront of him, spare the occasional headlights blazing across the slippery roads. his umbrella is being stolen away by the harsh gusts of wind and the mud stains on his sneakers are well-hidden by the plain black.

and yes, he is tired; and yes, this is hard, but that is the end of it.

you’re exactly where you told him you’d wait, far behind the edge of the roof where the rainwater falls from and splashes on the ground. you stand out in his blue oversized shirt, one that he purposely left behind in your closet so he could have something else to wear when he sleeps over.

you’re too busy typing on your phone to see him crossing the parking lot; he feels his very own vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. however, his giddy smile fades when a man exits through the entrance door and approaches you with a red umbrella. his strides become slightly hurried then, as he watches you politely decline it with that heart-fluttering smile of yours everybody adores.

“oh no, really, i’m fine. you might need it later! my boyfriend is already coming to pick me up anyway.”

jungkook acts cool. he tucks his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, tries to make himself appear bigger because he realizes that he would be inches shorter than the man if not for the platforms of his shoes.

“____, baby!”

upon hearing your name coming from the lips of your lover, your face lights up even brighter.

“jungkook!”

you greet him with an embrace, jumping into his arms before he can properly set down his umbrella on the ground.

“yah, yah-yah! be careful!” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you, peering down to check how high your boots are for you to be running and jumping around freely.

“hey, i’m going back inside- there’s more customers coming in. make it home safe, alright?”

the stranger tries to catch your attention, and jungkook’s protectiveness swiftly kicks in when he lays a hand on you and slides it down to your lower back. your boyfriend turns you away from the unprompted touch by pulling your body closer to his side, and he is unable to control how his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

he wasn’t planning on giving much thought to the presence of a man around you. he knows better than that. but he has never heard about this one, which raises the question of who the fuck is he to freely touch you like that?

“oh- alright! thank you, jun!”

“you better take care of ____, man. it’s dangerous around here during this time.”

he receives a rather heavy and condescending pat on the shoulder, and so, with his annoyance bubbling worse, he wears a passive aggressive smile on his face.

“yeah, of course i am,”

jun’s nostrils flare as he witnesses you sneakily slide your hands underneath jungkook’s hoodie in search of warmth.

“i’m here now, so there’s no need to worry about my girlfriend anymore.”

he nods, then forces himself to smile. “that’s good, then.”

“yeah, thanks. we’re leaving.”

“oh, okay. have a nice night!”

“you too,”

he turns on his heel and returns inside the busy establishment— but not before jungkook made sure that he saw the bruises on his knuckles that he got from his boxing sessions.

his jaw clenches as he glares at the door.

is he being petty? sure, to hell with that. he doesn’t care. he’s always been one to trust his gut, and he has a bad feeling.

he is met by a love-drunk smile when his undivided attention is at last given to you, in the form of fond eyes and affectionate strokes of your hair.

“who was that?”

“eh, new bartender,” you shrug with disinterest. “hm, i think he’s 31…? he’s nice but he keeps talking about wrestling.”

he raises an eyebrow at the mention of his age, while your lips form a sad pout.

what the hell? he thought he would be 25 at most.

“the tv has been in the same channel for the past two weeks because of him. it’s all i’ve been seeing! i don’t like it-” you whine in distress, quite frankly, a little traumatized.

an endeared smile is coaxed out of him at your adorableness, how your speech is a little slurred and how you’re looking at him like you’re begging him to do something about it.

“makes me nervous,”

his dominant hand closes into a fist.

if he only he had known. should’ve fucking punched the guy, give him a taste of what he seems to be a huge fan of.

“let’s watch something calming when we get home, how about that?”

you nod your head, eyes that twinkle with eagerness fluttering shut when he leans in for a much awaited kiss. how sweet, he feels a little more alive than before. he can smell it, even taste it— the peach margarita you started sipping on before the band’s first set. concocted by jun, he presumes. he pulls away with a small smile, licking his lips for the traces of you that clung to him.

out of the blue, you burst into a fit of giggles, weak knees buckling as your weight crashes on him.

“i missed you!”

“babe, are you seriously drunk?” he chuckles, holding you with a secure grip around your torso.

“maaaybe tipsy…? i was pretending not to be.” you stand on your tip-toes to nuzzle your face against his neck, mumbling sheepishly. “only trust you.”

—

“i should’ve accepted the umbrella.” you grunt childishly, body going limp on jungkook’s back, except for the arm holding up the umbrella that shields the both of you from the pouring rain.

“yah!” he scolds you, clearly not pleased with the words that just came from your mouth. “what does that mean?”

“i’m embarrassed! they’re probably feeling bad for you.”

the last sentence comes out as a whisper, pertaining to the side glances you’ve been attracting from strangers as you make your way to your boyfriend’s car.

unfortunately, he had to park somewhere far because the restobar’s parking lot was already full.

you jokingly complained about staining your white boots with dirt and mud, but you instantly regretted it when he bent down, signalling you to ride on his back without an ounce of hesitation.

“our shoulders always get wet when we share an umbrella,” he said. “if i carry you, wouldn’t it be better?”

“embarrassing? some would even say romantic!”

something peculiar happens then— when your lips ghost over his left cheek, planting an affectionate kiss there that lasts for seconds. you pull away with a smacking sound, giggly and bubbly, might be his favorite version of you.

“i love you,” you hum, grasping the umbrella upright before it could tip over.

he doesn’t know if you did it on purpose or not, kissing him precisely where his scar is, but his heart jumps in his chest when he feels it begin to throb.

as if the wound from his childhood has come alive. as if, once again, he is bleeding as he glares at his older brother, and he still wants to play games on the computer oblivious to the fact that it would leave a permanent scar, a brand new landmark on his body.

you mistake his silence for something else.

you frown, warm breath tickling his neck as you quietly ask. “are you still mad at me?”

he sighs, vision landing on the ground as his walking pace slows down. “no? i was wrong. i shouldn’t have questioned your decision in the first place… why would i be mad?”

you started playing the drums for your friend’s band two months ago, just as soon as he left for tour. you volunteered after witnessing how distraught they were when their drummer vanished without a trace. he learned that it used to be a hobby of yours from childhood until early teenage years, playing the drums, but it was robbed from you when your father took his instruments with him when he abandoned your home for another.

he was pleasantly surprised when he learned about it, recounted all the times your hands and fingers were drumming on any sort of surface and his head naturally bopped to the beat, but then again, you never brought it up.

isn’t ____ so cool? he would proudly say when he flaunts you to his friends, even the protocol team, who have never seen him so happy.

three times a week, from nine in the evening until midnight, your phone was propped up on an empty table infront of the stage, and him, on the other side of the globe, excitedly watched you from backstage while he was getting ready for their own show. some other times, he was in his hotel room, or the private jet. his patience has been tested by crappy wifi, nosy and noisy people, and his earphones that stopped working while you looked insanely attractive grooving to ‘why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ as you effortlessly played the drums. he showered you with compliments as you did for him. you’re working hard so he must do the same.

he arrived home from tour the other day, spent the rest of its hours sleeping. yesterday, he waited for you at school and then at work like a lost puppy, slept on your bed (if he’s being honest, the two of you didn’t do much sleeping) then woke up at 9am for work.

and he tried his best, he really did, to get out of the company early enough to catch you playing a song or two. after all, it was your last day at the job.

much as you enjoyed reconnecting with an old flame— loved the overflowing tips that came from those who were amazed by your talent (well, there were also those who were just trying to get into your pants), the moment that the old drummer got down on his knees begging to be taken back by his best friends, just like how you became a part of the band, you voluntarily stepped down.

jungkook didn’t agree with this decision. he didn’t understand why you’d sacrifice something that makes you happy for a person who fucked up and wasted what they had. you went back and forth over it on the phone until you cried, told him that it wasn’t easy for you, and he couldn’t hold you in his arms or kiss your face. he could only apologize, and it even felt insincere doing it through a screen.

maybe he’s only relieved that you no longer need to be around a man an entire decade older than he is, who is obviously interested in you and serves you alcohol drinks. no, that doesn’t sit right with him. he needs jun, or whatever the fuck his true name is, to stay very far away from his baby.

“i’m just sad that i never got to watch you perform in person.”

you rest your cheek on his shoulder, heavy eyelids slowly blinking as the headlights of a black van blindsides you.

what the fuck. too bright.

“me too…”

—

“i’m bored,” you release a dramatic sigh, stealing a glimpse of jungkook at the driver’s seat, just to see if you caught his attention like you intended.

his eyes are trained on the dashboard, however, focused on the navigation guide displayed on his phone. he isn’t very familiar with this part of the city. it took him more than an hour to arrive at the address you sent him, including the time he spent in the middle of traffic.

“forty-eight minutes, then we can do whatever you want.”

“whatever i want?”

he slows down the car, briefly turning his head to find you expectantly looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“of course,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to squish your cheeks together. “just tell me what it is, baby.”

he doesn’t catch the sad look that flashes across your face after you lose his touch.

“then i’ll tell you when i figure out what i want,” you say quietly.

“i thought you already had something in mind?”

“nope,” you answer with yet another sigh.

you choose to stare out the window in silence, body completely slumping into your seat in defeat.

jungkook’s senses are sharp, or he likes to believe so. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay,”

“you sure?”

“hmm,” you hum curtly, and then you close your eyes, so he decides not to press further despite wanting to.

he meets a red traffic light not long after that. and so, he hurriedly grabs the black fleece blanket in the backseat. he envelopes you in it, crossing the distance between you to softly press his lips onto yours for a goodnight kiss. he feels you respond, albeit lazily, and he smirks cockily when you lift yourself up to chase him for one more, please— desperately, to get your fill of goodnight kisses from the many nights that you missed it.

the time seems to tick excruciatingly slow now that you’re quiet. a minute is multiplied by a hundred. the steady rhythm of your breathing keeps him sane throughout dark avenues and encounters with reckless drivers of the midnight scene.

he missed you. he missed you so much, and he knows that you’re tired from university, and tutoring high school students in english, and playing the drums for more than two hours… but he selfishly wishes that you’re awake right now so he can make up for the two months that you were apart.

be careful of what you wish for, they said.

jungkook should know better by now.

“i can’t sleep,” he hears you whisper in a dulcet tone that indirectly tells him you’re in need of some love… but he isn’t given the chance to act upon that request because you’re already all over what it is that you need.

he swallows thickly, glancing down at your hand that has somehow found its way to his inner thigh— zeroing in on your red nails, can feel them faintly grazing his skin.

you’re so pretty. everywhere.

even when naked and bare.

no, especially. it’s all he can think about.

he can draw you from memory.

“____,” he utters your name through gritted teeth, heart beginning to race a thousand miles per second in his chest.

the effect of your teasing touch is instantaneous, slowly inching closer and closer to where his growing erection is. his eyes remain focused on the road, but he fears that he’ll start thinking with his dick soon if you carry on with this act a few seconds longer.

“shit, not now, baby- please- not while i’m driving.”

your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, poorly concealing a self-satisfied smirk, and you pretend not to hear a single word from his plea.

a minx, that’s what you are, always causing trouble and blurring lines in his eyes.

“____, i’m not joking around. don’t make me mad-”

his warning is cut short by-

“fuck… fuck,” he curses, filter flying out the window once he feels you tracing the outline of his hard-on, the feather-light touch of your fingers smoothly gliding across the fabric of his sweatpants, and he completely loses it when your soft palm caresses his cock, so gentle that it feels almost innocent.

okay, so he couldn’t feel it because you weren’t skin-to-skin, but he knows that your hands are soft, can feel his imagination running wilder because he has memorized the way they feel on most parts of his body.

you’re so incredibly nasty and evil for this— squeezing him lightly, taking advantage of how sensitive he’s gotten, making him tremble as pleasure shoots up his spine. his breath stutters in his lungs and he unconsciously pushes harder on the gas.

and although it means fighting every fiber of his being that painfully yearns for more, he seizes your wrist in an iron grip, placing your hand over the gearstick while his sits heavy on top of yours.

“____! behave! you’re going to get us killed!”

he watches you jut out your bottom lip through the rearview mirror, eyes hazy with lust staring down at where your hand used to be, and then his handsome face. he is evidently flushed, honey skin dusted with a rosy pink. all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his neck.

while he’s driving? really?

doesn’t this only happen in wet dreams?

you are not real.

“then pull over,” you plead. “please?”

he releases a shaky breath. you’re always so needy with alcohol in your system, drove him into total insanity while he couldn’t be here to give you what you wanted.

“no, you need to learn how to be patient… told you we can do whatever you want when we get home, right?”

wrong move.

the silence returns, and just when he thought that you went back to your journey to slumber, the sound of your sniffles fill the car.

jungkook’s heart breaks into a million pieces.

also, he wants to slam his head against the steering wheel.

you make it so fucking hard to resist you; you always get what you want. it becomes much harder when he is the subject of your desire and he loves being loved.

“haven’t i been patient enough…? i missed you so much.”

“and i missed you too!” he brings your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing them on your skin. “fuck, you have no idea how much… please, don’t cry.”

“then pull over,” you stubbornly insist, and he is so close to driving this car into a lamp post. “fuck me at the backseat.”

“can’t,” he mumbles, sounding almost pained, and he is. he wants you so bad, it hurts. “we’re going to have to do it without protection.”

“what do you mean?” you exclaim.

you rip your hand away from his, not wasting time in unlocking the glove compartment, and a sound of sheer disappointment escapes from your mouth as you collapse back on your seat.

“jungkook, i hate you!”

“well right now i hate myself too!” he cries out in frustration. “i didn’t have the time to buy more, okay?”

“and there’s not one in your wallet?”

“babe, are you serious?!”

“what?!”

somehow, his hands still expertly swivels the steering wheel as the car meets a curve.

but he feels dizzy. the ghost of your touch is still there, a promise of carnal pleasure unfulfilled.

“stop the car,” you say out of the blue, rather calmly, and that terrifies the shit out of him.

he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes switching between you and the road in panic. “huh?”

“i said stop the car, i’m stepping out.”

“babe, come on,” he moans, ruined and tormented. he reaches for your hand but you scoot further away from him, and he ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach as he kneads your exposed thigh instead. “please, don’t be like this. i just got home.”

“jungkook! if you don’t let me get off this car right now, i swear!”

the urgency embedded in your threatening voice leaves your boyfriend with no choice but to pull over to the side of the street as soon as he gets the chance.

he carries on to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“baby, stop being stu-”

he tries to reach for you, but he is rudely ignored as you hop off the car and slam the door shut on his face.

“…bborn…”

he blinks.

he inhales. he exhales.

and then he buries his face in his hands to scream… as quietly as possible.

“what the fuck was in that margarita?!”

—

jungkook steps out of the car worried sick about you. now wearing a black bucket hat, his head whips in different directions in search for the familiar shape of your body, your hair, your shirt that is his, anything.

his arm rests on top of the car door, the other on the roof, fingers drumming on it anxiously as he chews on his bottom lip.

there are mostly restaurants here, it seems. some are already closed, some are still lights on. not far away, he hears a karaoke place bursting with music and laughter. he looks up and he finds that the night sky remains barren of stars; there’s no guidance from the heavens that will lead him to you.

except for the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name.

he turns around, and he knows it’s going to sound extremely silly, but damn, you make his life feel like a movie— because you’re jogging towards him, and the universe begins moving in slow motion. perhaps it is to prevent him from falling on his knees in relief, because he genuinely thought that you already went home on your own like the stubborn brat that you are.

“____, where did you go?! you can’t just run off like that! seriously, that was not nice!”

“i forgot my wallet!” you squeal as you halt infront of him, slapping your forehead as a way to scold yourself. “i found a hotteok cart!”

his anger quickly dissipitates. he scans your face, mouth agape in bewilderment.

you, screaming at him to stop the car because there was a sighting of your favorite snack? makes sense.

he dishes out the wallet from his pocket. “wha- i thought you… you didn’t have money?”

you shake your head to answer his question.

“then how are you already eating?”

you take another bite from the hot hotteok you’re holding in a paper cup, and then you shrug.

“i was already eating when i realized it,” you point at yourself, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “so he let me run back here. does it look like this face would steal?”

“you’re impossible!” he bursts out laughing, the unique sound of his joy harmonizing with the mundane noises of the city.

he is thoroughly amused and in awe of your undeniable charm never failing to work its magic. if you just gave it a shot, you might be even better at him at his job.

you’re pliant as he captures your wrist, tugging you away with him so he can lock the car.

“i bought three, by the way.” you note as the two of you start walking, with you clinging to his side. “the last three then mister can go home.”

you put the hotteok near his mouth, and he pauses to take a big bite. “have you even had dinner?”

“just the four margaritas- they were yummy! or was it five?”

he clicks his tongue in disappointment, but he doesn’t get to say anything more about it because you’ve reached the hotteok cart, and he’s already handing the vendor the money.

“thank you!” he bows his head politely as he accepts the remaining two you mentioned earlier, handing them over to you.

“no, this is yours.” you speak with tenderness, giving back one of the cups to him. “then we’ll split the third one. it’s really good!”

the vendor secretly watches the interaction with a fond smile as he packs up to finally, finally end his long day working at the busy streets of seoul.

—

you’re sat together on the hood of jungkook’s car as you share a midnight snack. with caring hands, you rip the hotteok apart in perfect halves, offering the other to your lover. he accepts it in between his teeth.

“do you want drums as your christmas gift?”

“love,” you search for the words to say as you chew the food in your mouth. “i can barely fit in my apartment. where am i going to put a drum set…? not to mention that i can’t even cry without my neighbor hearing it.”

his shoulders drop in dejection, and you rub your boyfriend’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“you must really want to see me play, don’t you?”

“i’m dying to,” he says in pure jungkook fashion, tone dramatic and thick with an accent that is entirely his. “i can’t believe there were regulars who saw you every night, while i, your boyfriend, didn’t even see you once…! even that fucking bartender… this- this can’t be right! do you think this makes sense? no, right?”

“aw, my baby,” you coo at him, jutting out your bottom lip as you tenderly cup his face.

“i don’t trust him, by the way,” he scoffs. “as much as possible, stay away from him when you visit, alright…? if i see him touching you one more time, i don’t know what i’ll end up doing to him.”

“i don’t like him either,” you giggle. “so that’s easy.”

he stares at your bloodshot eyes. damn it, you haven’t sobered up.

“____, i’m serious. he’s weird. i’m worried about you but i can’t always be here to protect you.”

you blink at him innocently. “i am too! serious!”

“you promise me?”

“i promise!”

he nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he gets lost in the sea of his own thoughts. “i should talk to your friends about this, too. is that okay?”

“if that will ease your mind,” you half-smile, heart fluttering in your chest because you feel so cherished.

comfortable silence follows suit.

the hotteok is still soft and warm and sweet. if your love had to be delivered to his doorstep, it would in the form of your favorite food.

he sighs to gain more of your sympathy, basking in the attention he’s receiving from you. he missed this. he missed you. he sounds like a broken record, but it’s true.

“come ooon, don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you! but it’s a surprise!”

“surprise?” he eyes you with suspicion. “what surprise?”

“just trust me, alright?”

you poke his cheek where his dimples are, and you witness them pop out as he copies your contagious smile.

“can i make a guess?”

“nope!”

you fit the remaining piece of your hotteok in your mouth, jumping off the hood of the car. you stand before him as you wipe your hands clean with a small paper napkin.

“don’t you dare. if you guess it right then my plans will be ruined!”

—

you’re back on the passenger seat to travel the remaining twenty-seven minutes to your apartment.

jungkook melts into the tenderness of your touch as he drives. you’re tracing the toned muscles of his arms; stroking his hair, his face, and the smell of the sticky brown sugar from the hotteok still lingers on your skin.

“when are you going to start getting tattoos?” you wonder out loud as he intertwines your fingers together on top of his thigh. “i think you’d look so pretty.”

“i’m planning on it.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of you remembering that he wants his skin artfully inked as you absentmindedly distracted yourself with it.

he licks his lips, smiling as he looks over at you. “you really think so? pretty?”

“hm, hot, too,” you stick your tongue out playfully, and he snorts out a laugh. “but as long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.”

“of course- wait, yah! you still need to eat dinner.” he reminds you once he recognizes the path you’re taking.

a grocery store is not more than a kilometer away, if his memory serves him right.

“what do you want? i don’t mind cooking.”

“for you to fuck me, that’s what i want. you won’t mind that, too?”

oh my fucking god.

he wishes you were passed out drunk instead so he wouldn’t have to suffer this battle between self-control and his insatiable appetite for you.

“baby, aren’t you still sore from this morning?”

“a little,” he notices you squeezing your thighs together from his peripheral, and along with it, the bruises on your knees from when you worshipped his body last night. “but i want you.”

your giggles in reaction to him frustratedly running his fingers through his hair seems to only fuel the dirty thoughts in his head. he uncomfortably shifts in his seat to adjust himself.

“can you just bring it up when we get near your house? you’re killing me over here!”

“but why? i’m having fun.” you bring your tangled hands over to your side, peppering the back of his hand with innocent kisses. “i love you. you’re so cute.”

“are you… are you seriously calling me cute after what you just asked me to fuck you?”

his disbelief is challenged by your amusement.

“why not? being one dimensional? boring. being different things all at once? sexy.”

jungkook doesn’t need to see you play the drums to know that you are the only one capable of making his heart beat like this. to feel it pounding, it turns out there’s another way besides performing, he can just be alone with you. a different type of addictive exhilaration. he isn’t at the top of the world; he free falls as it revolves around you.

you always know the right words to say, because right now, he is preening. he’s wearing a big smile, the kind that looks like he’s laughing, but he’s not— almost. the kind that reaches his eyes, shapes them into little crescent moons.

how did he get so lucky?

rehearsals in the morning be damned, he will be fucking you good all night.

you make a noise of confusion when the car swerves into the trees at the side of the road.

“what are we doing here?”

jungkook only spares you a glance. “get in the backseat, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[verstappen-cult]

I don’t know why I went full angst on this but maybe one of them totally blanks on your birthday plans so you’re just sitting at a fancy restaurant with the other one wondering where he is

I can see this where Max forgot and you and Charles finally decide to order food and when you get home he was steaming and didn’t realize what was going on

PART TWO.

You look to the front door just to see another random person walking in. Across the table, Charles tries to hold his anger inside, he tries very hard not to show how affected he also is.

“Maybe something came up.” Your boyfriend tries to smile and reassure you that everything is fine, that Max has a good excuse for not showing up.

He better have a god excuse or Charles is gonna make him sleep on the couch for the next month.

“Should we order? I’m pretty sure Max will want for us to celebrate. It’s your birthday, princess.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak.

It’s not the ideal celebration. Not when one of your boyfriends is not there with you and doesn’t pick up the phone. But Charles does a pretty good job of making you forget about it.

At least until dessert cames and they sing happy birthday to you.

*

“We have plenty of leftovers,” You go to the kitchen as Charles closes the front door. “You want a cup of tea, Char?”

“Don’t be a cunt! I was winning!”

You and Charles look at each other.

“Wha–”

But Charles is already sprinting up the stairs.

You follow him, heart rate through the roof, into Max’s streaming room.

And there he is. Max. Wearing sweatpants and streaming. You look at the screen that says how long he’s been there: four hours. Then, you see his phone on the floor, right next to a couple of Red Bulls.

“What the fuck, Max?!” Charles exclaims, making his boyfriend jump scared.

“Jesus Christ,” He touches his chest, just where his heart is. “Everyone’s laughing, by the way.” Max points to his headphones and then the screen where his friends, in fact, are laughing.

But you couldn’t care less about it.

“Max.” You say softly, grabbing Charles’ hand and caressing his wrist to try and calm him.

“What the actual fuck, mate.”

Charles never calls him mate.

“What?” He looks at Charles, then at you. “You look pretty good. Where did you go?” Max asks, already turning around to keep playing.

But Charles is having none of it. He walks to one side of the room, where everything is connected, and shuts everything off.

“Charles!”

Max is off his chair in a matter of seconds, looking absolutely pissed.

“Oh, you don’t get to be angry.” Charles takes two long strides, but you stand between them before he does something he will regret later. “We waited three hours! It was her birthday, you giant, fucking idiot.”

Charles throws his arms in the air before getting out of the room, leaving a speechless Max behind.

“What?”

You breathe deeply, avoiding eye contact. “You don’t even remember my birthday?”

“Of course I remember your birthday, Schatje.” He picks up his phone, seeing all the missed calls and texts. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with tears.

You can’t see properly anymore. “I think is better if you sleep in the guest room tonight, Max.”

You leave before he has time to say anything, running down the hallway and into your room. It’s only then that you let the tears flow freely down your face.

[themilfsland]

Under the forbidden tree - Part II

Pairing(s): religious!mommy Wanda X female!reader

Words count: ~ 4.9k

Summary: You could feel her, every curve, every breath.

- "I must tell you, Y/N, I think I've found the apple of my eye," - "and I want to take a bite."

tags | content | +18: smut , top!Wanda, bottom!reader, Wanda being a little psycho, innocence/corruption, fingering, strap-on, mommy kink, a lot of teasing, jealous, manipulation, possessiveness, use of religion itens, praying for grace.

Fic menu | Part I

You needed fresh air. A moment alone. Walking briskly toward the lake, your knees gave out as soon as you reached the shore. In the distance, you could hear the laughter and chatter of the children, but none of it mattered. Not right now. Letting out a long sigh, your gaze shifted to the side, landing on the apple tree. Her favourite tree. A storm of emotions swirled inside you. This was all your fault. The fault of your deluded mind, spinning fantasies out of nothing. Frustration burned through you. How could you have ever believed your desires might become a reality? Everything Wanda had done for you was nothing more than kindness. Her nurturing nature. Of course. She was a mother. And you… you were the only guilty and impure person here.

Peter’s voice calling your name snapped you back to the present.He said he had been looking for you to invite you to assist in the kitchen tonight, rather than attend the mass. You didn’t hesitate to accept. Anything to keep you busy. Anything to avoid crossing paths with Wanda.

--

You waited until the evening mass had started before slipping into the room to grab a change of clothes for a quick shower. After that, you’d head straight to the dining hall to help with the cooking. Every move was carefully planned, strategically avoiding her. The thought of spending the night under the same roof as Wanda was already unbearable. Thankfully, Monica had arranged for you to have an extra key, giving you more freedom to come and go. Like a guardian angel.

You hadn’t expected working in the kitchen to be so exhausting, but it felt good to be useful, to keep yourself occupied. A joyful atmosphere filled your teamwork, with laughter coming easily, and effortlessly, they convinced you to stay after hours for a casual chat. It was exactly what you needed.

----

The hour was very late when you finally returned to the room. Maybe Wanda was asleep. God, please let her be asleep.

You cautiously opened the door, trying to be as quiet as possible, but it was pointless. Wanda was awake, sitting on the bed, watching your every move as you stepped in.

- “You’re back. What took you so long?” - There was a hint of disappointment in her voice.

You walked closer to the bed where she sat, a thought creeping into your mind - "had she been waiting for you this whole time?"

- “The kitchen tasks took a little longer than expected,” - you said. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

It was no surprise that she looked unconvinced. - “Hm. The kitchen shift ended a while ago. You were gone longer than that.” - She eyed you with suspicion, but it didn’t take her long to realize you weren’t in the mood to explain yourself. - “Anyway, I’m really happy you’re back!” - In one quick motion, she jumped up and stood right in front of you. - “I missed you, and I was worried since it got so late.” - There was a sincerity in her voice that caught you off guard. - “Come here, give me a hug!”

Before you could react, her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in. Unexpectedly, you found yourself hugging her back, albeit a bit awkwardly at first. She was warm, so warm. You could feel her breath near your neck. It was intoxicating, the way her presence seemed to dissolve every rational thought. And just like that, you were melting in her arms.

- “You smell so good,” - she whispered into your ear, tightening her embrace. A chill ran through you, heat pooling beneath your skin at the pressure of her hold.

Then, as your eyes fluttered open, they landed on something spread across the bed — her clothes. And among them, a single piece stood out. Underwear. But not just any underwear. Your underwear. “My underwear?” you thought, disbelief creeping in.

It was the same one you had set aside that day… the one that mysteriously vanished from the bathroom. You tried to focus, staring harder, almost desperate to prove yourself wrong. Your body, once melting into her, suddenly stiffened. Completely still.

- “Well, I was waiting for you so I could shower,” - Wanda said, finally pulling away. She gave you a soft look, almost pitying. - “You look so exhausted, darling. You should rest.”

Without hesitation, she turned to grab her neatly folded clothes… and the underwear. Your underwear (?).

She didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. Maybe you were imagining things again. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe — God, please — maybe they were just similar. You grasped for any excuse to make yourself believe this wasn’t what it looked like.

You remained frozen near the bed, barely registering that Wanda was already heading for the door.

- “Oh, Y/N, I just realized, I forgot to grab my hairbrush,” - she said, pointing toward the nightstand beside her bed. - “Would you mind getting it for me? It’s in the top drawer.”

Still in shock from what you just saw, you moved without thinking, your body acting on autopilot as you stepped forward and pulled the drawer open. And then — your breath hitched. Your eyes widened. Sitting there, unmistakable, was a vibrator. But not just any vibrator. Yours. Panic surged through you. This wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. You would recognize your toy anywhere. Your mind scrambled for an explanation, but nothing made sense. What the hell was going on?

- “Y/N? Did you find it?” - Wanda’s soft voice drifted closer.

Your heart pounded. Just beside the toy, you spotted the hairbrush, the actual item she had asked for. In a desperate motion, you grabbed it, slamming the drawer shut a little too forcefully before turning on your heel.

- “Yes, I found it. Here.” - You extended the brush toward her, eyes fixed anywhere but on her face.

She took it from your hand, murmuring a quick “Thank you,” before turning toward the room door.

You only realized you’d been holding your breath when you heard the door click shut. A heavy sigh escaped your lips. You had to be imagining things. Right? But doubt gnawed at you, pulling you back toward the nightstand. With shaky hands, you reopened the drawer. And there it was. Nothing else mattered at that moment. You grabbed the toy, turning it over in your hands. The brand. The color. The tiny details. It was yours. Your pulse pounded as you spun around, rummaging through your suitcase. You tore through every compartment, every pocket, searching, hoping. Nothing. It wasn’t there. You knew you had packed it. You hadn’t seen it since arriving, but you knew it had been in your bag. No doubt about it. At least Yelena’s gift was still safely tucked between your clothes. But that only left one terrifying question. Did Wanda go through your things?

First, the underwear. Now, the vibrator. Paranoia sank its claws into your mind, dragging you into an endless spiral. Could it all just be a coincidence? Were you the only crazy one here? Or worse — maybe she wanted you to go crazy. You needed to think fast. Wanda would be back any minute. Just one more night. By tomorrow, you’d be free. All you had to do was act normal and pretend nothing happened.

So you climbed into your bed, shutting your eyes. Pretending to be asleep when she returned was the safest bet. No interaction. No conversation. The perfect plan. But regardless of the truth — whether it was in your head or something much worse — one thing was certain. You felt like you were falling from heaven to hell.

--

- “Y/N? Are you asleep?" - You heard the bedroom door close and Wanda’s footsteps approaching.

You kept your eyes shut and your breathing steady. Your only goal was to get through the night like this. Wanda was probably already lying in her bed. It was hard to tell what she was doing without seeing anything and you got anxious about it.

You started hearing murmurs, soft words being spoken. She was praying. It went on for about half an hour, maybe longer. You were finally beginning to drift off when she stopped praying. Next, the sound of movement, a faint click - she must have turned off the light.

The room was silent again, so silent you could hear your breathing. You thought Wanda had already fallen asleep until you heard a sound, a low, humming vibration, followed by a soft moan.

You held your breath, forcing yourself not to open your eyes or make any movement that might reveal you were awake.

The sound was familiar, unmistakable. It hit you all at once — it was your vibrator. There was no doubt in your mind. Her breaths grew heavier, her moans more intense. Wanda was touching herself, right there, in the bed beside you.

The images of the scene began to take shape in your mind, and you felt a sharp ache between your legs, warmth pooling at your core. You were getting aroused just from listening to her.

Her moans grew more erratic, breaths uneven, each sounds sending a pulse of heat through you. She was getting closer, losing herself in pleasure. Wanda was on the edge of release and you were right there, caught between guilt and desire, aching for something you shouldn’t want.

The chapel bell tolled midnight, and Wanda let out a louder moan. You were so lost in the sounds of her movements, in the way she was unravelling, that when the chime echoed through the night, it startled you. Your body tensed, and the bed subtly shifted beneath you in response to your involuntary reflex. That damn bell. You prayed she hadn’t noticed.

Silence returned to the room. Her breathing was low, still steadying, the aftermath of pleasure lingering in the air. Then, the sound of her bed creaking. Was she putting the vibrator away? Getting up to go to the bathroom? What was she doing? The uncertainty only made the heat inside you grow.

Another sound, closer this time. Then, the mattress dipped slightly behind you. A rush of cold air brushed against your skin as your blanket was lifted, and before you could process it, Wanda was lying behind you. You stayed perfectly still.

Her body pressed into your back, the heat of her skin seeping through the thin fabric of your pyjamas. You could feel her, every curve, every breath. Her hardened nipples brushed against you. Then came her arms, wrapping around you, pulling you in. Her breath, warm and slow, fanned against your neck.

- “Y/N?” - Her whisper brushed against your ear. Her warm hand deliberately slid under your shirt, fingertips tracing slow, featherlight circles over your stomach before travelling higher. - “I know you’re awake, sweetheart. Why keep pretending?” - Her voice was smooth and teasing - “Good girls don’t fake sleep… and get this aroused doing it.” - Her fingers closed around your nipple, rolling it between her fingertips. A sharp gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it.

- “See? Only bad girls do that.” - She toyed with you, lazy and unhurried, her lips pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck. Your breath hitched a quiet mix of sighs and swallowed whimpers. You bit your lip hard, desperate to keep still, but she noticed. Of course, she noticed.

- "Why don't you be a good girl for me now?" - Her hand now sliding down, invading the hem of your shorts. - "I must tell you, Y/N, I think I've found the apple of my eye," - her fingers slipping into your panties, your excitement growing, until she felt your wet folds, she released a louder gasp at the touch. - "And I want to take a bite." - She slid her finger inside you without warning and you let out a loud moan, finally opening your eyes.

- "You're so wet, just as I thought." - Her finger moved slowly, you needed more, you needed her. - "I wanna hear your voice or I won't give you what you want." - She stopped moving but kept her finger still inside you.

You were desperately, trying to move your hips to get the slightest of friction - "Please Wanda, please" - You pleaded, your last bit of strength to remain steady completely slipping away.

Before you could start complaining, she slid two fingers inside, you moaned loudly with the pressure, feeling your walls clench. - "You are so tight, so perfect for me." - She curled her fingers inside you at a faster pace. - "I can't wait to make you mine".

Her fingers going in and out, pushing deeper each time, and all you could do was continue moan, gripping the bedsheet tightly under you. She managed to slip her leg between yours, making you spread wider and giving her more space to slide her fingers even harder inside you. Her breath grew heavier behind your neck until she pushed her body closer against you, making you feel something hard. Your desperate body instinctively pressed closer, nearly certain of what that firm sensation behind you was.

-"I wonder if my needy angel found out the little surprise. " - Wanda whispered pressing her hips against your ass, leaving no doubt about what she was wearing. - "You know, I wasn't expecting you to be this naughty, but I supposed bringing this toy into God's house proves just how unholy you truly are."

She was wearing the strap-on. She messed with your things and she found it. A wave of shame washed over you, yet the mere thought of her claiming your toy as her own sent a thrilling heat through your body, leaving you trapped between humiliation and unbearable desire. You needed a release and all you only could do was beg. You tried to turn your body to face her, but her arm holds you tightened around you, holding you in place as her fingers pushed deeper.

-"We’re just getting started, darling. Why the rush?" - Her movements were relentless — deeper, faster— your walls tightening around her fingers with every thrust. - "shhh I am here to wash away all your sins, just give in." - You couldn’t hold it back anymore, your legs trembled, and pleasure consumed your entire body.

-"You did so well for me, sweetheart." - She held your chin, tilting your face up to meet her eyes. - "but I still need so much more from you." - she returned a teasing smile.

She grabbed your waist, pulling you to lay facing her. Her fingers gripped the waistband of your pyjama shorts, stripping them off in one swift motion, along with your panties. - "It's strange to see you wearing panties, for a needy girl who walks around with her pussy nearly exposed. I remember that night.” - She said in a mocking tone and you tried to cover your legs. - "nah nah, I wanna see it now, your body all for myself to claim." - she said, holding your legs firmly as she spread them open.

You were dripping from your arousing and your cum, being able to feel the liquid soaked over your folds. You instinctively tried to close your legs, torn between the embarrassment of being so exposed and the aching need for friction. She moved closer between your legs, giving you your first glimpse of her naked body. She was like a God - you thought - her body was a masterpiece, every curve perfectly sculpted. You couldn't stop looking at her perfect boobs, your mouth watered at just the idea of holding and suckling them.

Wanda caught the way your eyes roamed over her body. She was well aware of the power she had over you and she was more than ready to take full advantage of it. - "I'm happy that you are enjoying the view." - she said coming closer and you noticed she was holding the strap with one of her hands. It was hot. - "I need you to take of your shirt now." - she ordered you.

You looked at her, a flicker of shyness in your eyes. - "What's wrong, dear?" - she teased you. - "All embarrassed to show me your pretty body, but so easy to beg for me to fill you up." - she looked down between your opened legs, holding the length of the toy, brushing the tip over your damp folds. You let out a whine and you desperately took your shirt off, you were all for her now.

She looked at you as she was about to devour your body and soul. She lowered herself onto you, her body pressing against yours. Her face hovered near your boobs before she took your nipple between her lips. All those sensations making your body crave for her touch, the movements her hips were doing above you making the strap-on slightly touch your needy pussy was driving you crazy. You need her inside now. - "Wanda, please, I need you." - you pleaded as your hands wandered over her body, dragging your nails down her skin all the way to the bottom.

She sucked your nipple harder and bit it as a disapproval for your acts. - "I let you beg but I didn't allow you to touch me." - She gripped your neck, her fingers pressing firmly, making you feel the pressure against your throat. - "Don't worry, darling. Mommy will put you in your place." - she said as she got up, settling between your legs once again. Hearing Wanda call herself Mommy made your mind go blank. You had no idea how much it would affect you until you heard it, but it was all you needed to give yourself over to her completely. - "Please mommy, I need you inside, it's hurting."

Wanda was merciful enough to finally give in to your desperate pleas, pressing the toy against your entrance — it was bigger than you had imagined and your body tensed at the thought that it might not fit.

She probably had noticed your hesitated face so she tried to calm you. - "Ohh sweetheart, it's okay, you can take it." - she was pushing in slowly. - "See? Your wet pussy was made for mommy's cock." - You let out a loud moan as your body relaxed. The way she whispered those filthy words made you crave her even more. You felt her slide inside you fully, filling you completely.

- "Are you alright?" - She asked with concern, tracing gentle circles on your thigh with her fingers. You nodded in response letting out another whimper and beg with a "please".

- "mm good. You feel so tight. I need to stretch you out first" - she didn't wait for a sign and started thrusting into you. Gripping your waist firmly, her nails digging into your skin, her hips slamming against your body. Her cock was filling you up so deeply, every thrust pressing your walls inside. Her movements picked up pace, faster, more erratic, not worrying about how rough she was being with you.

You felt your walls tighten, completely filled by her. Desperately, you wrapped your legs around her, locking her against you, looking for her hard thrusts, looking for your release again. She probably realized you were nearing your climax, her thrusts grew even rougher, hitting your most sensitive spot with every movement, pushing you closer to the edge. - "Come one, sweetheart. Pay for your sins, cum for Mommy."

Then you came again, more intensively this time. Your eyes closed to recover from the orgasm, your hands held her arm while your legs still wrapped around her body. Her fingers released your waist, now gently caressing your belly as you take a small breath.

- "I'm so proud of you for taking me so well." - she reassured you, her nails scratching your skin until her hand reached your breasts. You weren't expecting her territorial hands so soon. - "but it's still not enough for me." - As she lowered her body onto you, the movement of her hips made you remember how deep she was inside but before you could contest she sealed her lips to yours.

The kiss began softly, your tongues meeting, exploring, savouring the moment — she was addictive. But Wanda still had plans for you. Suddenly, she broke the kiss, reaching out toward the nightstand for something. Her rosary.

Your confused gaze met her wicked one. Without hesitation, she adjusted herself, rising only to sit herself onto your hips. A frustrated whimper left your lips at the sudden emptiness between your legs. She took your hands, bringing your wrists together in front of you — and you couldn’t help but notice the thin, rigid object, still sticky from you, resting against your stomach.

You don’t know how, but somehow she managed to tie your wrists together with the rosary, the material pressing firmly against your skin.

- “This will help you count your sins,” - she said, moving off you. - “I need you on all fours now.”

Not giving you a chance to question her, she grabbed your waist and swiftly turned you over, guiding you into the position she demanded.

She helped you steady yourself on your forearms, your wrists still bound by the rosary. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling them up, positioning you exactly how she wanted.

- “You look so hot, all exposed for me like this,” - she said, running her hand over your ass. - “I can see from here how sticky your throbbing cunt is." - her fingers rubbing your folds, spreading your wetness.

Your pussy was aching from the previous thrusts but even more in need to be filled again, you couldn't keep yourself but started moving your hips to get more contact with her fingers.

-"You are so desperate but don't worry, I'm here to clean you from your sins." - she started rubbing the tip of her cock over your folds - "you just need to ask nicely for your forgiveness." - she grabbed your ass' checks with one hand and squeezed.

You tightened your grip on the part of the rosary that was in your palm and started pleading. - "Wanda, please, I need you inside."

-"That's not the way you should call me and it's not what you should be asking for." - she stopped her movements and in one stroke she slapped your ass. -"One last chance."

Your skin burned at her touch, and a louder moan escaped your lips. - "Please mommy, give me the forgiveness, rip all my sins. Please."

She pushed her cock inside your needy pussy with a harsh, you were so wet that it slipped easily deep. You arched your back, pushing your ass up higher.

- "God, you are still so tight." - she kept a rough pace, pouting in and out. - "Mommy's cock will break you from your sins, just take it all like a good girl."

Her hands grabbed your hips to keep her rough movements, pushing you deeply, you couldn't keep up with her thrusts, moaning loudly, letting her use you as she pleased.

You felt your walls tighten, she must have noticed it too because she pounded harder and faster, searching for your next orgasm.

-"Do you wanna cum so badly, don't you?" - she teased - "Make a mess on my cock, make mommy proud."

Your pussy clenched around her cock, you felt her nails digging your skin to hold your hips up, your cum dripping from your cunt with her slow thrusts.

She caressed your back, guiding you down until you were lying comfortably. You whined feeling she was still inside you. Her body pressed down on your back, she reached for your hands to help free you from the rosary - kissing your neck and shoulders.

- "You did so good for me." - She lay down beside you, pulling your body close to hers. You felt your thigh getting sticky from your cum being released from the emptiness she let you. - "You are free from your sins now." - She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close, your face nestled against her neck, feeling the warmth of her skin.

Your eyes grew heavy with exhaustion, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back. The last thing you remembered was her whispering, “But you’re mine now,” as her thigh pressed firmly between your legs.

----

You woke up the next morning, feeling the empty space beside you. The day was already bright outside, and you weren’t sure if the morning bell had rung yet. Truth be told, you still felt numb from everything that had happened.

To confirm the obvious, you turned to the other side, your eyes landing on Wanda’s empty bed. She had tidied the sheets since last night, they were perfectly in place now, as if she had never laid there at all. A hollow feeling settled in your stomach. You missed her warmth.

Narrowing your eyes, you noticed a few objects and a piece of paper lying on her bed. Intrigued by what they could be, curiosity gave you strength, pushing away the heaviness in your body just enough to make you sit up. You gathered the clothes that had been discarded on the floor the night before, slipping them on as you moved toward the edge of the bed, where the objects were neatly arranged.

Then your gaze sharpened, and your mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts. There they were - your vibrator, your missing panties, an apple, and Wanda’s rosary. And alongside them, a note.

You could hardly believe what you were seeing, yet deep down, your paranoia had been right all along, even if it made no sense. You picked up the piece of paper. The message was brief, direct yet unsettling:

“I’m extending the loan of your bigger toy, but I am not a thief. Keep up your prayers. Keep counting your sins.”

A dry, humourless laugh slipped from your lips. So that was the meaning behind it — she had simply taken your strap-on. The audacity of it settled over you like a weight. After everything, after the night you had shared, she still had the nerve to do this.

A restless mix of frustration and anger began to take hold of you. You had wished for a different ending, wished that she would have chosen to act differently. But maybe this was all it had ever been — her fulfilling her purpose, cleansing you of your impurities. That’s all she had wanted. And that’s exactly what she had taken from you.

Just as you were about to crumple the note and toss it away, something on the back caught your eye. The moment you saw it, your body turned cold. A single letter "R" followed by four numbers. And beneath them, written in smaller, almost careful script: Eve. Your breath hitched. The realization crept in, slow but undeniable. It felt like insanity, but the truth was staring back at you, undeniable and inescapable.

The letter "R" wasn’t just any initial — it marked a room number. But not just any room. It belonged to the psychiatric hospital. This time, your memory didn’t fail you. The images came rushing back, vivid and sharp — the day you had combed through the hospital archives, searching for answers about the so-called "Dark Book".

There hadn’t been much information, in fact. Patient names were often replaced with codenames or initials, and details about their appearances or personal data were scarce. At most, the records contained behavioural reports, and vague, clinical descriptions that only deepened the mystery rather than providing clarity.

Although everything had been vague, you remembered it clearly, the specific room number, the reported behavioural lapses, and the mention of a red-covered notebook the patient always carried. That red notebook. You remembered it because you had seen it. The bottom of the cover had been scratched out as if someone had tried to erase something once written there. And the initials were still visible on the front — Jimmy had pointed them out. Eve. Wanda had been a patient at the hospital. She was one of the names listed in the "Dark Book".

All this time, and you had no idea. But her? Had she known about you all along? Had that been the reason for everything? Heat crept up your neck, and you raised a hand to your skin, a sudden prickle making it feel as if she were there, right now — watching, touching.

Your mind reeled back to the memory of her lips on your skin, the way she had lingered, as if marking you, claiming you, savouring the taste of you like something forbidden. Your gaze locked onto the apple resting on the bed. Perfectly red. The colour of temptation. The colour of the greatest sin.

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ But The Night, He Calls Me — Bruce "Batman" Wayne x GN Civilian!Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

It was hard to imagine a time where anything noteworthy in Gotham didn't happen during a dark and stormy night. The city was a pretty big pull for raincoulds, low hanging fog, and a general morose look. But above all else, it was your home, though you didn't prefer to walk out at night these days. With the notoriously shoddy work of the GCPD and crime rates almost triple as high compared to the neighboring cities, you didn't exactly feel the wet concrete and dark alley corners beckoning you anytime soon.

The roof, however, was a different matter. Your roof— or, well, the roof to the apartment complex you lived at— became a frequent spot to the one man who could ever make a dent in Gotham City crime. The very same man you could see perched on the edge of the parapet right now. You approached slowly, taking careful steps as to not make a sound. After painfully long moments of inching, you were almost close enough to reach out. You shuffled just a bit more, preparing to make yourself known-

"Go back inside" the dark figure cut in, low gravelly voice clear and familiar. You sighed deeply, giving up and moving to step up to the vigilante's side "How do you always do that?". "I'm a detective, it's my job" the Batman said flatly. You leaned against the parapet he was standing atop "It's uncanny is what it is. After all these months you'd think I'd be able to get the drop on you at least once". "Villains who have been chasing me since the beginning of my career haven't managed it either, don't be too discouraged" Batman replied.

You chuckled a little, looking over the edge of the roof. The crime fighter's dry humor was a reason the two of you got along so well. After meeting by chance a few times, it became a more regular occurrence to meet up like this. Sometimes you'd get to see him spring into action, or maybe even return from a fight. But tonight, it seems, was uneventful. "Slow day?" You asked. "There's never a slow day in Gotham," Batman responded "You just need to know where to find the action". You couldn't help but snort a little at the claim "Okay, tough guy, so why haven't you set off yet?". "There's no point to a stakeout if you jump in before the crook" Batman said, and you gave a thoughtful nod in reply.

"You should really go back inside" the caped crusader spoke up "It's late. You've got work, I'm sure". "Got the day off, actually, detective" You responded "And I can't sleep knowing there's a bat on my roof". That got a faint hum from the dark knight, the closest you got to an amused reaction from him. The wind picked up from the just-passed storm, bringing a chill that bit your cheeks and clung to your clothes in one large wave. You couldn't help but shiver, tugging your jacket tighter around your pajamas.

Batman kept his gaze on the streets below, watching as puddles rippled with the last few drops from the sky and lamps flickered from lack of care. He was in tune with every foot of concrete road, attuned to any and every movement. The only thing that pulled his attention was when feeling his long billowing cape being tugged. His head looked over, seeing you wrapping the inky black fabric around your shoulders. "What- what are you doing" Batman asked, mildly confused. "It's not really fair that you're the only one that gets to wrap up in this thing" you said, scooting closer to him for more coverage.

"I do that to cloak myself" Batman countered, sliding off the parapet to be standing on the top of the roof beside you. "Right. And I'm using it to warm myself" you said casually, shuffling to his side. You honestly expected him to give some gruff, witty comment and snatch the cape back. If it were any other situation, with any other person, maybe he would have. But instead, he just looked back to the streets, using an arm to hold out more of the martial for you. You smiled, tucking fully into his side and now being fully wrapped up. "Better?" Batman asked, avoiding looking down at you. You nodded, leaning on his shoulder "A lot, yeah. Thanks, Bats"

Batman gave a short 'hm' in response, going back to being silent. But he kept an arm around your lower back, keeping you held close to his frame. As much as he was trying to avoid it, it did poor things to his heart to see you shivering in the cold because of him. He very briefly placed his chin atop your head, using his free hand to tap your shoulder. "Ten minutes. Then you're going back to bed"

"Fine, fine" you said, nuzzling up to him a bit more "Ten minutes". Batman hesitated a little, before allowing himself to wrap his arms around you fully. He gave you a brief but strong embrace, letting you soak up his warmth just for now. He could spare ten mintues. It's not like any villain could outrun him for long, anyways.

[hughschiers]

Baby goalie tshea is gone now too😞

[netherfeildren]

Evermore

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s your older boyfriend who your parents had a hard time approving of, but you’re engaged now and spending your first Thanksgiving with your family, and well, it’s always fun doing things you know you shouldn’t do under the roof of your childhood home.

-OR-

The Thanksgiving AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Thanksgiving AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Thanksgiving is the most boyfriend holiday and it needs to be discussed; Fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pretty soft and sweet; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Size Difference; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Breeding Kink; Oral sex; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; Come eating; PWP

A/N: Was thinking yesterday that Thanksgiving is the most boyfriendy holiday, and so this seemed entirely necessary after that epiphany. I’m sick as an old dog right now, and wrote this so quickly and just for fun. Any and all mistakes are property of my NyQuil induced high, apologies and enjoy and happy holidays :]

New Year’s Eve follow up

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

“You’re doing so good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, baby. So, so good. It’s going so well.” You drag your nails slowly up the wide expanse of his strong back, feeling the divots and bumps of his spine, the thick padding of muscles that jump and shiver at your touch. He’d donned the nice green and red plaid button down you’d bought him for tonight, and he’s a little damp at the small of his back, giving away the nerves he’s trying to keep hidden from you, but you can tell anyways, sensed them as if they’d been your own fluttering within you. More attuned to another person than maybe is normal, perhaps, but you know this man, your man, your fiance now. You understand him. 

“You think he likes me?” And his voice goes a little gruff, sheepish, words lodging in his throat as he slowly soaps your mother’s special holiday china in the warm sink water. The two of you’d been relegated to clean up duty after you’d finished the beautiful Thanksgiving meal your mother had spent days readying in preparation for your first official visit with Joel as the man you’d soon marry. No longer just the older boyfriend who your father couldn’t stand to hear about, much less bear the sight of. And the come around had been slow going, undoubtedly, tireless work on yours and your mother’s parts trying to get him to relent, to accept the man who you’d chosen to spend the rest of your life with as a good man for his daughter. 

“Yes– yes. Absolutely. You made him laugh so many times. And he was so interested when you mentioned the house.”

You feel him suck in a shaky breath and move to wrap your arms around the strong breadth of his waist, resting your cheek against him, listening to the thud, thud of his beating heart. “Christ–” He gives a tremulous laugh that you follow suit warmly, palms splaying out over his belly. “He was, wasn’t he?” 

“So interested. Please, don’t worry anymore. My mom loves you, and dad’s on his way there too, I know he is, I promise.”

“He’s just protective,” he says, shutting off the water and pulling the plug on the drain. The both of you stand there in the silence together, listening to the little tornado of water suck away the remnants of the perfect dinner you’d just had with your parents and the man you were going to marry. It really had been perfect, and you’re telling him the truth when you say you really do think your father’s coming around. He’d been apprehensive at first, more than apprehensive, perhaps, with Joel being so much older than you, twenty years to be exact. And with a teenage daughter of his own, Sarah, who was spending the holiday with her mother. 

Your mother had always been the easy going one, and she’d taken one look at Joel, the dark, silver threaded curls, the thick shoulders and sparkly, hazel eyes, the too charming smile and had immediately understood. Your father had seen all those same things and seen nothing but trouble immediately deserving of mistrust. Things had been rocky for a time, but when Joel had gotten down on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him and Sarah, when he’d broken ground on the house he was building you with his bare hands from the dirt up out by the lake, well… your father hadn’t been able to withhold his approval for much longer after that was all said and done. 

“And for good reason,” he continues, reaching for the dish towel, drying off his hands before covering yours over his stomach with his wide palms, pulling your arms tighter around him. He brings one of your hands up to his face, cupping his own mouth with it to press a kiss to the tender cove. “The man should take me out back and drag me through the mud,” he mumbles, muffled into your skin, dragging his mouth slowly from side to side, tickling your palm with his whiskers. 

You press yourself harder against him, shoving him into the edge of the counter, dizzy with the feel of your heart beating so hard against your sternum it reverberates against the ribs in his back. “No, baby. Why? Never.” You press a kiss right over the slope of his spine. 

He gives a soft laugh at the feel of your wriggling against him, trying to find friction anywhere and anyway, not very inconspicuously rubbing your breasts against his back, and he turns slowly in the circle of your arms with that humming laugh still caught in his throat, bending slightly at the knees when he wraps his own arms around your waist to pull you up and into him so that your feet are left to dangle above his own heavy boots. He nuzzles at the warm, fragrant skin beneath the edge of your jaw, a small kiss to the tender spot behind your ear, where he whispers, “‘Cause all I could think about at the goddamn table, sittin’ next to your father, was how pretty your tits look in that dress you wore for me – how much I wish I could kiss that pretty pussy to sleep tonight.” 

You whine low, desperate, needy, wrapping your arms behind his neck to press his face tightly to your throat, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth, sharp at your pulse. “Joel–”

He shakes his head slowly, a long stream of sighing breath warm against your collarbone before he says, “I know– I know, baby. I’m telling ya– your father should kill me for the things I wanna do to his little girl. For the things I do to her already.”

The visit had so far been everything you could’ve wished for, and what you’d appreciated more than anything, more than your father’s very approval of your fiance, or your mother’s happiness for you, was that Joel had found the perfect balance between being respectful, ingratiating even, while still remaining uncowed by your father. Walking into your parents home with your hand in his, a deferential kiss to your mother’s cheek, and a strong, self assured handshake for your father while he’d handed him the bottle of his favorite fine aged whiskey and a demure, I’m glad we could make this work for our girl.

Our girl, he’d said, and it had made everything that lived inside of you with his name on it, everything that was perpetually soft and wet for him, go molten. You loved him. You belonged to him. And you’d chosen him for yourself, and he was sure as hell going to make sure everyone the two of you came across knew what that choice entailed, what it meant to him. Your father had been forced into capitulation, all with the whiskey and the self assurance in Joel’s eyes, your own unbridled elation, and your mother’s giggles and blushing smiles like every other woman who’s ever met this man, unable to resist the charm of that Southern twang and the too gorgeous smile, no other recourse had been left to your poor dad. 

You think of this as you make your way on silent tiptoes through your parent’s dark, quiet home. It had been the one concession you’d not garnered from your father, the sleeping arrangements. He’d absolutely refused to allow you and Joel to share a bed under his roof, no questions asked. And no matter how much you’d pleaded and your mother had cooed and cawed and threatened him, he’d not relented. At this point, you were worried he’d not let you sleep in the same bed as Joel even after the two of you’d been married. But what your father didn’t understand, what even you yourself barely understood sometimes was that you needed Joel. You need him. No one, no one except for Joel himself understood how desperately that ran inside of you. He understood you, he always has. 

You pause as you reach the closed door of his bedroom, splaying a palm against the fine grained wood to take a settling breath, your heart beating so fast you feel it in your throat, chock full of excitement, lust, desperate yearning. To have him here, in your childhood home, where you’d been a teenager, a girl, grown into a woman, you want him so, so badly, inside of you, around you, beneath you. You can never sleep without him anymore, no comfort to be found in the too small bed of your childhood – you turn the knob and slip inside. 

The blue darkness of the guest bedroom paints his form in shadows, big under the pretty quilt your mother has adorning the bed. You can see the heavy mass of his shoulder peeking from beneath the edge of the quilt, the ratty gray t-shirt you know has a faded longhorn stretched across the front; not able to sleep naked and wrapped only in you the way he usually does when under your parents roof. You turn the lock and step carefully on tipped toes, avoiding the creaky bits in the hardwood floor you’re so familiar with after a lifetime living in this house and lift the edge of the quilt to slip into the cocoon of warmth with him. Like a living furnace, you snake your arm over his flank slowly, enjoying the shiver and jerk of his muscles as you stroke him awake. Your palm, passing over thick ridged muscles and soft belly, digging beneath to feel the wispy scratch of hair there. 

He makes a deep sound, low in his chest, legs shifting as he comes to wakefulness, and then the gruff murmur of your name being whispered into the dark, his big, callused palm coming to wrap entirely around your fist beneath his t-shirt, keeping you from slipping it inside his sleep pants. “Baby, what’re you doin’?” He slurs, voice full of sleep and slow waking lust. 

You press your pelvis into his backside, hitching your knee up and over his hip to wrap yourself around him like vines. “I need you,” you mewl, baby voice trying to get ahead of his polite refusal before he’s able to get it out. He’d told you, before the two of you’d embarked on this weekend at your parents house, that there was to be no funny business on your part. As if he didn’t know that that was your favorite kind of business where he was concerned. You press a kiss above his scapula, then open your jaw to drag your teeth against the skin warmed cotton. You rub against him, clutching and pulling at his chest and stomach, biting and kissing as much of his back as you can reach, your foot somehow finding its way into his lap so that you can feel his quickly hardening cock against the sensitive arch of your foot. 

He groans roughly. “You’re gonna get us caught, sweet girl,” he tries to protest, but wraps his hand around the little foot in his lap anyways, pressing the arch of it into that half hard erection, rubbing against it. 

“I need you– I can’t sleep without you,” you whine, and he makes a frustrated sound, turning to face you, gripping your knee as he goes to open the cradle of your hips for himself, drawing your leg over his waist so that you’re suddenly chest to chest, sipping on each other’s warm breath. With a fist in your hair he gives you a hardly believable reprimand, little girl, and presses his lips briefly to yours, quick and damp, barely there, like he can’t help himself, like he knows that if he starts he won’t be able to stop, wandering hands already slipping up the hem of your nightgown, squeezing your panty clad ass. 

“Your parents…” he tries again, the roll of his hips against yours, coupled with a hitched whine, making his objections a little laughable.

“Don’t you miss me? Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me here with you?”

“Of course– of course I do–” You twist your fingers in his curls, the first real press of your mouths, his damp upper lip slotting between both of yours so that you can give it a little suck. Then the tip of his tongue touching yours, and you’re opening all the way for him, moaning wantonly into his mouth, letting him lick and taste behind the line of your teeth. “‘Course I want you here, baby.”

“I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet,” you promise. “Please, please, Joel. Please, just–” The hand squeezing your ass slides between your legs, finds the damp plaquet of panties. Fuckin’ soaked already, needy girl. “Please, just fuck me. I’ll be so quiet, I promise.”

“Baby…”

Please, please, please. He’s always had something about him that turns you into nothing more than a wet little girl desperate for the big, big man’s attention. The impropriety of your surroundings has no bearing on this, the desperation is as present as ever, heightened even, maybe, because of the wrongness of it, because you could be caught red handed at any second if you’re not careful, not quiet enough. 

“‘Course I love you so fuckin’ much. You even need to ask?” He rubs the flat of his palm over your pussy, the tip of his middle finger finding the nub of your clit covered by the soaked wet silk to press lightly on each pass forward.

“No, Daddy. I know,” you breathe soft and secret into his mouth, watch the slight widening of his eyes as you say it. You can picture the flush suffusing his cheeks at hearing you call him so, know the effect the sound of it has on him. 

“Fucking Christ,” he murmurs, pulling you tighter against him, tilting your head back by the grip he has on your hair so that he can deepen his kiss, taste you more thoroughly. “Better be quiet while I fuck you.” He pulls back, mock frown and a note of reprimand in his voice as his fingers dip beneath the silk of your panties to find the wet, swollen mess of you already. He moans into your open mouth, your name and I love you and wet fuckin’ pussy as he starts to pet at you slowly. His fingers swirling at your clit and then moving to your opening, dipping inside just a tiny bit, giving you almost nothing, forcing a frustrated whine up your throat. “I said quiet.”

“Please, Daddy. Please,” you beg, but he returns to your clit, ignoring your whining, pinching the bundle of nerves lightly before he’s back to teasing the mouth of your cunt, dipping the tip of a single finger in shallowly to pull your wetness from you and spread it over your mound, slicking you up for him. 

“We’re gonna go nice and slow. Gonna take my pretty cunt nice and slow, and you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? Gonna be quiet – not get us caught, right? Say yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, pressing kisses all along his face and jaw and throat, needy fingers twisting in his curls, scratching at the back of his neck and the hills of his shoulders. He make an approving groan of a sound, rolling the two of you over so that you’re on your back, splayed out beneath him, and he pulls the vee of your nightgown down, bearing your breasts to him, sucking on each nipple, first hard then soft, then with teeth and tongue, slicking you in his spit, and you try and stay quiet, you really, really do, but it’s so hard not to cry out at the sight of his jaw hinging wide, seemingly trying to take the whole heavy weight of your breast into his mouth in one go. 

He always has you like he wants you more than anything else in the whole world, like he’s never wanted anything else in his whole life more than he wants you, and nothing feels better than that, nothing makes you crazier for him than the way he wants you so desperately. 

He makes his way down the length of you with kisses to your breasts, your ribs, your belly, the mound of your pelvic bone, before he’s gathering your knees together and bending them to press against your chest, pulling the lace and silk of your panties over the curve of your bottom and diving nose first into your wet cunt, taking in a deep drag of your scent and then dragging the broad, flat of his tongue from your asshole to your clit in one long, slow swipe. The groan he ends on has you almost coming on his tongue just like that, the sound so hungry it would scare someone who doesn’t want to be wanted as badly by this man as you do. And he eats your cunt like he’s angry, like he’s in love with you, like he doesn’t care if you get caught or not. Tongue plunging into your pussy, sucking on your clit, shaking his head, quick and hard, from side to side so that the obscene sound of your wetness against his mouth is all you can hear over the cacophony sounding in your ears right before you gush for him all wet and sweet and sticky, covering his tongue and beard. His lips wrap around your swollen clit again while it still pulses for him, and you have to shove your fist into your mouth, drooling around it to stifle the sound of your cries for his cock while he sucks you into a second painfully fluttery orgasm, your womb cramping hard and tight around nothing, your cunt clutching desperately at air for the cock it’s about to gladly take. The hum of his movements, of his whines and moans, don’t match his promise for nice and slow. They tell you this is going to be hard and deep and might even hurt, and that you’ll like it all the more for that. This is, after all, what you’d snuck in here for, just exactly this. 

He pulls away from your cunt with a loud, wet suck, popping your clit from his puckered mouth like a piece of too ripe, too sweet fruit, before crawling up the length of you, pulling your soaked panties and your nightgown from your body as he goes, shucking his own sweat soaked shirt over his head and kicking his pajama bottoms away. When he takes your mouth again, his face and beard are wet and sticky with your slick, all sweet sugared musk and the angry thrust of his tongue, his fingers, too hard and too tight wrapping around your jaw, grunting into your mouth as he sucks on your tongue. His burning hot cock thrusts between your wet cleft, the sound of your leaking pussy loud enough to be heard over the sound of your mingled panting breaths. You feel him grip himself, stroking once, twice, wide, blunt head bumping against slick soaked skin, before he’s notching at your cunt and shoving in, hard and fast. Not giving you a chance to think about it before he’s bumping at the mouth of your womb, a muted bruise you never tire of; his too big cock that still pinches every time, that presses in just on this side of too deep to always be comfortable, but you don’t care. The proof is in the hurt, and you need constant reminding that he’s real, that this is real. It’s your greatest pleasure, after all, the reassurance of him, of the two of you, and he never tires of giving it to you. You know that giving you the things you need and want from him, turns Joel on more than anything else.

He groans long and low into the crook of your shoulder when he bottoms out and holds there for several drawn out moments, both of you enjoying the pulse and throb of your connection. He’s so deep and you’re so wet for him, taking him so, so well, like he always tells you that you do. You’d felt, from the first moment that you’d laid eyes on him, like you’d been made for him. Put on this earth just for him to find and keep, and doing this, having each other like this, even after all the times you’ve done it, always feels like further proof of it. He grinds against you, hips shifting from side to side, tip bumping against the deepest part of you, before he’s clutching at your ass and flipping the both of you over suddenly, cock never slipping from your tight clutch when he settles you on top of him, buried to the hilt. You feel him in your stomach like this, and you tell him so, little hand coming to rest low on your belly where you’re holding him inside of you, pressing down so that the both of you can feel your connection from the inside out, groaning in tandem all wide and sparkly eyed as you look at each other. And he’s nodding his head at you as you start to shift your hips slowly, feeling the wet slide of his length, the grind of your clit against his pelvis, one hand pressing down on your belly, the other anchoring yourself on his own stomach so that you can rock yourself on him. 

He pulls one of your knees up, resting your foot flat on the bed to open you to his gaze, so that he can watch the way the thick root of his cock splits your cunt open for him to fuck up into. The two of you find your rhythm, you rolling your hips down on his upthrust, and he’s still nodding his head at you, mouthing words made of only air at you while you gasp and gulp for breath, I love you and you’re so pretty and yeah, ride that cock, baby. All you can do in return is mumble his name at him over and over again, Joel, Joel, Joel, nonsensical. Your brain doesn't work when he’s got his cock wedged this deep inside of you, it just doesn’t.

There's sweat pooling in the divots of his collarbones, the sun grizzled notch of his throat, and you fold over forward, changing the angle, deepening it, to lick up those little pools of salt, sucking on his neck until he’ll surely have incriminating bruises tomorrow. You don’t care, not even a little bit. He’s so yours in this moment, always really, but right now, Joel feels so, so incredibly yours, and you love him so much, and he’s going to be your husband one day soon and nothing else really matters besides that. 

He wraps both arms around your back, squeezes you to himself tight and starts to fuck up into you, fast, brutal, again, nothing nice and slow about it like he’d promised, and you’re forced to dig your teeth into his shoulder so hard you’re scared for a moment you’ll taste blood on your tongue. You can feel your orgasm crawling up your spine, pooling like liquid heat in your pelvis while everything goes tight and fluttery inside of you. “How mad would he be if I knocked you up right now? If I fucked his baby girl full’a my baby under his roof?” He grunts into your ear, and there’s the dip in your restraint. As much as you want to hold off and wait for him, you clench down hard around him with a sharp cry, mouthful of his skin to muffle you only barely. “Huh? What’dya think he’d say?” He continues, changing the angle so that his pelvis bumps against your clit on every punch in, balls slapping wetly against the curve of your ass while he pets at the tight ring of muscle back there, tempting you with more than you think you can take right now. “If you go all pretty and round and soft for me before our wedding.” 

You can't speak, you’re nothing but air and sticky, sweet wet in the shape of a girl made just for him. Too tight grip in your hair, and he’s jerking your face towards him, grunting into your mouth as he starts to spill inside of you, burning hot come milked out of his cock and deep into you, and he tells you again how much he loves you, tells you that you’re his pretty little wife because it’s already felt like that for so long. A marrying of your very selves despite the lack of legal nothing that means so little to the both of you when you have all this between you already. Tells you that he can’t wait to see his baby all full of his baby. 

When he’s finished pumping you filled to the brim he turns you over again, pulls out slowly so that the both of you can appreciate the sound of his heavy cock slipping wetly from your well used pussy, and when he bends to eat your mingled come out of your puffy cunt, only to then wedge your mouth open so that he can spit your fluids onto your waiting tongue, all here, taste how good we are, the only words left when it comes to this man and this thing you have between the two of you is always simply thank you. 

New Year’s Eve follow up

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[beomie3]

txt on girlfriend day :3 (summer edition)

bf!txt x fem!reader (mostly fluff, some suggestive material)

⭐️ soobin

soob takes you camping!!

he is such a granola bf lolz, he literally knows everything about how to survive in the wild and you find it so attractive 🤭

he sets the tent up and lets you help him if you want, but mostly he wants his gf to relax in the shade, not overworking herself on her special day <3

"you deserve princess treatment every day of course," he pecks you on the cheek, interlacing his fingers with yours while you rock on the hammock together. "but today you are the queen of the entire universe!" he starts kissing your face everywhere and it soon escalates to a tickle fight.

once the tent is set up by the shore, you walk over to the dock which of course results in jumping into the lake together, fingers interlaced.

"three! two...!" and before he reaches one you're already running full speed towards the edge of the dock, pulling you along with him. you both reunite underwater, coming up for a breath only to meet your lips together and literally could not break them apart ^3^

after drying off, the two of you roast marshmallows as the sun sets, making smores for one another! he made you as many smores until your heart's content. "my baby needs to eat as much as she wants!" he loved seeing the look on your face when you took a bite like it was the best thing you'd ever tasted.

once it was dark and crickets chirped, the two of you got cozy in the tent under thick blankets, only the lantern's warm lighting illuminating his face as you looked into his dark brown eyes. he told you the story of the day he fell in love with you as he held you in his arms, his voice soothing you like no other.

a kiss turned into another, which turned into another, which then turned into a makeout, and then his shirt was off, and then the lantern was turned off and that's when you knew tonight would be an extra special night ;)

(currently working on turning this into a full fic! :P)

⭐️ yeonjun

junie takes you clothing shopping 😋

but first, he wakes you up with snuggles, (really passionate morning sex), and your favorite latte that he took the time to perfectly prepare before you awoke.

you both wear matching outfits ofc hehe.

he takes you to your favorite clothing stores. "get anything you want baby," he kisses the side of your neck before leaving the car and if you didn't have self-control you'd want him to rip your clothes off here and now :p

he always works so hard to be able to get you whatever you need and want, of course there is no problem spending it all on you!!

as someone with impeccable fashion sense, he helps you pick out some summer outfits that he had in mind.

he cannot contain his big grin when you walk out of the fitting room wearing the prettiest outfit ever! he is literally so grateful to have such a beauty like you <3

let's not forget, he also takes you to plenty of lingerie stores and you two have lots of fun there ;)

"this one is for tonight," you wink at him as you hold a red lace piece against your body and his mind goes to unexplainable places.

"can't wait to take it off of you," he whispers in your ear and the tension is already through the roof and you cannot wait to get home.

once you get home from dinner, you get straight to it and boy is it hot ;)

⭐️ beomgyu

you and gyu stay the weekend at your beach house :)

you two had met as kids and grew up together. you crossed paths because both of your families owned beach houses right next to each other! he was always the boy next door <3

anyway, it’s ten years later and you both now own one of the houses together as a vacation home. the two of you love to spend weekend getaways here!

you chase each other around the beach like you're young all over again, falling in love over and over and over again.

you go to the farmers market together and pick fresh groceries for tonight's dinner he is cooking for you :)

you get home, put a record on the turntable, and cook together. you sip red wine, slow dancing in the kitchen as the spaghetti noodles boil.

he serves your plate, carefully using spaghetti sauce to write "happy gf day baby <3" on the side of your plate and your heart melts.

dinner is so yummy and you eat it on the balcony, just watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon, feeling the damp ocean wind comb through your hair.

"you have some red sauce here!" you wipe his lip with your thumb and he wants nothing but to kiss you all over.

he carries you upstaris after dinner once the sun completely sets, laying you down on the queen bed you both share.

he wanted to do so much for you; run you a bath, give you a massage, sing you a song.. but right now, you could not keep your hands off of each other. your eyes said it all.

"i want to show you how much i love you," he whispered against your lips as he pulled you down down into the sheets with him.

(this is a snippet of the full version i've been writing that will be published soon!)

⭐️ taehyun

terry takes you to the national art museum in the city because he knows how much you love going to museums with him <3

he takes the cutest candid pics of you while you marvel over the paintings, sure to post them on his instagram and send them to his family🥺

he takes you out for boba after because how can it be a perfect day without boba??

plus he loves hearing when you compare his large shining eyes to boba pearls hehe.

you walk around a quaint park holding hands, stopping inside little shops and simply enjoying your time together.

he stops at a bench under a tree to get something from his bag. "i have something for you," he holds something behind his back. your face grows hot, stomach twisting with the question of what it might be.

he stretches out his hand, holding a small box, opening it to reveal a pink, sparkling promise ring. "i want to be with you foreve-" he barely gets his words out before you've jumped into his arms, squeezing his strong frame as hard as you could.

tears stain your cheeks. you cannot contain how grateful you are to have such an amazing boy in your life <3

" i want to be with you forever, tae," and you share the sweetest kiss. he's sure to take over 100 pictures of you with your new sparkly ring on too :)

⭐️ huening kai

kai takes you on a drive but you have no idea where he is taking you!

the car ride consists of you blasting music and singing your hearts out, listening to his amazing vocals. you could seriously listen to him sing all day.

you arrive at the spot; atop a tall hill and looking over the entire city. its golden hour, the sun is starting to set and he looks so beautiful in the orange-yellow light.

"close your eyes!" he yells once he leads you out of the car and you hear him rummaging around in the back seat.

you open your eyes when he tells you to as he pops open the trunk of his suv and behold! the cutest arrangement of things decorate large space.

fairy lights adorn the sign he made you reading "happy girlfriend's day to the best girl in the entire planet and universe!!!" with a bunch of colorful hearts and cute emojis he attempted to draw.

there are pillows and blankets and a basket of your favorite candies. he also got you plushies and packed a picnic of your favorite fast food because he just had to.

the two of you sat in the trunk eating an arrangement of your favorite food, candy, and soda. a bit unhealthy, but it’s your special treat that he knows you had been craving it the entire week.

after eating, you lay on top of his car watching the stars, sharing little kisses and giggling over inside jokes.

he hands you a small jar in which you discover holds tons of little pieces of paper. you read them one at a time. your eyes begin to well.

he had written over 100 different things he loves about you on each piece of paper.

"kai," you look at him, tears welling your eyes.

a million i love you’s are what you expressed through the tightest embrace.

note: each and every one of you are so so special, treat yourself to a little something today :) here is a little treat, i <3 you!! also, please let me know if you’d like me to turn any of these into full length stories💓

[meguwumibear]

cant stop thinking about fake dating monoma....

"You're asking me out?" he laughs. Monoma laughs with his whole body. Mouth. Stomach. Hands. He uses them all as he insults you. "My how the mighty have fallen."

You roll your eyes with an exacerbated sigh. Motherfucker never did listen to much other than the sound of his own voice. Selective hearing. Shinsou tried to warn you. Monoma hears only what he wants to.

"I'm pretending to ask you out, dipshit," you clarify. "To boost our stats."

The plan seemed reasonable enough when you first hatched it. The public loves to stick their upturned noses into the private lives of heroes. The more a hero discloses, the higher their rank. Correlation and causation or whatever-the-fuck your PR team said. You need some press. You need to leak something juicy. Hence, fake dating Monoma. It's foolproof, isn't it? Now that you've actually pitched the thing to the smug bastard, you're not so sure.

"How's dating you gonna boost my stats exactly?" he asks.

"Well, for one I out rank you," you say, eager to throw that in his face. "Hanging around with someone in the top thirty is bound to increase your position. The top spots aren't determined solely by number of saves and take downs. It's a fucking popularity contest, and we're competing for a crown."

"Hmm, hmm, hmmmmm," Monoma hums as he theatrically taps his pointer finger against his chin in faux contemplation. God damn you picked the absolute worst person to fake date. Should've gone with the perverted grape guy instead. Little fucker probably would've jumped at the opportunity to call himself your boyfriend.

"I don't have all day, Monoma," you say. "You in or you out?"

He flashes you a disgustingly cheeky grin. The smile is all teeth and absent of any semblance of sincerity.

"Oh, I suppose I could be swayed," he relents. "If.......," a pregnant pause for dramatic effect. Typical, "the fake girlfriend package comes with real girlfriend privileges."

You raise an inquiring eyebrow at him. If the smarmy git wants sex he can ask for it like the grown ass man he is instead of alluding to it like some high school brat.

"I am of course referring to sexual intercourse," he oh-so helpfully clarifies. "Including, but not limited to-"

"Yeah, yeah," you say with a wave of your hand to shut him up. If you have to listen to the end of that sentence you might end up punting him off the roof. "Whatever you want."

Monoma's eyebrows disappear behind his poorly styled emo bangs that he never aged out of. "Whatever I want?" he parrots. "God, you're just as desperate as the rest of them without the numbers to back you up. Think the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight would result to such petty tricks?"

"Yes or no, Monoma," you huff, pressing at your temples to stem an impending tidal wave of a headache. "If you're above this maybe I'll ask the Great Explosion Murder God himself."

Monoma's eyes darken at that, despite the fact that he only has himself to blame for putting the idea in your head.

To his credit, Monoma collects himself quickly and shoves his phone in your hands.

"Number and addy," he says. "I'm staying with Kendo so my place is OOTQ for R-rated content. I'll swing by yours after my patrol tonight for a trial run. I'm guessing you can afford to live alone. based on your rank, number thirty."

"What fucking trial run?" you ask as you add your contact to his phone. You throw in a red heart emoji too, before replacing it with a peach, tongue, and water emoji instead. The pretend relationship needs to look real and there's no way in hell Monoma's the romantic type.

He smirks as he snatches his phone back from you.

"Figure I'm entitled to a seven day free trial before I actually subscribe. It's just good costumer service. Even that prick Bezo's knows it. Don't tell me the aspiring number one hero has less ethics than that capitalistic pig?"

"Oh for fuck's sake," you spit. "Fine. What the hell. Not like I want to be stuck fucking you if your dick game's mid. Swing by tonight. Bring your tiny cock and that bratty attitude of yours. Might be nice to fuck it out of you."

Monoma's grin is borderline predatory. His mouth is open wide enough to expose the sharp tips of his teeth again, and they look like they're just itching to bite. He leans over the table to whisper his next few words in your ear.

"My dick's not tiny," he says, before excusing himself. Then, as he turns to leave, "And I won't be the one getting the brat fucked out of them tonight. See you soon, love."

He disappears around the corner with one last wave of his hand, and you can't help but wonder what the actual fuck you've just gotten yourself into.

[mokulule]

Take Out for Dummies - part 1

Ship: Dead on Main

“Excuse me?” Jason asked in disbelief.

“How would you describe your ideal date?” the man repeated the question calmly as if he hadn’t snuck up on Red Hood on a rooftop in the middle of the night and didn’t have two guns pointed at him by said surprised vigilante.

Jason had no idea what to think, it was absurd. Only one thing made the smallest bit of sense. After all some reporters would do anything for a story.

“Is this an interview for a gossip magazine?”

The man blinked. “No, this is for personal use only.”

Okay. That was even weirder. With that thought he holstered his guns, grabbed his grapple instead and jumped off the building. He could move his patrol elsewhere for tonight.

Oo o oO

It had been a few days, the strange encounter forgotten about as he’d quickly come across a shipment of unsanctioned drugs entering his territory; Black Mask was making moves towards Crime Alley again. Red Hood had to nip that bullshit in the bud. Just because he was more vigilante than crime lord these days didn’t mean he’d gone soft.

So, Jason had forgotten about the strange man on the rooftop and was wholly unprepared when once again he was standing on a rooftop taking a small break in his patrol and someone spoke:

“So I assume dinner is out what with the whole helmet deal, but what about chocolate?”Jason spun around heart in this throat, guns pointing towards the direction of the voice. It took a moment for him to even find him. This time he was sitting on top on the slanted roof of the stairwell.

“What the-“

“A box of chocolate could be enjoyed later, would that be a suitable gift?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Too many things to remember off the top of my head.” The man jumped down and walked towards Jason, once more showing his absolute disregard for the guns pointing at him.

“Do you have a death wish?”

That for some reason brought a smile to his face.

Somehow, Jason was the one taking a step back despite being the one holding the guns. That at least stopped the man’s advance and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Sorry man, I guess this whole showing up on a rooftop in the dark is kinda creepy.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “It’s just with you being you, I don’t know where else to catch you.”

Jason felt an incoming headache, and he was feeling increasingly silly pointing his guns at the man when he didn’t react to them at all.

“How about you explain who you are and what you want?”

“Oh!” He slapped his forehead as if he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. “I’m Danny, and I’ve been hired to take you out.” He smiled brightly.

Jason stared in disbelief. Who in their right mind just announced they’d been hired to kill someone, to the person they intended to-

No…

It couldn’t be…

He’d been asking about dates and chocolate. He couldn’t possibly have misunderstood take out Red Hood as take out Red Hood on a date. Nobody would be that stupid…

“Why would someone hire you to take me out on a date?”

Danny, if that was his real name, shrugged. “Maybe they thought you were stressed and needed a nice evening? I don’t know. I don’t ask questions. I just do odd jobs for money, keeps the lights on, you know?”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t believe this.

“And like this job pays extremely well for some reason, so like I’d like to do a good job of it hence the questions?”

Of course it payed extremely well, it was meant to be a freaking hit! Still could be of course, but then it was the oddest way to go about it that Jason had ever experienced and he’d taken out quite a few would-be assassins in his time.

Danny’s face fell at Jason’s continued non-responsiveness. He sighed. Then brought out a notepad and scribbled something down, before ripping off the paper and holding it out to Jason.

“Look,” he said, when Jason made no move to take the paper and still just kept his guns trained on him, “here’s my number if you change your mind. If you haven’t called back in three days, I’ll return my advance and tell them I can’t do it - no matter how sad I’ll be to see that money go.” He looked pained at the admission, but then looked back up at Red Hood with determination.

“Still please reconsider, Mr Hood, I promise I’ll show you a good time if you agree to a date.”He looked expectantly from his hand with the paper to Jason’s helmet. Jason sighed. Holstering his right hand gun he took the paper. It was indeed a phone number, above the number it said Danny with a little smiley face drawn after the name.

Danny’s face brightened into a smile.

“Have a good night then Mr. Hood, I hope to hear from you.” Danny walked backwards with a wave and promptly tripped on an empty bottle someone had left.

“Woah!” His arms windmilled and he only just saved himself from falling back and hitting his head by sheer luck as he caught himself in the sort of gravity defying pose that would win him most limbo games. He laughed sheepishly as he put a hand down and turned around to push himself back up.

“So that was embarrassing. Should look where I go, huh? Never know when you’ll be assaulted by littering…” his voice trailed off as he walked away. He threw a last wave over his shoulder before jumping onto the fire escape and beginning his climb down.

Jason was left standing on the rooftop, paper clutched in one hand, trying to comprehend the whole baffling conversation. Also there was a distinct curl of embarrassment that he’d actually felt threatened by the guy at one point.

Yeah, he wasn’t gonna unpack that. He put the paper in a pocket of his utility belt and took a running leap to the next rooftop.

Oo o oO

Jason could not believe he was actually doing this.

It was three days later. In the mean time he’d asked around his old enforcers if they heard about a guy named Danny who did “odd jobs” as he’d called it.

As it turned out, there was indeed an odd-job-Danny, sometimes just called odd-Danny, with an increasing reputation on the streets of Gotham for doing all sorts of jobs - everything from helping old ladies carry groceries home for pennies and a pat on the cheek to heavier lifting by the docks. When he asked one of the street kids about him, he was told he also helped look for lost pets for pretty rocks or whatever the kids had in their pockets at the time, and he could fix just about anything - which had to be an exaggeration, but then again the street kids weren’t prone to overly positive opinions about adults, so he’d certainly made quite an impression on them.

Yet despite a lot of people knowing about him, apparently nobody knew a last name or where he lived. It was a mystery.

All that to say that Jason was curious… and apparently doing this.

He looked down at his phone, where he’d already put in the number. His thumb hovered over the call button. He still could not believe he was doing this. If this was a trap he was apparently walking in.

With a sigh he pushed the button.

It rang three times before it connected.

“Hello?” A hesitant voice asked.

“Is this Danny?” “Who’s asking?”

“You ask me on a date and you already forgot, I’m hurt,” Jason deadpanned hoping he would catch on to it not being wise to mention Red Hood’s name on an unencrypted line.

“Oh! So is that a yes?” He piped up excitedly.

Urgh, why was it charming that that he sounded so genuinely excited?

“Yes.”

“Sweet. Did you consider my questions?”

“Nope,” Jason popped the p and found himself smirking, “gonna have to impress me all on your own.”

Danny huffed. “Have it your way. I’ll show you a good time, you’ll see. How does… Sunday afternoon work for you?”

“’s fine.”

“Meet you in front of the building we last met, at 2 pm? Also unless you wanna take the bus, maybe bring your bike? I don’t drive.”

Jason scoffed. Letting some stranger hired to kill him close to him on his bike was a recipe for disaster. Still he found himself answering:

“Sure.”

“Great! I’ll see you Sunday then.”

With those words the call ended.

Jason looked down at his phone. He couldn’t believe it. Jason, no, Red Hood had a date for this Sunday. A giddy feeling bubbled up in his chest and he couldn’t help laughing. Red Hood going on a date. It was fucking ridiculous.

Yet, he was kinda looking forward to it. -

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[luxaofhesperides]

Dancing in the rain ; requested by @wandixx!

He hadn’t been expecting the Signal to chase after him. It is, after all, well after midnight, and he had seen the vigilante out earlier during the day. 

Maybe the Bats are understaffed tonight, he muses as he leaps over the rooftops, a wild grin on his face. Being on the other side of a chase is a lot of fun, he’s discovering. He can see why Selina enjoys it so much.

Though, it probably has to do more with who’s chasing her than it is the chase itself.

But Danny’s become a bit of an adrenaline junkie after a few years of being a hero, fighting ghosts and governments. He’s not a hero anymore, especially not in Gotham, but being Catwoman’s partner in crime is way more fun than being responsible for everyone’s safety.

It’s like he’s doing anything bad, either. Selina can steal whatever she wants; if they couldn’t protect things against her, then should they really have it? Danny doesn’t focus on jewelry or gems. No, he takes ghost artifacts or items contaminated with ectoplasm back to the realms where they won’t cause problems to any humans. There are enough ecto-contaminated people in this world, solely from Amity Park. Best not to let that number grow.

So here he is, leaping over rain-slicked rooftops and only using a little bit of flying to keep ahead, holding a cursed pocket watch that a ghost had requested he return to them, with the Signal chasing after him, disappearing into shadows and popping up unexpectedly. 

“Stray! Get back here!” Signal yells, and Danny takes a moment to spin on his heel to face the vigilante to stick his tongue out at him, then backflips away.

“I didn’t even steal anything important!” he returns, tossing the pocketwatch in the air ahead, then jumps up to catch it and scales his way up to the roof of the next building. 

“Seriously,” Signal says, suddenly in front of him. “Stop running and we can talk this out.”

“Woah!” Danny tries to get around him, trips over his own feet, and crashes into the Signal’s chest. 

“Careful, there.” He looks up to see the Signal’s smile, and he absolutely can not be blamed for having his half dead heart skip a beat. He’s in the arms of a hero who’s smiling at him so sweetly, what’s a guy to do? “Ready to talk now?”

Danny goes intangible for a moment, smoothly sliding out of the Signa’s grip. “Nope,” he grins, starting up the chase once again.

The rain isn’t very strong, and the drops feel cool against his face as he runs, getting a little more air with each jump as he uses more of his flight to keep ahead. He can hear the Signal chasing after him again, heavy footsteps that start and stop unpredictably as he travels between shadows. 

Just to be safe, Danny stashes the pocket watch inside his chest, leaving his hands free to grab onto the rough brick of the walls and scale them up, aiming to go higher and higher. Maybe if he finds a good building, he can dramatically fall off the edge and fly away invisibly. 

“Got you!” 

The Signal pops up out of the wall and grabs Danny, who yelps and tries to pull his arms away. The Signal is too strong, and his tight grip on Danny’s wrists is warm against the chill of the rain. 

They stand there for a moment, just staring at each other as they try to catch their breath. And then, “Is that any way to treat a guy?” Danny jokes, trying one last time to pull his wrists free.

“It is when it’s you,” the Signal replies. “Man, you sure know how to run.”

“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume for my next heist.”

“Seriously, can we talk?”

Danny eyes him curiously. The other Bats mostly tried to take back whatever it is he’d stolen that night, occasionally trying to get information from him. None of them had outright asked to have a chat with him. The Signal at least has some manners, compared to the rest of him. There’s no harm in sticking around for one conversation.

It helps that the Signal is cute, especially when he had saved Danny a few weeks ago. 

Sue him, he’s a bit soft on the Signal. Wouldn’t anyone be with their favorite hero?

“Alright,” Danny says, relaxing. “Go ahead. Talk.”

“Great! Okay, um.” The Signal bites his lip and Danny should really look away, but his eyes are fixed to his mouth. He doesn’t speak for a solid minute, during which Danny really begins to feel the chill of the rain. “Can I get less comments from the peanut gallery?” he says suddenly.

“What?” Danny laughs, confused.

The Signal sighs. “My comms are on. The others are being annoying. If they wanted to ask you questions, they should have caught you first.”

“Oh, protecting me from the big bad Bats? My hero,” Danny says sweetly, pretending to swoon. Except, the Signal follows his movements, releasing his wrists to catch him by the waist, holding him steady. Danny’s breath hitches, and from how close they are, he has no doubt that the Signal heard it. They freeze for a moment, then the Signal dips him like some fainting Victorian maiden.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind sweeping you up in my arms.” The smirk on his face only lasts a moment before he grimace and says, “I shouldn’t have said that on open comms. Man, they’re annoying. It’s not my fault I know how to flirt.”

Danny…

Well. Danny short circuits for a moment, running the words over his mind again, then blushes so hard he’s sure there’s steam coming off his cheeks. “You’re flirting?” he squeaks. “With me?”

“Flirting,” a new voice confirms, making them both jump, stumbling against each other as Black Bat hops down onto their rooftop. “Both shy and silly. I’m better.”

“You can’t even ask out Spoiler,” the Signal retaliates.

“She can’t even WHAT?” Spoiler yells as she also vaults herself over the alley below to join them. “You want to ask me out?”

Though she doesn’t say anything, Danny can practically feel Black Bat’s glare through her mask. The Signal winces, then says, “Oops.”

“Man, you can keep yourself busy, clearly Sig doesn’t need backup,” Spoiler says. “I need to go on a date with Black Bat. The rest of you suckers are on your own!” And then she grabs Black Bat’s hand and grapples away.

There’s a beat of silence, then Danny and the Signal share a glance and start laughing. 

“Well,” Danny says, “Good for them! Good for them.”

“They’re probably just going to Bat Burger.”

“And are you going to be treating me to a burger any time soon? I should be compensated for this conversation, you know.”

“Please, if I was taking you out on a date, it wouldn’t be to Bat Burger. I’d take you out dancing.”

It sounds like a date his dad would take his mom on. It sounds nice. Danny smiles and leans in closer to the Signal, taking hold of one of his hands. With the other, he puts Signal’s hand on his waist, then brings his own up to the Signal’s shoulder. 

“Why not dance with me now?”

Danny leads them in a few clumsy turns of a waltz, silently thanking Sam for forcing him to take a few ballroom dance lessons with her. The Signal seems a little dazed, following his lead, and when he lightly squeezes Danny’s waist, he shivers. 

Catwoman should be done with Batman soon. They had agreed to meet up at the newly opened Vintage Boutique in Diamond District, and he intends to beat her there. 

Reluctantly, Danny pulls away from the Signal with one final spin, and hops up onto the edge of the roof. “If you can find me during the day,” he says, “Then I’ll dance with you again. See you around, Signal!”

And with that, Danny hops backwards off the roof, free-falling towards the ground before he lets gravity lose hold of him and slips into invisibility, flying up just as the Signal peers over the edge, searching for him.

Unable to help himself, Danny floats closer until he can give the Signal a quick kiss on the cheek, then flies off, grinning wildly. 

He certainly can’t wait to see the Signal again. 

Maybe if he hired a few guys to pretend to rough him up while Signal’s out patrolling…

Well, either way, this cat is already half dead so he can jump straight to satisfaction bringing him back. And, hopefully, back into Signal’s arms again when they won’t be interrupted by other Bats. 

He’s already looking forward to it.

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[khywren]

「 Resonance 」

summary: You can't lie to yourself about the way you feel for him, the way your heart skips a beat when you steal glances at his painfully beautiful face when you think he isn't looking, the way you've been thinking about him constantly after your night together at the Tiefling party.

What admittedly started out as lust has blossomed into something so much more, and you almost can't believe that your feelings have apparently been requited. You are certain that Astarion could have anyone he wanted, and yet, somehow, he's chosen you of all people.

And you can deny him nothing.

pairing: Astarion/f!Reader rating: 18+ MDNI status: complete tags/warnings: oral (female receiving), vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, blood drinking, smut, porn with feelings, soft Astarion, reader insert word count: 5.2k spoiler warning: contains spoilers up to the early part of act 2.

a/n: my first ever fic and me jumping headlong into the fandom and succumbing to the Astarion brainrot. cross-posted from AO3.

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You heave a long sigh as you stretch your arms over your head and roll your shoulders, working away the aches and pains of another long day of travel. Tonight, your wayward band of companions have settled down in the remains of an abandoned inn somewhere outside of Moonrise Towers. They're hardly luxurious accommodations, but the place had seemed relatively safe, and there were plenty of soft beds to accommodate you all, always a welcome option over a dusty bedroll and the cold, hard ground. The building was one of the few structures in the area that still had a roof and all its walls intact, more or less. In these parts, that was nothing short of a miracle.

After ensuring that there were no enemies lying in wait within the premises, Gale had suggested you all sleep in the large, shared bedroom; better for safety in case of an ambush, as he had explained.

You couldn't disagree with his logic, but nevertheless you had wanted a little time to yourself, wandering upstairs and out on the balcony of the master suite after getting dressed for bed. You had had a lot on your mind, lately, and you didn't want to pass the opportunity up while you had it. You might not get another opportunity to relax like this for quite some time, and you had learned to take the little joys where you could since escaping from the wreckage of the nautiloid.

Now you find yourself leaning over the railing, bracing yourself against the old wood and chipped paint, your eyes passively scanning your surroundings. Because the sky is completely overcast, there is no moonlight reflected on the water's surface, and the lake is almost eerily placid. You certainly don't enjoy thinking about what the shadow curse might have done to whatever was living there, what sort of monsters might have taken their place.

A gentle breeze caresses your skin and you shiver slightly, rubbing your arms vigorously to rid yourself of the goosebumps that suddenly appear. After a long afternoon spent within the walls of the Moonrise Towers and their unsavory inhabitants, the quiet calm of the evening is a welcome reprieve, as you and your companions take the time to rest before planning your next move.

You close your eyes and relax, letting your mind wander...

“Enjoying the view?”

The voice immediately startles you out of your reverie and you can't control a yelp of surprise as you whip around, embarrassed to be so caught off guard. 

“A-Astarion,” you stammer, your heart gradually slowing its wild beating. “You shouldn't sneak up on people like that.” A smirk of satisfaction finds its way to his mouth. The smug bastard. Damn him for being so light on his feet, you think, doing your best not to give him any further satisfaction. If you do, you're sure you'll never live it down.

“What if I had fallen over?” you protest in a pathetic attempt to save face, gesturing dramatically to the balcony railing. “I can't imagine you'd have an easy time explaining my mangled corpse to the others.”

Astarion steps closer, his face the perfect mask of wry humor that you're so accustomed to. “Come now, darling,” he says, pretending to be offended. “You wound me. You don't think I'd let anything like that happen to you on purpose, do you? And besides,” he adds, shrugging nonchalantly, “if you'd actually become that clumsy, I doubt you'd be of much use in battle. You'd probably be doing us a favor by removing yourself from the equation, really.”

You try to scowl at him in disapproval, but you must not have been successful if the look on Astarion's face or the quiet laugh he offers in response is any indication. You'd say it was almost condescending if you didn't know him any better, but there is a hint of affection in his scarlet eyes as he looks down at you before approaching the edge of the balcony and standing next to you. He's so close that you can smell his distinct scent, something faintly reminiscent of bergamot and rosemary. It's comforting.

“Gods,” he sneers, scrunching up his nose as he looks out over the dreary scene before the both of you, “this place is dreadful, isn't it?”

You smile at him, thankful for the change in conversation topics, and nod your head in agreement. “I can't wait to leave this place behind.”

“As do I.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, his lips drawn back, one gleaming fang just barely visible. “There's hardly anything here for me to feed on besides rats and other filthy vermin, and you would not believe how foul their blood is.”

“I can't even imagine.” You wouldn't mind offering yourself to him again, if he asked, and you turn the thought over in your mind, considering, but before you can act on it, he's speaking again, drawing your attention back.

“And, by the way, speaking of vermin...”

You glance up at Astarion as he pauses; he seems almost hesitant, his expression pensive. “I didn't get a chance to thank you,” he finally says. “For earlier.”

“Hmm?” You tilt your head inquisitively, searching your mind for what he's referring to.

“For what you did back there, back with that vile Drow who wanted me to bite her.” He almost spits out the words, and you can plainly hear the disgust in his tone. “You stood up for me when you didn't have to. Thank you for that.”

There's something about the melancholy way he expresses his gratitude that makes your heart ache, as if he believes he isn't worth the effort, that maybe you were regretting losing out on whatever potion Araj had offered as a reward. Although you don't yet know much about Astarion's past, what glimpses he has shown you reveal a life of trauma and self-loathing, and you realize that, even though he is temporarily free from Cazador's influence, old habits die hard. You suspect that he has convinced himself that he is utterly unworthy of the freedom he has been granted by the tadpoles, not because he truly believes it, but because it is the mechanism that has, so far, guaranteed his survival.

But the way he seems now, allowing himself to be... vulnerable, to let you see more of the real Astarion behind the façade... it's nothing if not encouraging. You decide to risk opening yourself up to him just a little bit more, hoping that he will return the favor.

“Of course I did,” you say, reaching out clasp his hand between both of your own. Your touch is gentle but insistent, grounding him in the moment as you gaze into his eyes, which have darkened in contemplation as he considers your admonition. “There's no way I would have let you go through with it if you didn't want to, no matter what she was offering. Nothing would have been worth that.”

Astarion's eyes widen slightly, but he says nothing, clearly surprised by your response, by the vehement admission in your voice. Undeterred, you continue, hoping your words get through to him the way you intend them to. “You should be free to make your own decisions and choose your own path,” you say, baring your emotions raw. You hadn't intended to become so emotional, but you've grown quite fond of Astarion these past few weeks you've spent together, and you can no longer bear to see him continue to suffer as he has for so long. No one deserves that, least of all him. You know he doesn't want your pity, but you want him to know that you value his autonomy, whatever he chooses to do with it.

“I didn't know you felt so strongly about the matter,” he says thoughtfully, his voice barely above a whisper. “This whole time I've been acting purely on instinct, doing whatever has come naturally. I can't remember the last time I had the luxury of thinking for myself,” he says, a grim look contorting his naturally handsome features into something you can only describe as distinctly un-Astarion. “To tell you the truth,” he says with a wry laugh, “I've forgotten what it's like.”

“It's okay,” you say, squeezing his hand reassuringly, “These things take time. I'm here for you. I... I care a lot about you, you know.”

“Really?”

He sounds incredulous, like he doesn't believe what he's hearing. You don't know if he's ever been important to someone outside of being a means to an end for Cazador and his cruel intentions, a plaything to be taken advantage of and discarded once it's served its purpose. Until now, that is.

“Of course,” you insist. “How could I not?” You seize the opportunity to step closer to him, and you see him visibly flinch as if bracing for a blow, but before he can stop you, you wrap your arms around him and press him tightly to your body in a full embrace, your heart once again racing in your chest. After a moment you feel the tension in his shoulders ebb away and he relaxes into you with a heavy sigh, his relief more than evident. 

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, breathing in your scent, and you feel him tentatively return the gesture, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. You stay there for a while in each other's arms, the closeness of your bodies a comfort for you both. Astarion is warmer than you remember from your last encounter with him, but you suspect the blood from whatever poor creatures he drained dry outside of the inn is the cause of the lingering warmth in his body. It is an altogether unique experience, one that you have ashamedly been longing to experience with him.

“From now on,” you tell him, reluctantly pulling away, “I hope you'll feel comfortable enough to tell me what you want. I promise I'll never force you to do anything that you don't want to, no matter the circumstances.”

“What I want...”

Astarion considers your words carefully, and even through the darkness, you don't miss the flicker of a smile on his face as he gazes down at you through half-lidded eyes.

“What I want,” he repeats, closing the distance you had put between the two of you and brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face and behind your ear, “is you. Us. This. Whatever this is. You're the only one who's ever seen me, the only one who's ever looked at me with something more than fear or contempt.”

He rests his hand on the side of your face, cupping your cheek the way a lover might, silently asking for your permission. You look up at him, your eyes wide; he's taken you by surprise yet again, but you can't help but feel elated by what he's asking of you. 

You can't lie to yourself about the way you feel for him, the way your heart skips a beat when you steal glances at his painfully beautiful face when you think he isn't looking, the way you've been thinking about him constantly after your night together at the Tiefling party. What admittedly started out as lust has blossomed into something so much more, and you almost can't believe that your feelings have apparently been requited. You are certain that Astarion could have anyone he wanted, and yet, somehow, he's chosen you of all people.

And you can deny him nothing.

“Yes,” you say, almost breathlessly, and Astarion slips his hand beneath your chin and tilts your face upwards, capturing your mouth in a kiss. Your hands find purchase in his shirt as he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and you happily oblige, letting him slip his tongue inside. 

Astarion is surprisingly gentle. The last time the two of you shared a kiss, it was full of passion and lust, of desperation to entangle yourselves in one another, but what you're experiencing now bears almost no resemblance. He takes his time with you, exploring your mouth and savoring the kiss. When you find your back pressed up against the wall, a small noise of surprise escapes you and you can feel his grin against your lips, the light prick of his fangs a subtle reminder of who and what he truly is.

But you've never thought of him as a monster. Even on that first night, you had willingly offered him your blood because you trusted him. Foolishly or not, you had believed him when he said he had no intention of harming you. You know the sentiment holds true even now - he has you practically caged, but the erratic beating of your heart has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the anticipation of where this kiss might lead you.

Astarion deepens the kiss, and you thread your fingers through his hair as he coaxes a soft moan from your lips. The sound seems to unlock something in him, and he pushes you even more firmly against the wall, wedging his leg between your own. A searing heat has already begun to build within you, and you instinctively grind against him, desperate for any relief from the ache you feel at the apex of your thighs.

Astarion huffs a laugh and lazily traces his lips across your jawline and to the shell of your ear, his voice downright predatory as he whispers, “My, my, what an eager little thing you are...”

Another moan tumbles from your lips, louder than the first, and you buck your hips again, but it's not enough. You feel his mouth buried in the crook of your neck, his fangs bared, a promise of things to come. For now, he turns his attention to your nightshirt, his fingers deftly unhooking all the buttons as the garment now hangs loose and open, barely covering your chest.

“Let's see what other sounds you can make for me, darling.” He practically purrs the words, his voice sending a jolt of electricity down your spine in anticipation. When Astarion slips his hand beneath your nightshirt and palms your bare breast, you suck in a breath, trembling beneath him. 

“That won't do,” he admonishes, before his fingers find your nipple and pinch, just enough to hurt in the way he knows you like it. 

“Ah... Astarion-!” 

As you cry out his name, a sound of satisfied pleasure echoes low in his throat, and you almost melt from the way he's looking at you. Greedily. Hungrily. And you have no intention of stopping him from having his fill of you. In fact, you want nothing more than to surrender yourself to him completely.

“That's a good girl.” 

The words ignite an inferno within you, and you pull him for another kiss, the familiar desperation taking hold of you once again, and he rewards you with his lips and his tongue and his teeth, one hand cradled behind your head as the other mercilessly continues to pinch and tease your over-sensitive breasts. You writhe against him, feeling his growing hardness through his pants, yearning for more contact. 

As if he senses your desires, Astarion begins to trace his free hand down the center of your chest, deliberately, achingly slowly. The centuries he has spent perfecting his technique are glaringly apparent, and you all feel no shame in begging him for what you want, what you know you need.

“Please, Astarion,” you whine, breaking the kiss.

“Please what?” he teases you back, his fingertips featherlight as they stop just above your waistband. “You'll need to be more specific.”

You know he's enjoying himself a little too much, but gods if you could fault him for it. As long as he continues to make you feel good, he's welcome to have his way with you.

“Please touch me,” you say, breathlessly. “I want... I need you to touch me.”

When his hand slips beneath your underwear, you vainly try to hold back your moans of pleasure, his fingers gently spreading you apart and finding the part of you that has been crying out for his touch. He traces lazy circles around your clit and you bury your face in his neck, your legs suddenly feeling as though they might buckle beneath you.

“So wet for me already,” Astarion muses playfully, “And I've barely even touched you. How scandalous.”

You cling desperately to him as his fingers continue to explore, applying pressure in all the right places and eliciting a string of filthy curses from your lips. Finally, you regain some clarity and you tip your head back, indicating to the bedroom on the other side of the wall. 

“B-bed... now... can't feel my legs...”

The sensation between your thighs dissipates immediately as Astarion hooks his arms under your legs and hoists you up effortlessly; you wrap your arms and legs around him as he carries you back into the master suite, your nightshirt getting discarded somewhere along the way. As you extract yourself from him, he lays you almost reverently on the bed before stripping his shirt and climbing on top of you and straddling your hips. The lantern in the corner you had lit on your way in casts flickering shadows across Astarion's finely sculpted chest and you marvel at how breathtaking he looks, his eyes dark and wild, his hair tousled and unkept from your wayward fingers. 

“Just look at you,” he croons softly, his eyes tracing a path across your body as you lay beneath him. You can't help but notice that he stops to pay particular attention to his favorite places - your flushed face, the column of your throat, your breasts. “Simply exquisite.”

As Astarion leans over you, you reach for him and pull him down, the ceaseless urge to feel him inside of you momentarily dulled by the tender way he kisses you, slowly but insistently as he grinds your hips together. He pauses only briefly to press his forehead against your own, and with his eyes closed, he looks strangely at peace in a way you've never seen him before.

Your heart swells and you know that you love him - no matter how deeply his feelings for you run, you love him all the same, and you wish for nothing more than his happiness. Astarion, your most treasured companion. 

This time when you wrap your arms around him, you find your fingers tracing the scars carved into his back, and his body grows taut as you feel him wrestle with the way such a bold gesture makes him feel. You hear it then, a single word echoing faintly in your mind: safe. You don't know if the thought is your own or one that Astarion has shared with you through the tadpole bond, but either way he soon relaxes once again, his mouth tracing kisses across your face and neck.

That's right, you think. I am safe with you, just as you are safe with me.

You feel dismayed as he pulls away from you, but when his fingers hook under your waistband and tug your pants and underwear down and off in one fluid motion, your words of protest immediately die in your throat.

Astarion coaxes your legs open before settling himself, and you watch, open-mouthed and gasping as he buries his face between your thighs, and you feel the wet press of his tongue against your most sensitive areas. When his lips close around your clit and his tongue swirls around the swollen bundle of nerves, you cry out and buck your hips, the sensations of pleasure shooting through your entire body. He uses one hand to grab you firmly by the hip, his vicelike grip holding you in place as he continues to drive you wild.

“Astarion... Astarion...” His name is like a prayer on your lips, and you can't help but cling to it like a dying man clings to water in the desert. He hums, clearly pleased with himself, the vibration threatening to send you over the edge. When he moves his free hand to slide two fingers inside of you, you cry out again, threading your fingers through his hair and holding tight as if you don't dare to let him go. 

The feeling of his lips and tongue on you and his fingers pumping inside you are too much to bear, and you find yourself quickly approaching the edge of what you are sure will be the most intense orgasm you have ever had. Astarion seems to sense that you are growing close, and his pace intensifies, his fingers curling inside you as he finally finds the sweet spot. With a desperate moan you finally come undone around him, your thighs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, the intense pleasure of it all surging through every inch of your body. Your breath comes now in heavy gasps, and you lay there, utterly spent, as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over you.

“I do so love those sweet little sounds you make for me,” Astarion says, his voice simultaneously too close and too far all at once. When you open your eyes at last, you see him there at the edge of the mattress, completely naked now, his hand wrapped around his aching cock. The tip shines wet with precum in the flickering firelight, betraying his arousal, and you feel immense delight at how eager he looks to lose himself in you once more.

“Fuck, Astarion,” you manage, your voice less steady than you had intended it to be.

“It would be my pleasure,” he drawls, twisting your words in his own expert little way and pumping himself a few times before guiding his cock to your entrance and pushing only the head inside you. He grabs your hips and positions you for better access, lifting one leg and spreading your legs apart once more.

You bite down on your lip to stifle your moan as you feel the achingly perfect way his cock stretches you out as he slips himself inside, the motion effortless because you are so thoroughly wet and pliant. He doesn't miss the way you attempt to keep yourself quiet. 

“Are you embarrassed, love? Afraid the others might hear you?” His voice is teasing and sly; he knows the answer to your question without you having to answer, but you humor him all the same because you know he wants to hear you say it.

“Y-yes...” 

Even as you admit this to him, he begins to thrust his hips forward, pushing himself deep inside, purposefully drawing more moans of pleasure from your lips.

“Let them,” Astarion says, his pace steady, his own moans mingling with yours as he savors the tight warmth enveloping him. “You don't think for a moment they haven't noticed the way you look at me, do you?”

Shit. And here you thought you had been so secretive. He had known the whole time - of course he had - and, apparently, so had the rest of your party. The only one oblivious was you. This, of all things, makes your cheeks flush hot with embarrassment, but Astarion only laughs, the realization nothing short of an amusement to him. 

As he begins to chase his own pleasure, Astarion suddenly picks up the pace, his hips snapping rhythmically as he fucks you, his cock bottoming out with every thrust. You can no longer bother with the effort of keeping yourself quiet as you whine and tremble beneath him, your hands fisting in the sheets as your head lolls back into the pillow.

“Look at me,” he says, voice low, and you obey his command, gazing up at him from beneath your lashes. His chest heaves as he surges into you, firelight casting dancing shadows across his figure, and you briefly think that you've never seen anything more magnificent in your entire life before the thought becomes a blur interspersed with his own thoughts of more, more, more that travel through the tadpole bond.

“Ohhh...” you moan out in a lazy drawl, “Ohh gods...”

He's brought you close to the edge of oblivion again, and your whole body tightens beneath him. You're so close, now, all it would take is just a little bit more...

“Astarion,” you manage, “I'm...”

He anticipates what you're about to say and his pace becomes agonizingly slow, and you do nothing to hide your whine of dismay as you search his face for an explanation, your breath coming in short gasps as you try in vain to grind yourself back against him.

“Not just yet, love,” Astarion croons, and in one easy motion he slips his arms beneath you and pulls you abruptly up and into his lap so that you're straddling his thighs, his cock still buried inside you. “I was hoping you might indulge me just a bit further...”

You watch as his eyes travel to your neck, the red of his irises an impossibly deep shade of crimson, and you can sense the hunger within him. 

“Yes... yes,” you tell him, knowing that there had never been any other answer. “Anything, everything, as long as it's you.”

You brush the hair away from your neck, baring the column of your throat to him, and he slots himself against the crook of your neck, his lips searching for the right spot. In the meantime, he thrusts himself lazily into you and you are more than happy to comply, doing all you can to move your hips along the full length of his cock while still allowing him access to your throat.

The bite comes quickly, and you cry out, the white-hot sear of pain gradually ebbing into a dull ache of pleasure as you feel him begin to drink deeply from your veins. It's a strangely intimate act, and as the weariness of the blood loss begins to overwhelm you, you cling to him, your hips moving automatically, ceaselessly as you share this moment with each other.

When Astarion has had his fill, he pulls his mouth away, and you can feel the faint trickle of blood as it drips down your neck. He runs his tongue along the trail of blood, savoring every drop before sighing contentedly. Newly invigorated, he gently rests his hands on your hips, aiding you in your thrusts as he guides you along his cock, pulling almost completely out of you before slamming back into you, slowly at first but then with a growing desperation that matches your own. He won't last much longer, and neither will you at this rate.

Dizzy from the bite and the adrenaline, you bury your face against him, calling his name over and over again as you grow closer and closer to release. All it takes is for his fingers to find your clit again before you lose yourself completely, throwing back your head and arching your back as the intensity of your orgasm claims you once again, your entire body electric with pleasure as you rock against him, babbling incoherently. 

The feeling of your tight wet heat around him is too much for him to bear now and he follows you over the edge, your name a guttural groan deep in his throat as he spills himself inside you. With a few more quick thrusts, he pulls out of you and lays you back onto the mattress, but he doesn't shift from where he kneels on top of you, his eyes tracing every curve of your body as if committing this moment eternally to memory.

You are utterly exhausted, and your eyes flutter closed as he settles himself beside you before you reach out instinctively for him. He allows you the small pleasure of holding his hand and lacing your fingers together as he presses featherlight kisses along your face, the act strangely domestic but nonetheless a welcome one.

“Get some sleep, love,” Astarion says, his voice laced with honey and something you are sure can only be genuine affection for you. “I'll be right here if you need me.” Satisfied, you feel yourself sink quickly into a deep sleep, perhaps the best you've had in weeks, safe in knowing that, at least for just this night, no harm will come to you. The last thought on your mind is of Astarion, his face a vivid reflection in your mind's eye, and you can't help but feel at ease.

-----------

When you awake the next morning - or whatever passes for morning in this place of constant darkness - your eyes open slowly, your body rousing from slumber as you become aware not only of where you are but why you are there. Reminders of the night you shared with Astarion come flooding back in an instant and you feel suddenly wide awake, sitting up with a start. Beside you, the mattress is empty, and you begin to feel disappointed before Astarion clears his throat from across the room and you follow the noise to where he stands, adjusting his clothing as he dresses for the day.

He hadn't broken his promise, you realize with relief. He had spent the entire night with you, though you doubt he got much if any sleep, as he told you once before that sleep was mostly irrelevant for his kind anyway.

“Good morning,” you say, offering him a tender smile. “How long was I out? I haven't slept that well in ages.”

“It's hard to tell in this place,” Astarion shrugs padding over to hand you your discarded sleepwear. “But long enough, I would imagine. The others are already up, at any rate.”

You can hear the faint sound of chatter and the distinct noise of cookware coming from the lower level of the inn, carrying with it the savory aromas of meats and whatever else your party is preparing for breakfast. Your stomach suddenly rumbles with hunger, and you dress quickly, sliding out of bed and instantly being met with the ache in your limbs that can only come from a night spent in the throes of passion. Your fingertips trace the puncture marks on your neck and you groan, realizing that as soon as you join the others, they will be painfully aware of how and with whom you spent the night - that is, if the noises Astarion had so expertly coaxed out of you hadn't already done the trick.

Astarion, ever-observant, senses your plight and you can tell he's barely holding back his laughter. He is positively elated. You scowl at him, half-hearted, but still deeply embarrassed.

“You think this is just hilarious, don't you?”

“Of course I do, darling, you do know me ever-so-well,” Astarion quips back, his eyes crinkling with delight as he regards you fondly. “Now then, shall we? We wouldn't want to keep everyone in suspense.”

He guides you to the door and towards the staircase, and your mind frantically tries to form a plan of action for what is surely about to be a truly mortifying moment. In the meantime, somewhere in the back of your mind, you also begin considering how you plan to make Astarion pay for his transgressions; after all, if you're never going to live this down, neither will he.