#just ignore them and I am focusing on something else

[melminli]

Love To Dream

summary - there was this one girl that thanos really wanted, though, she didn't really want to have anything to do with him. unfortunately, that made him want her even more.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: modern au, mention of drugs, enemies to lovers vibes ig, crack, yearning

a/n: i don't even know what this is tbh but I felt like we all deserved some laughs ;)

Life was good - life was really fucking good, Thanos thought to himself as he winked charmingly at a group of hot girls. They had been looking in his direction for a while now while giggling, clearly interested in him. He continued to watch them as he sipped his drink, the club music pumping through his veins like adrenaline. Thanos's eyes darkened as the girls continued to cast lustful glances in his direction - he knew he could easily get more than one of them into bed tonight and why wouldn't he? It hadn't been long since his last performance on stage, reminding everyone present once again of his legendary status in this club.

However, his attention was focused somewhere entirely else after the most breathtaking person ever decided to walk past him. The pick-up lines he had been thinking of for the group, vanished from his mind after this angel showed up in front of him since the other girls could barely compare. The whole thing looked like something out of a scene from a Kdrama because time seemed to pass in slow motion and your hair was swinging in the air like that of a princess - which would have been the perfect time for some product placement because it just looked so damn soft.

Thanos had his mouth wide open in shock and put a hand over his heart to check if it was still beating while his eyes never left your figure. You - who was leaning prettily against the bar right next to him as you ordered something from the bartender.

“Hey.” he finally recovered from the moment and casually moved towards you. “I'd introduce myself, but I assume you already know me.” he talked to you with his flirty face as soon as you looked up at him.

You smiled shyly. “Yeah, I watched your performance,” you answered him and seemed quite grateful that he was speaking to you right now. “You were pretty good.” you giggled slightly as you complimented him.

“Yeah, that's just how I am.” he sighed as he looked around the room as if it was a burden for him to have to live with all the recognition. His eyes met yours again and he tried to impress you by unpacking a few bars while emphasizing them with the movements of his hands. “Girl, I know you and I are meant to be because after I looked at your pretty face everything stopped being. If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately.” he rapped to you, stealing the last line from some One Direction song, but you didn't need to know that.

You shyly put your hands in front of your face to hide your smile. “Oh my god, that was so incredibly sexy, I'm so horny for you right now.” the words came out of your mouth and made Thanos screw up his face weirdly for a second.

Because first of all, those vulgar words didn't match your innocent demeanor in the slightest - and secondly, you said exactly what Thanos had imagined you would say - it was actually a bit creepy since you literally said it word for word. Thanos hardly thought that he could foresee the future all of a sudden or that you could maybe read minds, though he decided to ignore the whole thing as soon as you started touching his chest softly with your hands. He wanted you so bad.

“You don't even know what you're doing to me right now,” he whispered to you while you felt him so sensually and he was about to kiss you, hadn't you stopped his lips with your hand as you laughed into his face. “I think you should wake up now. Otherwise, the pink elephant will keep handing out balloons to people.” You told him, pointing behind him to where the bar was supposed to be.

“Hah?” he asked you confused and turned around while continuing to hold you in his arms, but all he saw were a few dogs breakdancing - and that was nothing out of the ordinary. He continued to look at the scene with a grin, even though some inner voice inside him was stressing out about kissing you immediately as if he was running out of time. He finally turned back to you and was about to continue when he suddenly heard a man speak. “You really should wake up man.” Nam-gyu's voice told him and Thanos only caught himself almost kissing him after he took a closer look. He just pushed him away from him in disgust and then -

Thanos woke up from his sleep, bathed in sweat, when he saw your face in his field of vision. “Finally, you're sleeping like a dead man. There's some guy at the door who wants to talk to you,” you told him as he sat up tiredly while slowly recovering from his strange dream.

That's right. You weren't just some hot girl he met at the club, you were his fucking roommate. Thanos discreetly pushed more blanket over his lap as he tried to shoo you away from his room with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah - I'll be right there, just - give me a moment,” he said without looking you in the face.

You just sighed slightly and complied with his request, though not without letting him know how unhappy you were. “I told you to stop giving our address to these dealers. I don't like it when they show up here,” you grumbled under your breath before dashing out and closing the door behind you.

After that, Thanos let out a very heavy sigh and stroked his face aggressively. “Now she's showing up in my dreams, too? Fucking great.” he grumbled to himself and got up from the bed to put on some decent clothes. His eyes met his own reflection as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Get a grip man, what's wrong with you?” he asked himself as he grimaced in annoyance. “You're Thanos the destroyer, not some kind of -”

“Stop taking so long and come here already!” your voice suddenly shouted, coming through his door slightly muffled.

He looked even more annoyed at that and made his way to the living room while shouting back at you. “I'm fucking on it, alright!” and it only took a few loud steps from him to your front door for him to yank it open to fix the damn problem. He looked at his friend, completely bothered by his presence. “What do you want?” he asked him and was kinda glad that it at least wasn't Nam-gyu because he just really didn't want to see his face at the moment and probably for a little while.

“Hello, to you, too.” the man in front of him greeted him, already used to his weird mood swings. “I just wanted to do you a favor by bringing you some of the pills you wanted because last time you almost beat me up when I didn't have them with me,” he explained, holding the bag, which Thanos grabbed instantly before inspecting it more closely. “Don't act like you didn't deserve it, I paid you the money in advance, man. Of course, I was angry,” he complained again and would probably have beaten him up for real right now if he had ruined his morning over something completely unnecessary. However, he would still have to make sure that something like this didn't happen again so that you didn't have another reason to kick him out of the apartment.

“You know, maybe this was meant to be. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been greeted by an absolute hottie today,” he said happily as he stood there, still interested. “Is she your cousin or something? Do you want to introduce me to her?” he asked and was quite confident in the way he acted, but Thanos just looked at him emotionlessly for a few seconds until he slammed the door in his face.

"Okay, he's gone now!" he exclaimed, bored, and made his way into the kitchen, where you were sitting with a cup of coffee or something while scrolling on your phone. "Don't open the door for that guy if he shows up again," he said, grabbing a cold Sprite from the fridge. You just looked at him with a displeased look. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll make sure that he and no one else shows up after today. But, I'm just saying that in case it still somehow happens."

Thanos then opened the can and drank from it while he continued to watch your face from the side. Eventually, he sat down next to you, although, to his dissatisfaction, that didn't seem to get your attention. "Hey, you want to go on a date?" He asked, and you weren't sure how many times he asked you that by now. You kept scrolling on Instagram. "You know my answer to that."

Thanos continued to grin hopefully. "Yes?" he asked and then watched you disappear out of the kitchen with your cup of coffee in your hand - probably to your room. "You should be glad that I'm even asking you! Other girls would die for..." he muffled towards the end before he stopped talking entirely once he realized that you weren't giving him a reaction.

Maybe, I should just go back to sleep, he thought to himself dejectedly, unable to believe that he had actually better chances with you in dreams with pink elephants and breakdancing dogs.

[aquaglow]

confidence guide for awkward girls 💫

LEARN TO SHUT UP. this is the first advice because it is probably the most important one, but the one that took me the longest to comprehend and master. girl, literally just shutting the fuck up does wonders. most of the times I was embarrassed out of my mind was coz I said something completely avoidable, only because I believed that being quiet was either rude or more awkward than whatever I rambled at that moment. bzzt, WRONG! being quiet means first of all being non-reactive, which gives you time to really reflect on what's being said and whether or not it even requires a response, and guess what; like 80% of the time, it does not. you are allowed to not respond, nod along, go "hmm" or "oh!" and leave it at that.

LEARN TO "FAKE" SMILE. this may seem controversial but it helps me so much. I've always been accused of looking mean, bitchy or just too serious, especially since I started to shut the fuck up (see previous item). and I am guilty as charged: I do have a RBF and when I am focused my eyebrow goes ò_o and I look judgemental and almost evil, and when I tried to balance it out by being funny or witty, it just came off even more awkward. the solution? I've started practicing a fake smile in front of the mirror when I was about 13 years old until I got the muscle memory of it so perfectly that now it's my response to nearly everything that I don't want/can't respond to. throwing an easy smile into a conversation will make you seem relaxed and in control even if you're bubbling anxious inside, and people will feel more at ease with you. also: learn to be generous with compliments, and try to make them your auto-response as well!

STOP COMPARING YOURSELF. comparison is the mark of insecurity and envy, and it's one of the ugliest and most useless habits you can have. yes, useless: what benefit do you get from comparing your face and body and circumstances to somebody else's? and please don't pretend you're getting "inspiration" from them. listen, you are your own lane. you are your entire universe. there is no other life to be lived, no other body to embody. this is it. these are the cards you were dealt with. the longer you try to peak into somebody else's cards, the longer you'll be ignoring yourself and neglecting your game. abandon ideas such as comparison, imitation or judgement towards others. confidence starts and ends with focusing on yourself.

LEARN TO CUT PEOPLE OFF. accumulating people in your life like they're pokémon is gonna be your downfall, because it's obvious not everyone can stay. imagine if a growing tree held onto all its leaves and branches, even the ones in obvious decay, how ugly and weak that tree would be, how much energy those dying parts would steal from the new ones in need of flourishing. it's the same with relationships. when someone disrespects you, hurts you, or simply doesn't align with you anymore, and you find excuses to keep this person around, what you're doing is betraying yourself, and how are you gonna have confidence in someone who betrays you? learn to cut people off or to simply let them go, and watch yourself become lighter and brighter.

QUIT BEING A BITCH. something people don't seem to understand is that the rude, conceited, mean girl persona is always revealed to be a small, petty and insecure rat on the inside. I've wasted years of potential connections trying to emulate the Blair Waldorf-y, Regina George-y vibes, trying to balance out my awkwardness with what I thought was their fierceness, because I was missing the whole point that their confident selves were lies. no girl or woman who is confident in herself spends any amount of time being a bitch, scheming to take people down, minding everyone else's business to make sure she stays on top. true confident people are kind even in the face of rudeness, they glow in shadows; their strength lies in tenderness. the sooner you give this mean girl show up, the better.

ABANDON YOUR NEED FOR APPROVAL AND COMPREHENSION FROM OTHERS. seeking approval is a very obvious trap but seeking comprehension is also dangerous, because the second people start doubting or questioning you – which is always going to happen when you decide to make a change of habits, traits, lifestyle etc – and you decide to explain yourself, you're accepting the premise that what you're doing is incomprehensible. if you're truly sure of yourself, there will be no need to assure others of yourself. if your peers or strangers don't understand it, so what? that's their enigma to sort out. respond to yourself and yourself only. if you understand and approve yourself, that's all you need, period. live for your damn self.

GOOD LUCK, LITTLE STARS 💫

[haveihitanerve]

hey, i loved the way you wrote my idea, the kind of adams proyect fits so well the sassy children Dick, Jason and Stephanie were and still are. I do consider Stephanie Bruce's daughter, they have such potencial is a pity we don't see more of them together. It was lovely, maybe you can do me a second one

Bruce is de aged at an age were he has been training for a while but not batman, this kinda scary teenager version of Bruce sees his future sons and daughters and realize hes not alone anymore, he has a family.

If you can't do it is okey, i enjoyed the other two fics you write, have a wonderfull day.

ohohohohoho these asks just keeping getting better- thank you so much and yesss i love steph and bruce so much they are like two sides of the same coin and its a downright shame we dont see more of them in canon- anyway onto the ask

"Look deep into your mind. Silence all else. This is between you and your soul."

The monk's voice was soothing, belaying his hard exterior(and interior if Bruce was being honest- if the man was golden at heart he had yet to see it) but Bruce ignored everything, focusing instead on the cold wind, the feel of his bare toes slowly numbing, the nice feeling of the snow against his bruised ribs.

He was buried up to his torso in snow, only his chest and head above it, arms laying flat on top, eyes closed. It was a new form of meditation, one he had only recently "earned" as the next step in his training.

He wasn't entirely sure what use the freezing-his-balls-off-while-meditating was going to do for him, but he figured the monk had at least some idea of what he was doing, even if he was a little harsh.

But the methods were necessary. All of it was necessary. To do the mission, to pursue his path. To become the Batman and free Gotham of crime. He was alone, his family was dead, the least he could do was dedicate everything to honoring them.

"I will return for you at dawn. Do not move. Do not open your eyes. I will know if you do."

The monk murmured, snow crunching underneath his feet as he circled Bruce, like a wolf circling its prey. Bruce hardly resisted the Gotham-honed instinct to flip him off, focusing instead on his breathing.

The monks footsteps retreated, and Bruce knew he was heading back down the mountain, probably to grab a few pints and boxes of cigarettes, before passing out in the snow. He wouldn't be back by dawn. He probably wouldn't be back for a while.

Bruce ignored his thoughts, concentrating. The practice of stilling his mind was still difficult, no matter how hard he tried or how long he meditated for. His mind was just so... loud.

But he had to try. Again.

He breathed, focusing on each new breath, each sear of his lungs in the frigid air. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In-

Bruce blinked slowly, rubbing his head. He must have fallen asleep at some point, and not noticed.

More of his surroundings blinked into view, and Bruce shot up, spinning around wildly.

"This... is not a pile of snow." He muttered. No. Sadly enough, he recognized where he was.

Wayne Manor. The library, in Wayne Manor, to be specific.

"No no, no no, what- what happened?" Bruce growled, tugging at his hair. "Why am I back here? Was it all a dream?" Panic gripped him. It couldn't be a dream. Everything he had trained for, all he had done, it couldn't be a dream.

Unless that meant-

Shouts came from outside the door and Bruce spun wildly, rushing for the large mahogany. He wrenched it open, cries of "Mum! Dad!" already on his lips, only to almost collide with a blond haired girl, shrieking with laughter as she raced past.

Bruce blinked. That was... not what he had expected. "I better be dreaming." he grumbled, and made to close the door. But... something held him back. Tugged him to follow her. To go on.

Footsteps thundered from the stairs and Bruce turned just in time to watch two black haired boys chasing after her, shoving the other. But not with malice, Bruce realized as he slowly trailed after them, cautious, using every tool he had not to be seen. But rather with glee.

They weren't roughhousing to hurt, they were doing just that. Roughhousing. For fun.

He followed the sounds of chatter to the kitchen, barely managing to dodge behind the corner as the door was flung open, and a new, taller, black haired boy streamed past, two wafting plates held aloft on his arms, chattering animatedly with a red haired girl in a wheelchair that followed, another plate of food on her lap.

"I'm telling ya Cass, he's into him." The blond girl from before followed, talking to a black haired girl, a Gotham draw distinctive in her tone.

The other girl, Cass, rolled her eyes, yet another dish balanced on her head, as the blond girl carried napkins.

"Stuck on napkin duty again Steph?" One of the black haired boys from earlier teased, breezing past with a cheeky grin, another two plates on his arm.

"Shut it Tim." The blond, Steph, snapped, swatting at him. The anger was light hearted though, and the boy, Tim, laughed.

"It was one time." She muttered, and Cass lifted a hand to her mouth to cover her grin.

"One time I shall never forget Miss Brown." Announced a voice and Bruce recoiled.

Alfred Pennyworth appeared in the doorway to the dining room, extending a hand to take Cass's plate. "Neither shall my fine China, nor my nice rug."

Steph's cheeks reddened, her scowl deepening. "Sorry Alf." She mumbled. The butler patted her shoulder mildly, looking faintly amused.

"It is of no concern now my dear." He soothed, gesturing them into the room. "Now come, or all Master Jason and my fine dishes will get cold."

The girls obediently trotted into the dining room, resuming their casual chatter. Bruce watched, hidden in the shadows of the storage closet, waiting as his butler busied himself straightening a few things in the hall.

He was waiting for someone, that much was clear, although who, Bruce couldn't for the life of him figure out. It was clear he had a full house, and a much fuller life with all these strange people, so who would possibly be worth waiting on?

The answer came down the stairs, a tall, rather broad man, with dark black hair. Bruce couldn't see his face, but he walked with the surety of a man who had been to hell and back, and walked out alive.

"B!" Someone screamed from inside the room as the man clapped Alfred affectionately on the shoulder. "B- B help they're trying to kill me-!"

A new kid, a dark skinned, also black haired boy appeared, hands scrambling for purchase on the unknown man, ducking behind him. A child, a literal child, emerged, a scowl fixed on his lips.

"It is a smoothie Thomas." He announced blithely. "It is for your health."

The boy, Thomas?, remained cowered. "Please don't let him get me!" He squeaked. The man chuckled, reaching back to ruffle his hair.

"Duke, baby, it is good for you."

Thomas, Duke, scowled, batting his hand away. "I knew I'd find no allies here!" He declared with flourish. The man chuckled as a new face appeared.

"B, Duke, stop. We're all waiting, come on Dad." The man, Dad, laughed again, slinging an arm around Duke and the younger boy.

"Alright, alright chum, we're coming." he herded what was undoubtedly his family into the dining room, greeted with uproars and cheers.

"B's here!" A deep voice called.

"Finally we can eat!" groaned a girls voice Bruce identified as the girl from earlier, Steph.

The unknown man laughed again, releasing his sons, but faltered a step, glancing back.

Back at Bruce.

Bruce's breath caught in his throat. Because- because looking at him-

It was his father. No- his mother. No- both. It- it was him. Him, older, stronger, wiser. And- and with a family.

Older him frowned, scratching the back of his neck, brows furrowed.

"Dad come on." Someone called. Bruce shook his head, and headed inside.

The snow, the cold, the frigid wind slammed into Bruce and in seconds he was chattering.

"So- fucking- cold." He muttered, body shaking as he shook free of the snow, stumbling away and down the mountain.

"H-hey- you- you little shit-" The monk was drunk, as expected, and Bruce dodged his flailing arms with ease.

"Find someone else to be your punching bag. Or better yet, find no one at all." Bruce called, landing a heavy hit against the back of the mans neck, sending him sacking to the floor.

He shook his head, making his way to the airport. His training was as good as it was going to get. He needed to get home. And working on his family.

Bruce grinned, a light skip in his step, as he headed for Gotham.

ummmm okay this took forever to write and im so sorry abt that- its also not really what you asked for- he doesnt actually get to talk to any of them, but i wanted an invisible bruce(even if he wasnt sneaking no one would have seen him-traveling through time using his soul/mind and all that but wtv) to see how life is, how the manor, this cold desolate, empty echoing place turns into such a hub of joy and laughter and life, brimming with it, and he's the cause...

anyway hope you liked, sorry its late, and omg thanks for the idea!

[persephoneflouwers]

-

[lovesculprit]

Kinktober Day 25 - Cuckolding with Sylus & Zayne

contains: nsfw content: (mdni), fempov, pnv (unprotected), creampie, cuckolding, established relationship (reader is sylus' wife), cheating? (it's agreed to), oral (receiving/giving), 69, come eating, masturbation

˚₊‧ for more kinktober here - wc: 4.9k

a/n: sylus is the cuck because i said so + let's ignore how behind i am right now

You had been married to Sylus for years. He was tender, attentive, making sure you were always safe and of course, a little possessive. Lately, though, there'd been an undercurrent, a tension of sorts, that you couldn't quite define. You didn't know where it was coming from or why, but it was there.

Then there was Zayne—your best friend and constant since long before Sylus came along. Zayne’s presence was different, his caring nature wrapped in an aloof, sometimes unreadable shell. He and Sylus tolerated each other well, their respect tentative at best, for your sake rather than any common bond between them. 

Lately, though, Sylus had been catching the subtleties: how Zayne would stare at you a beat longer when you laughed at one of his jokes, or how his hand would brush yours in passing with a gentle caress that made Sylus' jaw tense. He'd always been possessive, but never in a way that made you uncomfortable—until one night, when he told you something that managed to leave you speechless.

Sylus admitted he'd caught Zayne's glances, and instead of anger, he felt something more complicated-something unexpectedly charged. He thought aloud if he had a kink for the curiosity of seeing you with someone else, namely Zayne.

You were speechless at first. This thought of your husband wanting to share you-especially with Zayne-was surreal. But Sylus' vulnerability, as he spoke this desire out loud, called to you. Reeling you into his fantasy of the need to explore this side of himself and strangely enough yours. You’d felt the chemistry with Zayne, the unspoken current you'd ignored for your loyalty to Sylus. But now it seemed like a door opening to something new.

You felt the weight of Sylus' eyes on you from across the room, fixed with longing and tension. He sat in the corner of your shared bedroom, his hands bound behind him with Zayne's tie, his breaths shallow and strained. It had been Zayne's idea-to hold Sylus in place, to make sure he had no control over what happened next.

Zayne's hand rose to cup your face, his thumb brushing light over your lips, as if testing the waters. The warmth in that touch sent a ripple down your spine and you glanced over at Sylus-your husband-bound and silent, his chest rising in uneven breaths, his eyes wide with jealousy, hunger, and something darker that raced your pulse. He'd asked for this; now, as he watched the scene unfold, the intensity seemed to shake him more than any of you had bargained for.

I think you've waited long enough," Zayne whispered, his hand delicately turning your face to his. He leaned forward and kissed you lightly, a teasing kiss, the kind that would relish anticipation. His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you close, as his lips hitched in the kiss and his warm breath stroked your skin. In every touch, it felt like melting into him, the excitement of this moment erasing the lingering doubts in your mind.

The kiss grew bolder, his hands moving with a confidence that sent a thrill through you. His fingers traced the line of your neck, down to your collarbone, each inch claimed with deliberation that felt almost reverent. You forgot everything but his touch, his mouth, the feel of his fingers, and the way he knew just how to make your body respond.

His lips moved down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that grew hungrier with each beat of your heart. Your hands, tangled in his opened shirt, pulled him closer, caught in a moment heavy with both anticipation and release. And still, beneath the desire, you felt Sylus' gaze, sharp and focused, like a steady heat against your skin.

Zayne paused, his lips inches from yours, a wicked gleam dancing in his eyes as he turned back to glance across the room at Sylus. "Think he's holding up alright over there?" he asked with an edge of satisfaction to the tone that carried so clearly across the room.

Turning, you caught his gaze upon you from where he was restrained. He ran his tongue across his lips and managed a mumbled "Just… keep going." His eyes flashed between you and Zayne, his face a mix of hunger and restraint.

A low chuckle rumbled from Zayne as he returned his focus to you, pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him. His hands gripped your hips with an urgency that felt possessive, his kiss deeper, almost claiming, knowing Sylus could do nothing but watch. The weight of Zayne’s body against yours, his hands sliding up your back, made you feel alive in ways that left you breathless. 

Being wanted by both men, feeling Sylus’ gaze on you as Zayne pulled you closer, filled you with a strange mix of excitement and thrill. Sylus was here to witness every moment, but it was Zayne who held control.

His lips travelled lower, each kiss deliberate, as he murmured in your ear, “I’ve always wanted this… to see you here, with me, like this. And now he’s watching me have what he can’t.” His voice dropped to a whisper meant just for you. “You like that, don’t you?”

A shiver ran through you, the unguarded thrill rising with each word. You did like it—the feeling of being caught between them, of being wanted so completely. Zayne’s lips pressed lower, leaving a trail along your collarbone, his touch lingering and unhurried as he traced over your skin.

You looked at Sylus, your heart pounding at the sight of him, bound and silent, his body tense, chest rising with rapid breaths. The raw arousal in his eyes was unmistakable, his own emotions fighting with every moment he held back, watching but unable to act.

Zayne’s hand slipped down your thigh, his touch teasing, deliberate, as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “He’s not going to stop me,” he whispered. “He wants this… needs this.”

Your mind grew hazy, caught between Zayne’s heated touch and Sylus’ unwavering gaze. Every second felt like an unspoken dare, testing your will and Sylus’ resolve. Sylus’ eyes were wide, pupils dilated as he watched, his chest heaving with each ragged breath as his own control began to falter.

With a smirk, Zayne felt your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling yourself closer as you let the thrill overtake you. His fingers brushed lower, tracing a line that felt both exhilarating and grounding as he murmured, “I wonder how long he’ll last… think he’ll come without being touched?”

Suddenly, you felt shy under Zayne’s intense gaze. He’d been your best friend forever; you’d never expected to see this side of him.

Zayne’s breath tickled your ear, his voice a low murmur, and each word wrapped around you with an intensity that felt almost palpable. The air between the three of you was charged, each look, each touch only heightening the simmering tension. Your heart beat faster as his hands traced along your waist, fingers playing at the edge of your clothes, sending a thrill through you.

Across the room, Sylus sat bound, a mix of control and surrender flickering in his expression. His chest rose and fell sharply, his knuckles white as he gripped the back of the chair with hands bound tight behind him. This was something he’d asked for, something he’d wanted—yet now, seeing Zayne’s hands on you was pushing him to an edge. His jaw clenched, and his dark gaze revealed the turbulent mix of jealousy, desire, and longing within him.

A smirk played on Zayne’s lips as he seemed to relish Sylus’ struggle, his fingers slipping just beneath the fabric of your shirt, grazing your skin with a teasing slowness. “See that?” he whispered, his voice a deep, provocative murmur, meant only for you. “He’s already so hard just watching me have you.”

A shiver ran through you as Zayne’s firm hold and Sylus’ intense stare stirred something deep inside. You let out a soft whimper, Zayne’s hand finding your skin with a gentle but possessive touch. The thrill of Sylus watching, powerless to intervene, mingled with the intimacy of the moment and brought out desires you hadn’t even realised were there.

Zayne met your gaze, and for a moment, the smugness softened, replaced by something familiar, something that reminded you of your shared history. Beneath everything, this was still your best friend—someone who knew you, someone you’d trusted with all of yourself. That quiet understanding brought its own charge, blending comfort with the newness of this intensity.

He kissed you again, more forcefully, with a confidence that claimed you in Sylus’ view. The kiss deepened, unhurried but consuming, and you found yourself clinging to Zayne, your body responding to his touch with every nerve awakened. You could feel Sylus’ gaze heavy on you, each one of Zayne’s movements met with a sharp hitch of breath from Sylus, the tension in his body unmistakable.

Zayne’s hand slipped lower, fingers hooking under your panties as he tugged them down just enough to tease you—and Sylus—with what was to come. He broke the kiss, leaning close, his forehead resting against yours, and in a breathless whisper asked, “You ready?”

You nodded and he slid the fabric away, his fingers trailing a path that made you arch into his touch, craving more with each slow caress. Seeing Sylus react to this, watching his restraint unravel, brought a thrill that you could feel in every inch of your body.

A satisfied grin spread across Zayne’s face as he noted your response, his fingers moving purposefully, his touch exploring your thighs before finally running them along your glistening folds. He threw Sylus a quick, triumphant look, his voice barely above a murmur as he teased, “Look at her… already so eager for me.”

With precision, he positioned you so Sylus had an unobstructed view, every shift of Zayne’s hands carefully in focus for him. Bound in place, Sylus couldn’t tear his eyes away as Zayne’s touch deepened. Knowing you had this effect on both men, feeling their separate intensities, was an exhilarating power you hadn’t expected to feel.

Zayne’s fingers teased your entrance a little, before slowly pushing one inside, his touch confident as he found the perfect rhythm. You gasped as pleasure surged through you, your hips moving instinctively in response to him. He chuckled, his voice low with satisfaction.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his fingers circling with a maddening slowness. “Bet you’re dying for more.”

With a shift, Zayne reclined back on the bed, turning you around and guiding you so you were almost straddling his face. One hand gripped your hips as the other pressed on your back, urging you closer to his cock that was straining against his boxers. He gave a slow, appreciative smile, his voice thick with need as he whispered, “Come on, beautiful. Show me what that pretty mouth can do.”

You glanced at Sylus, his body was tense, muscles taut with arousal as he absorbed the scene, desire and frustration warring within his expression.

Zayne’s hands guided you down until your lips hovered just above him. You pressed a few teasing kisses to his clothed erection, before tugging them down enough to free his cock, long and pretty. Slowly, you lowered your head, tracing your tongue over his skin, tasting the warm saltiness of him. A low, satisfied moan escaped your lips as you took him deeper, inch by inch, savouring the way his breath caught and his head fell back, eyes slipping closed.

Just as you lost yourself in the rhythm, Zayne's mouth finally began exploring your pussy, his tongue exploring in slow, purposeful circles that made your breath hitch. Your lips wrapped around his cock and his tongue parting your folds created an electric rhythm between you, every touch a wave of pleasure that reverberated through your entire body.

Sylus watched, unable to look away, his own arousal plain, pressing insistently against his pants. His eyes were fixed on you, his expression dark with need, as if the intensity of what he felt for you were palpable in the room. A fierce blend of longing and envy seemed to coil in his gaze, growing with each muffled sound you made.

Zayne’s tongue circled your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you. His hands tightened on your thighs, steadying you as you rocked against him, chasing every wave, every shudder. The tension coiled tighter, winding deep within you as he continued, each touch pushing you closer to the edge.

You were dimly aware of Sylus, his breaths heavy and uneven, his eyes never leaving your face. You could feel his desperation, the silent plea in his gaze as you gasped under Zayne’s touch.

You moved in rhythm, your hips meeting Zayne’s mouth, each brush of his nose against your clit was a spark against your sensitive skin. Each touch, each taste, was overwhelming. And as his hands held you, his moans mingled with your own, it was a fevered exchange that blurred the world around you. You ran your tongue along his shaft, before returning to take him deeper, bobbing your head as much as you could from the angle. Each pulse bringing him closer, his hands pressing into your thighs with renewed fervour.

Finally, as your body strained for release, Zayne’s hand left your thigh, his touch easing back as he pulled away, his breath fast and his gaze full of promise. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I want to feel you cum around my cock.”

The words ignited something fierce within you, a trembling anticipation as you moved, shifting in a quiet ache for what came next. 

Zayne released your hips, and as you shifted, he quickly positioned himself behind you whilst you were already on all fours, his presence warm and solid. His hands moved over you, one sliding around your hip, his fingers finding your most sensitive spot, each slow circle a tease.

You looked ahead, meeting Sylus’ gaze, seeing his chest rise and fall as he watched, bound and captivated, his gaze hungry and unwavering.

Zayne’s fingers continued, slow and knowing, as he pressed forward, sliding his cock inside you with a steady ease that made your breath catch, filling you completely. The feeling of his touch, and Sylus’ dark, intense stare, held you suspended between them, every sensation amplified as your body moved in time with Zayne’s, grounded in him, but electrified by Sylus’ silent, longing presence.

In this moment, caught between their two worlds, every touch felt infinite, every movement a reminder of the power you held over them both, leaving you completely breathless, each sensation more vivid and alive than the last.

You arched your back, pressing your hips against him, craving more of that delicious intensity. Zayne responded eagerly, thrusting deep inside you with a powerful rhythm that took your breath away. He established a relentless pace, his fingers dancing over your clit, each thrust punctuated by the sound of his skin meeting yours, a primal slap that echoed in the charged air.

With a firm grip, Zayne shifted his hand from your hip to your jaw, tilting your head to face Sylus. The moment your eyes met, you felt a rush of heat. Sylus’ gaze was a storm of raw hunger, jealousy, and desire that ignited something deep within you.

“Look at him,” Zayne growled, his voice low and commanding. “See how much he wants you? How badly he wishes he could be the one inside you right now?”

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Sylus, lost in the intensity of his stare as Zayne continued his unrelenting assault from behind. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, eliciting gasps and moans that filled the room like a symphony of desire.

Sylus looked utterly consumed, his chest heaving with every ragged breath, an expression of fierce longing etched across his features. He appeared to be a man possessed, his own arousal evident as he squirmed against his restraints, his body betraying the desperation that simmered just beneath the surface.

“Zayne,” he gasped, voice strained and thick with need. “Please… I need…”

Zayne paused, his hips stilling as he turned to Sylus, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. You could see the triumph in his eyes, relishing the power he held over your husband. “What was that?” Zayne taunted, a playful mockery lacing his voice. “You need something?”

“Please,” Sylus breathed again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Untie me. I just need… I need to touch myself, fuck-”

Zayne's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mischief as he watched Sylus writhe in his restraints. “What’s the magic word, Sylus?” he teased, thrusting deep into you once more, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body.

You cried out, the force of his movement making you lean forward, your body desperate for something to anchor you amidst the waves of sensation. Sylus’ eyes were wild with need, his breathing laboured as he fought to regain control.

“Please,” he gasped, desperation creeping into his tone. “I promise I won’t touch her. I just need… Fuck, Zayne, I need to touch myself.”

Zayne chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through the room like a potent aphrodisiac. “And why should I let you do that?” he challenged, his fingers gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place. “Why should I give you any relief while you just sit there, watching me fuck your wife?”

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with a heady mix of lust and jealousy. Sylus squirmed against his restraints, the sight of you lost in pleasure, vulnerable and exposed, driving him to the brink of madness.

Zayne pulled out, his cock glistening with your arousal as he approached Sylus, and you whined as you felt the emptiness of his absence.

Leaning in close, Zayne brushed his lips against Sylus’ ear. “Beg for it,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Beg for me to untie you, and maybe I’ll let you touch yourself.”

Sylus' breath hitched, his eyes wide and pleading as he looked up at Zayne. “Please,” he begged, voice strained. “I need… I need to touch myself. I promise I won’t touch her. I just… God, I need it so badly.”

Zayne chuckled darkly, amusement flickering in his eyes. He reached behind Sylus, finding the knot binding him, and with a sharp tug, he loosened it, granting Sylus his freedom.

Settling himself at the edge of the bed, Zayne spread his legs, inviting you closer with a sultry smile. “Come here, baby,” he purred, patting his thigh. “I want to feel you ride me, want to watch you lose yourself on my cock while your husband watches.”

You hesitated, glancing at Sylus, who was already palming himself through his pants, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over you. The thrill of being watched, of knowing he was so aroused by the sight of you with another man, sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your body.

With a deep breath, you moved forward, positioning yourself over Zayne’s lap. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you down onto his waiting cock. You gasped as he filled you, stretching you in a way that felt utterly exhilarating, even more so in this new position.

Slowly, you began to move, finding a rhythm that delighted both of you. Zayne's hands slid up your body, cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples until sparks of pleasure shot through you.

As you rode Zayne, your eyes locked onto Sylus’, watching him free his aching cock from the confines of his pants. It stood hard and glistening, the tip slick with pre-cum, and your mouth watered at the sight. Imagining tasting him, feeling him throb against your tongue, sent another wave of desire washing over you, causing you to grind down harder onto Zayne.

“That's it, baby,” Zayne groaned, his grip tightening on your hips. “Fuck, look at you, so desperate for it.”

His fingers dug deeper into your skin as he urged you to move faster, to give in to the pleasure coursing between you. “Tell him,” he commanded, his voice low and rough. “Tell him how good I feel inside you, how much you love being fucked by another man.”

You hesitated, glancing back at Sylus, who was now stroking himself faster, his breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. The sight of him so enthralled, so aroused by the thought of you with Zayne, sent another thrill through you.

“Feels so good,” you moaned, your voice breathy and needy. “Zayne feels amazing inside me, oh god—”

Sylus’ eyes widened at your words, his hand moving faster over his cock, his hips bucking involuntarily. “How good?” he gasped, his voice strained.

You bit your lip, locking eyes with Sylus as you continued to ride Zayne. “So full,” you moaned, rolling your hips in a sultry motion. “He’s stretching me just right, hitting all the perfect spots.”

Sylus’ eyes were glued to the sight of you, impaled on Zayne’s cock, his strokes becoming more frantic. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “You look so hot like that, taking his cock so well.”

“Good girl,” Zayne purred, his fingers urging you to pick up the pace, the intensity of his thrusts matching the fervour of your movements.

Sylus' hand moved faster over his shaft, each stroke deliberate and firm as he watched you. His breath was heavy, his hips thrusting in time with the rhythm you created, caught in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

Your breasts bounced with every roll of your hips, the soft flesh enticingly bouncing as Zayne kneaded them. The tension inside you began to coil tighter, pleasure building with every thrust, and you lost yourself in the sensations, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

“Fuck,” Sylus groaned, his voice strained and urgent. “You’re so fucking hot, baby. Gonna make me cum just watching you.”

Zayne’s thrusts grew harder, more demanding, his voice low and filled with desire. “That’s it,” he growled, his words urging you on. “Take it. Take my cock. You feel so fucking good.”

The dual sensations of Zayne pounding into you and Sylus' heated gaze bore down on you, propelling you closer and closer to that sweet release. Your moans rose in pitch, more frantic as the tension coiled tighter within you.

“Fuck, baby,” Sylus gasped, his voice strained, “Gonna cum with you. I want to see you come on his cock.”

The sensation of Zayne thrusting into you, combined with Sylus watching, stroking himself to the sight, was almost more than you could bear. Your body trembled, muscles tightening as your climax approached.

“I’m close,” you gasped, your voice high and breathless. “Zayne, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” Zayne commanded, his hand moving to your clit, rubbing in firm, deliberate circles. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock while your husband watches.”

That added stimulation was the final push you needed, and with a cry, you came undone. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shaking as you gushed around Zayne’s cock, urging him to join you in ecstasy.

Sylus sat there, utterly captivated, his hand working furiously over his cock, eyes glued to the intoxicating scene unfolding before him. You were lost in pleasure, unravelling on Zayne's cock.

And with a groan that rumbled deep in his chest, Sylus surrendered to his own release, his cum spilling over his hand and chest as he watched you completely consumed by ecstasy with another man.

Zayne's breath came out in ragged gasps, and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, feeling his cock pulse as he reached his peak. You could feel the rush of warmth as he filled you with his cum, an overwhelming sensation that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt him spill inside you, the thick release flooding your core and dribbling out and down your thighs.

Zayne’s hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he rode out his orgasm, his body jerking with each pulsating throb. “Fuck, that’s so good,” he rasped, his voice laced with raw desire. “Take it all, baby. I want you to feel every last drop.”

Exhausted and blissful, you leaned back against him, your mind hazy and body spent. Zayne’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he pulled out slowly, his softening cock slipping from your well-fucked pussy. A shiver ran through you as you felt his release spill out, a tangible reminder of the pleasure you’d just shared. Sylus remained seated, his own arousal evident as he took in the sight of you, marked by another man.

As you lay there, panting and glowing, you sensed Sylus draw closer, the magnetic pull of your dripping pussy too tempting for him to resist. With a low, primal growl, he dropped to his knees at the end of the bed, his eyes dark and hungry as he locked onto your cum-filled hole. “Look at you,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. “Taking Zayne’s load like a good girl.”

Before you could respond, Sylus’ hands gripped your thighs, parting you wider as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste the sensitive folds. The moment his warm tongue brushed against your over-sensitized clit, you gasped, your body instinctively bucking for more of that delicious friction.

Sylus moaned as he devoured you, his tongue exploring every inch, savouring the mix of your cum and Zayne's. The depravity of it all sent fresh waves of arousal coursing through you, igniting a fire within your already sensitive body. As Sylus pushed deeper, your whimpers turned to soft moans, the pleasure mounting in a way that was almost overwhelming.

“Too much,” you managed to gasp, fingers tangling in the sheets as you struggled to handle the sensation. “I can’t... please.”

But Zayne's hands were firm on your hips, keeping you open and exposed for Sylus’ eager mouth. “Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, sultry command. “Let him worship you. Let him taste how good I made you feel.”

The vibrations of Sylus’ growl against your body sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, each stroke of his tongue pulling you closer to another peak. As Zayne’s hands roamed your body, teasing your breasts and rolling your nipples, the sensations became a blissful storm.

“Just relax,” Zayne encouraged, his voice dripping with approval. “Let him enjoy every inch of you. You’re such a good girl.”

With each flick of Sylus’ tongue and the soft, persistent pressure of Zayne’s hands, your body instinctively responded, rocking against Sylus’ face. The combination of their ministrations was intoxicating, building you up higher and higher, pushing you toward a point of no return.

Sylus’ fingers joined his mouth, teasing your clit while his tongue explored your depths. The mixture of sensations became too much; you could feel your climax bubbling up, threatening to spill over. “I’m close!” you cried, your voice breathy with desperation. “Guys, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” Zayne commanded, his hand moving to your clit, rubbing in firm, deliberate circles. “Cum for us, baby. Let it all out while your husband laps it up.”

The intensity was suffocating, and with a cry, you shattered into pure bliss, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Sylus lapped at your release, his eager mouth prolonging your pleasure, coaxing every last drop from your body. Zayne held you tightly, supporting you through the aftershocks of your climax.

When the waves of pleasure finally ebbed, Sylus pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. He leaned up, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss, and you could taste yourself on his tongue—rich and intoxicating. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and crevice as he deepened the kiss, claiming you with a possessive urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

You melted into him, surrendering to the heat of his touch. It felt both filthy and undeniably right, the three of you entwined in a web of passion and desire. As the final echoes of your orgasm faded, the three of you collapsed onto the bed, limbs tangled and bodies slick with sweat.

Zayne lay back, arms wrapped around you as you nestled against his side, head resting on his chest. Sylus sprawled beside you, his hand possessively resting on your hip. For a moment, the room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, the three of you basking in the afterglow of shared pleasure. Zayne’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, soothing and gentle, while Sylus nuzzled into your neck, peppering soft kisses along your pulse point.

With a low chuckle, Sylus murmured, “Round two? Where I get to actually join in this time.” You shivered at the promise in his words, your body responding to the heat of his touch. Zayne’s arm tightened around you, drawing you closer as he whispered, “I’m down for that.”

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© lovesculprit ↣ do not copy or translate any of my works

[classyrbf]

CALL HIM DADDY! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...when you jokingly call the jjk men ‘daddy’ just to see how they’d react

INFO...jjk men (toji, nanami, geto, gojo) x fem!reader, suggestive, fluff, crack fic kinda, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

TOJI

You were washing the dishes, finally scrubbing the last plate as Toji at his snack on the couch. You turned the faucet off, shaking the excess water into the sink before you turned to Toji, a smirk forming on your face. The entire time you were washing dishes, you remember seeing a video where a girl pranked her boyfriend by calling him ‘daddy’ in the most casual way possible.

You cleared your throat, leaning against the sink. “Hey, daddy, can you pass a napkin to dry my hands?” You stared at him, waiting to see his reaction.

“Yeah, of course, ba—wait what the hell did you just say?” His brows pinched together as he stood from his spot on the couch. He slowly walked over to you, placing his snack on the countertop.

“I asked if you could pass me a napkin,” you repeat.

“Nah, nah,” he shook his head, “you said something else before that.” He narrowed his eyes at you, slowly closing the gap between the two of you.

It was getting hard to keep a poker face, finding it difficult to stare into his eyes. “What are you talking about, Toji?” You sighed. “You’re hearing things, old man,” you scoffed, turning away from him with a smirk on your face.

“Oh, so now I’m old man, huh? Not daddy? Hm? Hm?” He grabbed at your waist, pulling you closer to him to the point you couldn’t hold back your laughter.

“It was a prank!” You laughed, tears in your eyes.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, woman. I swear.” He pecked your lips, smiling at you. “Though, I think we should try that in the bedroom.”

“Toji Fushiguro!” You yell as he lifts you over his shoulder and carries you to the room.

GOJO

You and Gojo were so casually getting ready to watch a movie before he asked if you wanted any snacks from the kitchen. “Yes, please, some chips and soda.” You gave him a tender smile. A few minutes went by as he came back with a bunch of snacks you didn’t even ask for, but you knew they were most likely for him.

“Your chips and soda.” He placed the bowl in your lap and the cup in your hand. “Want any candy?” He asked, pointing to the sour strips he was munching on.

“I’m okay, thank you, daddy,” You causally said before placing a chip in your mouth.

His eyes shot up in surprise before he began choking on the sour strip. “O-oh, my god.” He began coughing, hunching over.

“Satoru, are you okay?” You rubbed his back before he turned to look at your with the most shocked expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“Am I okay? Baby, you literally just called me daddy! Damn near lost my life!” His voice was still rough from all the coughing.

“What?” You asked, pretending to be confused.

“You….just…called…me…daddy.” He leaned closer towards you with each word spoken.

“Toru, I love you, but never in a million years would I call you that. Play the movie.” You shake your head in disbelief, looking towards the the tv.

“Say it again.” Toru grabbed at your hands, holding them to his chest. “Say it again, please!” He begged while you ignored him, continuing to eat your chips. “You think I’m daddy? Am I? Come on, baby. I can be so daddy!”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at how serious he was taking the whole situation. Your eyes landed upon his expression, an offended look in his eye. “I’m sorry, Toru!” You cackled.

“You’re not funny,” he mumbled, turning away from you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Awe, baby,” you coo, cupping his face and kissing his cheek, “you’re so daddy, okay?”

He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Promise?”

“Yes,” you giggle, “promise.”

NANAMI

You were getting ready for bed as Nanami read his book in the living room with the light dimmed. He had his reading glasses on, so focused on the words on the page before you walked over to him. “Going to bed?” He looked up from his book.

“Yeah,” you yawned, nodding your head.

“Well, alright. Goodnight, I love you.” He returns your kiss when you lean down to peck his lips.

“I love you too, daddy.” You smile, walking towards the bedroom. He goes back to reading his book, adjusting his glasses as he reads the next few lines on the page. Suddenly, he places the book on his lap and looks around the room. Nanami quickly gets up and follows you to the room, seeing that you’re already under the blankets.

“Honey?” He whispers.

“Yes, Kento?” You open your eyes to find him standing in the doorway.

“What did you say in the living room a few seconds ago?” He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I love you?” You say, raising a brow.

“Yeah, that’s what, uh, I thought.” He bites the inside of his cheek, adjusting his glasses once more. “You sure that was all?” He furrows his brows.

“Yes, Kento, I’m sure.” You let out a tired sigh before turning over in the bed, pulling the covers over your face. “Goodnight, daddy.” You cover your mouth with your hand in attempts to hide your laughter.

You feel the bed sink beneath you, his hand coming up to pull the blanket from your face. “I don’t mind you calling me daddy, but please, don’t try and hide it. If you’d like to try something new just let me—”

“Ken, baby, it was a prank!” You sit up in bed, laughing. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” You hug him, kissing his cheek. “You thought I was being serious?”

“Well…yeah.” He blinks, cheeks flushed a light pink. “I…kinda like it,” he admits.

“Oh!” You say, slightly shocked. “I’ll keep that noted.”

GETO

You were getting ready to leave to the mall, grabbing your keys and slipping your shoes on at the front door. Geto walked over to say goodbye, grabbing at your hand. You kissed him quickly before saying, “bye, daddy.” You tried to rush out the door.

“Bye, mommy.” You quickly turned your head with a look of shock. Geto returned your expression, still holding your hand. “What?”

“What’d you just call me?” You shut the door, locking it.

“I didn’t say a word.” He shook his head at you. “You’re the one who said something.”

“No, no, don’t turn this around on me, Suguru Geto!” Your jaw dropped.

“You’re the one who called me daddy!” He retorted.

“Not even!” You quickly snap back.

“Yes, huh! Mommy!” He yelled, laughing at you.

“Not, uh! Daddy!” You shouted back at him before both you began laughing with each other. “You’re no fun, I was trying to prank you.” You pout.

“Can’t prank me, love.” He kissed the top of your head, slightly chuckling. “Have fun at the mall, m’kay?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I love you.”

“I love you too, mommy!” He joking says as you shut the door his face.

[bunnis-monsters]

Fighting like vampires and dogs

Vampire x Fem!Reader x Werewolf

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 2nd

Oct 1

Oct 3

warnings: public sex, threesome, knotting, breeding, blood drinking, two ps in one v, possessive behavior

summary: You’ve been friends with the werewolf and vampire for a few years now, and they’re both head over heels in love with you… but they hate each other! It takes them saving you from a common enemy to realize sharing is caring…

🐺🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇

It wasn’t uncommon for your two friends to bicker over who got to spend time with you, but it was unusual for them to get so violent.

“I told you, this week she’s mine.” your werewolf friend sneered, bearing his canines as he stood on his haunches.

“And like I’ve said, I couldn’t give less of a shit about what a filthy mutt has to say. This week, she’s MINE!” your vampire friend retorted, hissing as his brown eyes turned red and his fangs extended, ready to sink into the wolf’s flesh.

“That’s enough!”

You smacked them both over the head, huffing. “You can both come with me to the club tonight! It’ll be fun, maybe you’ll even bond together.”

It wasn’t easy getting them to go out with you… ut the second you suggested going alone they were already picking out something to wear.

The two were protective, staying at your side and watching your short dress, making sure it didn’t ride up. Anyone that dared to look at you were emt with menacing glares and flashes of sharp teeth…

Despite them hovering over you constantly, all it took was a slight bump from the other to set them off.

“Fuck, don’t touch me, mutt. I’m only here for her, you should just leave.”

“Oh really? Why don’t I rip out your throat and show you how much a mutt I am?”

You attempted to stop them, but your pleas fell on deaf ears.

But after fighting for a bit, they were suddenly alerted to your cries for help. Even over the loud music and their own angry screams, they recognize recognize your scared voice.

“Angel?”

They made their way through the crowd, spotting you being cornered by a tall man. You were looking around frantically, relief spreading across your face when you spotted them.

Within seconds the man was torn away from you and stomped into the club’s floor. You chose to ignore the bloody remains, instead stepping over him and into your friends’ arms.

“Thank you…”

They realized then that no matter how much they hated each other, they loved you so much more. Your safety and happiness would always come first…

And that’s why they both grew hard against you, their hands traveling to your hips and thighs.

Soon you were back on the dance floor, squished between your two friends as they kissed you. The vampire bit down on your neck, drinking your blood as the werewolf rubbed his fat cock against your wert panties.

“W-what if they notice?”

They both nuzzled against you, the vampire dry humping against your fat ass.

“They won’t, the music is loud and everyone is focused on dancing.”

You yelped as your friend’s cock pushed into you, stretching out virgin hole. You were too wet to protest, knowing that after this night your relationship with your two best friends would be changed forever.

He tried his best not to knot you immediately. He had wanted this for so long, and all your werewolf friend wanted was to fill your belly was his cum and knock you up.

The vampire groaned, stroking his cock as he looked over your shoulder, watching the werewolf’s cock push in and out of you. Soon, you felt something else prodding at your hole, wanting access.

Two cocks were inside of you now, and you felt impossibly full. Maybe it was the blood loss, maybe it was love, but your heart was fluttering and so were your gummy walls.

You came around them, the werewolf quickly knotting you as they both came inside.

Both cocks were trapped inside of you, the vampire burying his face into your neck as his cock rubbed against the werewolf’s fat knot.

“Mmph… happy to see my boys getting along…”

Want a part 2? Send me a kofi and ask for it~

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

[cvpidzcvrse]

𝔄𝔯𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔉'𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩?

MDNI, skadaddle nigga

✦A/N: i swear i try to post more but like but sitting on my ass is just rlly fun to do. BUT OFC I CANT BE GONE FOR LONGG!! also i didn’t proofread so ignore typos. here’s an ony fic that i pushed out my pussy bc i’m hot like that. ENJOY!

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Synopsis: You and ony have been fwb for a few months now. On a strict “no emotions involved” type of situation. But he can’t help it if he gets jealous when you start talking to someone else. Your famous last words? "Make me, nigga."

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Wc: 2,233

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Warnings: Mdom, argument, jealous ony, degradation, light choking, oral male!receiving, manhandling, spanking, face fucking, orgasm denial, fingering, very little praise, he’s mean asf, p in v, and finishing inside (practice safe sex)

(reader is black)

You and Onyankapon have been friends with benefits for a couple of months now. It all started because you wanted to lose your virginity badly. You were gnawing at the bars of your enclosure, being that dick hungry you put pornstars to shame. But you didn’t want to lose something so special to someone you barely knew. So you went down a line of people you knew, most of them you immediately shot down. Connie was a whore, Armin had a girlfriend, Jean is…Jean, so what was left was your best friend. He took the opportunity and ran with it, now you guys fuck at least twice a week.

Ony made the sex strictly just sex, with no relationship or strings attached. Just adults blowing off steam almost every weekend. He said it was ok to talk to other people, that’s where Eren comes in. You met him through Armin 2 weeks ago and you guys haven't stopped talking since. Even now, you’re at Ony’s house watching a movie but you can’t separate your eyes from your screen. He invited you over with the notion of just “watching a movie” but he just wanted to fuck, and you knew that. 

“Me Personally, I’d definitely survive in the quiet place. Like all you have to do is be quiet, it’s easy.”

You nod your head slowly, paying no attention to Ony’s statement. Your fingers are flying across your phone, you’re having a deep conversation with Eren. Ony looks over at you and rolls his eyes, you can feel his attitude radiating off of him and steam coming out of his ears.

“My nigga, you’re not even listening to me,” 

“First, I’m not ‘your nigga’. Secondly, I am listening…”

You trail off after hearing your phone go off with a ding. You snatch your phone out of your lap quickly and start typing away. He gives you the most crazed look he can muster. 

“Nigga, are you f’real?”

You look over at Ony’s reaction and the fact that he’s acting like such a drama queen right now. There’s no way he’s hurt by the fact that you’re talking to other people. He’s the one who made the rules in the first place, so why does he care who you talk to? He’s starting to regret his rule-making skills. Your flawless brown skin-pops with your white hoodie and sweatpants to match. Even before y’all started hooking up he thought you were the most beautiful person ever. 

“Damn, what the fuck are you talking about? Are you good?”

You frowned at his outburst, confused by the sudden change in tone. You finally put your phone to the side and put your attention on Ony. 

“You’ve been on your phone this whole fucking time. Paying absolutely no attention to me or the movie. Who are you even texting?”

“No One-” 

Ding..

Ony groans before snatching your phone out of your lap and softly pushing you back from getting it. You get up from your position on the couch and start reaching over his head but his grip on your wrist won’t budge. 

“Let’s see who you’re so fucking focused on…”

He looks at the screen and goes silent before turning his head at you. You’re standing there with an overly irked look, hands on your hips, and eyeing him up and down.

“...Eren!? Eren fucking Jeager!? Don’t tell me you’re actually talking to that sorry ass nigga?’

You roll your eyes at his possessiveness. There’s no reason why he should be concerned about who you text and who you decide to mingle with. It’s your pussy and can determine who it wants, right? 

“It’s not something you should be concerned about. Shit, just give me the dick so I can leave, that’s why you called me over right?”

His eyes go wide at your boldness. He can’t tell if you’re upset or just trying to rile him up—either way, it’s making him go insane. 

“Take that bass out yo’ voice mama. I’m looking out for you, Eren isn’t the type you want. Stop talking to that nigga”

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue showing clear signs of irritation. His baritone voice sends chills down your spine. Even when he’s irritated he still looks handsome, the warning look in his eyes makes your pussy clench.

“Who are you talking to right now? I ain’t gotta do shit, f’real. I’m not gonna let some Chiptole bag-tatted ass nigga tell me what the fuck to do.” 

Ony’s eyes are bulging out of his head and the vein on his forehead is starting to grow. He isn't fond of your attitude, he snatched you up multiple times because of it. He slowly gets up from his spot on the couch, now looking down at you with a dark look in his eye. 

“Watch your tone…”

He says eerily calm, his low voice coming out as silk to your ears. It’s like he’s talking directly to your pussy and she’s listening to every word he’s saying. Instead of standing down like he said you decide to stand on business, which is one mistake amongst many.

“Make me, nigga..”

You scuffed and rolled your eyes. That statement alone made Ony let out a rich chuckle, his face displaying a cheeky smirk. Before you even have time to gauge his actions you feel his callous hand wrap around your neck, forcing you to look up at him.

“Make you what? Say it again..”

He whispers seductively in your ear. You turn away from him before he roughly drags your face back to his. You shake your head not wanting to even breathe, You started this mess now he has to finish it. 

“The cock slut doesn’t wanna speak, huh? Take off your clothes since you want my dick so badly.”

The tent in his pants is now noticeable. He lets go of your neck and sits back down on the couch. You start untying your sweatpants, then slowly taking over your panties, followed by your hoodie and bra. Now you’re standing in front of him, all dignity stripped away with your clothes. 

“Get on your knees and suck this dick, I’ll show you exactly how to watch that mouth one of yours.” 

You nod before sitting in front of him unbuckling his belt. You slide down his pants to reveal his bulging cock through his underwear. You slowly pull down his underwear, earning a scuff from Ony. He pushes your hand away and pulls his cock out himself. His leaking mushroom tip was just inches away from your face. 

“Open your mouth.”

His passionless voice makes your clit throb and your stomach drop. He’s giving you no mercy tonight and you know that. You open your mouth wide as directed and impatiently wait for his next. He chuckles at how pitiful you look at this moment, taking a mental snapshot in his head. You’re waiting for his next command, your hand in between your thighs as you subtly grind on your hand for some type of friction. He grabs the base of his cock and slaps the tip on your tongue. 

“You like this shit, don’t you? Go on, suck it.”

You wrap your plump lips around his big cock, bobbing your head slowly. You trace circles around his tip with your tongue. He lets out a string of groans, feeling your warm mouth wrapped around his cock. He grabs the back of your neck and pushes you down on his cock roughly. You gag when his cock grazes the back of your throat with force. Tears swell in your eyes as he fucks your face senselessly. The vibrations of your moans drive him crazy, your muffled moans and tears send him over the edge. 

“Mhm…Swallow this cock—fuck”

His head lays on the couch cushion behind him. His hand travels from your neck to the back of your head, gripping your hair harshly. Your faux locs are now scrunched up in his hand. He starts pushing your head down rougher as his pace starts getting sloppy. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth and hot tears flow down your face. 

“Fuck–I’m about to cum. Make me cum, slut.” 

You moan at his command, your fingers travel down to your soaked pussy, and start massaging your aching clit. You hollow your cheeks and bob your head at his messy tempo pushing him closer and closer to his climax. White ropes shoot down your throat, and the warm thick substance slides your throat. His dick flops out your mouth with a ‘pop’. You rub fast circles on your clit wanting to cum as hard as he did. Right before you make it you feel Ony grab your wrist, halting any movement. 

“Who said you could touch yourself? Get up…”

You pout at your ruined orgasm. You get up before he grabs your waist and pulls you onto his lap. Your ass grazes his cock and your back is to his chest. He spreads your legs and hands as he traces small circles on your clit. Your head falls back in satisfaction, he smoothly inserts two of his long fingers inside your damp cunt. You grab his arm roughly, leaving dark nail marks on his tatted skin. His finger moves in and out of you with wet sounds accompanying it. 

“F…fuck…right there..”

You whine into his neck when you feel his pace quicken. He’s knuckles deep inside of you, the speed of his strokes increasing by the second. He chuckles at the sight, you’re drooling, your eyes screwed shut, and pornographic moans flooding the living room.

He groans as you squirm in his lap, your bare ass rubbing against his hard cock. He uses his other hand to rub your sensitive clit. Your grip tightens on his arm, your nail prints getting deeper every time he picks up his pace. His fingers plunging into your cunt with such speed and aggression brings you closer to your orgasm. 

“F—Fuck…s…slow down…I’m about…to—”

Ony chuckles before pausing his movement. He removes his fingers from your sloppy pussy and trails his hand over to your ass and gives it a small squeeze. 

“Only good girls get to cum. C’mon, face down ass up. Right now.” 

You whine at the absence of friction and he gives your ass a hard ‘Smack’ in response. He tossed you over to the other side of the couch before turning you on your stomach. He slides his cock on your warm slit, teasing your greedy pussy. He gives your ass a sharp slap before plunging his cock into your pussy without warning. 

You let out a porno-worthy moan and grab one of the couch cushions for stability. Ony quickly picks up the pace, abusing your cervix with every stroke. He gives your ass a couple of harsh slaps before grabbing the back of your neck and pushing your face into the couch cushion. The living room is overflowing with moans, grunts, and the sound of your sopping wet pussy. You put your hand back to stop Ony’s forceful thrust. 

“S—Shit…slo—ow…down…fuck” 

“Nah, Take this shit…Fuck, you’re such a slut.” 

Ony slaps your hand away before placing both of his hands on your hips, pulling you deeper into every thrust. You stifle your moans with your both as the bully of your pussy continues. 

‘Ding’

‘Ding’

You hear him groan as his strokes cease. He grabs your phone from the other side of the couch before scoffing at the name. 

“What the fuck does this lame ass nigga want?... Hold on.” 

You can hear the smirk in his voice, his cock going at a slower pace than before. You let out a few whimpers that earn you a harsh slap on your already stinging ass. 

“Hush…” 

His monotone voice sends chills down your spine. You have no clue what's going on behind you until you notice the shadow of your silhouette on the neighboring wall. 

‘Is that a flashlight? Wait…is he recording?’

Before you can confirm your answer he goes back to abusing your pussy. You muffle a moan with the pillow in front of you. He presses your body against the couch, the only thing talking is the wetness of your pussy.

“Shit…She’s talking to me, mama. C’mon, tell him who this pussy belongs to.”

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out but slutty moans. He gives your ass a hard smack, placing his free hand on your lower back. 

“Y-You! F—Fuck!... You do! You own this…mmph…slutty pussy!”

You choke out, completely cock drunk. You hear him chuckle and groan. You pussy turning him into a mess also. His strokes begin to get messy and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. 

“Shit mama…cum on my cock baby .”

He reaches his free hand around to trace circles on your clit.  Almost like clockwork, you leave your juices all over his cock and coat his shaft in a slippery mess. You feel his tip hit your G-spot a few more times before you feel his warm and sticky cum engulf your inside. His cock is covered in both of your juices, a ring of the mix at the base of his cock. 

Your brain is fogged with lust, you can barely think right now. All you can see are stars and darkness before finally feeling him pull out. 

“Did my dick feel good?”

“Mhm…”

“You’re my slut, right?”

“Mhm…” 

“Thank you, mama."

[Sent: 1 Attachment.]

[rafecameronssl4t]

Cheeky Interview || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: just Rafe being cheeky during the after race interview

Warnings: none

Word count: 926

A/n: no f1 for awhile :(

MASTERLIST (F1 driver!rafe x reader au masterlist)

The press room buzzed with energy as Rafe Cameron leaned back in his chair, the epitome of relaxed confidence. His racing suit was tied around his waist, revealing the snug black undershirt clinging to his toned frame. The cameras loved him; his cheeky grin and smouldering blue eyes ensured that.

“Rafe, fantastic result today,” a journalist began, her pen poised. “P2, and some excellent overtakes out there. How are you feeling?” Rafe flashed a grin, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah, it was a good day. The car felt great—big shoutout to the team for that. But, uh…” He paused, the corner of his mouth quirking up mischievously.

“I think I’ve got someone else to thank for the extra motivation today.” The room perked up, sensing something juicy. His PR manager, Mia, sitting in the corner, visibly tensed. “And who would that be?” another journalist pressed, leaning forward eagerly. Rafe shrugged casually, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his intentions.

“My girlfriend,” he said, his voice laced with affection. “She’s here this weekend, which doesn’t happen often. When I saw her waving at me on the way to the grid? Yeah, I couldn’t let her down.” The reporters chuckled, a few murmuring “aww.” Rafe was in his element now.

“She’s been in the paddock all day,” Rafe continued, leaning into the mic. “I swear, the cameras are more focused on her than the cars. Can’t blame them, though. She looked unreal. Honestly, it’s unfair—I’m out here sweating in a fireproof suit, and she’s just strolling around making me look bad.”

More laughter rippled through the room, but Mia coughed, a clear signal. Rafe ignored it entirely. So, are we saying Y/n is your secret to success?” one reporter teased. “Secret?” Rafe scoffed. “Mate, there’s no secret about it. She’s my lucky charm. I told her if she keeps showing up, I might just win the championship.”

“She was in the paddock before the race, looking way too good. I was about to ditch the car and take her out for lunch instead.” The room erupted in laughter, but Mia was already shifting in her seat, a warning look sent his way. “Rafe,” she interjected, her tone polite but firm. “Let’s keep it focused on the race, yeah?”

Rafe barely blinked. “I am talking about the race. I mean, if she wasn’t here, I’d probably be in the gravel by lap two.” He winked at the room, fully aware of the chaos he was causing. Mia pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath as the journalists continued to eat up Rafe’s every word.

“One last thing,” a bold reporter called out. “Any chance Y/n will be joining you on the podium next time?” Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “If it were up to me, she’d already have her own spot. Honestly, I’d probably just step aside and let her take my trophy. She deserves one just for putting up with me.”

Mia cut in again, this time more forcefully. “Thank you, everyone. That’s all for now!” As the reporters reluctantly began to pack up, she shot Rafe a look that clearly showed she was annoyed. Rafe only shrugged, his grin never faltering. “What? They asked. I answered.”

“Next time,” she hissed under her breath as they walked out of the room, “stick to the car and the team. You’re impossible, Cameron.” “Impossible or irresistible?” he quipped, glancing back at her. But his smirk softened as he spotted you waiting at the end of the hall, your smile brightening the moment you saw him.

“See?” Rafe said, nodding toward you as he strode up, his confident smirk softening the moment his eyes met yours. “Totally worth it.” You couldn’t help but grin, stepping closer. Rising onto your tiptoes, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he smiled against your lips, his warmth seeping into you.

“How was it?” you asked softly, glancing over his shoulder just in time to catch his Mia pinching the bridge of her nose. “Typical Rafe,” she muttered under her breath before walking off, clearly exasperated. Rafe chuckled, the sound deep and full of mischief, as his hands slid to rest on your hips.

His blue eyes sparkled with playful defiance as you raised an eyebrow at him. “What did you do this time?” you asked, laughter bubbling in your voice. Rafe held his hands up in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Why do you assume it was me?” he said, feigning innocence with an exaggerated gasp.

“Because,” you replied, crossing your arms as you tried—and failed—to look stern, “most of the time, it is you.” He leaned closer, his smirk downright wicked now. “Fair point,” he admitted, dropping his voice just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “But come on, you know you love it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop your own smile from breaking through. “One of these days, you’re going to get yourself in real trouble.” He shrugged, pulling you back into his chest. “Probably. But as long as you’re there to bail me out, I’ll survive.”

[tojikai]

Sundered 2: EMBERS

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Alt. Ending

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, mean!gojo(kinda), babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, implied pregnancy, mentions of abortion

word count: 5.4k

a/n: it's not sad.

Pining so intensely for something you never had to the point where you physically ache.

Each step that you take away from Satoru’s house feels like a stomp to your already broken heart. Your eyebrows furrowed, feeling the waterlines of your eyes start to get hot and itch. You recalled the noises and laughs that you heard from them while you walked out of their door. 

They have no idea how much you want to get down on your knees and beg them not to take away the only thing you have left. 

Your feet feel heavy with each stride you make toward your car. You could taste blood inside your mouth as you bit your inner lip to channel the pain away from your heart and to your body instead. You found yourself looking for answers on why all of this has to happen to you. As if being replaced by the man you love so easily and having to see how he treats someone else a thousand times better than you were not enough, you also have to witness your own flesh and blood turn away from you. Am I really that far behind that woman?

Is she that much better that even my own child prefers her over me?

You placed your hands on the steering wheel, looking down at your lap as you let the tears fall. You kept glancing over at the gate, hoping that Satoru would come out, running with your baby in his arms. Yet, you don’t want him to see you crying miserably. You swallowed thickly, letting out a large breath in an attempt to get rid of the painfully heavy feeling in your chest.

Driving away was numbing, and all sorts of thoughts ran inside your mind. But above all of them, your eyes were focused on the toy store as it got bigger in your view. You wondered about what you could get your little love to at least make her smile when she comes home. You remembered how your gift to her, her favorite bear that she used to hug as she sleeps ever since she was an infant, was cast aside as she clings to her new ones. 

Is that a foreshadowing of how you’d end up being in her life? It scared you.

Reaching the parking lot of the store, you looked at yourself in the car mirror, noticing your bloodshot eyes. You inhaled and let a big breath out slowly, puffing your cheeks as you assured yourself that it’ll be fine when she comes home later. Your head hurts so much but you can’t afford to care, stepping out of your car and heading to the front door of the store. The first thing you saw was a pregnant, young lady checking baby books. 

She reminded you of yourself when you were still pregnant with Yui; curious about everything, eager to learn, and all was about the baby. You admit that it wasn’t like that at first, given that you were young and had to drop out of college at that time. You were anxious, torn between decisions, and terrified of what life would be like for you from that point in time. During that period, you and Satoru were ignorant but trying hard to figure everything out.

You met Satoru at a nightclub where you worked as a bartender. He was flashy, and women just flock to him as if it was the most natural thing to do around him but that night, his eyes were on you. What with persistent offers of buying you drinks and talking to your manager to let you off early for the night, you ended up in a luxurious hotel suite with him. 

He even wrote his number on the price tag of the fancy lingerie set that he bought you after he ruined the one you were wearing the previous night. He was joking that you’ll never get enough so he’s providing you his contact for next time. You thought that would be the end of it. You didn’t think that it was just fate giving you a helping hand in advance because you’d end up with a child together. 

You consider it a dumb mistake. You know that Plan Bs exist. But with a working student like you who couldn’t even have time to get a proper boyfriend, it slipped your mind. The first thing you did after you got the results was call Satoru. You thanked the heavens that he wasn’t seeing anyone, and that he remembers you. It was a tense meeting, what with you asking if he wants you to abort the fetus. Next thing you know, you two were already dealing with your mood swings. 

“Look, I really want to work this out with you, Y/N. For the baby.” Satoru sighed, slamming the door behind him as he watched you sit on your old couch. You lean your elbows on your knees as you covered your face with your hands, harshly running them down your cheeks to wipe away the big, fat tears that fell from your eyes. There are just so many things going on with your life. 

“I’m only 21, Satoru. I got my whole life ahead of me.” You looked up at his tall figure, frustration was evident in your eyes. You can tell that he was also distressed. His hair was messy, his jaw was clenched tightly, and even if you cannot see behind his tinted glasses, you can tell that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. The dark half-circles under his eyes and the redness in them show just how exhausted and disquieted he has been in the past few days.

Satoru’s five years older than you. He was born to a rich family of politicians who don't and probably will never need support from him or the other younger generations in their household. He has a stable source of income, he could probably make life investments that could cover your yearly living expenses. He has nothing to worry about, he won’t be dropping anything if he decides to take in another mouth to feed. But you…

You’re basically your mother’s retirement plan and now you got pregnant with a kid of a man you barely know. “Y/N, listen to me.” He got down on his knees in front of you, trying to take your hands off of your face as you sob, struggling to catch your breath. What’s going to happen to you now? You didn’t even get to finish the degree that your mother was working her ass off day and night for.

“You won’t have to worry about anything, you know? I’ll handle everything you need—” He trailed, trying to calm you down as he gently grabbed your forearms. “You don’t understand!” You cut him off, snatching your hands away, aggravated that he’s not thinking about how it could affect everything in your life. “Then, what the fuck do you want to do?!” You flinched as he raised his voice at you, breathing hard as he backed away.

“You think you’re the only one who’s going to be affected by this? You think you’re the only one who’s being robbed of another future! Open your fucking eyes, stop being selfish!” Satoru snapped back, harshly taking his glasses off before throwing it across the room. You started to cry, whimpering as you used the collar of your shirt to wipe your tears away.

“I’m scared, Satoru. I’m just so scared. I can’t even take care of myself, how am I supposed to raise a child…” You broke down, turning your body away from him. There was a long pause, a moment of pure silence, save from your sniffs and Satoru’s ragged breathing. 

You felt the couch dip as he sat down before pulling you to him, letting you cry on his chest.  “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” You would be lying if you said that the back rub, the temple kisses, and his whispers of reassurance didn’t calm you down. Those thoughts were recurring in your head and now that you finally let it all out and got answers from him, you were soothed.

You blinked hard, shaking your head to get out of your trance. You went straight to the dolls section. You can’t believe you just had a flashback of Satoru comforting you in the warmth of his chest. Your mouth started to twitch, wishing that he held you like that earlier when his girlfriend was slapping into your face that they’re gonna give your child siblings. It shouldn’t hurt you, but it still did. You realized that this girl, this woman is gonna have everything you wish you had with Satoru.

You walked past the kiddie pools and trampoline section, stopping when you saw a playpen, almost similar to the one Satoru bought for your little girl but smaller. The size doesn’t really matter though, because you know that you don’t have enough space in your place for something so big, anyway. 

Going closer to check the prices, you bit your lip as your eyebrows bumped together. You were calculating your monthly expenses along with the money for your savings in case of emergency. It’s expensive but you’re determined to cut back just to buy it. You kept your eyes on the tag as you took half a step away from it but your back was met by something, or rather someone behind you.

“It’s not cheap, is it?” A man’s deep voice boomed as you turned around, but your eyes were met by a broad chest. He’s big, you thought. He’s literally blocking your view. It didn’t help that you were short enough to have to look up to see his face. He was also staring at the playpen as he held the pushcart beside him.

“Y-yeah…” You answered, a bit awkward as you found yourself admiring the guy. You admired fathers who are active when it comes to their children. You grew up without a father so, you just found it endearing. You looked away from the man, gritting your teeth as an image of Satoru and his girlfriend shopping for baby things appeared before your eyes for a split second.

“Excuse me, sir. I still have to buy my daughter a gift.” You bowed slightly before turning away. He just nodded his head, too occupied to even look at you. You proceeded to check out the little dolls, hoping that you’d find something that’ll really catch your daughter’s eye. Picking up a dark-haired baby doll with big blue eyes sitting on a stroller, you smiled as you remembered how it has the same eyes as your baby.

You went to pay for the doll, and your heart was filled with joy despite the throbbing pain in your skull and the hot feeling behind your eyes. You reminded yourself not to forget to take your medicine. Thinking about getting sick and having to leave your child for a couple of days with them again makes you anxious, afraid that she’ll never want to go home to you again. 

You hurriedly went home, driving in the midst of the rain. You put the little doll on the chair, ready to surprise your baby girl when she comes back. You had to bear with the time, constantly checking your phone if your little girl and her dad are on the way to you. Your heart swelled at the thought. 

Though, you know that you’ll never be the one he comes home to, it’s still nice to think about. 

—--------------------------------

“She really called me Mama.” Naomi giggled as she kissed his daughter’s cheek. Satoru smiled, watching them play together warms his heart. It made him feel like he was staring at his family even if he knows that his daughter isn’t hers. He pursed his lips, remembering the look in your eyes at what you heard the child say.

He felt conflicted, not knowing how to react to all of it. He doesn’t want to embarrass his girlfriend by correcting her in front of you. But he also felt bad that he just watched you walk out that door on the verge of tears. Satoru had you memorized after all this time, it wasn’t a long time but he used to watch everything you do.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, though.” Satoru sighed, shaking his head as he pushed a bit of Naomi’s hair away from her face. Her expression dropped as she adjusted the toddler in her arms. Satoru pulled her close to his side, hugging her waist as he thought about how to explain it to her without making her feel disheartened.

“I’m worried about how Y/N will feel about it, to be honest. I don’t know but it may worry her.” He kissed the side of her forehead before stepping away as he watches his daughter’s eyes look at them. He knows that she’s still too young but he feared that she’ll get confused by all of this. 

Like why is her father not with her mother, and why is he holding someone else?

He wondered if she’ll grow to hate him for giving up on their family. “Oh, Is that so…I thought we were fine already.” Naomi’s voice was quiet as she bit her lip, making Satoru rethink. “It’s not that, I just think that maybe that’s how she might feel.” Satoru took one of her hands, kissing it before rubbing his thumb on her soft skin. “No, I understand, I got too comfortable. I’m just a girlfriend, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Satoru doesn’t want to make her feel like this, she’s just really attached to his baby. He knows that Naomi adores kids, they often joke around about it, so he could see why she’s excited about his daughter calling her Mama. Thinking about it now, maybe this shouldn’t be so bad. After all, she’s not gonna be just a girlfriend to him forever, right? Naomi is a great person, and Satoru thinks that it’s not impossible to have a future with her.

“Don’t say that. That’s just my assumption. She’ll tell if it’s not alright, I know. We’re co-parenting so we have to talk about those stuff.” Three squeezes to her hands made Naomi smile sweetly at him, her eyes as kind as the stars. “Yeah, discussions are important. I don’t want her to feel like I’m trying to keep her away from us.” The calmness in her voice comforted Satoru.

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

After receiving a text from Satoru, you found yourself staring at the mirror, retouching your makeup like it’s gonna make him fall for you. Hopeless. Not long after, the doorbell rang and you dashed to the door. There, Satoru stood with Yui asleep on his shoulders. You took her bags, along with the teddy bear that she was hugging to her chest. Seeing her holding it again made you feel relieved.

“Are you feeling better now?” Satoru inquired, walking past you to put your kid in her little bed. You hummed in response, “She’s full, don’t give her any more milk. Naomi fed her before she fell asleep.” Her again. You thought as the small smile on your face dissipated. You’re just thankful that he didn’t take her with them here.

There was a moment of silence as the two of you watched your daughter sleep peacefully. A sigh escaped Satoru’s lips before he turned to you. He was about to say something, but closed his mouth, thinking. You took a deep breath, pursing your lips as you collected your thoughts. You started to rub your hands together, trying to get rid of the cold feeling on your fingertips.

Your communication issues with Satoru only worsened when he got a girlfriend. Seeing how he is with her made you doubt the importance of your words to him. It’s like if you get stuck in a room together with her and something happens, you’re almost certain that he’d accuse you first. You wouldn’t admit it but you yearn for him. You yearn for the way he acts towards her. You yearn for the things he does for her. 

You yearn for the things he so easily, willingly offer to her; things you had to beg for when you were still together.

“Satoru, I just want to ask…Since when did Yui start to call Naomi Mama?” You looked at the ground, somewhat embarrassed of your question but can’t pinpoint why. It just made you feel…weak and insecure. And you are that. But you can’t let Satoru see it. You don’t want him to feel even more sorry for you. You can see it in his and his girlfriend’s eyes whenever they look at you. They probably pity you and the state you are in. 

Alone. With no one to hold your pieces together but you.

“I don’t really remember. Look, I was going to mention that…” Satoru trailed, looking everywhere but you. He probably noticed your discomfort earlier. “I know it doesn’t seem right to you because she’s just my girlfriend but…” Here’s the “but” again. How come he can always find the good when it comes to her, even when she literally did you so wrong by letting your daughter call her Mama and even acting like one in front of you?

Ever since Satoru got a girlfriend, arguing with him started to feel like fighting in a war without any type of armor in your body. How are supposed to stand strong, when the fact that he’ll always be on her side was your weakness? There were times when you wanted to fight for yourself but you couldn’t bear to because you know that he was shielding her from everything, heedlessly deserting you.

“I didn’t really appreciate it. I mean… I-I just think she’s not in the place to—” You thought the words you chose to describe the situation were too risky when you were cut off by Satoru, taking his glasses off. You can’t read him but he’s looking at you with that apologetic gaze again. His face was filled with contrite and you can’t quite understand why. But like a mouse sensing danger, you wanted to run away.

“I…I’m thinking about proposing to Naomi.” It shouldn’t hurt. You told yourself again. You don’t have the right to feel hurt. This man disrespected you, hurt you, and made you feel so incredibly small yet here you are, wishing you were the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. “I know she’s just my girlfriend now, but it’s bound to change.” You suddenly just wanted him to leave. “She…she’d like to ask for permission to let our daughter call her Mom. You know she treats Yui like she’s her—” 

“I don’t want to.” You whispered firmly through gritted teeth, cutting Satoru off. You don’t wanna hear it anymore. You can’t go through that again and you can’t let that happen again. “Yui is my daughter, and I don’t want her calling anyone else Mama.” You looked up at him with glassy eyes before turning away to walk out of the room, not wanting to startle the toddler from her slumber. Satoru was instantly on your tail, calling your name.

“She’s my daughter, too. Y/n, what is wrong? I know that you have your limitations and that’s why I’m here to talk about it with you, but why are you acting like this?” He walked closer to you, trying to catch your eyes. “I know it’s not just about this, I know you’ve been having problems with her but give a reason, at least. She’s been nothing but good to our kid. ” It’s getting hard for you to breathe as you tried to process your emotions and his questions.

You proceeded to the kitchen, hurrying to grab yourself a bottle of water before you collapse, but failing terribly when Satoru spoke the next sentence “Y/N, we all have to adjust, don’t be unfair to her, she doesn’t deserve it.” 

“And I do?!” You shouted at him, taking him by surprise and making him take a step back. 

“You think she doesn’t deserve any of that shit but I DO?!” You lamented, shaking your head in pain and disbelief. There were tears streaming down your face and no pattern of breathing can help you control it. You were able to keep it in when he shoved his new girlfriend in your face several months ago, but now it’s taking its toll.

You were about to get the clothes that he bought for your daughter on your way home from work but were met with a woman snuggled up to him on his couch. You hated him for allowing you to see them like that when he knows that you haven’t even processed your split yet because a month before that, he was saying that he could fix his shortcomings for you and his daughter. 

You remember how sick you felt in your stomach when he introduced her, saying that you weren’t supposed to see them like that. It’s revolting; how he thought that you were upset because of what you saw and not because he just went back on his words. Naomi kept her head down, standing in front of you as she muttered an apology before scurrying to Satoru’s room. 

Naomi was his father’s new assistant and unlike you, she got to finish her studies. Despite being classmates in high school, she was three years older than you due to the frequent relocation of her family. Regardless of her tough childhood, she was known to be a smart kid. No wonder his mother approved of her in such a short amount of time. 

You and Satoru were never perfect but it doesn’t mean that you were never happy with each other before. The issues overpowered your interest in each other, making it hard for the two of you to bounce back. You admit that you’ve been negligent of Satoru at a certain point of your relationship but it was only because you got tired of his ways.

He would come home late, making you stay up all night because he failed to reply when you texted him, asking him his whereabouts. He’d be out drinking with friends, and it wasn’t a problem but you just wanted him to at least let you know so wouldn’t be worrying to the point that you can’t even sleep.

His mother was overbearing. You got pregnant by someone’s son in a one-night stand and that’s all she paints you with. You were belittled and told that you can’t even take care of the child properly. Hell, was she so eager for Satoru to leave you and find someone better who achieved something in life.

Consequently, this negligence led to fits of jealousy from Satoru. This drove you to quit the job you used to have after a coworker of yours who only wanted to help became the subject of his suspicions. His mother saw you getting dropped off by your friend while she was babysitting your daughter. 

It was only because your car broke down and you don’t want to bother Satoru at work. You couldn’t really blame him for thinking that way because you know that he’s been feeling invisible to you which wasn’t true. You just don’t know how to deal with it anymore and you started to pull yourself away.

It got to the point where you couldn’t even communicate how you truly feel about him because it was overshadowed by your problems. You were arrogant enough to tell him that someone could treat you right and do much better and now, look at you; standing before him and his girl. Longing for him and eating the words you spitefully told him.

Pining so intensely for something you never had to the point where you physically ache.

The memory was tormenting, heart-rending, and traumatic to you. And now you get to watch them write their happy ending while you are here, left in the dust, drowning in the feelings that will never ever get recognized and will never ever be relevant. 

It hasn’t even been a year, and he’s already planning to marry her. He’s been nothing but better to her, yet, he couldn’t even change his ways for you and your child? Couldn’t he learn to truly love you after everything you endured just to be with him? You know that you have flaws, and chose some wrong steps and paths in your relationship. 

But you can’t bear to lose him like this. You know that you could have fought more for your relationship. He’d always say that you’d work things out. So, why did he stop? How could he stop choosing you so easily?

“How could you give her the world, yet refuse me the tiny bit of what I have left?” 

Your voice was small as you backed away, defeated. Satoru couldn’t move. From everything that has happened that morning, he could tell that you’ve been on edge. To Satoru, the only thing that connects you to him is his daughter. He refuses to believe that after all of that, you can still make it work.

At least, that’s the realization he came about when he met Naomi. She taught him that love isn’t supposed to be strenuous, it isn’t always about fighting. Within his tumultuous relationship with you, she came around and showed him that he’s seen. That his feelings are valid. He came to the conclusion that maybe he just wanted to love you because you have a child together. 

“Tiny bit?” He asked, frustrated that you just won’t let this go easily, irked that you always think you’re the only one having a hard time. If Satoru’s being honest, he’s just tired of it all. He just wants you to understand his point and get it over with. But now you’re crying in front of him and again, he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t even think of the right things to say or the right decisions to make. It’s like it’s all back to square one with you.

“You call it ‘tiny bit’ when I couldn’t even live my life because of you?! I’ve given everything, Y/N! I just want to be at peace with everything and I’m obviously not having it with you!” You couldn’t even breathe through the piercing ache in your chest from the daggers that are coming out of his mouth. Your hand reached over to your chest, grasping your shirt as his every word irreversibly pulverized your already wounded heart.

“I wish I never met you that night and I wish I never had Yui with you. You’re a thorn in my side, Y/N!” By the time he finished screaming at you, you were shaking like a leaf, grabbing a chair beside your table as your wide eyes stared at him in shock. Grief, mortification, and agony were plastered on your face, and only then did Satoru’s words sink into him.

“Y/N, I—” Before he could even form a proper phrase, a loud cry erupted from the other room. Yui. He watched as you quickly wiped away your tears, seeing the emotions mix inside your eyes until they turned into a weeping void with all the tears pooling inside them.

“I…I loved you, Satoru. And I hate that even now that you’re kicking me while I’m down for the sake of someone else, I still love you.” The crack in your voice had Satoru subconsciously moving closer to you, opening his arms to pull you into him but you were quick to flinch away, sniveling.

“Please, just—just go. Do whatever you want, just d-don’t take Yui away. I’m fine with it now, Satoru.” It’s almost as though something in you died when he spoke those words to you. You don’t know if he heard because you couldn’t even hear yourself. You could feel the beat of your heart in your chest and each one of them sends a burning ache to your body. “Just go, please.” You whimpered as you bit your upper lip, looking down on the floor. 

Satoru can’t take his eyes off of your fragile figure as you leaned on the kitchen counter, slowly walking back to your daughter’s room. He remained unmoving until you exited the kitchen area. It was only after a few minutes that he decided to go, not bothering to wipe away the tears that rolled down his face as he listened to your muffled cries behind the closed door.

Each sob was filled with anguish that Satoru knows he’ll never be able to erase.

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

A few weeks later have passed yet Satoru still doesn’t know what to make of himself. He couldn’t focus on anything that he works on. He couldn’t even workout properly, he always ends up getting angry. It was a good thing that both he and Naomi were swarmed with tasks; they didn’t have time to interact any more than what their jobs would allow. If they did, Satoru isn’t sure if he’ll be able to focus on her. She still has time to visit every week, though. During those days, she spends her time with Satoru and sometimes, Yui.

He makes sure to free his time and himself completely when he’s with his daughter so he can give his full attention to her. Satoru picks her up from your house, same schedule as before. Sometimes it’s you, but other times, it was your mother. “All I asked of you was to never break her, Gojo.” were the first words she spoke to him. Satoru can’t look her in the eyes. Your mother was a kind woman, humble and unjudging. And to have her talking to him like that, Satoru was beyond ashamed.

He couldn’t give her a reason, or an answer. All he did was apologize. Like he should. Naomi was unaware of it all and the proposal that Satoru was planning for her was set aside due to all that had happened. He just doesn’t think it’s the right time to plan about it when his relationship with you is strained. Yes, you’re not together anymore but you’re still the mother of his child and he wants to be civil with you, at least.

Yui kept asking for you even when she was with him as if sensing that her Mama was hurting. She’s always carrying the new doll that you bought for her. Satoru once asked her if you cry and she would simply shake her head. He gets nothing out of it, of course, she’s just a kid. But who else could he ask?

Satoru has no idea what you have been doing. He knows that you go to work, but other than that, he’s clueless about the places you go to and why your mother started babysitting his daughter more during the past few days. Satoru thought that maybe you just can’t stand seeing him anymore and is refusing to face him whenever he picks his daughter up. You have every right and reason to despise him, after all.

So, now he stands on the other side of your door, wondering if he’ll get to see your face this time or be welcomed with the frowning face of your mother. He knocked three times, like he always does, adjusting the collar of his shirt. To his surprise, it wasn’t any of the two women he was expecting holding the door open for him. 

“Who are you?” A shirtless man with a muscular build stood before Satoru, a curious yet accusatory gaze scanned him like he was an intruder in his own woman’s home. He leaned on his tattooed arm against the doorframe, blocking the tiny view he has of the inside. It pissed him off, clenching his jaw for a few seconds before speaking.

“Who are you?” Satoru bit back, raising his brows in an attempt to intimidate the guy. He’s only a couple of centimeters taller than the stranger but he’s bigger. It wasn’t a big deal to him until the man opened the door wider. A short, deep chuckle escaped his lips before a smug smirk appeared on his face. 

Tilting his head, the man gave Satoru a clear look at the scratches adorning his nape and the purple and maroon marks on his jaw. It made Satoru’s blood boil, unreasonably so.

“Think you know who I am now?” 

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[passengerprincessblog]

“Too Rough”~ Max Verstappen short

WARNINGS: SMUT! NSFW! Mean max, degrading? Rough blowjob.

Summary: After a brutal press conference where doubts about his championship prospects are thrown at him, Max storms back to his room, seething with frustration. When his anger spills over onto Y/N, she stands her ground, igniting a tense, charged moment between them.

The door slammed shut, and Max stormed into the room, his expression thunderous. I barely had a chance to stand before his voice cut through the silence like a knife.

“Unbelievable,” he spat, pacing back and forth, hands flexing with barely restrained fury. “They actually think I’d lose to Lando? Lando.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes as if the very thought was a personal insult. “I’m the best out there, and they’re acting like I’m already washed up.”

I could see the anger twisting his features, his jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder he hadn’t cracked a tooth. I stepped forward, cautiously, reaching out. “Max, it’s just press talk. You know how they are. Don’t let it get to you—”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to make me pull back. His eyes, usually so bright and clear, were dark and narrowed, focusing on me with an intensity that felt almost hostile. “They’re talking to me like I’m a nobody, and now you’re here, acting like I need some… some kind of pep talk.” His words were biting, dripping with disdain.

I swallowed, feeling a sting from his harsh tone but choosing to ignore it. “I just thought maybe you needed someone to be here for you, that’s all. You don’t have to carry it alone, Max.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Alone? You don’t get it, do you? I’m not some charity case that needs your comfort. I’m Max Verstappen. I don’t need anyone, especially not someone telling me to ‘not let it get to me.’ If you’re not going to say something useful, maybe you should just go.”

The words cut deeper than I’d expected, each syllable sharper than the last. But I stayed silent, letting him vent, knowing this wasn’t really about me. I’d seen him like this before, on the worst days, when nothing went according to his plan. I knew he’d push everyone away if it meant keeping his pride intact.

Still, it didn’t make it hurt any less. I took a small breath and steadied myself, speaking softly. “I’m not going anywhere, Max. Even if you think you don’t need me.”

He just glared at me, and I could feel the weight of his frustration directed fully on me now. His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me like I was another one of his problems. I looked at him, hoping he’d see that I wasn’t backing down, but that only seemed to irritate him more.

“What?” he snapped, his voice rough and unyielding. “What? What’s wrong with you? Don’t look at me like that.”

A flicker of defensiveness sparked in me, and I crossed my arms, taking a small step back. “I’m not even doing anything, Max.”

His jaw clenched tighter, and his stare hardened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He took a step toward me, his presence overwhelming as he loomed closer. “Watch it,” he warned, his voice low and dripping with a threat that sent a shiver down my spine. “I’ll make you regret opening that mouth.”

The tension was thick, charged with a mixture of anger and something else I couldn’t quite place. My breath caught as his gaze bore into mine, challenging me to either stand my ground or step back. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Not tonight.

“Fine,” I replied softly, my voice steady. “Do whatever you want, Max.”

Before I could process what was happening, his hand shot out, gripping my arm and pulling me to him, our faces mere inches apart. His eyes darkened, and the intensity in his gaze sent a jolt through me.

“Excuse me?” he whispered, his tone dangerously low. “Watch your tone. Do you know who I am?” His grip tightened just slightly, grounding me in place. “Do I need to fix that mouth?”

My heart raced, my breath shallow as his words hung in the air, thick and laced with a challenge I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet

Without warning, he pushed me backwards, his hands gripping my shoulders and shoving me down onto my knees. The cold tile floor was hard against my skin as I knelt before him, looking up at his towering figure.

"Look at you," he sneered, his gaze raking over my body. "On your knees where you belong. Maybe this is what you need to remember your place."

His hands moved to his belt, undoing it with practiced ease. The sound of his zipper lowering made my heart race, and I watched as he pulled out his already hard cock, stroking it slowly.

"Open your mouth," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And don't you dare make me ask twice."

I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing. But the look in his eyes told me that disobeying would only make things worse. With trembling hands, I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his shaft, feeling the hot, velvety skin beneath my touch.

"That's better," he purred, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Now put that mouth to good use. Show me how sorry you are for pissing me off."

I leaned forward, parting my lips and taking him into my mouth. The taste of him filled my senses. I worked my tongue along his length, trying to please him, to make up for my earlier comment.

But it wasn't enough. His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back roughly. "Is this all you've got?" he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "I thought you were supposed to be good at this. Guess I was wrong."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I didn't dare protest. Instead, I took him deeper, relaxing my throat and letting him slide further into my mouth.

His grip on my hair tightened, his fingers tangling in the strands as he held me in place. "That's it," he growled, his hips thrusting forward, forcing himself deeper into my mouth. "Take it all, like the good little slut you are."

I gagged slightly, my throat constricting around his thick length. But I didn't fight it, instead focusing on pleasing him, on making up for my earlier mistake. My tongue swirled around his shaft, tracing the veins and ridges, eliciting a low groan from his lips.

"Fuck, that's better," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Maybe you're not completely useless after all."

I felt a surge of pride at his words, even as they stung. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking harder, my head bobbing up and down his length. My hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into his skin as I worked him over.

"Yeah, just like that," he hissed, his hips rocking faster now, fucking my face with abandon. "Keep going, don't stop until I tell you to."

I complied, my jaw aching from the strain, my lips stretched wide around his girth. Saliva dripped down my chin, pooling on the floor beneath us. The wet, obscene sounds of my sucking filled the room, mingling with his grunts and moans.

"Goddamn, your mouth feels so good," he groaned, his head falling back in ecstasy. "I should keep you on your knees like this all day, every day. Would you like that, baby? "

I whimpered around his cock, the degrading words sending a shameful thrill through me. I knew it was wrong, knew that I shouldn't enjoy being treated this way.

After a few more moments, I felt his movements become erratic, his breathing growing ragged. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep in my throat, his cock pulsing as he found his release. I swallowed quickly, desperate to take everything he gave me, not wanting to waste a single drop.

He held me there for a long moment, his grip on my hair loosening slightly as he caught his breath. Then, with a soft curse, he pulled away, his spent cock slipping from between my lips.

I looked up at him, my vision blurry, my face flushed and tear-streaked. He stared down at me, his expression softening just a fraction. One hand reached out, gently stroking my hair, almost tenderly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice gruff. "I was too rough, maybe. I let my anger get the best of me."

There was a hint of regret in his words, but it was overshadowed by a condescending note, as if he were patting me on the head, reassuring a child.

He helped me to my feet, his hands lingering on my hips for a moment before he kisses me softly.

"Go clean yourself up," he ordered, his voice back to its usual brusque tone.

————————————————

Note: welp 😅🚨💀

Lmk if you want more! Liking and following let’s me know you want more writings! ����

[littlefreya]

Pictures of You

Summary: While Sy is deployed, his new girlfriend sends him nudes, and now he must take care of 'business' himself while fantasizing about the things he would do to her.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x himself x OFC

Word count: 1,200

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), pure smut, graphic depiction of sex (male x female), male masturbation, bodily fluids, accidental creampie, dirty language, punishment, Freya using "peach". Being caught in the act. A bit of fluff. Not beta'd.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, translating, copying it, or parts of it and claiming it as your own*

A/N: It's been a while since I posted. I am working on a series (plural), but I got inspired by a lovely anon today. I'm not sure if I'm tagging anyone since my tag list is probably outdated and I'm not sure who still wants on. So, if you enjoyed, reblog, or comment, let me know. I'd appreciate it. 🖤

Pictures of You

At last, night unfurled, and the camp became quiet. 

The glorified Captain retired to his quarters, exhausted from a day of training recruits and tedious paperwork. This deployment would be long, and though he loved being The Captain - Logan Syverson was beginning to miss home.

It was all because of her. Sy shouldn't have caught feelings, long-distance relationships were never his thing, but damn, she was something else; a woman way above his league, pretty, hot as hell and way too smart to be with a military grunt like him.

Needless to say, fucking her made him feel like a god. 

Stripping down to his boxer, Sy slumped into his bed with a huff and reached for the private cell phone stuffed in his drawer. 

Twenty unanswered messages appeared on the screen—three of them from her.

Joy painted his face at the sight of her name. Ignoring everything else, he went directly to read her messages.

“Missing my big Sy”, the first message read. 

The other - “something to make you think of me.”  

The last message was simply an attachment. Curious, Sy tapped it open.

‘Fucking hell.’

The unmistakable pang of desire instantly surged through his groin. 

There she was, his sweet woman, naked and spread open like a present unwrapped, especially for him. She was sitting on her bed, one breast gripped by her palm with her nipple peeking through dark-painted nails while her other hand toyed with the sweet peach between her thighs. 

“Fuck,” Sy muttered. Already rock-hard. Absentmindedly, his hand massaged the hefty bulge through the fabric of his boxers, eliciting a deep groan from under his breath. 

‘What are you doing to me, babygirl?” 

It wasn’t just her naked body and the way her finger teased her own slit, but the look she gave him, the familiar neediness in her gaze, the way she bit her lip. 

Damn, if she was here right now… He’d fucking punish her for teasing him so bad! He’d pin her to the wall with his hand around her throat and show her what happens to naughty girls who like playing such wicked games. 

Now he had three fucking months to go, and all he could think of was how bad he wanted to be inside her tight little cunt.

‘Well, guess I’ll have to take care of this myself…’

Springing his cock free from his boxers, he ran his rough fingers up and down the length of his imposing shaft - slow at first, as Sy enjoyed taking his time, just as he would with her. His thumb rolled across the crown of his cock, gently grazing the tip while he imagined flipping her against the pitted wall in this room. Make her take it from behind so he could look at that perfect rounded ass of hers and watch his cock slipping in and out of her body. 

Still holding the photo open, he focused on her succulent cunt before spitting onto his open palm and griping himself once again. Tighter this time, he squeezed onto his girth and began to fuck his own hand. 

Pants and groans sputtered from his mouth, his chest heaving as he gradually picked up the pace. In his fantasy, he parted her ass cheeks and teased her dripping little hole until she begged him to fuck him. Then he forced himself all the way in, making her cry out. 

The sounds of her moans echoed in his memory, so helpless and desperate at the same time - he was nearly too much for her; that narrow cavern of hers could barely take his leviathan cock, but still, she took every pounding, becoming wetter around his shaft as her body not only yielded to accommodate him but lured him deeper inside. 

“I want inside you, babygirl…” Sy mumbled out loud, his hand now moving in ecstatic fervour. Sweat dripped down the contracting muscles of his abs. Soon, he felt himself swell even larger, and his sack strained with the desperate need for release. 

He tightened his grip, now choking his shaft and thinking of how it felt when she came around him. How she contracted all around his cock and shattered like glass smashing on the floor.

“Don’t come inside….” She’d warned him. She wasn’t on the pill. But this time, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from filling her full of his cum, and maybe… he wouldn’t want to… 

It was his fantasy, after all. 

“FUCK!!!” 

With the image spilling inside her, he allowed himself to be swept by the fierce waves of pleasure, his entire body buzzing with bliss as hot, thick ribbons of ecstasy spilt over his fingers. He might have shouted too loudly, but it’s not like he ever gave a fuck. 

It took Sy a few good minutes to climb down to earth, and then he chuckled hoarsely as he noticed the mess he had left on his hand. Shaking his head, he reached for a towel and wiped himself clean before returning to gaze at her photo. 

“What am I gonna do with you, doll?”

Well, there was an idea. He could repay the favour by sending her a photo of himself. Usually, he was against this type of stuff, but what she did was particularly risky for a woman, and if she was bold enough to treat him, he could do the same. Besides, they had three months until they could meet again. He better make sure she remembered who she belonged to.  

He stroked himself lightly. Still semi-hard, he wondered whether he could work himself to another erection this soon when a knock sounded at the door.

“Mother of f…. One moment !!!” 

Sy yelled. Irritated, he briefly tucked his shaft back in his boxers and jumped out of bed. The room smelled rancid, but Sy couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t even bring himself to put on a shirt as he rushed to the door.

“What?” He grunted before getting to see who was on the other side.

‘Well, fuck me sideways.’

It was a woman because why the hell not? Private Hicks, to be precise. The young thing’s eyes flared with surprise and then snapped to the floor to avoid staring at her sweaty, half-naked superior, but not before catching a glance of his hairy, tattooed chest and the semi-erected bulge in his groin.

The strong scent of sweat and sex hit her nostrils like a smack in the face. It took everything not to curl her face. There was no need to put two and two together to realise what she had just intruded. 

“Sir.” Hicks saluted in badly hidden embarrassment. 

Sy let out a deep sigh. Clearly, she knew what he was doing before she arrived. She probably heard him come all over himself right before knocking. Frankly, he wasn’t ashamed. 

“Get on with it, Private.”

“Sir,” she repeated, her voice a slight tremble. “ I’m sorry to bother you… but the Major asked me to get you.” 

Sy scratched the back of his head and groaned deeply. “Tell him I’ll be there in 10.” 

Without any other comment, he shut the door, leaving Hicks to wander back to the Major’s office, all shaken and quaking. 

As she walked away, she couldn’t help but bite her lips. All across her body, she felt those little electric streams of excitement, and her breath suddenly became shallow. She shouldn’t have thought of her superior like this, on what he did behind that closed door just a moment before she arrived, but Captain Syverson was too hot to handle and, needless to say, too loud. 

Well, she’d have to take care of herself later…

[snaileer]

Call to My Bedside - Part 2

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/snaileer/733019972168761344/call-to-my-bedside

Danyal wakes the next time with a weight to his limbs. From the moment he opens his eyes, he realizes he is not where he is supposed to be.

This is a medical bay, but it is not in the league, the constant twittering of League doctors monitoring his health is suspiciously gone. No shadows on guard outside the door.

The most glaring thing though, there was no Lazarus Water in his veins.

Perhaps Ra’s had decided he was no longer worth the expense, had decided-

No.

It was something else. That wasn’t an option he would consider.

Danyal tested the feeling of thin metal on his right wrist. Handcuffs, not shackles. It was odd.

But again, this wasn’t the league.

But he’d need to go back before Ra’s became angry. Danyal couldn’t fail.

He glances to the door as it opens, an old man-the one from before- and a younger, slender man standing just behind him.

Danyal stays still, his breathing even, forcing his heart to stay at a constant, stable rate. He watches them, analyzing.

The old man blinks, “It’s good to see you’re awake, young sir-,” He steps into the room, left foot a second slower, old weakness?- English accent, in Europe? the man behind him follows- stiff posture, rib injury, core focused strength, gymnast, combat trained and familiar- Richard Dick Grayson, Nightwing, he’s in America, Batman- “You gave us quite the shock earlier, myself especially.”

Nightwing watched Danyal warily, he saw him as a threat, and by the angle of his feet, a threat to the older man. He remembers now, he’d attacked him before, Nightwing was here to prevent it again.

They are heroes.

He was a part of the League of the Assassins.

He doesn’t fit here, could never.

Danyal considers the merits of speaking English, he wants to, deeply, and perhaps it would even benefit the situation; but his chest clogs with fear before he can even compose a sentence. It’s been too long anyways, the League dialect is easier.

“How long have I been here?” Danyal says, still not moving enough to even jostle the cuff at his wrist.

Nightwing sighs deeply, “We rescued you and Damian from a League of Assassins boat yesterday.” The words of the language are stilted, either by unfamiliarity or awkwardness, and who’s Damian? There’s a pause, “Do you know who I am?” Nightwing asks, caution in the words.

Danyal takes a deep breath, finally sitting up, despite the rattling of the chain on the cuff, “You are Nightwing, Dick Grayson, correct?”

Nightwing nods, his eyes briefly flitting to the elder man, “And you?”

Danyal’s eyes narrow, trying to find the trap, “I am Danyal Al Ghul, Heir of the Demon’s head, Blood of the Batman.”

Danyal watches the eyebrow of the old man tick up in his peripheral.

Nightwing pinches the bridge of his nose, “God I can’t believe Talia did it again,” He murmurs under his breath. In English. And Danyal would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to hear the language again, even just a little.

“Perhaps it would be best to bring Master Bruce back from his meeting,” the old man says pointedly. Danyal ignores as he changes and resets the IV attached to him, familiar with the autonomous care. With or without his consent.

“I’ve already notified him, he should be here soon.”

“Very good. In the meantime,” he turns to Danyal, “I am Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler. It seems I did not get the chance to introduce myself the last time you were awake.”

Danyal can’t help but blink at the almost joking tone Alfred says it with, knowing that Danyal had been the one to knock him out. It makes his lip twitch, and he silently huffs, surprising himself with the action.

The amusement vanishes as the door opens once more, footsteps barely audible in the second before.

The man standing there is large, tall and broad shouldered, strong- dangerous, calloused hands from training- his eyes stay glued to Danyal, blue and steady amidst the square jaw and sharp features, black hair tussled like he’d been rushing, just like Dad always-

Danyal feels his jaw wire shut, back straightening.

The thin chain of the handcuff jingles in the sudden silence.

This he remembers. This is Batman. The Dark Night of Gotham. The Detective.

The source of every expectation Ra’s Al Ghul has ever placed on Danyal.

He feels his face try to screw into a sneer, because he hates him and everything he’s done that has ever affected Danyal, but his face remains still. Controlled. Because there’s nothing he can do about it anyways.

Batman had introduced himself before.

As another name. A civilian. His training forces him to remember it.

Bruce Wayne.

It means next to nothing to him. But the man doesn’t stop looking.

It’s Nightwing that speaks next, “Danyal, this is Batman, Bruce Wayne, your father.” The smile is at odds with the weary tone of the words, “He was there when we saved you and Damian a few.. yesterday. God that feels like longer.”

Saved? The sentiment makes him want to scoff. He doesn’t, because Batman’s eyes already narrow with Nightwing’s words, and Danyal doesn’t need to make it worse.

A thousand more questions rush through his head. Each one bitten back with practiced force.

Instead he dips his head briefly, aiming for a show of respect, whatever that might mean here. However little he means it. Danyal can adjust regardless.

“Hn.”

Danyal lifts his head. That was the only response?

They uproot him entirely, chain him, throw him into unfamiliar waters where everything-everyone- is in new danger and all he does is grunt?

Danyal bites his tongue hard, letting his head lift, carefully non-defiant. He’s not quite sure his eyes get the message because he can feel the glare from them.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred pipes in, tone sharp.

Batman sighs, but the set of his shoulders changes, no longer so heavily lined with suspicion.

“What do you know about why Damian was-" There’s an even sharper cough from Alfred. Another sigh, “Fine. What has Talia already told you about me?”

Danyal glances between them, purposefully keeping his eyes from jumping down to the metal around his wrists.

No one else speaks.

“I know that you are Batman, the Dark Night of Gotham. You are also the detective, great enough to impress the Demon’s Head, Ra’s Al Ghul. The Demon’s daughter informed me you were dead.”

There’s a slight twitch on Batman’s face. “I survived Darkseid’s attack, although it led to me being lost in time and assumed dead for nearly a year,” Batman’s eyes flick across the room, almost considering, “Red Robin was responsible for my return just over a year ago.”

Red Robin. Timothy Drake. The one Ra’s favored. The second source of expectations placed on Danyal.

And he was lost in time? What did that consist of, what did it mean for Batman? Did it matter if it didn’t affect Danyal?

“I see.” He says. Silence lingers. They still expect him to speak. He hedges his bets, asking something he actually cares about, “Why am I here, Batman?”

The question seems to be expected and yet still strike with surprise.

“I… regrettably, did not know you were… present at the league. I do not believe in their methods and would not have left you there had I known.”

And that makes it all okay. Danyal wants to scream. But he narrows his eyes instead, only more suspicious, “And why were you there then?”

“We followed the shadows that had taken Damian. He told us who you were.”

Danyal pauses, leaning back slightly. They were willing to answer his questions, to actually talk with him. Of course they were, they were meant to be heroes.

But it had been so long since he’d actually talked with anyone other than Ra’s, and their conversations were a battleground of expectations and tests.

He fights with his conscious knowledge of this and the habits that have been beaten into him so thoroughly.

“Who is… Damian?” He asks, watching their reactions for the answer.

All three seem surprised by the question. But not angry. Of course not, he reminds himself.

“You’ve mentioned him several times like I am supposed to know who he is.” He had barely been told anything since his forceful return, and any knowledge he had from before stopped at Dick Grayson. And then Timothy Drake.

Danyal had purposefully ignored the hero world he had lived in-

He forces his eyes up to meet Batman’s, noting the hesitance in the set of his shoulders.

“Damian is… your brother. He was.. Talia’s son, before he came to me just a few years ago. He was raised in the league.”

Danyal blinks, anger disbelieving in his chest. Is that what she did?

“When.”

There’s no response, save a twitch of Batman’s eyebrow.

“When,” Danyal says again, his breathing controlled, “Did he come to you? How old was he? How long ago?”

They seem to pick up on the way Danyal’s tone has changed. Good for them.

“Nearly three years ago. He was ten.” Batman answers, voice rough. Tinged with curiosity and unfulfilled questions.

Danyal breathes deeply, his heart rate picking up against his wishes. Icy rage flares.

The beeping of the machine at his side matches the pounding in his chest, uneven, unbalanced, uncontrolled.

Keep it under control. Keep it. Under. Control.

Control is power. Control is strength. Control is the only thing that will ever be enough.

He breathes deeper. Holding his breath. Once. Twice.

The beeping is steadier with each tone.

“Danyal?” An old voice asks beside him. It’s Alfred. The butler.

Danyal shifts his jaw from its clench, “I am fine.” His eyes slide back into focus, still on Batman, “Damian is your son then.”

Batman nods solemnly, a heavier sigh through his chest, “Talia and I have had an… interesting relationship. But I loved her. Once. She has never failed to make me regret it.”

That was why she had visited him. Her words. What she had almost said. Talia had wished he was Damian, wished he was Bruce. Just not Danyal of course. The weapon she discarded for a better version. One she could love.

One who would be heir.

Batman continues, “Talia is Damian’s mother, told him he would be my heir, as I’m sure you were but-” Batman stops, looking at Danyal as confusion flicks across his face, “You weren’t.”

“I was never told I would be heir of the Batman, only of the Demon’s head.” This, at least, Danyal is familiar with, “That’s the only reason they needed me: to be their weapon made from the Demon Head’s enemy.” Danyal breathes, “A weapon does not have parents, and I have never been more than a weapon to them, crafted for the league’s purpose. For Ra’s.” 

Ra’s is the reason Danyal is alive at all. Is the only reason he has survived the league, but he is also the reason Danyal had to, no- has to survive.

Danyal drops his eyes, tired, so so tired, like he always is. Unerringly, his eyes find the shine of the metal around his wrist. Arm held carefully still to keep from jostling it, even as his other hand has found its way to his lap.

“You can’t really believe that,” Dick says, disbelief in his own voice, unsurety in the frame of an unfamiliar language.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe.”

And it doesn’t. It only matters what he can do. That’s he’s strong. He just has to be strong enough. Ra’s is the reason Danyal suffers, has always been, and Danyal will never let him escape that.

Silence lasts. Danyal quickly grows tired of it.

Luckily, Batman breaks it, “Why were you exposed to the Lazarus waters?” He asks, voice rigid and flat once more. 

Perhaps the casualness is getting to him because Danyal manages to lift one lip in a slight sneer, “The only reason anybody uses the Lazarus Pits.”

The Batman stays silent, clearly talking about the unorthodox method of exposure they had resorted to.

Danyal sighs this time, serious, “My heart is damaged. Electricity. The pits are a short term solution for it. Grandfather had said he found a long term one.” Danyal doubts it matters now. Whatever care his grandfather’d had was fragile, dependent on Danyal’s performance. 

The palm of his left hand tingles sharply.

Would this be enough to tip the scale against him? What would he lose for being here? Who would he-

Danyal looks into Batman’s eyes, “Am I to be a prisoner here?”

The man glances over him at the two on the other side, Danyal doesn’t follow it, nor the silent conversation he’s sure is happening.

Instead, Danyal focuses his ears, senses sharpened by training, by the pits, by his accident… and turns his attention to the person hiding in an alcove above them.

Low breathing, higher pitched, the scent of sword polish and hair gel. The person was small and armed.

“You’re not a prisoner… but if you leave.. you’ll be in danger,” Batman says, voice deep, “We can’t let that happen.”

So either be followed or don’t leave. What great options.

Danyal tries not to scowl, not to show any inflection at it, “And do I have to stay here? In your…. Cave?”

“It might be difficult to move- uh.. the medical things-” Nightwing starts, but Danyal cuts him off by swiftly removing the IV tucked in the crook of his elbow.

He presses his thumb against the small well of blood as he looks forward.

Alfred shouts, jolting towards him, “Master Danyal! That is hardly sterile-“

Danyal’s eyes snap to him the moment the title leaves his mouth, heart stilling for a second, commands in his eyes. Alfred falls still.

Danyal lets it fall away the next second, barely two beats missed. The beeping starts again.

“I see.” Alfred straightens, stepping forward slowly to turn off the IV and coil it, removing other monitors, “Another one for the dramatics then.”

Nightwing steps up, hands out placatingly, “There’s..mm really no need, Danyal, uh-” He glances back to Batman, “Of course you can leave the cave-,” the next words are in bright clear English, “I’m sure there’s already a room picked out for you.”

“Right you are Master Dick,” Alfred says, “Young sir, do you need any help moving?” He directs to Danyal.

He wants to rip his hand from the metal cuff. Snap the thin chain to pieces.

Instead he looks to Nightwing, then Batman, “The restraints?” He says, voice as empty of want as he can make it.

The click of the key in the lock echoes in his ear and it’s only through practiced calm that Danyal does not immediately jerk his arm away from it. Instead, he calmly retracts his hand, bracing slightly against the bed as he turns and plants his feet on the floor.

The others have already moved out of his way, watching intently, waiting for him to fall- to fail.

Danyal straightens his legs. He stands. He breathes. He controls his heart. He walks forward.

He does not fall. He doesn’t have the option to fall.

“I can go now.” He says, looking at them. His knuckles are white on the edge of the bed.

Nightwing looks at Batman once more. The man grunts, then turns from the room in a way that he can only imagine would perfectly flare a cape.

Danyal’s feet feel like they’re filling with cement. Nightwing stares at him expectantly. Danyal understands expectations- but these ones, it leaves him helpless and-

“Follow me then, dear boys,” Alfred says, stepping in front smoothly, already moving towards the door, “We can go upstairs, I’ll start on a meal and Master Dick can show you the rooms.”

Nightwing goes next, leaving Danyal to follow not quite behind him, the angle purposeful to keep him in sight.

Nightwing casts a wary glance to him every few minutes, continuing a light chatter with Alfred. Danyal stares forward, taking in the cave from his peripheral - computer, showers, training mats, an unfamiliar shadow watching him, armory, swords, knifes, suits, cars and vehicles lined up on platforms, a t-Rex, giant penny, a glass case- Danyal lets his eyes linger on the shadow, never faltering his steps.

His neck itches at the attention.

He looks forward. Nightwing is looking at him again, snapping forward the moment Danyal’s eyes narrow. Good.

The steps are slightly narrow, dark, but they come out to a warmly lit study. Dark wood, papers, books on shelves, a portrait on the wall, pictures on the desk, three black hair boys, another of only a single with stiff posture, a ballet dancer- they keep walking. The door-clock- closes behind them like the clamping of an artery.

Nightwing and Alfred’s conversation continues in smooth, low-toned English. Danyal blinks, slowly, slower than he needs to, for a breath of a second relishing in the almost familiarity of it all, the dissonance from the last three years alone enough to well emotion in his chest.

His eyes open. He continues after them.

“This is where I’ll leave you, I’ll be up with some food young sir,” Alfred says abruptly, turning towards a swinging door that reveals a glimpse of a stainless kitchen.

“So…” Nightwing says, swinging his arms a bit at his sides, “uh… I can show you the room you can sleep in, yes?”

Danyal’s shoulders tighten, rising from a subconscious millimeter slouch. He nods stiffly.

His heart remains under control. Always under control.

“So this is the Wayne Mansion, you can go for food any time, uh…” There’s an unsure pause as they start up the stairs, “You can meet the rest of us soon maybe, a correct introduction to Damian…depends on Bruce really… he can be … over …over.”

Nightwing looks at Danyal properly, “I’m usually better at this, most of the bat kids know the League dialect but… I haven’t exactly practiced it.”

Danyal stares at him. He doesn’t want to hear the sound of the League’s twisting words, he wants to leave. He wants to find his family, protect them, get them as far away from Ra’s al Ghul and the league as possible. He wants to go back to Ra’s convince him to let his family go if Danyal stays willingly. Wants a blade strong enough to run the man through and-

“I know you are probably stressed and this is all unfamiliar but … we want you to stay… you won’t be hurt here. This is different than the league, you’re safe.”

Danyal scoffs, not bothering to stop it, he hasn’t been safe since the day he tripped over a wire and died.

Nightwing doesn’t seem surprised by the response.

“This can be your room,” He says, opening a door in the hallway and gesturing a wide arm to Danyal. “The rest of us are just down the hall.”

Danyal steps in, looking around, counting exits, tactical advantages, possible listening devices- He turns around, giving Nightwing a stiff nod, “Thank you for the room.”

Nightwing still stands at his door, “Anything else I can help with for you?” He says.

Danyal considers staying silent, obedient, but he hates hearing the language at every turn, he never wants to hear it again, the words they forced in his mouth, ripping away what was in their place-

“Can you just speak English?” He says, realizing too late how weak it sounds, “You don’t have to use the league tongue, I can-English is.. fine.” Fine. Better. Familiar. A remnant of a family he’s almost certain he’s lost now.

Nightwing barely quirks a brow, eyes flicking over him.

“Can do,” He nods, “Well then… Welcome to Wayne Manor, Danyal.”

And he closes the door behind him.

'It’s just Danny, please.' He wants to whisper to the silence. But he’s grown too used to shadows and it catches in his throat.

He goes and sits on the bed. Staring out of the window. A window he can’t leave from. Where would he go? He doesn’t have anyone, they’re all in danger because of him. He can’t leave.

He’s trapped.

Always trapped.

Bound. Stuck to one place. One thing.

Emotions well in his chest, in the back of his throat, thick and dark and painful. He wants to cry. He can’t. Emotions constrict around his lungs.

And Danyal sits, staring at the wall, wishing he could cry. But the emotions just twist themselves until they’re tight enough, heavy enough to fall down, settle back like a layer of heavy chainmail over his insides.

Danyal turns on the bed, facing the wall.

It’s empty tan-beige. Neutral colors. No personality. Temporary.

This is familiar to him. This he can do.

Danyal stands again, he strips down his tunic, his shin-guards and pants- notes the lack of his typical weapons- methodically placing it on the dresser. Not his dresser, he already has one, painted blue with yellow stars back in-

Danyal gets in the shower, glad to find soap there, contemplating not using it, not wasting the energy. He watches condensation develop on the glass walls, water droplets collecting until they finally rush down the glass.

His finger lifts, already wanting to trace the letters he knows. Three lines, an H. One. i. Or e, he could write hello. Or ghost. Mom. Dad. Jazz, Sam, Tucker. Write it in English so he wouldn’t forget the way they were meant to be spelled, let the water wash it away.

His fingers ache where they’d been broken for it. For tracing letters in dirt or on mirrors, in the foggy glass at night. A break for every word.

Danyal can see his hand shake, inches from the glass. Pain and fear a leech on his bones.

He drops the hand. Turns to wash away the soap and get out, towels left on the counter.

He doesn’t even glance at the mirror as he goes out.

His tunic is where he’d left it, neatly set on the dresser top… but…

Danyal opens the drawers, changing into the boxers, the next one is dress pants and collared shirts, but in the third-

Rough denim scuffs against his fingertips.

They’re dark wash jeans, fancy and nothing like the ones his mom would buy on sale from the thrift store but…

He doesn’t let himself debate it further, he has to wear clothes and no one is here to tell him which. They put them here so they should expect him to wear it- it could be a test but he doesn’t care, let them do what they want if only to pretend the jeans are stiff from ectoplasm stains instead of fresh starch.

He chooses a white t-shirt, ignoring the collared shirts and polos that are probably meant to go over it.

He breathes, letting his shoulders drop, tilting his head back with his eyes closed, pretending for only a second that he’s getting dressed for school. Jazz is across the hall getting her books together, Sam and Tuck are on their way to walk together, his parents are already downstairs working.

'See?' He wants to say, 'I’m still the same person, nothings changed!'

The metal of the door knob clicks and Danyal’s head snaps towards the sound.

There’s nothing. Danyal doesn’t trust it, eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes the tall double doors.

“I know you’re there!” he calls out, fists ready, “Open the door and show yourself or I will!”

There’s a harsh tutt behind the door before it swings open, revealing a kid standing there. Short, black hair- hair gel-, dress slacks and shirt hiding multiple bladed weapons-

“Clearly I meant for you to know I was here, I am not incompetent,” The kid scoffs. So Nightwing wasn’t lying about them all knowing the league dialect…. Yet somehow, it sounds different coming from the kid, familiar in a way that makes Danyal's skin burn. He looks irritated, arms crossed in front of him even while his eyes wander over the room and Danyal with curiosity. And judgement.

Danyal rolls his eyes at it, “Did you need something from me, or did you just want to stand there looking like a hair gel commercial?”

The boy’s face goes red impressively fast, “How dare you-” he moves- and a knife is flying at his face, Danyal dodges, catching it in a second, shifting to throw it back but stops, half way extended. He looks at the hilt, there’s a League marking engraved on the bottom no larger than a droplet.

Danyal's eyes flick up to the boy still standing in front of him, glaring him down.

That’s all it takes before the boy jumps forward, another knife in his hand.

Danyal blocks it, twisting the arm as he drops his own acquired knife to his other hand and lunges forward.

The boy flips over his arm, and Danyal doesn’t let his surprise show as he reaches to grab the second knife he’d forced the kid to drop.

The boy tutts at him again, “So this was who Mother replaced me with? Street rabble?”

Danyal blinks, Mother? Then it clicks.

So this was Damian. The child the demon’s daughter wanted, beloved by all. Treasured. Preserved.

Danyal grits his teeth against the bitter taste in his mouth. He lunges forward, already expecting the larger dagger Damian uses to block him as he’s forced to retreat.

Danyal doesn’t stop, continuing to press him, “The Demon’s Daughter is no mother of mine,” he spits as he slams a kick against Damian’s elbow, blade dropping once more. Danyal cuts a shallow slash across Damian’s left cheek before dropping his own stolen knives.

He doesn’t stop though, continuing to push Damian back- Damian swerves to the side, grabbing his arm, flipping him, Danyal retaliates, grabbing the others shirt and taking him with him.

He catches his feet a second before the other, using it to pin him face to face with Danyal’s arm at his throat, “Maybe if you were good enough, you wouldn’t have had to be replaced at all and I never would have been forced to be here, this is your fault. I was free,” He grits out, teeth bared, “You got to live these last three years because I paid for it, and you’re angry because they don’t want you!?”

There’s something startling in Damian’s wide eyes, “What are you talking about?” He snaps, “I am Damian Al Ghul, Heir to the League, Ibn al X-“

Danyal slams him harder against the floor, cutting him off. Green simmers, almost boiling, under his skin. He grits his teeth harder against the sharp pain through his chest.

He leans closer to Damian, snarling, his grip bruising, “You don’t even know what you escaped, what Ra’s really wanted with you, do you? What being heir means. You’re nothing more than a -”

Damian jerks his head upwards, colliding with Danyal’s forehead and knocking him back with a grunt. Danyal’s grip loosens momentarily and Damian pulls free.

He slams a palm strike into Danyal’s front, pain lancing through his chest as he gasps, heart convulsing.

He moves through it by force, both rolling off each other with violent hands.

They stand opposite each other once more. Blood drips from the cut on Damian’s cheek. Danyal’s ragged breaths join Damian’s in the silence. He can hear footsteps on the stairs. His heart clenches in his chest painfully. There’s barely enough Lazarus water in his veins to keep it pumping for a week, less if he keeps this up.

The door flings open with a slam, both of them turning to look.

Batman stands there, battle calm in his eyes.

Damian turns fully at the sight of his father, but Danyal doesn’t shift from his stance.

“Father, I-“ Damian starts, but Batman just lifts a hand, silencing him.

“What. Happened.” Batman says, looking straight at Danyal, not even a question. A demand. Green tinted steel shoots up Danyal’s spine and he does nothing but glare back at the man.

Batman doesn’t break eye contact, “Damian.”

“I was determining if he was a threat. He is from the League, Father,” Damian says  shortly, standing tall despite the blood on his face.

Batman looks between them briefly, and oh what a picture they must make.

Two kids, both born in the same cage, one trying to claw his way out of the chains and the other trying to fight his way in.

Exhaustion washes over Danyal, and he drops his fists, letting them hang by his sides.

Batman hums, barely a sound, but a muscle twitches in Damian’s jaw.

“Father-“

“Go Damian. Now.”

Damian looks back at him, not-quite-hate in his eyes, before dropping to a crouch to grab the knife closest to his feet with one hand and turning to leave.

Faced with Batman’s sole attention, Danyal lifts his chin defiantly, daring him to take action, to punish him, to do something that he can predict, can defend, can justify the anger he feels when he sees him.

“I know it was different in the league, but here, this is not acceptable.”

Danyal half-scoffs. He finally steps out of his stance, “I could leave.”

“That’s not-” Batman pinches the bridge of his nose, voice like gravel, “I am trying to protect you, the manor is not the league. I understand what it must have been like to be raised like that, but you can’t hurt others, no matter what teachings you’ve had. I can guarantee you won’t be hurt here, I won’t let-”

Danny huffs a dry laugh, “You won’t let?” He steps forward, rage bubbling back up, “Hurt me? I’m not worried about me, Batman. You can’t stop him. Ra’s is going to get what he wants, and as long as that is me, everyone around me is in danger, I’m dangerous. I'm a weapon, a weapon of your enemy. You can’t fix that, can you?”

“We can protect ourselves-”

Danyal scoffs again, “Because you’ve done such a good job of that already? Don’t forget, all of this is because of you, they wanted you, and now they want me because of you, Batman. You.”

Something stricken shoots through the man’s face before it flattens. Batman nods and steps back, a hand on the doorhandle, “Don’t leave.” Is all he says, before the door clicks shut.

Danyal feels the walls closing in on him like a cell.

He looks to his left.

The bathroom door is open. He can see his reflection in the mirror, any condensation gone.

Danyal stares.

When he had been younger, back in- before. Danyal would stand in front of a mirror and pick out parts he thought looked like his parents. Like a Fenton. His shoulders were from Jack obviously. His eyes and hair too. His jawline was from Maddie, his hands from Jack, and the love of engineering and planning from Maddie. He had the same legs as his mom. Same voice as his dad, always loud. If he didn’t look too hard, he could almost convince himself he was really their kid, their son.

But he could never quite place his tanned skin, or the texture of his hair. The shape of his eyes and nose. Always just a little bit wrong.

What had pretending done but put them in danger?

Danyal turns on his heel, flicking the lights off and putting a glass soap bottle on the door handle.

He knew he’d wake up regardless… but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Danyal rubs his chest with the heel of his palm as he lays down on the far side of the bed, his back to the door, staring out at the city beyond the window glass.

How close would he come to freedom before he’d have to give it up again?

And he knew he would.

For his family, he would give the Demon’s Head anything.

Everything.

If that’s what it took.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pretend he would fall asleep.

———

Bruce runs over Danyal’s words again and again during the flight.

'This is because of you, Batman,'

He flicks a switch.

'You.'

The landing gear lowers.

'You can’t fix this.'

He can see the way the shadows of the forest twist around the clearing.

'Dangerous.'

Wheels touch grass. Batman lands at the coordinates, just on the side of the field in front of the woman waiting for him.

'Because of you.'

He breathes.

“My Beloved, how are you?” She greets him as he descends the ramp.

Bruce says nothing. He cannot even begin to fathom what he would say if he did.

Instead, he stares at her. A woman who had once meant so much to him, whom he had nearly thrown away everything for. And who had nearly done the same for him.

But she hadn’t. Wouldn’t. And it had hurt him, but he had recovered.

And then she hurt him again.

She had stolen and lied to him in his vulnerability.

And still, he had found himself loving her.

Had allowed her to continue hurting him. Again and again. Out of a vain hope that she would change. Because he thought that he could change her. That she would change for him.

It was foolish. It was senseless.

Yet he found it just as impossible to stop.

And so she had hurt him again.

“Talia.” Her name grated against his heart, “Why did you not tell me I had another son?”

“The boy is no more yours than he is mine, Beloved,” She says with a roll of her eyes, as if explaining a basic fact, “He belongs to my father. And to the league.”

Bruce is silent. He notices a slight bruise forming on her left cheek.

Talia’s face is tight, “Do you not care about the son I have given you? Has Damian not satisfied you?”

Bruce feels the leather of his gauntlets stretch over his clenched fists.

“I deserved to know,” He near growls, “Just as I did Damian, just as I did with Jason. You cannot continue to keep my children from me-“

“If it was not for that boy, you would not have met Damian at all,” Talia snaps.

Bruce blinks. Hard.

“His return brought Damian into your arms, you should be grateful.” She spits at him like an accusation, “Damian is ours, Bruce. From our love. That boy was made before we truly knew each other, before we understood each other as we do now. He was borne of nothing more than my father’s obsession. Damian is our son, not him.”

“His name is Danyal, Talia!” Bruce bellows, “He is a child, and he is a person! Just like you, and me, and Damian, and he deserves more than to be written off as one of Ra’s al Ghul’s projects! He deserves better than this!” Than us, he doesn’t say. Deserves better than him.

Talia straightens from already perfect posture, “I made a choice Bruce, for Damian. To protect Damian. I knew our son was never meant to bear my father’s hands, he was never meant to be what Danyal is.” Talia pauses, eyes sharp on him, and he can see when she chooses her next words. Already knows they are meant to cut him, to hurt him. He steels himself and listens anyways.

“Perhaps you should ask him where he’s been all these years I’ve supposedly kept him from you, Beloved.” She says coyly, stepping forward.

“What are you talking about.”

She takes another step, “The truth of the matter is that Danyal could have gone to you any time he wanted. He chose not to. Chose to stay away.”

He stays silent.

“Oh- Did the boy not tell you?“ Talia says, barely hiding the falseness, “Danyal was living in America before he returned to his rightful duty. Almost didn’t work, but…” Talia hummed, “His gifts were fortuitous in the end. A risk well calculated, my father’s doing I suspect.”

Talia almost seems blaisé as she talks about it, but he can see the way it irks her. Her father had tricked her. Somehow. Or had manipulated her into some choice she hadn’t known about.

Batman says nothing, analyzing, taking in clues.

“Beloved,” Talia sighs, “Surely you must know, the boy must return.”

“And surely you know: I can’t let that happen.”

Talia glowers at him.

“It’s him or Damian, Bruce, you must choose, just as I did.”

“No.” Bruce growls.

“You cannot have both,” She snaps at him.

Batman stands firm, staring her down, resolute.

“You invite his anger on them both,” She snarls, “You save no one.”

Batman ignores the words. He has made it his job to make sure that’s not true. He’ll die before it is.

“Fine.” She snaps again. But she lingers for a few seconds more. The lines of her face softening.

“I remember I once loved that same unbending drive.”

It feels odd to hear her confirm something he’s not sure ever really existed.

Then Talia turns away and walks into the forest. Shadows contort and reform around her at the edges of the clearing. Slowly emptying until there’s nothing left but the trees and the grass and him, standing alone at the center of it all.

He turns to leave.

He won’t choose between his children.

He climbs the ramp.

He will protect them.

He sits down in the pilots chair, flicking switches and gears.

All of them.

Engines roar to life below him.

He will not fail.

And yet… he cannot forget her words. Twisted they may be, and just as easily lies.. but, her irritation at her father’s plans… he had always been good at telling when it was real.

'Living in America… chose to stay away,'

Living in America?

Had he been secluded at one of their bases here? Had it even been close?

Had Danyal been just miles away, suffering, and Bruce hadn’t known?

But it felt wrong. What Talia had said sat like a jagged puzzle piece, poking and prodding at him, not quite fitting the theories he threw at it.

‘Returned.’

Did she only mean returned to the League’s home base? Closer to their original strongholds in Asia?

It didn’t make sense. She would have crafted the words differently, to drive her point home.

She’d said ‘supposedly kept him from you’ like she hadn’t. Like she hadn’t kept Danyal hidden, the way she had Damian. It didn’t add up.

She could have just been lying. Bruce didn’t think she was. It couldn’t be that simple. No, there was something specific about the way she’d phrased it all, like she was telling him a secret. Like it was something Ra’s had hidden. Like something Danyal was hiding.

Batman narrowed his eyes, staring out at the landscape in front of him as it rushed past.

Whatever it was, whatever she wasn’t telling him, Batman needed to figure it out before it came back to hurt him or his family. Danyal included.

Then there was the rest of it.

The ‘gifts’ that Talia had mentioned.

He knew Danyal had been forced to interact with the Lazarus waters, but he didn’t know to what extent. What it had done to him.

It’d had an effect on him, that much was clear by the acid green of his eyes when he stood off against them in the Batcave. And earlier when Bruce had first interrupted the fight with Damian.

He didn’t even think Danyal had noticed they were glowing then. Too defensive to think about it. Or perhaps he was used to it.

How many times had he been submerged? Had been so injured that Ra’s saw fit to put him in?

How many times had Bruce not been there to protect him from it?

Even if he was only acting out of defensiveness… was that not Bruce’s fault too?

That he still felt unsafe in the Manor. That he didn’t know if Bruce would act the same as Ra’s, as the League.

And Danyal was right, he was responsible for the pain the league caused him, for them hunting him. If he had never let himself be pulled into Talia’s web- or if she was to be believed… even before that.

When exactly? When had Batman become enough of a threat that Ra’s had decided to use him? Was it because he had refused to be his heir? Or before that? Before or after Dick? Jason?

He doesn’t even know how old Danyal is. How long Batman had let him suffer because of h-

“I do hope you aren’t planning to brood like this with your children around, Master Bruce,” Alfred says, cutting through his thoughts, “I don’t believe your pride would survive the repercussions.”

Bruce glances at the monitor Alfred has decided to call from.

“Hn.” Bruce grumbles.

Alfred is right, his children would tease him mercilessly for ‘brooding’ as they called it. If only Dick at least, who hasn’t missed a chance to do so since he’d been a freshly christened Robin.

How would Danyal fit into that? Would he grow to tease like the others? Or remain stoic like Damian?

“I’ll be approaching in 30 minutes, A.” He says. ‘Will Danyal be there?’ He doesn’t say.

Alfred says nothing in response. The engines fill the silence.

He grits his teeth, he just wants to know the situation, to stay updated, he wants to know if something’s happened or anything’s changed.

He sighs, forcefully loosening his jaw, “Who’s going out tonight?”

“Mm, I believe Miss Brown and Master Tim were discussing going together. Master Thomas is in bed, as is usual, though he did mention he’d be out early.. and I believe Madame Cassandra is staying in. She seems to have found a new project.”

Batman hums in confirmation. He wants to know what Cass had found interesting. More than that, he wants to know if Danyal was okay, Damian too.

“It seems it circles around our newest resident, though she hasn’t shown herself to him yet. Master Dick also seems to think the young sir is his duty as much as Master Damian had been.”

Batman feels his lips tug downwards as he grunts in response. Damian’s first year with them was… a regret. His own absence was devastating. He’d have to find some way to assure Dick that Danyal wasn’t his responsibility this time, that he could still be his own person. Perhaps he should encourage Dick to return to Blüdhaven. Affirm the family would be alright without him.

Batman sees Gotham’s cloud of smog come into view. The bay follows soon after, and the buildings next.

“I’m coming in now.”

“Very good sir.” Alfred answers, nodding in his peripheral before the call clicks off.

When the Batplane arrives to the cave, Alfred is nowhere to be seen. The other’s suits are missing as well, meaning they are already out for the night.

Batman doesn’t pause more than to look around, already heading to the Batcomputer with determined steps.

He enters his access codes, running through his security checks unconsciously, mind spinning on theories and clues.

He picks apart his and Talia’s interaction again and again, trying to pull everything he can from it and put it into his report file. Maybe if he can just read over it again, remember something else, maybe it will be enough to protect Danyal, maybe it will be enough to stop Ra’s, maybe it will be enough understand why Talia did this to h-

A gentle hand slides over his just as his finger goes to slam the enter button of the keyboard.

He looks over his shoulder, already recognizing the feeling of stitching against his suit.

Cass looks at him meaningfully. Her gentle hand shifts into a lean against his arm, the pressure a comfort. She stares up at the Batcomputer and reads through his writing piece by piece.

Bruce waits for her. He knows she struggles with so many words. Knows that she gained more from watching him type it than she will from reading an exact account but the details will be helpful anyways.

She nods to him, fingers tapping lightly against his arm as she thinks it over, scanning and rescanning the document.

Cass has been developing fidgets recently, small twitches of movement that don’t serve a purpose than to let her move.

Bruce wants to smile every time. He’s pretty sure they’re on purpose, but still.. it’s freedom for her.

She nudges him, reaching for a button across the keys. It flicks to a camera screen a second later.

The one in Danyal’s room.

Bruce feels a twinge of guilt at the disappointment Cass aims at him before they both refocus on the image.

The empty image.

Danyal is not in the room, and Bruce feels his eyebrows scrunch as he goes to pull up the other camera feeds to locate him, make sure he hasn’t been taken-

“Downstairs.” Cass says.

Batman gets a half turn around, checking the cave for a foreign presence, before Cass stops him again.

She points to the screen, drawing his attention to a bottom square.

Danyal stands in the hallway of the manor, staring at the portraits on the walls.

He feels a light tap on his shoulder in parting before Cass’s presence at his side disappears silently.

He stares up at the figure of his son standing in the hallway, mind still whirring about possibilities and clues and lies and secrets.

Danyal continues to stand in front of the portrait for another minute, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side.

He rips his eyes away from the portrait, turning down the hallway and ducking into the kitchen.

It’s empty when he gets there. Then again, the whole mansion had seemed empty. Aside from the ever constant, ever familiar feeling of eyes weighing down on him.

Danyal considers making himself food.

He considers jumping out of the window and seeing how far he could get.

He wonders if their cabinets have something he’d know and could do himself or if he’d be hopelessly lost.

He wonders how long it will take for the Demon’s Head to find him. Wonders what he’ll do when he does. Wonders if his-

He stops himself short.

“May I offer you some tea and snacks, young sir?”

Danyal turns slightly to face the old butler-Alfred- who’d entered behind him and nods.

Can he even say no?

Alfred gestures to a chair set up by the built in breakfast nook.

He sits. Even as the domesticity of it all throttles his heart in his chest. The way they must eat together every morning, appear together in every photo, smiling. A family portrait. Batman’s family. Batman got to keep his. But Danny’s is tra-

Danyal breathes purposefully, staring down at his hands, clenching them tighter.

Suddenly a hand reaches across his vision, pressing a button on an ancient looking miniature TV sitting just tucked into the kitchen corner.

It flickers to life on some random news channel, low mindless chatter softening the air.

Danyal feels his shoulders lower slightly, just barely, as the silences retreats. He glances up, expecting to find Alfred there staring at him, questioning him, why he’s acting like this, why he-

Alfred’s back is to him. The man busy at the stove with the tea kettle.

“I hope you like lemon ginger tea,” the man says, getting a small jar from a cupboard, “It’s been quite a bit since I’ve had the opportunity to make some.”

Danyal doesn’t quite trust it, still watching the man warily. He doesn’t understand why they would welcome him into their house, Batman or no, he was a threat to them. He was nothing but a threat.

“How about something to eat?”

Danyal watches the man move over to the fridge.

Something moves in his peripheral and his eyes jump to the side.

Narrowed eyes comb over the fancy china case against the wall. But he can’t see anything odd. The glass is clear, refracted reflection shining back him over the china. A dark phone sitting on the ledge. Dark wood pressed against the wall. He doesn’t know what he saw.

Alfred sets a small plate down in front of him with a light clatter, immediately turning back as the tea kettle begins to screech.

The movement makes a small carrot tumble off, rolling across the counter to Danyal.

He stares at it.

He breathes in, out, in out, in out in out too fast. Too fast-

A finger rolls to a stop in front of him and he can only stare at it as strong arms grip and pull him back, keeping him restrained.

Granite counters blend until they are stone floors.

He can’t look away from it. Confusion bleeds in with denial and regret and bloodthirsty stubbornness.

“Look at me, boy.”

Danny’s head is jerked back by his hair, forcing his eyes up to his instructor.

The man glares down at him.

“I have taught warriors better than you by a thousand, and you dare to try to escape under my hand?”

Danny tries to grin, barely managing a crude sneer, coppery blood in his teeth, “You should have kept a better eye on me, you fucking nutcase.”

His eyelid flicks closed automatically as cold gunmetal rests against it.

“Say that again.”

Danny swallows his regret, in for a penny in for a pound. He juts his chin up, forcing the man to follow the movement with his gun.

“What, were you dropped as a bab-” His open eye strains to see his instructor’s thumb press down the hammer of the gun. A warning.

He can feel his hands shake under the assassins hold. His throat burns.

“You scared of a chil-?” He barely has time to register the hand moving before the butt of the gun slams into his nose with a sickening crack.

Pain floods his face. He gets half a shout out before his chin is grabbed by unforgiving hands.

He stares into the man’s cold eyes.

Danny says nothing. Too focused on trying to breathe when his nose is filling with blood and his mouth is clamped nearly shut.

“Better.”

He resists the urge to spit in the man’s face as he steps back, straightening and waving a hand to the assassins. Even without their hands on him he can feel their presence looming behind him.

Danny drops his head, curling in on himself as much as he can, trying to ignore the feeling of blood as it slides down his face.

His eyes are left to stagnate on the finger thrown to the ground in front of him.

Pale skin stands stark against dark floors, contrasted by blood and dirt marring it. He can see the calluses and small scars.

He doesn’t understand.

He might.

He doesn’t want to.

“You are not the only one I can punish to get my point across, boy.”

He looks closer at the finger. At the nicks of careless knives and tools, of a hand that had cradled- no- please no-

“The oaf was very insistent it be him.”

Danny snaps his head up, fear striking through his chest, “No! Please-“ he catches himself, “Please don’t hurt them! They don’t- Hurt me, just me! They don’t deserve it, they didn’t do anything-!”

Sharp eyes stab into him. Fury behind them.

“Hurt me, Master Shrike, just me. Please.”

There’s a pause as the man continues to stare down at him before he lifts one lip in a sneer, “Do you think you command me, child?”

Danny freezes, “I don’t- I- No, Master. I don’t.”

“Then why,” Shrike near growls, “Do you beg me? Why do you plead like you have a right to ask for anything?”

“I don’t-” 'I don’t understand,' he starts to say but he’s cut off by Shrike’s boot hitting his face. He’s learned by now when not to dodge. He can’t give them another reason to hurt his family.

A second kick lands.

“You will be quiet!”

Danny waits for a beat, then slowly pulls himself up from the floor, not lifting his eyes.

He can still see his father’s finger on the floor.

“You do not command me. You are a tool! A weapon in the Demon’s hand! I choose to act, to punish or break you! You do not act, do not speak until you are to be used!”

Danyal stays silent.

He wants to scream, to fight back, they train him and they train him but he can’t fight back because if he does- his eyes flick to the bloodied finger.

He can let them. For his family, he can let them call him a weapon, can let them say he has no will. He can do this one thing.

He’s not giving up, he tells himself. But for his family’s safety, he can let them think he is. Just this once.

Danny stops, eyes shutting for just a second as he bends into a kneel, holding his hands up in front of him.

There’s a pause, cruel satisfaction radiating off the man in front of him.

Danyal licks his lips, steeling himself, “I am ready for my lesson,” Danny forces the words out, “Master Shrike.”

He doesn’t bother to look up and see the man’s sneer.

“Good.”

He sees the kick coming.

He still doesn’t move.

He stays still.

The world moves around him. Voices. Muttering. The sound of dishes, water being poured.

There’s a carrot.. orange and bright in front of him.

His heart is beating too fast. His eyes sting.

Calm down. Control it. Control it. Stop, stop-

A tea cup clatters in front of him.

“Sir Danyal, are you quite alright?” He hears someone ask. Alfred. It’s Alfred. Batman’s butler. He’s not-

He tries to speak, ‘I’m fine’ he tries to say. But his throat constricts. He simply nods, staring down at the carrot.

A freaking carrot.

It’s ridiculous.

He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s. Fine.

Danyal takes a deep breath. He breathes out. Silently.

He does it again.

He holds it until his heart slows down, stops stuttering from beat to beat.

He breathes out.

He reaches for the tea, ignoring the eyes on him-always watching him- ignoring the way his hands shake.

He drinks the tea. Let’s it burn his throat and distract him.

He breathes.

Alfred does not turn to look at him. Staying busy at the sink with dishes that already look clean.

He is thankful.

He breathes.

Low murmurs fill impenetrable silence. Danyal drags his eyes over to the small TV.

His breath stops.

A banner of words crawls across the bottom of the screen.

‘DalvCo factories shutting down after mass destruction.’

He tries to tear his eyes away.

‘Four buildings exploded just after midnight on Saturday in downtown Chicago, Elmerton, and Red Lake. 12 workers dead. Police have not caught the perpetrators.’

And they won’t.

Danyal can recognize a message.

He knows what it means. Who is sending it.

He tries not to let it show how his mind begins spinning. Churning out plans and strategies- If an attempt had cost his father a finger, what would they do to them now, because of Danyal?- he had to fix this.

He looks down to his shaking hands. He stops them. And the tea in his cup stills.

He stops. Pauses. He eyes Alfred still at the sink without looking up.

He places it just on the edge of the counter. Then turns away and lets go.

The cup falls.

It shatters against the floor. Danyal jumps up from his seat at the same time Alfred turns around.

“What’s happened?” He says, already hustling over with a towel. “Are you hurt?”

Danyal steps away and around him, towards the door.

He almost bumps into the display case until the reflection of light off the phone catches his eye. A small ballet sticker sits on the back of the case.

His hand moves before he can think and slips it into his pocket. He looks at Alfred.

“It’s no trouble, Young Danyal,” Alfred says as he crouches over where Danyal had been sitting, “I’ll clean this up and get you more. You can help me prepare for breakfast-“

Danyal considers knocking him out, so he can’t stop him, or alert anyone, but a body is more suspicious. Instead he paints his face with fear and steps out of the room as quick as he can.

He turns down the hallway, trying to remember where he’d walked from the cave.

Mere hours ago.

He goes the opposite direction, following a halls as far to the outer edges of the mansion as he can, typing in Vlad’s number with nervous hands as he goes.

He makes a final turn before he opens a window, glances backwards, and jumps out.

He lands in a roll, already running. His finger presses call and he listens to the phone ringing as he runs.

Once. Twice. He swipes branches out of his way. Three times. Four. Five. Six.

‘We’re sorry the number-‘

Danyal hangs up and presses again.

He doesn’t stop running.

He just has to protect them. He has to warn Vlad. Warn whoever he can. Tell someone.

It rings again. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. Six- ‘We’re sorr-‘

Danyal presses it again and runs faster.

If he can get caught by the League maybe Ra’s will overlook it. Maybe he can still protect them. He can fix this. Please just let him fix this.

‘We’re s-‘

He tries again.

And Danyal continues rushing through the woods, wishing his feet would carry him faster, further, higher-

The sound of his steps pounds in his ears. The phantom feeling of eyes on his back.

He slams his finger down on Vlad’s number again, letting the dial tone drown his heartbeat out.

Once. Twice. Three times, Frick! Vlad pick up! Four- the speakerphone clicks.

“Vlad!”

There’s barely a pause, “DANNY!?”

Danny nearly trips, his heart stuttering dangerously, hopefully.

“Dani?…” He says, then jolts to his senses and continues running, a glance thrown behind him, “Dani, how do you have Vlad’s phone, are you okay? Have you been to Amity?”

“Danny, where the hell are you!? I’ve been looking all over for-“

“Dani, you have to listen okay, there’s dangerous people after me- after us-“ Danyal jumps another log, scaling a small stone wall, “You can’t fight them, you have to run, they’ve got my family, Tuck, Sam-“

“Danny wait no listen to me-!”

“You can’t fight them! You can’t, okay!?” Danny scans his eyes back and forth frantically as he runs, mind spinning, calculating how he’s going to get out, away, controlling his heart rate as much as he can, “You have to promise me! Just find Vlad, get out of Amity. Warn him- I couldn’t - my parents- you have to-“

“Danny, listen to me!” Dani yells, stopping him in his tracks.

“Your parents are out, Danny,” She says, voice rushed, but his ears barely hear it. “They escaped, they called us weeks ago to start looking for you- Danny, they’re out.”

She goes quiet. Waiting for Danny.

His parents were-

Danny draws in a deep breath, standing stock still in the middle of the trees, stolen phone still pressed to his ear.

He couldn’t believe it.. they were-

Something clangs against a tree behind him and Danyal whips around ready to-

His head blossoms with pain.

Everything goes dark.

This is included in my one-shot collection(for now) on Ao3, under same name. The collection is Things that Could Exist by Snaileer.

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/snaileer/760212137159294976/call-to-my-bedside-3?source=share

Tags:

@thecrystallabyrinth @isnt-that-grape @riverdancingwerewolves @mimblizzy @chaos-deimos-et-eris @miraculousandmore2 @mys-tia @jitteryjuttury @moonlight-opal @nerdypaintbrush @thedragonqueen1998 @luminanightfall @cowarddragon @cyrwrites @kamireadsmcu

[6xillaa]

Ken sato x !reporter reader

oh, how he wishes you saw him as a man and not a boy.

cw for everything below: age difference (its used for the plot), suggestive (depending on who you ask)

thinking about kenji trying to impress reader in his games. the reader who is older, more mature and composed than him. who always comments on his arrogance in their articles or interviews. honestly, you were his harshest critic! it was your nickname amongst your co-workers as well. everyone knew you held hatred for him, and so did he. you frequently commented on his age and how it isn't smart to put so much faith into such a young and ignorant man and call him a living legend. "he isn't mature enough!" you always stated.

he hated that. his age doesn't make him better or worse than anyone else; he was just better because he was ken sato. but that didn't stop him from trying to act older, at least around you. because it was for you.

he's still so desperate to impress you. he'd do cooler moves in games, smile at the camera more in interviews, and, even though it seemed impossible, he became more prideful. but he couldn't help it! feeling your intense gaze on him as he walked onto the field or got into a stance, it was invigorating.

he especially got a rise out of seeing you roll your eyes, slumping back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other once you realized there was nothing for you to comment on his performance. it was perfect. so perfect that it would (sometimes, if he was lucky) get a small, ever so slight, smile from your lips. even better if he saw you nod your head in approval. so after one of (arguably) his best perfomances yet, one he spent weeks practicing just for his pretty little critic, he walks up to you, ready to soak in all the praise he believed he deserved.

"so... how was that y/n?" he teased, slamming himself into your personal space. it's his favorite place! if you thought it belonged to you, it was also his. "leave me alone, sato." you grumble, not wanting to admit your defeat to him. "it was good, wasn't it? right? righttt?" you push him away and begin walking away, eyes looking straight forward to avoid his gaze.

"oh c'mon, am i really that bad you can't even compliment me?" he pouted playfully, poking your oh so soft cheek, giving it a slight pinch. "fine, sato! you're a good player. you impressed me today, enough for me to even say im... proud of you." if you were to sneeze each time kenji's heart began to race, it'd look like you're having a seizure because of how fast it was.

"then why dont you show me how proud you are of me," this made you halt, snapping your head towards him. "how?" you asked, eyes focused on his lips that quirked up into a grin. "take me out to dinner. tommorow night. let me pick, and i'll consider the debt you owe me paid off." he smiled, taking a step back, allowing you to breathe again. when did you stop? "i'm not indebted to you anyway?" you retort, pushing him back even more to feel like you had the upper hand here. "yes, you are! all the times you've doubted my abilities! am i not worthy of getting an apology? a gift?" he said dramatically, placing his hand on his chest.

you sputter nothing in disbelief, until something clocks inside of your little brain. "are you asking me on a date, sato?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, a shit eating grin on your face. he leans down to your level, which is when you register how much taller he was than you, and tilts his head to the side. "and if i am?" kenji's voice goes quieter. "you're not my type." you mock, mimicking his tone. "i like them older." to this, he laughs. "you like grandpa's y/n? you like them near their deathbed?" he joked, trying (and failing) to hide his laughter. "yeah, atleast they're gentlemen, unlike you."

"i may not be the most gentlemanly person on earth, but i am a gentle man in everything else."

oh! oh. now you were entering dangerous territory. not for him, for you. it was so clear what he was setting up as a trap, and yet, despite all the warning signs there was, opened your plump little lips and asked with the purest face ever (even though your thoughts were the complete opposite) "how can i know if youre lying or not?"

and kenji, oh the annoying ken sato who you would never admit admired, not even on your deathbed, stepped closer to you, leaned down near your ear, and said in the loudest voice, loud enough so that you cant mishear him, and quiet enough that no one else can, says

"why dont i show you?"

if your composure was a ship, it would be near the ocean floor, the reason for sinkage; ken sato. right when your last functioning braincell is able to deliver a quip before total failure, someone calls kenji over. "you have a interview remember?" it yelled. "coming!" he smiled sweetly, kissing your cheek ever so softly.

the immature baseball player might not be as immature as you thought...

(thanks for the support on the last one, so i thought i'd write another one because im desperate for this man, like he's desperate for the reader, lowk. also i didnt fully proofread itmso sorry if skme names r missing colors and whatnot)

[bamfkeeper]

Sinister Kurt having trouble with his instincts, you are the only one who calms him.

Firstly, Kurt with horns? YUM. But I like how they showed him having difficulty controlling himself after his mutation was further developed (I don't remember what the circumstances were). I thought it was a cool concept for his character so here we go. Inner conflict is always fun.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and blood, some angst, comfort ofc, gender neutral reader, unedited ignore mistakes.

WC: 2.7k

Kurt had no idea where they came from. He woke up with two horns on his head like some sort of Krampus. He felt something inside himself stir, and he tried to ignore it, it felt like a pit in his gut that slowly began to expand and grow when he wasn't focused on repressing it.

You reassured him he was still the handsome man you loved, his horns gave him a little extra insecurity. He hadn't felt so insecure about himself in a long time, as Krakoa had provided such acceptance his appearance hadn't been a thought in his mind as a bad thing. But these horns...they made him look more like a devil than anything else, and that worried him.

"Engel...I am becoming ein Teufel..." he mumbled sadly, touching them as he looked at himself in the mirror. "What is becoming of me..." he turned to look at you, his eyes holding confliction and sadness.

"Oh, my love," you cooed to him, standing and walking over, "They're just a pair of little horns...I'm sure that they'll go away...maybe." Your sentence quieted towards the end, it was such a random development, you had no idea where the horns stemmed from and what was going to happen to him. Was his mutation randomly evolving more? Was it something in Krakoa that was making his mutation mutate? You didn't know.

Kurt sighed inwardly, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as if seeking solace from an unseen torment. You hadn't seen him in this state for years; he looked so lost, so utterly confused. It was as though he was grappling with a fear that had taken residence within him, a fear directed at his very own reflection. With his new appearance, you couldn't blame him for feeling this way.

His once familiar face now bore the horns of a demon and he couldn't recognize himself, even with something so minor. He thought he looked awful, and he was at a complete loss on how to process these overwhelming feelings, the weight of his transformation was a burden he didn't know how to carry.

Not that he told you yet, but it wasn't just a physical change he had gone through. There was something deeper and more unsettling happening within him. His urges were growing stronger and more insistent every day. He felt a strange compulsion that he couldn't easily explain. He didn't know how to bring it up with you because he didn't want to scare you or make you worry. The thought of sharing this part of himself was something he was trying to avoid, he feared your reaction more than anything.

He would see you talk to another man, and everything in his body screamed at him to attack. His muscles tensed, his fists clenched, and his heart pounded as primal instincts surged through him. The images and urges that flashed across Kurt's mind scared him deeply, filling him with a sense of dread and confusion. He shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the violent thoughts clouding his mind.

"Nein...I am...not a monster," he muttered to himself, arguing, begging with his own being, his voice trembling with the effort to control his darker impulses. He held onto you, whispering German prayers to himself. The internal struggle was intense, leaving him feeling isolated and tormented, as if he were battling a beast within.

And he was, in a way.

His grip on your hip would be tight, his nails had grown into claws that dug into you, not on purpose but in the moment he couldn't help himself. His yellow eyes glared at the man, his lip curled up slightly to bare his teeth. He snapped out of his descent only when he heard your voice in his ear. "Kurt?? That hurts, a bit..." You winced slightly, your hand gently trying to ease the grip he had on your waist.

He snapped out of it, blinking a few times and letting go. "Liebling....I...es tut mir Leid...." he apologized quietly, his voice barely a whisper. He looked down at his hand once he let go of you, his eyes filled with confusion and concern. "Something is happening to me...I....do not know how to explain it," he continued, his tone tinged with a mix of fear and bewilderment.

What was strange was that a part of him actually liked these new instincts that were surfacing within him. It was a feeling that baffled him, and he hated himself for even entertaining such thoughts. He had always prided himself on his compassion and his desire to never cause harm to anyone, ever.

But now, these intrusive thoughts were invading his mind with increasing frequency, making the idea of causing harm seem so...good, almost irresistible. It was a battle within himself, between the person he had always been and these dark new impulses that threatened to take over. It was like a siren song, beckoning him to come over the brink.

"What do you mean?" you asked him gently, your voice full of understanding and patience. Despite having no idea what was going on, you managed to sound so composed and caring. He was incredibly fortunate to have someone like you by his side. So deeply in love with him, you were always there to protect and support him. Your devotion was unwavering, and it made him feel cherished. So protective. So possessive.

Kurt stared you down intently, his piercing yellow eyes observing your every move. After a moment of intense scrutiny, he grabbed hold of you firmly and tugged you flush against him. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, and his breathing increased noticeably. You made a sudden gasp of surprise at the unexpected act, your heart pounding in your chest.

He lowered his head closer to you, his forehead gently touching yours, his horns rested delicately on your head. Behind him, his tail thrashed wildly, a clear indication of his heightened emotions. It was obvious that he was either irritated or stressed, as his tail only behaved this way in such situations. The air around you seemed to crackle with tension, making the moment even more intense. His silence didn't help.

"Kurt...?" you squeaked as his hands grasped your ass and squeezed firmly, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes widened in surprise and you felt his tail wrap tightly around you, holding you still in a firm, possessive grip.

"Kurt!" you exclaimed, looking around nervously. He had never been so bold before, and this unexpected display of affection caught you off guard. A few playful touches here and there in public were common, sure, but to grab you in such an intimate and brazen manner without a care in the world was completely unlike him.

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of his sudden audacity, wondering what had prompted this uncharacteristic behavior. "W-what has gotten into you?!" Your voice echoed in his mind, getting lost in the fog clouding his rational thinking. All he could think about right now was you. How good you'd feel, how good you'd taste.

One more shout at him and he seemed to snap out of the hold the dark fog inside of him had. With a blink he pulled back, his cheeks turning violet, "Ach! I-I didn't mean to do that!" Kurt spoke quickly, his voice trembling with urgency, "Es tut mir Leid! I-I'm sorry!" His eyes were wide with concern as he looked at you, clearly distressed.

His hands, which have been on your backside, were retracted up like he had touched an oven, fingers curling as if to protect himself from further harm. The tension in the air was palpable, and you could see the regret etched on his face, his body language screaming apology and fear.

"Kurt, sweetheart...please, talk to me. Tell me what's going on..." You pleaded with him, your hands cupping his cheeks. "I'm not mad because you grabbed my butt either. You've literally been inside me," your words made him stiffen and blush harder, a tiny whine escaping through his trembling lips. "I just want to know what's going on...you're acting so...different. Since those horns sprouted from your head..."

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with a heavy sigh, and looked down to avoid your gaze. The weight of his thoughts made it impossible for him to bring himself to look you in the eye. He felt such shame and embarrassment, fearing you wouldn’t like what you heard. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, his voice trembling with vulnerability.

"I've been... having thoughts. Bad thoughts... these images flash across my mind. They are random sometimes, appearing out of nowhere, but sometimes they happen in the moment," he begins quietly, his words barely audible. "It's like a dark cloud that follows me, casting a shadow over everything. I don't know what to do about it, and I'm scared of what it means. I'm afraid it means I am becoming something horrible..."

You coo softly, your thumbs gently rubbing his cheekbones as you stay quiet, offering him the space and time he needs to get out the words he struggles to voice. "What are they? The thoughts?" you ask gently, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to coax him into sharing more with you so you can have a better understanding.

"Hurting people," Kurt's voice strains, "I don't want to! I don't want to hurt anyone, I'm not a monster... I don't want to be one... but... it's so overwhelming sometimes. It's like every fiber in my body is demanding me to do it," he continues, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. You can see the torment etched across his face, the internal struggle tearing him apart.

"You aren't a monster, Kurt. This might just...be part of this new development," you said, your voice gentle and reassuring. You stroked up more, feeling the base of his horns, noting the texture and warmth. "You don't act on those thoughts, and that's a good sign. You're not a slave to those intrusive flashes; you recognize that they are wrong, and you don't act on them. That means you aren't the person you imagine you are. You have control, even if it doesn't always feel that way."

"But what if I do act on them," he asks weakly, his voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. "What if I can't control it?"

"Then I will help you," you replied firmly, your eyes locked onto his, full of determination and love. "I'm not worried, because I believe in you." You gave him a tender kiss, showing him all the love you could muster. "Trust me, if you can't trust yourself. We will face this together, and I will be by your side every step of the way. You are not alone in this."

He shed a few tears, and they stained his pretty cheeks in dark lines as they traveled slowly down his face. His pained gaze closed tightly as he bit his lip, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. "Ich verdiene dich nicht," he whispered weakly, his voice barely audible as it trembled with emotion. His shaky hands held you with such gentle awareness, as if he were afraid to harm you accidentally with his claws.

"You do." You gave him a few more soft kisses, your gentle reassurance helping keep his emotions at bay.

That was a week ago.

Now, you followed the sound of his teleportation and saw him fighting alongside other mutants. You joined in, not knowing what exactly was happening, but seeing enough to know that these soldiers were attacking your home. You were fighting well, your skills made you a confident fighter, but when Kurt spotted you and more soldiers around you, his composure vanished.

That horrible itch he had been so desperate to scratch was finally too overwhelming for him.

The sound of a mighty roar echoed through the air as he lunged at the soldiers with a terrifying intensity. His movements were swift and brutal, attacking them with such ferocity that it left you stunned, unable to process what was happening. Normally, Kurt was known for his preference to incapacitate his opponents, opting to knock them down and out rather than kill them unless absolutely necessary. However, in this moment, he had abandoned his usual morals and principles, casting them aside like a forgotten cloak.

Right now, he was a force of nature, mercilessly ripping into the soldiers with an uncharacteristic savagery that showcased a side of him you had never seen before. You watched with disbelief as Kurt completely ravaged through the soldiers, staying in front of you and snarling with blood caked between his teeth, drooling down his goatee and staining his fuzzy skin. You tried to call out to him, to be the desperate voice of reason in his carnage.

It seemed that your voice fell on deaf ears, and he continued his relentless attack.

He had ruthlessly slaughtered over twelve men within a mere minute, and he didn't seem to have any qualms or remorse about it. The air was thick with tension as he turned to look at you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths like a wild animal after a fierce battle. Slowly, he crawled over to you, inching closer with a predatory grace.

You were frozen in place, paralyzed by the sheer brutality and unfamiliarity of this new Kurt. His eyes, which were usually so expressive and full of life, now seemed glazed over with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. It was as if a stranger had taken over the body of the man you once knew, leaving you feeling more vulnerable and confused.

He dripped onto you, causing you to whine and hastily wipe the blood off your top. His head lowered against you, his breath warm and uneven. "Kurt...?" you asked weakly, your voice trembling as it escaped your lips.

The sound of your voice made him stiffen slightly, and he leaned back, his intense gaze boring holes into you, scrutinizing every inch of your face. The air around you felt thick with tension, and you could feel the heavy weight of his stare.

His breathing calmed, the rapid rise and fall of his chest slowing to a more steady rhythm, and he stayed where he was, staring at you with an unwavering focus. You swore he seemed more mutated in that moment, his claws were longer, sharper, and his horns almost appeared just as so, curving menacingly.

The changes in his appearance made your heart race even faster, a mixture of fear and concern gnawing at your insides as you wondered what exactly had happened to him. What caused this?

You slowly reached out to him, your hand trembling as it brushed against his cheek, ignoring the blood that spattered across his skin from his recent animalistic attack. The warmth of his skin contrasted sharply with the coldness of the blood. He relayed a quiet growl to you, his eyes blinking slowly, the ferocity gradually fading as he began to regain his senses.

As he came to, he saw the destruction he had caused, the chaos and ruin that lay around him. It was so painfully heart-wrenching to watch him realize the extent of what he had done, the devastation in his eyes made you want to wrap him up and take him away.

"W-what...what did I do..." he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, as he glanced back over his shoulder. He could only bear to look at the bodies for a mere second before quickly averting his gaze in horror and disbelief. "Nein...nein, nein....I didn't...did I??" His bloody hands trembled violently, the crimson stains glaring back at him accusingly, and he made a quiet, heart-wrenching wail, shrinking into himself where he sat, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation.

You were right there to catch him, just as you had promised. Gently, you reached out, offering the comfort and support he desperately needed.

"Hey, hey...it..it's okay," you tried to find the words to comfort him, but you realized words weren't enough to ease the pain or fear he was experiencing. So, you chose to just be there for him, offering silent support and understanding. Just you, being a comforting presence in his time of need.

He grabbed you and clung on, crying as he didn't bother holding himself back. He was distraught, the very thing he feared the most had happened. "I'm here." you whispered quietly, your arms wrapped tightly around him as the rest of the world faded away and you became the only thing he could focus on.

"I'm here."

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Legion of X #7 (2023); Legion of X #8 (2023); Legion of X #7 (2023)

[luckykiwiii101]

HOW TO ENTER THE VOID STATE WITHOUT VOID CONCEPT!!! (Guaranteed) ❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

(Warning!!!Long post ahead)

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I know some people will heavily disagree with me about this. But I really believe there is a way to enter the void without having to have a good void concept.

All you need is to believe in the void state. That’s it.

The technique:

- Get into a comfortable position.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

- Clear your mind with a meditation or something. Maybe by breathing etc, whatever works for you. I really recommend DMT waves to calm your mind. Know that it is important to feel calm physically and mentally. Although it is not completely necessary if you are experienced.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

- Once you feel relaxed and have a clear mind, start to affirm your affs for the void state. E.g. “I am pure consciousness” “I am void” “I am in the void state” (You don’t need to affirm, just do anything that distracts you from the 3D, like focusing on your breath, or focusing on the darkness behind your eyes. Anything is alright as long as it doesn’t lead to you falling asleep or paying attention to the 3D).🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

- Acknowledge that you do not need to completely block out the 3D. What i mean by “block out” is that you may still be able to hear and feel the 3D. Just don’t focus your attention onto it. Your attention should be on your affirmations or whatever else you chose to focus on (doesn’t have to be affirmations). Also if you get an itch, ignore it, but if it’s too unbearable and it’s completely ruining your focus, there’s no harm in scratching it. You may ask “but why can i scratch it? I have to stay still or i won’t enter the void.” The thing is, this technique does not require you to turn off your left brain as you will normally start to feel symptoms within 2-5 minutes within doing so, and it takes 15-20 minutes to turn off your left brain. Of course you can turn off your left brain by relaxing whilst staying still for 15-20 minutes if that is what you resonate with better. Know that scratching an itch, or shuffling around does not stop you from entering the void. It does not “ruin your progress” either. That is impossible. The void is within you, you cannot run from yourself. YOU ARE THE VOID!🖤🖤🖤

- Know that you do not have to feel symptoms like floating. This is a big misconception. Ofcourse symptoms are very common, but not everyone experiences them. People feel like they can’t enter the void because the symptoms aren’t there to “tell them” that they are “doing it right”. As long as you are not focused on the 3D, you ARE doing it right. Stop stressing. You are supposed to feel relaxed. Stressing is the opposite of relaxation.🖤🖤🖤🖤

- This process will probably take you around 5 minutes. Ofcourse it depends on you as a person. Like how long it takes you to clear your mind. Or how long it takes you to feel comfortable. This should not take more than 1-10 minutes. Most likely will take 2-5 minutes. But don’t worry if it takes longer than that. Erase the stress and anxiety from your mind because you know for a fact that you are going to enter the void. I promise that this cannot fail you. It is literally impossible. It is not based on assumption. It doesn’t matter whether you believe it’s difficult to enter the void state. Just know that you are going to enter the void very quickly because there is no other outcome after doing this. There is no “failure”. 🖤🖤🖤🖤

- You will most likely start to feel floating symptoms etc. Spinning, falling (If you are someone who doesn’t usually feel symptoms, that is fine). When things get more intense the floating feeling might make you feel like you are “panicking”. But don’t worry, just focus and relax. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

- THIS IS A VERY CRUCIAL PART!!! Do not focus on your symptoms. Of course you can feel them, but do not pay attention to them. Do not focus on them. There you go. You are in the void.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

See how easy it is. Try it for yourself and watch how failure doesn’t exist. I don’t care what your void concept is like. I don’t care whether you think you can’t do it. You have no choice when doing this method. This has been used for years and years. It is literally just detachment from the 3D. It is not difficult.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

BIG MISTAKES PEOPLE MAKE:

Some people make some really silly mistakes and then complain about “not being able to enter the void.”🖤🖤🖤

MISTAKE NUMBER 1:

- Anticipating entering the void. Your goal should be to relax. Of course to eventually enter the void, but if you are anticipating by thinking “When am i going to enter the void?!” “When am i going to start feeling symptoms?” then you are just going to stress yourself out. Do not do this! When you are clearing your mind, set the intention of entering the void and just relax and know that you are going to enter.🖤🖤🖤

MISTAKE NUMBER 2:

- Thinking that movement is not allowed. You ARE allowed to move around and adjust your position. It doesn’t “slow you down” or “ruin your progress”. It doesn’t stop you from entering. So stop stressing. Moving around only matters when you are turning your left brain off, but this method does not require that. I’ve moved around plenty of times and i’ve seen many success stories of people who have moved around whilst literally having a terrible void concept on top of that.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

MISTAKE NUMBER 3:

- When people start to feel the symptoms, they drift their attention to the 3D and how their physical body feels. DO NOT DO THIS!! Just keep focusing on what you were focusing on before, then you will enter the void in a few seconds. Literally. I always used to do this and just yesterday i stopped letting the symptoms get the best of me and get distracted by them, i kept persisting in my affirmations whilst affirming to enter the void and i felt myself entering but since i didn’t want to enter (because i am a dumbass), i woke myself up. But it’s TOO easy. Okay. Ignoring symptoms are ridiculously easy.

WHAT TO DO IF I FIND IT DIFFICULT TO IGNORE SYMPTOMS?

There are many ways you can ignore symptoms:

For mild focus (when you don’t feel symptoms yet):

- Focus on breathing and breathing only.

- Focus on affirming and affirming only.

- Focus on the darkness behind eyes only

For when you start to feel symptoms but they aren’t that intense:

- Focus on breathing and affirming only.

- Focus on breathing and darkness only.

- Focus on affirming and darkness only.

For when symptoms start to get really intense and you can feel yourself entering the void:

- Focus on all three simultaneously.

If you still find it easy to focus on ONE thing when things get intense (which they might not) then that’s fine. You don’t have to focus on more than one thing. That’s just a solution for people who can’t. Also i just have examples of what to focus on. Ofc you can focus on random thoughts or anything detached from the 3D. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

See how easy it is. Go enter the void rn and have fun whether you just wanted peace or to manifest something!!!🖤🖤🖤

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🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Sincerely, - Gossip Girl 💋💋💋