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heeseungsbm · 2 months ago

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thinking about fuck buddy heeseung... (>ᴗ•)

₊˚⊹❥𝓹airing❥: heeseung x female reader

𝒶/𝓃: i just turned 19 so here's a gift from me to you!! ᥫ᭡

heeseung has alot of girls on his dick. i mean look at him, its no secret. but when it comes to you? despite the loose terms of your relations, he wants you to be his and his only. and he makes sure to fuck you good so that he can stay on your mind somehow. he's a sweet guy, but he'll still choke you from behind, slap your ass red, and make you scream that it's his pussy when it's time. marking your neck and breasts with hickies is one way he likes to express his possession and ownership over you. however, fucking him has one, permanent condition. he'd want his name tattooed somewhere on your body to prove your devotion to him, specifically on your underboob, lower hip, or behind your ear. something cute and dainty that he can kiss forever♡

fuck buddy heeseung is somewhat romantic and thoughtful. he can't help his gentleman nature, especially since you're giving him something as sacred as your body. he'll never put dick in your stomach if food hasn't been in it for a while. he'd cook you a filling bowl of his delicious signature ramen, or take you out to grab a bite just to make sure you've ate at least something beforehand. he also likes to surprise you with small gifts every once in a while; short, skimpy dresses that he'll take off with his teeth later, custom jewelry, designer shoes, and whatever pretty thongs he think will look good on you when you're face down ass up. ;) it makes him feel good when you wear what he buys you, and clearly other guys will see that someone is treating you to nice things.

fuck buddy heeseung likes to take a couple shots before having sex. not overly drunk, but pleasurably tipsy, to where his proper, shy demeanor completely disappears, and all he can think about is ripping your clothes off and unzipping his pants to put his dick in you. he gets really touchy and overly horny, and it's hard not to resist a giggly, messy-haired, flushed heeseung who's begging for sex with his voice hoarse from liquor. even better for you, he's the nastiest when he's drunk. the sex gets really wild, and loud. his kisses are more slow and sloppy, his thrusts into you get hard, desperate and forceful. there's a sweet spot where he lasts longer, and he'll make you cum over and over, because he gets liquid courage to try all the kinky things he wouldn't normally do sober.

fuck buddy heeseung loves to make sex tapes with you. you're just too pretty to not be on camera, he says. of course only when you let him, it's a guilty pleasure of his to record your sinful nights together so he can play them back when you're apart. don't get him wrong, cumming to your nudes and having phone sex is great since you two do it so often, but it just isn't enough for him sometimes. he needs visual stimulation. footage is a way for him to relive it, to watch you take him from all the positions he bends you into, the faces you make when he finds that spot deep inside you, your moans for him so loud and pornographic. filming gives heeseung an unexplainable sense of control over your body, and he wants to be in control of how good you get to feel. he loves ordering you around, and telling you what nasty things to say to the camera for him to cum to later.

because you're so pretty, blowjob povs when you're on your knees are a must for heeseung. the flash of his phone nearly blinds you as you gag and deepthroat his dick, sucking him off until he spills loads of his hot cum in your mouth. he likes his head sloppy and messy. he wants you to look up at him when you do it, with drool all over your chin, choking with your mouth full of his dick while he uses your throat. when he does decide to cum on your face he makes sure to snap a shot of that too, there are numerous pictures of you smiling with his release dripping down your cheeks and smothered across your lips in his hidden album. pornhub will never compare as long as heeseung has you, you're his personal pornstar who he can train to do whatever. [ ◉¯] ༘ ⋆｡˚

foreplay is mandatory for your fuck buddy heeseung. its not about getting you wet enough to fuck, it's about getting you so horny to the point you're audibly begging him to. he always wants you to want it just as much, if not more than him. heeseung loves to kiss, it's his favorite way to turn you on because he does it so well. fucking or not, he needs in it during everything. makeout sessions with him can quickly escalate from slow and sensual, to heated and intense, a breathless game of rough tongue clashing and lip sucking while he rubs your wet pussy in your panties (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶)

you two don't always have to have sex when he comes over, a long session of tongue kissing and dry humping with you straddling him on his lap is just as pleasurable. heeseung LOOOOVES dry humping, and its the best feeling in the world; his warm tongue exploring yours while you moan into each others mouths, his hands carefully guiding your hips to grind your sensitive clothed pussy against his throbbing boner in his pants until you both cum, leaving the both of you embarassingly sticky in your underwear.

heeseung never ate pussy before you, but only you can give him sexual urges to try new things. he enjoys how easily he can please you with just his mouth, and he sees how much it relieves your stress. he'll randomly ask if he can, even if his members are home. if the door to his room is locked, he's most likely eating the life out your pussy while you're covering your mouth, trying your best to suppress your moans. its the least you two can attempt quietly aside from him fingering you until you squirt all over his sheets. he could give you head for hours if you let him, but you always tap out from being so sensitive after cumming on his lips multiple times. his lips feel too good on your pussy. they're so soft and peck your clit so delicately, and he knows exactly how your hole likes to be fucked with his skilled tongue.

fuck buddy heeseung loves cum play ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ he'll only cum inside you if you give him permission, because he understands the risk. theres something intimate about seeing his white ropes of cum splattered wherever he finishes on your skin, and it drives him crazy when you play with it. he'll ask you to rub your pussy with your fingers after he makes a mess all over it, and finger fuck your pussy to fill it yourself with his cum. he likes when you hold his cum in your mouth and spit it back onto his tip, or smear it on your nipples. he's not a fan of you swallowing, he wants to see it linger on your tongue or come out of your mouth for his viewing pleasure.

heeseung loves to take you in any position, but he absolutely loves missionary. being able to watching himself go in and out of you and watching your pussy cream his cock white is like a reward. he likes to test your flexibility, his hands tightly gripping around the back of your knees, pushing your legs as far as they can go while he pounds your needy pussy. "look at you making a mess for me, baby. so creamy." he'd praise you with a proud smile, aiming his spit at the collision and using his thumb to slowly rub your clit.

cowgirl is his other favorite— yours too before you get tired of riding. it's the position you feel him the deepest inside you, and heeseung looks so fucking hot when he's in his mode, his hair messy and damp, face and neck glistening with sweat, the way he licks his lips and stares at you with eyes of pure lust. he tries his best to be as visually expressive as possible so you know how good you feel. he loves watching your tits jiggle in his face when you bounce up and down his cock, he'll slap and grip one in his hand while the other is being sucked in his mouth. his eyes never look off of you and watches you come undone on his dick. he gets petty, like making you spell his name outloud if he notices your breath becoming short, and his hand will wrap tightly around your throat if he catches your eyes wandering off of him. the slapping sound of skin mixed with your struggling screams keep him hard for long enough to go round after round, and you always make the stickiest mess down his balls :)

everyone knows gamers are great with their fingers, and it's how heeseung spends most of his free time; twiddling them on his nintendo or one of many keyboards. but it comes so in handy when you're next to him watching him game, he'll sneak his way into your pants somehow to play with your pussy. you leak arousal so easily from his simple touch. his hands are clever and dexterous, he finds your clit so effortlessly without looking, and the muscle memory from his xbox controller help his thumb rub the most eye-rolling circles on the bundle of nerves. his middle and index fingers are skilled, they make perfect curls up into your pussy. he loves to brutally nudge at your gspot until your legs shake and you leave his hand messy with your cum, which he never hesitates to lick clean. you never thought you could miss someone's fingers so much, but his are one of a kind ♡

fuck buddy heeseung is very reliable. he replies to your texts scarily fast and will come see you no matter how late it is, no matter the weather. you call him and he'll come running, that's just how much he needs it. you're the same way when you get his 2am "wyd rn?" text, you don't care if it makes you look desperate, your body physically craves the pleasure he gives you. each time you fuck is always better than the last.

heeseung has trouble sleeping alone at night, sometimes he wants something to hold other than his pillow. he always spends the night after he fucks you, or he'll ask you to stay over and sleep with him. he's a big teddy bear, he'll hold you close in his arms and rub your back until you both fall asleep. he always wakes up before you, giving you forehead kisses or kissing the back of your neck as you snore in your slumber. he usually wakes up with his dick hard, so he's a huge fan of morning sex. a nasty blowjob and some slow, sensual deep strokes that put you right back to sleep, it's a great way to start his day before he has to leave for work. on his off days though, you'll find him in the kitchen bright and early making breakfast for the two of you <𝟑

heeseung knows he'd be capable of being good boyfriend to you, because you really are a special girl. but with his career and the busy life he currently lives, he's indecisive about wanting a committed relationship. he wouldn't promise you loyalty because he knows he'd eventually break it. he's aware of the alluring effect he has on women, and he knows how he gets when he's horny and you're so far away— all he'll think about in those moments is getting his dick wet by whoever he can get his hands on. nonetheless, he still cares for you, and he knows its hypocritical for him to crash out at the thought of you moaning someone else's name, when meanwhile he does as he pleases on tour. maybe one day he'll make up his mind girl😣

ok the end, delusions over 😍🙏

𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯! 𝘫𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯!

GUYS PLS DONT JUMP MEEE I'M BACK 😭😭😭😭 I will explain my hiatus in a later post! and don't worry, I didn't forget about my inbox, I will answer all my asks this week! i hope you guys like this one just as much as the others💕 this was completely unplanned heeseung has just been making me horny asf lately 😭😭😭😭😭 i will do jungwon sometime soon. lmk your thoughts, stay lovely and kind <3

perm taggies:

@jakeflvrz ❤︎ @hrtswon ❤︎ @cami17 ❤︎ @enhalusional ❤︎ @yok00k ❤︎ @yannn1 ❤︎ @bubblegyu00 ❤︎ @kimjkejyy ❤︎ @heesvnqie ❤︎ @teddybeartaetae ❤︎ @hazelira ❤︎ @enhalxvr ❤︎ @brii-sunwoos-version ❤︎ @wendy-bruh ❤︎ @perfumejamal ❤︎ @ashleylly ❤︎ @norihoyeon ❤︎ @kissmemorexo ❤︎ @lailaswaglol ❤︎ @cchangli ❤︎ @sennasiempre ❤︎ @lovel1lz ❤︎

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kiss4tell · 2 months ago

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Hi!

Silly request, wondering if you could write about Simon thinking reader hates him because they're always always ignoring them. Maybe reader works in medical or something, but it bothers Simon to no end ,so finally he starts stalking them. Breaking into their room, rooting through the drawers thinking they're a spy because of all the small batteries. Only to discover that they're not ignoring him or a spy, reader is hard of hearing or deaf and because Simon always wears a mask and reader cant see his lips to talk to him.

So dark and brooding Simon corners them in sick bay and removes his mask to talk to reader. Something sickly sweet and overly ridiculous like Simon surprising reader by signing them something the next time they're all getting food.

Having a hard time with your own hearing bullshit and could use a little Simon.

Ps. Love your writing! Keep writing what makes you happy!

summary: simon thinks you’re avoiding him—never responding to him, never acknowledging him—until he finally corners you in the sick bay and realizes you’re not ignoring him at all; you’re just hard of hearing. cw: mild stalking behavior, hard of hearing user. wc: 598 note: lovely ask, it's anything but silly! it gave me something to do on a friday night that isn't bedrotting and playing the sims. hope you enjoy, anon <3!

It starts as a slow burn of irritation.

Simon isn’t someone who demands attention, but he notices when people go out of their way to avoid him. And you? You’re a damn expert at it.

At first, he thought he was imagining things. But it keeps happening. Over and over again.

He’ll say something—short, to the point—and you don’t react. You don’t even glance his way. You brush past him in the hall like he isn’t there, turn the other way when he enters the room, and never—not once—acknowledge his presence unless absolutely necessary.

Soap gets a grin from you when he cracks a joke. Gaz gets a playful nudge when he teases you about something. Even Price gets an exasperated sigh when he reminds you to check in for your own medical evaluations.

But Simon? Nothing.

The more it happens, the more it grates on him.

What’s your problem?

Did he do something to piss you off? Did you think you were better than him? Were you hiding something?

The last thought festers, turning suspicion into paranoia. He watches you closer, notes the way you interact with the others, how you always position yourself just right—where you can see people’s faces clearly.

And then, one night, when you’re out of your room, he does something reckless.

He picks the lock and lets himself in.

What he finds isn’t anything unusual—neatly folded uniforms, a book on your nightstand, a half-empty cup of tea gone cold. But then he notices something else.

Batteries. Small ones.

And for some reason, that’s what makes his gut twist.

So, he corners you the next day, irritation brimming, needing to figure you out once and for all.

It happens in the sick bay. Everyone else is gone, leaving just the two of you, the antiseptic scent of the room thick in the air. You’re standing by a supply cabinet when he steps in, boots heavy on the floor.

“Look at me.”

You don’t. Not at first.

He gets closer. “Look at me.”

You turn then, your brows furrowing as you meet his gaze, eyes flicking down to his mask—like you’re searching for something.

And suddenly, all his frustration, all his suspicions, crack and crumble into nothing.

Because when he gets close enough to see—really see—he notices them.

The small, barely noticeable hearing aids tucked behind your ears.

Shit.

Everything clicks.

You weren’t ignoring him. You just… couldn’t hear him. At least, not unless he was close. Not unless he was louder.

His stomach twists, shame curling in his chest, but before he can say anything, you exhale sharply, shaking your head.

“You thought I hated you, didn’t you?” There’s something amused in your tone, but not unkind.

He doesn’t answer, jaw tight.

You huff a laugh, tilting your head slightly. “You mumble. And you always wear the mask. I can’t read your lips when you do that.”

His fingers twitch at his sides. Of course.

Before he can think better of it, he lifts a hand, tugs the mask up just enough to expose his lips. “That better?” His voice is quieter this time, careful.

Your eyes widen, lips parting slightly, and for a moment, there’s just silence between you.

Then, you nod, something softer in your expression. “Much better.”

It isn’t an apology—not outright. But later, when you sit down at the mess hall, Simon surprises you.

He taps your shoulder, waits until you turn to face him, then lifts his hands.

And signs: Hello.

Your face brightens, something warm blooming in your expression, and it hits him deep in the chest.

#ೀ kk’s writing #ೀ kk’s asks #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod #ghost cod #simon riley cod

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miyukisu · 9 months ago

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NSFW Alphabet | Sae Itoshi .ᐟ

❤︎ | Get to know Sae Itoshi from A to Z~ ╰ feat. sae itoshi x afab! reader

minors do not interact

[A] Aftercare Decent. Bare minimum. Not over the top. At the very least he would wipe you down and clean you up without expecting you to move an inch. He'll even guide you to the bathroom if you plan to shower together (there are times when he carries you, but that's reserved for days when he REALLY goes all out on you). You have to specifically request for things if you want him to do it. Otherwise, that's all you're getting.

[B] Body Part Sae's canonically into ass. But it's important to note that he cares more about shape rather than size. He'll subtly ogle at your ass even in broad daylight, especially if you're wearing tight clothes that showcase it. On himself, however, he's aware of how nice his thighs look. Sometimes he'll pass by a full-length body mirror in just his boxers and he'll stand there for a minute to admire his legs. Partially, this is why he enjoys working out his legs.

[C] Cum Cums a lot, but not thick. It's more on the translucent side. He maintains a healthy diet so you can expect the taste to be bearable. Of course, he likes to release on your ass, but sometimes it gets on to your back as well. It's a sight he never gets tired of.

[D] Dirty Secret Even with his partner, he would hate to admit that he likes taking nude pictures of himself. It's not like he's going to send them out or that he gets off to it; he's no narcissist. But there's just something inexplicable about doing it. He'll snap a few, look at them, then delete them. He isn't sure why. But if you're into receiving nudes, he'll gladly comply (that is, if you've been together long enough).

[E] Experience Despite his good looks, it's surprising to know that he hasn't done it with a lot of people. He only does it with someone he's in a relationship with and even that rarely happens. He's a busy person and it takes longer for him to develop trust for anyone compared to the normal person. But you could say that he's a natural. He can make you cum at least a couple of times through instinct alone.

[F] Favorite Position He has a hard time picking between plain ol' doggy and reverse cowgirl. See any similarities? Yeah, both positions just give him a nice view of your behind. It allows him to grope, squeeze, and slap it any time he wants. He particularly likes watching it jiggle at every hard thrust that he does. Although, he might prefer doggy a little more as he can have most of the control in that position. But it's trivial to pick. He'll just have you in both positions each time you decide to do it anyway.

[G] Goofy The man doesn't smile, let alone laugh, during sex. It's not that he's not enjoying it, but he doesn't find the act to be humorous at all. He finds it weird to call it "fun". He'd rather describe it as passionate and intense which is why he's serious. However, there are VERY rare moments when he cracks a small smile, but it only happens in highly emotional moments (like your first time having sex as a married couple, for example).

[H] Hair He trims it, but not for sexual purposes. He's an extremely hygienic man, so he does it out of self-care. In reality, he doesn't care too much about what their partner thinks of his hair. If they like it; then great. If they don't; they can deal with it. Besides, he doesn't care about his partner's hair. He'll take whatever's waiting for him down there. He'll never go fully bald because he finds it odd. He'll trim it a bit regularly and that's about it.

[I] Intimacy A very passionate lover; that's for sure. As I've mentioned, he finds the act to be something serious. He'll only do it with you out of love and care. So even if he doesn't outwardly seem like a romantic person in bed, he definitely is. He likes to keep it fair in the bedroom. So if he's enjoying, you should be enjoying it just as much as he is. Although, he doesn't speak much, but he'll call you "Amor" sometimes. Sae will whisper that name in your ear gently.

[J] Jack Off As you might expect, he doesn't do it a lot. For one, he's too busy doing or thinking about something else. It's something that he can only think about doing when he's lying in bed at night with a blank mind. Sae mostly does it out of frustration—if he wants to release pent up emotions without lashing out on someone else. He's quick and likes to get the job done as fast as he can. Can you blame him? It relaxes him after all. Though, he isn't immune to temptation either. If you send him jack off material, he'll gladly use it.

[K] Kink Sae discovered it a bit late, but he likes brat taming. He doesn't even know that it's a thing. He just knows that he likes putting disobedient girls in their places. He'll act annoyed or pissed off at your insolence, but deep down, he's craving that you do it more. Something about feeling that his authority is being challenged, excites him. Of course, it adds some spice to your bedroom activities. But maybe it has to do with him proving to you over and over again that he's the one in control—he's the one holding the reigns. He especially loves it when you eventually become obedient in the end. But keep being a tease; he eats it up.

[L] Location Anywhere as long as it's inside the house/apartment/hotel. He likes the privacy and comfort that those places offer. He can't be bothered to think about the possibility of getting caught. As thrilling as it might be, he has a reputation to uphold. The impending PR work is not worth the orgasm, at least for him. He also would hate to do it in a place that would force you into a weird position. At least at home there's a bed, a couch, a chair, or a counter for you to use. Again, he's a hygienic guy, so the dirty outdoors is a huge no for him.

[M] Motivation First of all, he has to be either extremely relaxed or incredibly frustrated—there is no in between. But once either condition is met, it's not that hard to get him in the mood. In fact, he likes to hear how eager you are. Simply asking him if he wants to do it would be more than enough. Even better if you express how much you've been needing him throughout the day or week. There are times when he initiates things, but that usually happens when you're already touching each other (like while cuddling). You'll know because he'll grind his hard on against you or deliberately take your hand and place it there.

[N] No Anything extreme is off the table for him. In many ways, he's quite vanilla. The farthest he'll go would be a little bit of bondage and usage of toys. But if there's extreme pain, blood, piss, and things beyond that involved—consider him out.

[O] Oral Again, he likes to keep things pretty equal, so likes both giving and receiving. Although, you might notice that he'll go at your pussy first before letting you suck him off. It gets him into the momentum apparently. Plus, most of the time, he already gets you to cum from his tongue alone. You swear that he gets better each time he does it. You can never last long since he likes to suck on the clit, oop. When you suck him off, he'll tangle his fingers in your hair and guide you lightly. He lets you do your thing, pretty much. The only exception is when he's really stressed out—expect him to tug at your hair a little harder then.

[P] Pace He usually likes it slow and sensual. Sex is the only time he feels relaxed and in control of his time. Why would he want to rush it? The atmosphere also feels different for him when he goes slow. Furthermore, Sae uses this as a way to observe you properly—which spots to hit, which points to stimulate at the same time, and so on. It gets him off knowing that he can get better and better at providing pleasure. Consider it as part of his ego as well. He might take it slow, but there are definitely moments when he pounds you hard and steady. The type of pounding that needs you to hold on for dear life or else you'll fall.

[Q] Quickie Not really a fan of it. But it's not like he would never do it. Sae will only resort to quickies when absolutely necessary. Those kinds of situations are mostly when both of your schedules are packed and there is literally not enough time to have proper sex. That or when both of you feel incredibly frustrated and nothing else will satiate you but each other. Another reason why he doesn't do this as much is that it leaves him wanting more. He hates feeling like a needy idiot, so he avoids quickies as much as he can.

[R] Risk He'll try anything not-so-extreme at least once, especially if you ask him nicely. Though he has shown interest in experimenting in bondage a bit, more specifically, in shibari. It's a bit intricate and it might hurt you a bit if not done right, but if you're willing to share that risk with him—he's game. From the Sae perspective, I'd say a risky thing that he does is whispering things in your ear he wouldn't normally say. He just likes to keep you on your toes and the way you clench down on him is just way too good. Besides, you'll most likely forget he said it anyway because he fucks you dumb most of the time.

[S] Stamina His endurance and stamina in general are certainly well-trained, but he is just a man. His dick needs to recuperate at its own pace. Maybe he can last two rounds for the most part, but there are days when he can only last for one. But it's not much of an issue. In that one round, he can last for so long. He can take advantage of that time and make you cum over and over again. Besides, even if you've milked him for the time being, he can still go at it with his mouth and fingers. You'll never catch him breathless after a few measly minutes.

[T] Toys He doesn't own any. He feels silly spending money on such things and using it on himself. But if it's for you; he'll gladly spend as much as he needs. He just doesn't see the appeal of using it on himself. Pocket pussies? Cock rings? Seems a bit ridiculous to him. But if you happen to own a vibe or two, he'll definitely use it. There's no harm in heightening your pleasure anyway. He's also chill with a bit of bondage rope and handcuffs. He's a bit iffy about using dildos though. Maybe it's because of his pride, but what's the use of it when you can have his dick instead?

[U] Unfair He's a tease without even trying. The snarky remarks that he makes comes out of his mouth naturally. "Oh, you're cumming again? You're too easy," and he'll say it with a straight face. Sometimes when you do ask him to fuck you faster, he'll ignore you on purpose. The man wants to hear you beg so nicely for him after being such a brat earlier. Although, he's surprisingly less of a tease as you'd expect.

[V] Volume Mostly grunts and groans. He claims that you will never hear him whimper, so of course, you make it your life's purpose to get him to whimper. It has yet to happen. And he does find it amusing that you think that you can make THE Sae Itoshi whimper like a bitch. Aside from that, the sounds he makes aren't so loud. He makes sure the grunts near your ear, containing it there. BUT, a little quirk of his is that he lets out a long sigh once he cums. It just feels so relieving that he can't help it anymore.

[W] Wild Card He thinks he'd bust right away sometimes whenever you stare up at him while you suck him off. Seeing you servicing him so eagerly while on your knees does things to his brain. It makes his ego swell like insane. "You're such a good girl, amor. You love me alot, don't you?" He'll wipe away the tears that threaten to fall because your jaw's so stretched out. Sae knows you're struggling a bit, but hang on for now and he'll reward you plenty afterwards.

[X] X-ray Not that girthy, but loooooong. He has quite a pretty dick, especially since he keeps it neat down there as well. It doesn't curve that much, but it is quite veiny. You can see the veins because of his pale complexion. There's one particularly thick vein that feels the best when rubbing against your walls. He's also cut, so you know that he has a light pink tip. Definitely a shower.

[Y] Yearning He's definitely more inclined to have sex than jacking off. That's because he'll actually make time for it. Sae will find ways to clear up his schedule or at least have more time with you—to have sex and to do things other than sex, of course. It's an odd, but helpful, trait of his that he can easily match the libido of his partner. Unless if his partner has an insanely high libido, then you'd probably have to find even ground. But again, it's not hard to get him into the mood. So if you initiate or ask him, more often than not—he'll get down and dirty with you in a heartbeat.

[Z] Zzz He doesn't fall asleep right away because, A) he needs to clean up and take care of you, and B) he just isn't tired enough. Don't get him wrong—good pussy pushes him to the edge, but being well-trained just helps him to not pass out immediately after busting. However, he will fall asleep right away once you're all cleaned up and the bed (which presumably got drenched) is all tidied up. Once you're sleeping soundly in his arms, he'll let himself be consumed by slumber as well.

❤︎ Overall: Sae's quite a good lover in that he puts effort and meaning into sex and that he's constantly improving. He genuinely cares about making it an activity both of you enjoy. 10/10 experience.

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note Actually a bit terrified that I might have butchered Sae Itoshi in this one

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock headcanons #blue lock smut #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #sae smut #sae itoshi smut #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk headcanons #bllk smut #♪ ── luvr.fm // works #♪ ── luvr.fm // ABCs

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flippinpancakes64 · 9 months ago

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the cullens with a reader who isn't the best at showing emotions so their way of showing love is by biting? Like not hard but gently.

BTW I love your writing, keep up the good work 💞

The Cullens with a reader who bites

Thank you for the kind words! And I definitely relate to this prompt. But with my cat. Like cuteness aggression is real and I’m a victim. Petting her isn’t enough I need to eat her yk

Anyways thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He understands a little bit

He can hear the thoughts in your head, he sees how much they overwhelm you

It happened the first time when he was over at your house for a movie date

He was wearing casual clothes, a hoodie and some sweatpants

He wanted to make sure you had something soft to lay your head on

But something happened when you saw him in the hoodie

Your mind lit up, fireworks going off, sprinkled with phrases of how “cute” he looked and how you wanted to crawl into his skin

He called you over to him and let you squeeze him as hard as you wanted, but it still wasn’t enough

He could hear the frustration in your mind about how you were still unsatisfied

He was about to suggest climbing into his hoodie with him when he felt you bite down on his bicep

He was shocked to say the least

But you know what, at least it helped

He tries to limit how much you can bite him in public, but when it’s just the two of you, he lets you do what you want

He’s an enabler, what can I say

Alice:

She didn’t even see it coming the first time

Which is rare for her

You were sitting on her bed with your eyes closed since Alice had a gift she wanted to give to you

You opened your eyes and saw a bracelet made of brown, gold and *insert your eye color here* beads

On her wrist was a matching one

You sprang up and tackled her in a hug immediately

You both would have fallen if she didn’t have inhuman strength

But hugging her wasn’t enough

So you bit her

She felt a pressure on her right shoulder, just above where her shirt ended, right on her skin

She didn’t know what it was until she felt the heat and faint wetness

She thought it was tears to be honest

So she was definitely shocked when she pulls you back and sees your mouth wide open and your eyes perfectly dry

“… did you just bite me?”

“…no…”

“You’re so silly”

She lets you bite her as much as you want

It’s not like it affects her

Just so long as you don’t get drool on her clothes

Jasper:

He can also feel how strong your emotions are

He’s never felt someone who feels things so strongly

Honestly, he’s surprised you can even live a normal life

One day you’re just sitting on the couch, playing on your phone while a movie plays on the tv

Suddenly, your phone starts to jostle a little bit

You look and see Jasper putting a charging cable into your phone

“What’s that for?”

“Your battery was getting pretty low, figured you could use some charge”

And like nothing even happened, he goes back to playing mobile games on his phone

You become so overcome with emotion, so much love just fills your body

He can feel your emotions start to fry, threatening to overflow

He’s about to send some calmness your way when he feels you chomp down onto his forearm

He’s so shocked he doesn’t even move

You quickly unlatch, moving away and apologizing, but he just smiles

“It’s alright, darling. I’d rather have your teeth marks here than the ones I’ve got now”

So charming

Rosalie:

The day of Prom is here

You didn’t want to go, but you would never deny Rosalie a chance to dress up

So that’s how you found yourself here, fully dressed and waiting on Rosalie to finish getting her hair and makeup done

You hear her heels click towards the closed door and turn your eyes as it creaks open

There stands Rosalie, beautiful golden hair pulled into an intricate updo, her makeup perfectly accentuating her natural beauty, and a dark red dress that sweeps the floor

You just couldn’t contain yourself

You latch onto her, biting into her exposed shoulder

She yelps out of shock, definitely not expecting that

You try to walk away and pretend it didn’t happen, but she’s not one for that

She has similar rules to Alice, only no biting her in public

She loves that you love her so much that you can’t contain it

That’s what she’s always wanted after all

Overall, though, she doesn’t mind

Just seriously, don’t mess with the clothes

Emmett:

He was literally just sitting there

Like not doing anything, sitting on the couch, watching a movie that you had put on

You had gotten up to get some more popcorn and had to just pause to take him in

He looked so cute bundled up in the couch, your favorite blanket thrown around him from earlier

You set the popcorn down on the table and leaped at him

He didn’t even get a chance to react

Suddenly you were on top of him, your arms wrapped in a vice grip around his throat, your legs fully koala-ed around his middle

You were kissing every single surface on his face, whispering how cute he looked and how much you love him in between

He was giggling like a little girl, his face would be beet red if he could still blush

When suddenly he feels your teeth on his shoulder

“Pump the brakes there, piranha, what’s that for?”

“Sorry Em, I just love you so much I can’t control myself”

“Damn, do I at least taste good?”

He thinks it’s hilarious

He calls you his little snapping turtle

Esme:

She’s confused

She just asked what you wanted for dinner and now your teeth are in her arm

She doesn’t even shake you off she just kind of stands there

Like uhm are you okay?

You’re gonna need to explain to her why you did that

And afterwards she just laughs

She doesn’t fully understand, but that’s okay cause she also just doesn’t care

If it makes you happy then it makes her happy

She’ll let you bite her but with limitations

No biting in public

No biting her hair (not that you would anyway)

No biting her so hard that you hurt yourself

And she’ll eventually tell you to ease up after a while

“Darling? You’ve been there for a couple minutes now, you want to stop for a second please?”

Overall she’s confused but tries not to intervene

If this is what you need to do to express your love then go for it

Carlisle:

He’s only ever been bitten once

And that wasn’t a very pleasant experience to say the least

So it’s the last thing he expects you to do

But let’s be honest, how could you resist?

He had rolled up the sleeves to his sleek button up, flipping through pages of his old medical books, looking for a specific article he wanted to show you

By now you’ve completely forgotten what you even asked him about

You just leaned in slowly and bit into his forearm, your teeth sinking in slightly to the strong muscles there

“… are you hungry?”

Genuinely confused

You can try to explain as much as you want, he’s still going to research it later

He doesn’t have very many rules as far as this goes

If you wanna bite him, then go for it

He thinks it’s a nice, fun thing

And it shows how much you love him

Everyone enjoys a nice ego stroke now and then

Vampire! Bella:

She’s definitely felt cuteness aggression before

But never with another person

She was just sitting there helping you do your homework and you just.. bit her

“Did you just bite me?”

“…. No….”

“You’re a liar”

She doesn’t actually mind

She’s just so confused

She still envisions herself as that plain-looking clumsy girl

Like wdym SHES the one making you feral?

But she is flattered

Absolutely does NOT let you pull that shit in public tho

She’s still too shy for that

You’re gonna need to put a pin in it till you guys get home

But once you’re there… she still has limits

She’s not a big pda person

Or a big physical touch person

She’s like a cat

She’s okay with it for a little bit but too much and she needs you to stop

Think like one or two bites a day

Any more than that and she gets squirmy

2K notes · View notes

vanteguccir · 5 months ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤHER WEAKNESS * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Matt's secret relationship with Y/N, the boss of LA's most feared mafia, is revealed to the media in seconds. Now, Matt is in danger, and Y/N isn't afraid of burning the world down to protect him.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x mafia boss!reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　use of guns, car racing, blood, injuries, mean!reader ('hate the world but love him' trope), mentions of death, dark romance.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Looking back, it was hard for Matt to remember a time when his life wasn’t full with the kind of fear that made him look over his shoulder every five minutes.

It wasn’t the kind of fear born out of paranoia, no, Matt wasn’t paranoid. He was just aware. Aware that being the boyfriend of Y/N Y/L/N, the most notorious name in Los Angeles, came with its own set of risks. Risks that loomed like shadows, thick and suffocating, creeping into every corner of his existence.

Becoming her boyfriend had been as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Y/N wasn’t just anyone. She was the Y/N Y/L/N, the Queen of Los Angeles, a woman whose name was whispered in hushed tones, whose reputation alone was enough to make the strongest men cry. She wasn’t just the boss of a mafia; she was the boss. Every move she made sent quakes through her world, her presence commanding respect and fear in equal measure.

To the rest of the world, she was the devil. But to him? She was something else entirely.

Matt often found himself thinking about the contradictions of their relationship. There was no point in explaining the downsides of being with someone like her; even with the constant threat of danger, the late nights spent waiting for her to come back to him, the uneasy knowledge that she ruled a world where mercy was a foreign concept, all of it came with the territory. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Because Y/N, for all her sharp edges and lethal reputation, treated him as if he was the one ruling. She hated the world, but she loved him. And not just him, his brothers, too. By extension, Chris and Nick had become part of her orbit, and she cared for them in a way that left Matt awestruck.

She always put him first, ensuring that he never wanted for anything, that he was shielded from the worst of her world even as he stood at its edge.

Her kindness to him came in forms, both small and extravagant. Expensive gifts appeared without occasion - jewelry that gleamed under the light, tailored suits he’d never wear unless dragged to one of her events, a vintage drum he’d only dreamed of owning. Once, she’d surprised him with a trip to Paris, casually booking an entire penthouse suite as though it were nothing. It baffled him sometimes, the lengths she went to just to see him happy.

She treated him like he was the most important person in her world, and maybe he was. He felt it in the way she looked at him, her eyes softening in a way they never did for anyone else. He felt it in the way her hand would linger on his arm, in the whispered words she saved just for him. With her, he wasn’t the Matt Sturniolo, one of the triplets that made worldwide success. He was hers.

Still, there were moments when the weight of her world pressed down on him, moments when the reality of who she was and what she did became impossible to ignore. Her enemies weren’t nameless shadows; they were people with resources and vendettas, people who wouldn’t hesitate to affect her, no matter how.

It was late at night, and Chris was sprawled on the couch, one leg hooked lazily over the armrest, the other propped against the coffee table. The glow of his phone illuminated his face, basking in the steady stream of comments that flooded his Instagram live.

"Yo, what’s up, everybody?" He drawled, the words slithering out while a grin painted his face. "Where’s Matt and Nick?"

He paused, scratching his stubbled jaw.

"Nick’s upstairs, probably editing our next video. And Matt? He’s over there being my personal maid."

The front camera changed its focus abruptly, revealing the kitchen in all its warm, domestic glow. Behind the table, Matt stood hunched over a cutting board, his movements clumsy as he sliced through a pile of vegetables, ready to make simple sandwiches for them.

Without missing a beat, Matt flipped him off, his voice a low, exasperated rumble.

"Chris, shut up."

The live chat erupted with reactions and comments. What Chris didn’t notice - but the viewers certainly did - was the figure walking from Matt's bedroom toward the kitchen - or, more specifically, toward the middle triplet.

Y/N moved silently, her steps deliberate, her presence commanding despite the casual simplicity of her appearance. Black sweatpants clung to her legs, and an oversized shirt - Matt's shirt - draped her frame, covering the gun holster that held her black Glock; an intentional option of indifference, one that she only used when she was at his house. But her eyes betrayed her.

They were sharp, focused entirely on Matt as if he were the center of her universe - only traveling briefly to Ricardo and Lucas, her bodyguards who stood like brick walls at the top of the stairs that lead to the main entrance, watching over them like hawks.

They were always the ones who Y/N chose to follow her when she went to the triplets house, since both of them were the best at treating the brothers as 'normal' as possible, and not like people who were under extreme protection 24/7.

Just as Chris turned the camera back to himself, Y/N reached Matt, her arms encircling his waist in a gesture that spoke volumes. Matt didn’t flinch - he never did when it came to her - but his body softened, the rigid lines of his shoulders easing as a faint smile ghosted across his lips.

It was nice to have her close.

"Hey." He murmured, his voice a private sanctuary meant only for her.

"Hi." She replied, her tone quiet but rich with adoration. Her guard lowered just enough for a hint of vulnerability to escape.

"You okay?" Matt asked, tilting his head slightly, his knife pausing its steady rhythm against the cutting board.

"Always." She answers, ignoring the way her voice showed the weight of a day that had pushed her to her limits. "Missed' you today. So fucking much." She moved her body slightly, searching for more skin to skin contact - no matter their clothes, ignoring the way Matt shivered when her covered gun pressed against his lower back.

"... going to feed me good, obviously." Chris joked from behind them, oblivious to the intimacy unfolding mere feet away.

Matt tuned him out, his focus narrowing to the woman resting against him. Her forehead pressed into his shoulder, and her breathing slowed, each exhale a quiet surrender. In his arms, she allowed herself to just exist, an escape from the chaos of her world.

The fragile peace shattered as a ringtone erupted from the hallway, its shrill insistence cutting through the air like a blade.

Her body tensed immediately, her muscles locking as if bracing for an unseen attack.

"Your phone." Matt whispered, his tone calm but underlined with an edge of concern.

"I don’t want to get it." She muttered, her reluctance heavy.

"It might be important." He pressed gently, his words carrying a logic she couldn’t ignore.

She sighed, frustration and resignation mingling as she withdrew from his warmth. She had already spent the whole day dealing with imbeciles who thought that owing her was a good idea. Her mind was in no right place to deal with more problems.

The absence of his touch felt immediate, a cold void where safety had been moments before. Her fingers brushed lightly against his back as she stepped away, a silent promise that she’d return.

Matt caught her gaze as she moved toward the bedroom, his eyes steady and reassuring, a quiet affirmation that he’d be waiting, always.

The sound of the ringtone grew louder as she neared the door.

The muffled sound of Chris's voice was grounding, but it suddenly turned distant, irrelevant, as her gaze locked onto the glowing device vibrating against Matt’s nightstand.

Raphael.

Her blood chilled at the sight of the name of her right-hand, her fingers flexing instinctively at her sides. Raphael never called unless it was urgent - unlike the idiots who bothered her minute by minute to ask mediocre questions and made her want to pull out her gun and see blood, and in her world, urgent rarely meant anything short of catastrophic.

The moment her fingers wrapped around the phone, she pressed it to her ear, the cool surface grounding her.

"Raphael." She said, her voice clipped and razor-sharp, an edge of control that allowed no room for weakness.

"Y/N." He began, calling her name in the way only he could, his tone level but brimming with tension. "We have a situation."

The words hit her like a punch to the chest, though her expression didn’t waver. Externally, she was unflinching. Internally, a darker part of her coiled, poised to strike. She had navigated countless crises since she was seventeen, each one making her tougher. But no amount of training or experience prepared her for the particular dread that crawled beneath her skin at the word situation.

"What kind of situation?" She demanded, already bracing for impact, her voice an anchor of authority. She hated when they told the bad news but didn't explain it.

Raphael exhaled sharply, closing his eyes tightly behind the call.

"Our tech team flagged something around the internet. There’s a picture of you circulating online. It’s starting to spread."

Her grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles blanching as she steadied her breath.

"Explain." She commanded, though her pulse betrayed her, a frantic drumbeat against her ribs.

"It seems to be from Christopher Sturniolo's live thing. It's barely a second of footage." Raphael explained, his voice tight with urgency. "But it’s enough. Fans are analyzing it, trying to figure out who you are. Threads are blowing up. And..." He hesitated, his pause causing Y/N's eyebrows to furrow. "They’re connecting it to Matt."

A visceral reaction clawed its way to the surface, her breath catching in her throat.

Matt.

His name wasn’t just a word; it was a weapon, one capable of splitting her in two. The image of him - standing in the kitchen, his shoulders relaxed, his focus far removed from the chaos - flashed in her mind. He was a constant in her life, someone who turned her softer, someone she couldn’t afford to lose. The thought of him being dragged for life into her world - her dangerous, unforgiving world - sent a sharp pang of desperation through her entire being.

"Y/N?" Raphael's voice pulled her back, a glimpse of worry shining between his words.

"How far has it spread?" She asked, her tone glacial now.

"Far enough." He replied grimly. "If we don’t act now, it’s only a matter of time before someone makes the connection."

Her mind was a battlefield, each thought a calculated move in a war she refused to lose.

"I want it gone." She said, each word deliberate, unyielding. "Every post, every thread, every trace. Use whatever means necessary, bribery, threats, force. I don’t care how you do it. Just erase it."

"You got it, Boss." He didn’t hesitate, changing his demeanor abruptly, the sound of keystrokes filling the silence on his end.

"And Raphael." She added, her tone softening. "Leave nothing behind."

"It’ll be done." He affirmed, his voice steady. "Anything else?"

Her throat tightened, her guard faltering for just a heartbeat. She leaned against the edge of the bed, gripping the phone like a lifeline. She would have to tell Matt eventually, but not now. Not when her own composure was hanging by a thread.

"No." She said quietly, her voice betraying none of the chaos beneath. "I’ll handle the rest."

"Understood." The line clicked dead, leaving her alone with the silence.

Y/N lowered the phone, her hand trembling slightly as she set it down. She had always known this day might come, always known that her careful steps could fail, leaving Matt exposed to her world - or her to his. But knowing didn’t make the sting any less painful.

Her gaze drifted to the doorway, her thoughts spiraling to him. She despised herself in that moment; for the danger her presence brought to his life, for the quiet desperation she felt whenever she thought of losing him.

But she couldn’t lose him.

Straightening her spine, she forced the vulnerability back, locking it behind the iron walls she took years to build. She was a leader, a protector, a force to be secured with. And no one - not her enemies, not the nameless, faceless masses online - would take what was hers.

The air in the house had shifted, thickening with an invisible tension that Y/N could feel in her bones the moment she stepped out of Matt’s room.

Her sharp gaze swept across the living room first. Chris was slumped on the couch, looking almost guilty. His phone lay discarded beside him, screen dark, as though it had betrayed him. His face was pale, lips pressed into a tight line, and he stared at the floor with the kind of intensity that suggested he wished it would open up and swallow him whole.

Her eyes flicked toward the kitchen, her stomach knotting at the sight of Matt. He leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed defensively over his broad chest, head bowed slightly. His brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched, and his warmth from minutes ago was replaced by a cold anger that radiated from him in waves.

"What happened?" She asked, her voice slicing through the oppressive quiet. There was no softness in her tone, only a commanding edge that left no room for staling.

Chris flinched at her words, his head snapping up to meet her gaze. His blue eyes darted toward Matt, searching for guidance, for an excuse, anything that might soften the blow. But Matt didn’t move. He remained locked in place, his intense focus on the floor as though the answer to their problems might be just there.

"Chris." Y/N prompted, her voice lower this time, but no less cutting as she stepped further into the room.

Chris exhaled shakily, rubbing the back of his neck as though the action might somehow delay the inevitable.

"Uh... people saw you?" He finally said, the words spilling out in a rush.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" She asked, her tone firm.

Chris hesitated, glancing helplessly at Matt again. When no help came, he pressed on, his words tumbling over each other.

"During the live stream, you showed up at the camera. It’s everywhere now. They’re asking who you are, Y/N. It’s blowing up..." His panicked voice seemed to start flying up. "I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t even notice-"

"Enough." She interrupted, her tone quiet but laced with an authority that made Chris snap his mouth shut. "I know." She said simply. "It’s already being handled."

Chris blinked, confusion flickering across his face.

"Wait, you already know?"

"Yes." She replied, her gaze shifting briefly to Matt. "And it’s already being handled." She repeated.

Matt straightened at that, his concern breaking through the desperation that had kept him rigid. This was one of the moments when the weight of her world pressed down on him, and he felt scared. For him, for his brothers... for her. He knew that if her picture at his house fell into her enemies' hands, it was the end of peace for them.

"What does that mean, Y/N?" He asked, his voice low and tense.

"It means." She said evenly. "That my people is taking care of it, and soon enough, it'll be as if nothing had ever happened."

Matt’s brow furrowed further, and he took a step toward her, the movement slow but certain.

"And how exactly are they doing that?" He asked. "You're being careful, right?"

Her heart twisted at the concern in his voice, feeling like she could laugh, because Matt was the one who opened the front door for a bloody version of herself earlier, and he was the one who took care of her wounds - the ones that didn't even made her flinch.

"Silly boy." She started, her tone softening just enough to reassure him. "Y'know that I'm always careful."

Matt’s jaw clenched, his frustration evident.

"I don't like that." He said quietly, the weight of his words settling heavily between them.

Her posture wavered for the briefest of moments, but she forced herself to hold his gaze.

"What I need from you two and Nick." She said, addressing both him and Chris while keeping eye contact with Matt, completely ignoring his comment. "Is for you to be vigilant. For the next few days, you need to watch everything, what you post, where you go, who you talk to. Understood?"

Chris nodded quickly - even if she wasn’t looking at him, his expression contrite.

"Yeah. Of course. I’ll be careful."

Matt didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his intense gaze bored into hers, searching for cracks in her armor. Finally, he nodded, though the tension in his shoulders remained.

"Fine." He said, his voice quieter now. "But you’ll tell me if anything happens."

She hesitated, the truth forming on her tongue before she swallowed it down.

"I will." She lied instead. She wouldn't be crazy to involve him in any of this more than he already is.

His features softened slightly, but his worry lingered, etched into every line of his face.

"Good." He said. "Because I’m not letting anything happen to you."

She was the one who wasn't letting anything happen to him.

"I know."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The triplets were now on an empty parking lot, surrounded by the kind of darkness that usually set the stage for their filming sessions. The camera perched on the dashboard blinked red, capturing every move of them.

Matt sat in the driver’s seat, his hands tapping the bottom of the wheel as Chris gestured wildly from the passenger side. His animated voice carried through the car, weaving a story with Nick chiming in from the back seat.

But Matt wasn’t fully there.

His brothers could turn the most mundane story into book-like ones, and while he’d normally give his opinion on each one of them - when they let him, today his mind felt unusually restless. He couldn’t shake the brutal unease that had settled in his chest ever since Y/N’s warning the day before. Her words played over and over in his head: Watch your surroundings. Be careful.

Still, he had tried to shake it off. She worried about him; he got that. But the longer the evening dragged on, the heavier that knot in his chest grew. His brothers’ laughter ricocheted around the car, but the sound barely registered.

"... if we take a right, then a left, and there's a guy down there walking his dog, I'm gonna freak out." Chris was saying, his voice rising dramatically.

"And then we did it, and the guy was walking his dog." Nick completed, widening his eyes to the camera to emphasize it all.

Their voices faded into background noise as Matt’s gaze traveled to a shadowed corner of the lot. He couldn’t shake the prickling sensation that something - or someone - was watching them. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as his mind replayed Y/N’s warning for the thousandth time.

You’re being paranoid, he told himself. It’s just a parking lot.

But paranoia had its place in Y/N’s world.

It was Nick who broke the illusion of calm.

"Hey." He said sharply, his voice cutting through the laughter. His posture changed in an instant, stiffening as his eyes fixed on something outside their car.

"What?" Chris asked, his smile faltering as he followed Nick’s gaze.

"Don’t make it obvious." Nick hissed, leaning slightly forward. "But look. SUV, two o’clock. Isn't it parked way too close for how empty this lot is?"

Matt’s pulse quickened. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror, and there it was, a sleek, black vehicle angled toward them. Its windows were so dark they might as well have been painted. Everything about it felt wrong.

Chris turned in his seat, ignoring Nick’s plea for subtlety.

"Weird." He muttered. "Why park there when the whole lot’s empty?"

"That's what I'm saying." Nick said, his voice lower.

Matt’s jaw tightened, his earlier unease turning into cold certainty.

"Do you think it’s a fan?" Chris asked, his voice tinged with forced optimism.

Matt shook his head, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"Doesn’t feel like a fan."

The SUV sat unmoving, its presence heavy and oppressive. Matt’s thoughts spun as he tried to make sense of it. Y/N had warned him about things that could happen since day one, but she hadn’t given details. She rarely did. Keeping him in the dark was her way of protecting him, but right now, he wished he knew more.

"We should leave." Nick said urgently after some minutes of silence.

Chris frowned.

"Leave? We’re in the middle of filming-"

"Forget the video." Matt snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. "Something’s off."

The tension in the car thickened. Nick leaned forward again, his breath brushing the back of Matt’s neck as he watched the SUV through the rear window.

Then, as if sensing that it was seen, the door of the black vehicle opened.

"Guys." Nick warned sharply, his voice tight with alarm.

Matt’s heart slammed against his ribs as a man stepped out. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a tailored black suit that screamed professional. His face was obscured by dark sunglasses, even in the dim light. Everything about him was strange, the way he moved, slow and purposeful, like he had all the time in the world.

The man stood by the SUV for a moment, then began walking toward their car.

"Go, Matt." Chris urged, his voice strained.

Matt didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers fumbled with the ignition, the engine roaring to life.

"What’s he doing?" Chris asked, staring at the approaching man.

"Doesn’t matter." Matt ground out. "We’re not sticking around to find out."

He threw the car into reverse, his movements swift but controlled. The tires screeched as he backed out of the parking spot, his eyes flicking between the mirrors and the shadowy figure stopping behind them.

"Is he following us?" Nick asked, his voice tight with panic.

Matt didn’t answer immediately, focusing on navigating the lot. But as he turned onto the main road, he caught a glimpse of the SUV’s headlights flaring to life in the rearview mirror.

"Yes." He said grimly, accelerating into the main road without looking to his side, forcing himself to ignore the loud and random honk that followed his action.

Nick swore under his breath, his hands gripping the edge of Chris's back seat, grimacing.

Matt’s mind raced, calculating their options. He didn’t know who was in that car, but he had a sinking feeling that Y/N did. Whatever this was, it wasn’t random.

And as the SUV closed the distance between them, Matt realized that the shadows he’d been looking over his shoulder for weren’t just paranoia.

They were real. And they were coming for him.

Chris twisted in his seat, his gaze fixed on the ominous car trailing them. His voice cracked with a mixture of frustration and alarm.

"Okay, now that’s not just weird. That’s bad."

"No shit." Matt muttered, keeping his tense posture. "Buckle up." He growled, his tone leaving no room for argument, the adrenaline pumping through his veins like a drug. Before his brothers could react, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator, their KIA lunging forward with a roar.

"What the hell are you doing?" Chris shouted, his hands darting to the door handle as he braced himself against the sudden burst of speed.

"Losing them." Matt ground out through clenched teeth, his voice laced with grim determination. The engine roared, the car slicing through the sparse traffic.

The SUV responded immediately, surging forward with precision, its movements aggressive and calculated. It wasn’t just following them. It was hunting them, and it wasn’t hiding it anymore.

"This isn’t a movie, Matt!" Nick yelled from the backseat, his voice tinged with panic as the car swerved dangerously close to a parked sedan.

"Feels like one." Chris muttered under his breath, though his usual joking tone was replaced with raw tension. His fingers dug into the fabric of his seat, knuckles bone white.

Matt’s focus was razor-sharp, his mind calculating every turn, every gap, every possible escape route. The city blurred around them, streetlights streaking past like shooting stars.

He maneuvered with a precision that bordered on reckless, the heavy van sliding between vehicles with inches to spare. Years of navigating chaotic LA streets had sharpened his instincts like a knife’s edge, but even he wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up.

"They’re not giving up." Nick said, his voice a strained whisper.

Then, out of nowhere, a flash of silver caught Matt’s peripheral vision.

"Matt! Fuck- watch out!" Chris screamed, his voice cracking as a Audi RS7 tore into the intersection from their right to their left, leaving a perfect trail of white smoke behind, its polished body gleaming under the fluorescent haze of the streetlights.

Time seemed to slow. Matt’s heart slammed against his ribcage as he yanked the steering wheel, the van skidding violently to the side, definitely scraping a car or two. Their camera fell from its place with a force that told them itself that it broke. Tires screeched, the acrid smell of burnt rubber filling the air as the RS7 narrowly missed their front bumper by mere inches.

For a small moment, Matt thought they were done for. They would die in the hands of unknown, sick people. But the Audi didn’t slow. Its driver - whoever they were - handled the car with perfect precision, swerving past them.

"What the hell was that?" Nick gasped, his voice trembling as he craned his neck to look back.

"I don’t know." Matt muttered, his chest heaving as he tried to process what had just happened. His foot hovered over the brake, instinct warring with the need to keep moving.

The RS7 didn’t stop. Instead, it sped straight for the SUV, its engine roaring like a beast. It cut off the larger vehicle with a series of calculated moves, herding it like a sheepdog corralling a wayward flock.

Chris leaned between the front seats, looking back, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"It’s... helping us." He paused, his mind racing. "Do you think it’s one of Y/N’s people?"

Nick didn’t take his eyes off the unfolding spectacle.

"Who the hell drives like that?"

Matt didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His thoughts were a chaotic storm, torn between taking advantage of the distraction and trying to piece together what was happening.

The SUV, once so powerful, was now on the defensive, the Audi forcing the larger vehicle toward the shoulder of the road.

"They’ve got this." Matt said, his voice tight as he pressed down on the gas pedal. The van surged forward, putting as much distance as possible between them and the chaos in the rearview mirror.

Chris turned back to face him, his expression a mix of awe and unease.

"You think this is over?"

But that hope lasted only for a minute as the night exploded with sound. The first gunshot rang out like a thunderclap, ringing in the enclosed space of the car, followed by honks and screams. Chris ducked instinctively, his hands flying to cover his ears as a yell escaped his throat.

Nick swore loudly, his voice almost drowned out by the second shot that followed in quick succession. Matt barely registered the sound of it before the driver-side window exploded beside him.

The world stopped.

Glass shards sprayed into the car like a violent glitter storm. Matt flinched instinctively, his head turning away as the jagged pieces tore through the air. His hoodie absorbed most of the impact, but a sharp sting grazed his cheek. Warmth spread across his skin, and the metallic scent made him realize that it was blood.

"Shit!" Matt yelled, his voice shaking as he tried to regain control of the car. His hands were trembling so hard it felt like they would break.

Chris screamed, ducking lower in his seat.

"What the fuck?!" His hands flew to his head, shielding himself.

Nick, in the backseat, was wide-eyed and pale, his voice cracking as he shouted.

"Are they shooting at us?! Why are they shooting at us?!"

Before anyone could fully process the first attack, a third shot rang out. This time, the bullet struck the back of the van with a sickening thud, the impact reverberating through the vehicle. The car jerked slightly from the force, and Nick let out a strangled yelp, gripping the back of Chris’s seat as if it might protect him.

Matt's widened eyes found the rearview; catching just in time the Audi reacting to the shooting and executing a perfect spin, its tires screeching as it turned in a tight circle. The maneuver was so seamless that it felt like a dance. As the car straightened out, it began driving in reverse, keeping pace with the SUV.

From the driver’s side of the Audi, a hand emerged, gripping a handgun with deadly precision. The barrel gleamed under the pale moonlight for only a moment before the first shot was fired.

BANG.

The bullet hit the SUV’s hood, sending sparks flying into the night.

"We're going to die." Chris choked out, his voice raw with panic. "Matt, what do we do?"

"I don’t know!" Matt snapped, his voice sharp as his focus stayed on the road. "I’m just trying to keep us alive!"

BANG.

The second shot took out one of the SUV’s headlights, shrouding it in uneven shadows.

"Is this about yesterday?" Chris asked, looking over his shoulder at the fireworks created by golden bullets.

"What about yesterday?" Nick asked, his voice being cut by other loud sound.

Matt didn’t answer, but the hardened look in his eyes said it all, his eyes running around the street full of scared people and desperate cars.

The Audi’s driver didn’t stop behind them, firing round after round with precision, shielding their van. Each shot forced the SUV to swerve and falter, its pursuit growing more desperate by the second.

Suddenly, a new set of headlights appeared in the rearview mirror, drawing closer at an alarming speed, maneuvering between random cars. Matt’s stomach sank as the black Nissan GT-R quickly closed the gap between them.

"Great, another one." Nick muttered, leaning forward to get a better look.

"Wait." Matt said, narrowing his eyes as the GT-R came closer. It wasn’t chasing them. It was moving with purpose, calculated, and controlled. And then, from the side street, another car emerged.

The third one sped toward them, a Dodge Charger, unmistakable and a far cry from subtle. It closed the gap with ease, pulling alongside Matt’s car.

Chris frowned.

"Matt, who the hell-"

The black window of the Charger lowered, revealing Walsh, one of Y/N's trusted bodyguards who he always saw close by, his expression as stoic and sharp as ever. He glanced at Matt briefly with a knowing gaze before lifting his hand, making a quick, sharp motion - a signal.

"I guess we are following you, then." Matt muttered, his voice resolute as he adjusted his grip on the wheel.

"What?" Nick asked, his tone a mix of confusion and disbelief. "Follow him? How do we know-"

"It’s Walsh." Matt interrupted, already easing off the accelerator slightly. "He’s one of Y/N’s people. He’s here to help."

Walsh accelerated, cutting smoothly in front of Matt’s car and taking the lead. Without hesitation, Matt followed, mimicking his movements as Walsh led them onto a side street, away from the main roads.

From behind, the black GT-R repositioned itself, falling into place directly behind the triplets’ car. It felt like they were being shepherded, boxed in with purpose.

Chris glanced nervously at the vehicles surrounding them.

"This feels like a crazy dream."

"Well, it’s very real to me." Matt muttered, his eyes darting between Walsh’s Charger and the mirrors to keep track of the GT-R.

The streets grew quieter as Walsh led them further from the city center, the cold air of the night invading the insides of the van through the broken window. The Charger weaved through back roads and alleys with practiced ease, its taillights a beacon for Matt to follow.

"Where is he taking us?" Nick asked, his voice breaking the tense silence.

"Not home." Chris replied. "That’s for sure."

They drove for another ten minutes before the Charger finally slowed as they approached a gated property on the outskirts of the city. Walsh leaned out of the window, flashing a badge at the intercom. The gates creaked open, and the small convoy filed through, disappearing into the privacy of the estate.

The driveway was lined with towering trees, their shadows dancing across the cars as they came to a stop. Matt parked behind Walsh’s Charger, the Nissan pulling in behind him to complete the formation.

The silence in the car was deafening as they sat there, processing what had just happened while the group of man dressed in all black suits backed out of both cars, moving around their KIA.

"What now?" Chris finally asked, breaking the quiet.

Matt exhaled, his hands still gripping the wheel tightly as he turned to look at his brothers, his skin itching with the dried blood.

"I don't know."

Then, cutting through the oppressive quiet, the distant roar of an engine reached their ears, growing louder by the second. Matt’s head whipped toward the gates just as the same Audi from earlier burst through.

The car moved with predatory intent, speeding down the driveway toward them. The headlights blazed like twin daggers, slicing through the darkness, and as it neared, it showed no signs of slowing.

The sleek vehicle skidded to a halt mere feet from where Walsh’s Charger was parked, its tires kicking up gravel in a chaotic spray. The door of the RS7 flung open with no ceremony, and at the second that Y/N stepped out, Matt was opening his own car door.

Of course, she was the first to find him. How could she not be? The GPS she’d insisted on slipping into his horse necklace after the last close call wasn’t just a precaution, it was a leash, one she pulled the second something went wrong.

He hadn’t even argued when she’d done it. He’d learned by now that Y/N always had a way of knowing where he was, no matter how far or how fast he tried to outrun trouble.

Her heels clicked sharply against the gravel as she strode toward Walsh, her every movement a calculated strike.

Matt watched her from his standing place, his body still trembling from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His legs felt weak, the rush of survival not yet dissipating, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

She was magnetic, terrifying, and commanding all at once. His fingers twitched at his sides, unsure if he should stop her, but something inside him begged to watch the whole scene unfold.

Y/N’s expression was a storm, her lips curled into a snarl as she closed the distance between herself and Walsh, who was standing near the driver of the Charger. The man had just been speaking, his voice low and controlled, but the second he saw her approaching, he fell silent, his posture stiffening. He wasn’t a coward - years by her side had hardened him - but even he couldn’t deny the raw, violent fury in her eyes.

"Walsh!" Her voice cracked like a whip, slicing through the air.

The men around her stiffened but kept their gazes forward, trained on the horizon. They knew better than to interfere and knew the rules that governed her world.

Y/N didn’t repeat herself. She didn’t grant second chances.

Walsh turned, his face already pale, though he tried to maintain his composure.

"Boss, I can expl-"

She didn’t let him finish. In a blur of motion, she reached for her knife, the familiar silver weight of it reassuring in her palm, small droplets of blood stained its holder, being there for a long time now. Before Walsh could react, she had him pinned against the side of the car, her arm pressed against his chest with force, knocking his breath away. The knife’s blade kissed his throat, the edge cutting just enough to draw a thin line of blood that trickled down his skin.

"You dare speak?" She hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You fucking dare?"

"Boss, I-"

"Shut your fucking mouth." Her voice was a growl, more animal than human, the kind of sound that made grown men cower. "You had one job. One fucking job! Protect them. Keep them alive. And you-" She pushed the blade harder against his neck, the blood now dripping faster, staining the pristine collar of his shirt. "Fucking failed.”

Matt’s stomach churned as he watched, his chest tightening with every word. Her rage was consuming, and while he’d seen her like this many times before, it always felt like the first time.

Nick had turned away, his face pale. He hated blood and hated violence, and now, he stared at the trees as if they might somehow shield him from the scene unfolding before him. Chris, on the other hand, kept his eyes glued to the ground, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He still carried fear for her when she acted like that, so he didn’t dare look up.

But Y/N wasn’t done. Her grip on Walsh’s collar tightened, and she yanked him forward, slamming him back against the car. The sound reverberated, as if she wanted the car's bodywork to deform under the weight of his body. And if it did, she would make him fix it with his bare hands.

"Where the fuck were my men?" She demanded, her voice rising now, echoing against the estate’s high walls. "I left five of my best men guarding them. Where the fuck were they, Walsh?"

Walsh’s lips trembled, his composure faltering for the first time.

"They’re dead." He admitted, his voice hoarse.

Y/N’s eyes darkened, the fire in her gaze burning hotter.

"What?"

"They killed them." Walsh continued, his voice steadying as he spoke. "All five of them. The second the brothers left the house, they were dead. By the time I got the call, it was already over."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, but Y/N didn’t flinch.

"I didn't thou-"

"Shut up!" She muttered, her free hand slamming against the car beside his head, her knuckles grazing the metal. "Shut the fuck up! Where the fuck were you? You’re supposed to anticipate this kind of shit. To have eyes everywhere. And instead, what do I get? Five man dead and a fucking alarm telling me they’re being hunted!"

Walsh kept silent. His hands stayed at his sides, fists clenched, but he didn’t dare move.

"You think I keep you around to stand there looking pretty, huh? You think I pay you to sit on your ass while my people are being slaughtered?"

"No- ma'am-"

"You’re lucky I don’t kill you right here." Her tone dropped into a deadly whisper, more chilling than her shouts. "You’re lucky I don’t slit your throat and leave your corpse here for the crows."

Matt’s breath hitched at her words, his chest tightening as he watched her, feeling a strange mix of fear and something deeper - something that made his pulse quicken.

"You’re worthless." She hissed. "A fucking liability. And if I ever-" She fist his hair, slamming the back of his head against the car for emphasis, almost begging for a concussion. "Ever see you fuck up like this again, I won’t hesitate to kill you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." Walsh croaked, his voice barely audible because he does understand it. Because he knows that she could kill him in seconds with her bare hands if she wanted to. Putting the triplets brothers in danger could drive her to burn the whole world down.

"I said, do you fucking understand me?" She shouted, her voice echoing across the estate.

"Yes!" Walsh gasped, his face ashen.

Satisfied - for now - Y/N finally stepped back, her hand still gripping the knife tightly. Blood coated the blade, glinting in the faint light. She wiped it on Walsh’s shirt, the act casual and dismissive, before putting it back at her hip.

He should be grateful that he still had his head glued to his body and that she didn't treat him like one of her enemies. Because if she had, his organs would probably be scattered across the front yard.

Y/N adjusted her blazer, her movements sharp, and turned on her heel. Her security detail remained impassive, and their faces were unreadable as they stood at attention. They knew better than to question her.

"I want to know who's the son of a bitch who dared to go after what's mine. I don’t care how many men we have to send. You find him. And I want him, and anyone else involved in this shit, dead. You hear me? Dead. No fucking exceptions." Y/N's tone was ice, colder than the Siberian winters, and it sent a chill through the men standing nearby. "Now, get the fuck out of my sight."

The bodyguards didn’t hesitate, retreating without a word, their heads low. Even Walsh - still pressing a hand to the bleeding cut on his neck - scrambled back, keeping his distance.

Y/N didn’t so much as glance at them. They were beneath her attention now. Her focus was singular, her sharp eyes scanning the scene before her as she stalked toward the three brothers.

Nick and Chris stood stiffly by the car, their postures tense, the weight of the night etched into their faces.

Y/N stopped in front of them, and for a moment, she said nothing, her icy gaze raking over their bodies like a surgeon searching for injuries.

"Nick." She called sharply, a softness hidden behind her tone.

Nick looked up at her, his hands playing with the bottom of his sweater. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him.

"You’re not injured?"

"No." He muttered, shaking his head. "I’m fine."

She turned her attention to Chris, her cold stare unwavering.

"Chris?"

Chris hesitated, swallowing hard before answering.

"I’m fine too."

Y/N’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she nodded curtly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Inside." She ordered. "Grace's here, find her. She’ll take care of you."

Nick and Chris exchanged a brief glance, neither daring to argue. They gave her a quick nod before turning and walking toward the mansion to look for Y/N's maid, the one who treated them like a loving mother. Y/N’s eyes followed them until they disappeared through the front doors, their figures swallowed by the shadows of the estate.

Only then did she turn her attention to Matt.

He was standing a few feet away, his arms hanging limply at his sides, looking like a wall in front of his side of the car, his face pale but his eyes wide with worry. His breath hitched as she approached, her movements deliberate, predatory.

"Y/N-"

"Quiet." She snapped, cutting him off as she reached for his face. Her hands, rough and calloused, cupped his cheeks, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her touch was firm, almost harsh, as she tilted his head this way and that, her eyes narrowing as she examined him closely.

Matt stood frozen under her scrutiny, his heart hammering in his chest. He felt small under her intense gaze, like a child caught misbehaving.

"I’m fine." He tried to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "Really, I-"

"Shut up." Her tone was sharp. Her thumb brushed over the dried blood that covered the small cut on his upper cheek, and her lips curled into a sneer. "Fine? You’re fine, you little shit? You think I should believe this?"

Matt swallowed hard, his throat dry. He wanted to protest, to reassure her, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

"You’re a fucking idiot." She spat, her voice low and venomous. "A fucking brat. You knew something was wrong, and you didn’t call me. You didn’t fucking call me." Her grip on his face tightened, just enough to make his breath hitch.

"I thought I could handle it." He muttered, his voice breaking. "I didn’t want to bother you."

Y/N’s laugh was sharp, bitter.

"Handle it?" She repeated, her accent wrapping around the words like a blade. "You thought you could handle it? You? Alone? Against men with guns?"

Matt looked down, unable to meet her gaze.

"I-"

"Do you know what I should do to you?" She hissed, her voice dropping lower. "I should kill you for this. For almost fucking dying on me. For being so goddamn reckless." Her fingers brushed against the necklace around his neck.

Matt’s lips twitched into a small, nervous smile.

"Thank god you put this thing on me then, huh?"

Y/N’s eyes darkened, her lips curling into a snarl.

"You think this is funny? You think I do this because I enjoy babysitting you?" She shoved him back slightly, her hands still gripping his face. "If it weren’t for this-" She tapped the tracker, her voice rising. "I wouldn’t have known. I wouldn’t have found you."

"I know." He whispered, his voice trembling.

"You’re fucking stupid." She muttered, her tone quieter but no less sharp. "You’ll be the death of me, you know that?"

Matt nodded, his cheeks flushing under her intense gaze because he knew. He knew that he was her weakest stop, the one who could make her lose her mind without consequences.

"I’m sorry." He said softly.

Y/N sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as her hand softened its grip on his face.

She let her gaze actually register his state, noticing his still trembling hands gripping the bottom of her jacket, and her jaw tightened. For all her strength and control, seeing him shaken dug into her chest like a dull blade.

"You really should’ve called me." She repeated, her tone no longer scolding but laced with a quiet plea this time. Her fingers moved from his jaw to his hair, threading through the strands in a gesture that was both tender and grounding. "Do you hear me?"

Matt smiled slightly, trying to ease her - and his - tension.

"I’m okay, dove." He murmured, risking using her favorite pet name, his voice low and calm, though it wavered slightly. "Just a little shaken up. A cut or two from the broken window. But... you saved me. Like you always do."

Her hand faltered for a moment in his hair as his words settled over her, turning her head slightly, breaking their gaze as if the vulnerability in his voice had pierced through her armor.

But Matt wasn’t about to let her retreat. His hand came up, his fingers gentle as they took her chin, forcing her to look at him again.

"I’m fine, Y/N." He said firmly, his voice carrying a quiet conviction that made her chest tighten. "Really. You don’t have to keep punishing me or you for this."

Her lips parted, a protest hovering on the edge, but he didn’t let her speak. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a hug that was warm, strong, and grounding. Y/N stiffened for a moment before melting against him - in the way that she only let herself do in his arms, her hands clutching at his back as if he might disappear if she let go.

"I don’t want to see you in the line of fire because of me ever again. Do you understand me?" Her voice was a whisper against his chest, rough and laden with emotion.

Matt’s hands moved soothingly from her hips to her waist and her back, his touch steady.

"Y/N." He began, his voice gentle but insistent. "You need to stop blaming yourself. None of this is your fault. It’s just how things are. I get that. I chose to stay by your side, knowing exactly what it meant."

She shook her head against him, her arms tightening around his waist.

"You don't understand, I could’ve lost you tonight." She said, her voice breaking in a way that she despised. "I can’t-"

"You didn’t." He interrupted, leaning down to rest his chin on top of her head. "You didn’t lose me. You won’t lose me. Not tonight. Not ever."

The sincerity in his tone made her chest ache, and she closed her eyes, letting herself press closer. She nosed along his jaw, breathing him in, her mind desperate for a piece of peace amidst the chaos. His scent - clean and familiar - grounded her in a way nothing else could.

"You know." She murmured after a moment, her voice quieter now, almost teasing. "It’s your fault. You got me hooked from day one, making me worry too much."

Matt let out a low, warm laugh, his breath tickling the top of her head.

"Lies." He said softly, his tone playful but affectionate. "You wanted to kill me for the first few months we knew each other."

Y/N let out a quiet scoff, a small smirk tugging at her lips despite herself.

"It doesn’t mean I didn't want to have you to me." She admitted, though the sharpness in her voice was covered with affection. "You were insufferable, you know? Still are."

He leaned down further, brushing his nose against hers.

"Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have it any other way." He murmured.

She didn’t respond, but the faint, almost imperceptible curve of her lips was answer enough. Her fingers wrapped around his hoodie strings, bringing him closer until their lips touched, the force of her kiss taking him off guard.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss meant to soothe or console. It was possessive, claiming him in a way that made it clear he wasn’t just hers by circumstance. He was hers by choice.

Her hand slid up the back of his neck, fingers back to threading through his hair as she deepened the kiss, desperate to taste all of him as a way of reassurance, and Matt melted into her without hesitation.

When she finally pulled away, her lips still slightly parted, Matt stared at her, his expression a mix of surprise and arousal. She smirked faintly, wiping her thumb across the corner of his mouth before leaning back, leaving him dazed.

"Uh..." He exhaled slowly, trying to collect himself, though his heart was racing faster than he cared to admit. "I think I need you to get my window fixed." He gestured toward the gaping hole where his window used to be, right behind his back, shards of glass still clinging stubbornly to the edges.

The response came so casually that it almost didn’t register at first.

"No." Y/N said dismissively. "I’ll just buy you another car."

Matt blinked, his jaw dropping as he turned to face her.

"You’ll what?"

436 notes · View notes

twilightkitkat · 7 months ago

Text

Thinking about how Logan is more open about his emotions than Wade despite what people perceive, and how Wade slowly learns to open up and confront his own emotions because of Logan.

Prompted by this amazing thread. Shoutout to @ramblingautisticman and @desperatelyneedcoffee for inspiring me to write this.

---

Most people expect Logan to be the more closed-off one. To hide his emotions behind a mask and keep them to himself.

But that's Wade's role.

Logan is honest about his emotions—when he's angry, he'll growl and thrash and let people know. When he's happy, he'll bark out a laugh and grin and let his eyes wrinkle at the edges. When he's sad, he'll cry and scream and drown himself in alcohol.

He may not be phased by smaller things, but he's honest about his feelings. (Something Wade could never do.)

Wade, on the other hand, isn't. He exaggerates trivial feelings, obvious situational ones—he'll cower in fear at a "scary enemy or pretend to be pissed over a minor inconvenience. He makes his outward, shallow emotions so loud that it turns everyone's attention away from what he's feeling inside.

(Because if people know how he feels inside, they'll see him and hate him. It's easier to be hated when you can chalk it up to "understandable" reasons, to being annoying or loud or inappropriate. It isn't easy when they hate you. When they look at you, bare and vulnerable and open, and hate who you are at your core.)

Wade has spent his entire life hiding his emotions. Even from himself.

He shoves them so deep down that they become a slightly bitter taste in the back of his throat until it all becomes too much and he violently throws them up.

Wade is like a glass bottle: he can steadily hold all his emotions inside, pretending to be OK, until the glass shatters and explodes and the shards dig everywhere and he's left to pick up the pieces.

But Logan isn't like that. He lets himself feel. He lets others see how he feels.

Even from the first moment they met, he let Wade know how he felt. How he fucked everything up. How he wasn't the hero he was looking for. How he was battling with so much grief and rage that he'd reached a point of complete apathy.

(It made Wade envious. To be able to just say it and move on.)

Logan was the first person Wade met to be so blatantly honest. To wear his emotions on his sleeve and act on them and still be strong and keep fighting.

(...Could he still be considered strong, if he did the same?)

When Wade was vulnerable, it felt like he was choking—the words tumbling out without his permission and leaving a mess behind. Even with the people he loved, he couldn't ever bring himself to fully trust them even if he knew he should. Even if he wanted to. (Even if he tried to.)

(He still remembers sitting across the kitchen table from Vanessa. She held his hand tightly, as if she was afraid he would slip away. Was slipping away. She was urging him to let her in. To tell her why he hadn't been himself. To open up so they could share the burden.

But he just... couldn't. How do you tell someone who loves you, who you turned back time to save that nothing was helping? That no matter how hard he tried to focus on Vanessa and just live a "normal" life that it all felt wrong? That he felt an itch under his skin to do more more more and nothing was "more" enough.

That he felt like he was just wearing his skin. Like it wasn't his, not since Francis twisted him into a monster he didn't want to become. That he still remembered her look of surprise and the reluctant way she cradled his face when she first saw it.

It wasn't her fault. He knew that. It was an adjustment.

...But why didn't anyone understand? The gnawing loneliness, the self-hatred, the feeling of everything being nothing and too much all at once.

He hated himself.)

But Logan let his emotions course through his veins like second nature. Wade watched as emotions twisted across his face like it was a form of art.

And, for the first time, he felt comfortable opening up. He let the words spill from his mouth, except instead of feeling the trail of acid burning through his throat it felt like relief. He finally met someone who understood him, who had gone through the same suffering. He saw his loneliness reflected in Logan's eyes and finally, finally, felt he could reach out without dragging someone down. (They were both already at rock bottom, anyway. The only place to go from here was up.)

And so he told Logan about Vanessa. About the family he wanted to save. About how, yes, he vaguely cared about the world, but none of this was to save the world. (It was for just nine people.)

And Logan... didn't judge him. He saw understanding—a tired, but real kind—reflected in his eyes. He didn't make fun of him for his selfish motivations. Didn't snarl in disgust that he could never be a hero because of them. (He saw him and didn't recoil.)

And there, sitting across the table from each other in that shitty building they'd escaped to, Wade finally felt seen. Understood. (Ironic, isn't it? To have to go to the void to open up about the void inside of himself. Wade would write a poem about it if he knew how to.)

He felt that same kinship as they continued their journey. Even through the insults, the exasperation, the annoyance, Wade could tell none of it was serious. Because Logan never really told him to fuck off. To stop.

If Logan didn't like him being touchy, he'd shove him off. (He didn't.) If Logan didn't like him asking questions and rambling about himself, he'd actually try to get him to shut up instead of just grumbling. (He didn't.) If Logan really didn't want to be here, he'd leave. (He didn't.)

Logan's visceral type of emotional honesty allowed Wade to let himself be vulnerable. Because if Logan hated him, he wouldn't be here. If Logan didn't want to hear it, he wouldn't tilt his head and listen and ask questions.

(It made Wade feel safe to express himself for the first time since he'd been strapped to that shitty operation table and torn apart until all that remained was a body not quite his own.)

Things were going good.

They were.

(Wade desperately hoped they'd stay that way.)

But then Logan pulled over the car, real and raw fury in his eyes. He yelled at Wade, his voice trembling with the intensity of it.

He picked apart everything Wade had told him. Threw it back in his face.

And oh. Oh.

Logan was honest. He was true to himself and his emotions.

And so, Wade thought quietly as the tired continued, he really meant it. It felt worse than when Logan had stabbed him.

(It felt like he was back on that operating table, small and weak and pathetic but still trying to keep smiling. To keep cracking jokes and being annoyed. Because, if he didn't, he'd break. If he didn't keep the shards of his personality clutched so tightly to his chest that they dug into his hands, nothing would be left of him.)

Logan dissected him. Using everything Wade told him. (Using the ammunition he'd provided.)

(Was Logan really looking at him with understanding, back then? Or was it disgust? The images blurred together in Wade's mind, distorting his memory.)

Told him how he was worthless. That the Avengers and X-men were right to reject him. (Ouch.) That it was his fault he couldn't salvage his relationship with Vanessa. (He'd tried. He'd tried so hard.)

That Logan saw him for what he was: a pathetic, attention-seeking parasite who clung to others instead of facing his own problems.

It really was God's greatest joke that he couldn't die.

Wade spiraled.

(Was he wrong this whole time? Did Logan really, truly hate him? He had to, if he's looking at Wade like that.)

If even Logan (the only person who could begin to understand his suffering) couldn't accept him, who could?

He felt like the ground was crumbling underneath him and he was falling and floating at the same time. He felt like he was an observer, looking in on the outside, even as his emotions crashed over him like a tsunami.

But he couldn't let himself break down. Wouldn't let himself be vulnerable. Not here. Not now.

So, he slid the mask back on and responded in the only way he knew how to.

"I'm going to fight you now."

(Even when they'd collapsed, bloody and weak and exhausted, the words kept ringing in his head. They'd let out their physical frustrations, maybe, but the words still clung to him like a blanket. There was still a sinking feeling in his gut. Dread twisting his stomach at the thought of being open.)

(The feeling never really went away.)

---

They started living together, in the aftermath.

Wade had called after Logan as he was about to leave and awkwardly asked him if he'd like to come home with him. Just long enough to find a place to stay, or even just for dinner.

(Logan couldn't refuse. Not with the sense of wrongness filling him as the distance between him and Wade grew with each step. When he heard Wade's voice, it felt like hope. It felt like coming home.)

One night turned into two, turned into a week, turned into a month until Logan had his own side of the dresser and nobody bothered to ask if he was leaving. (Thinking of leaving made Logan vaguely nauseous, now. It felt like ripping away the foundation of the home he'd painstakingly started to build here.)

Logan still had baggage. Still had days where all he wanted to do was grab a beer and stare blankly at the wall, thinking of all he'd done and all he'd lost.

But it was easier. Wade would walk into the living room, plop down next to him, and begin talking his ear off about whatever happened that day. He'd sling an arm around his shoulder, flip on the TV, and keep talking.

(Logan would lean against him, slightly. Would focus on Wade until his warmth and touch and voice drowned out his thoughts.)

(It worked better than alcohol ever had.)

Logan tried to let Wade know that he cared about him. That he appreciated it. Appreciated him.

(That Wade's presence was what made everything worth it. Made him finally feel like he was able to tread water without drowning.)

He'd cook Wade meals. (And pay attention to what he liked and disliked, making sure to cook things he knew Wade would comfortably eat.) He'd lean into his touch. Listen when he talked. Answer any questions he asked.

And so, when Logan came out from the shower one night and saw Wade curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the black screen of the TV, he approached him.

Wade had a vacant, empty look in his eyes. The kind that Logan recognized, but hadn't seen on him before.

It made him worried. He'd never seen Wade like this. (It was unsettling. To see Wade, who was so vibrant and expressive, look so bleak.)

"Is something bothering you, bub?" he asked, settling down next to Wade on the couch.

Wade finally seemed to register his presence, eyes flicking over to where he sat.

"Oh, peanut! I was wondering when you'd get out of the shower. Was it nice and steamy? I'd love to join you next time," Wade wriggled his eyebrows (or what was left of them) suggestively.

It was like a switch had flipped. Wade went from blank, like a doll with its strings cut, to animated and excited in a second. His eyes were sparkling again and he grinned at Logan like nothing was wrong.

(It was... uncomfortable. Did Wade not trust him? Was Wade hiding something from him?)

Logan wanted to question him, but Wade kept chattering and he could never really get a word in edgewise. (A part of him wondered if it was intentional.)

Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe Wade was just having a bad day. Logan tried to rationalize it, even as a pit formed in his stomach. A feeling of deep wrongness.

Except it kept happening.

Wade would get that same, desolate look in his eyes (always when he was alone, away from everyone) and Logan would walk in on him. Logan would try to see if something was wrong, but Wade would interject before he could.

(Logan knew his expression was concerned. Knew Wade could tell he was worried, that he cared about him. So why didn't Wade let him in?)

(Wade always listened, patiently, when Logan talked about his problems. It was one of the few times he'd go quiet, only occasionally asking questions and making extra commentary. He'd look at him with a grim understanding. Not pity, not sympathy, but empathy. Free of judgment. It was the first time Logan felt like his emotions were actually being received by someone, cradled and held and protected so that they didn't burn him out.)

Until, finally, one day, Logan snapped.

"What the fuck is up with you?" he snarled, and that didn't come out the way he intended but he was so frustrated by Wade refusing to just let him in.

"What do you mean, Wolvie? I'm—"

"Shut up. You're not fine. I've been alive for two hundred fucking years, I know by now when someone's lying, Wade," Logan interrupted before he could continue his usual antics.

"Look, I'm just having a bad day, alright? You know how it is. I'll be up and running after I take a nap, don't worry about little old me!" Wade's voice took on a faux-cheerful tone.

"This isn't just a bad day, bub. It's been happening a lot. You get this look in your eye, like you're not really there, and just stare at the wall." Logan stared at Wade with concern evident on his face. "It's worrying."

Wade snorts. "You don't have to worry about me of all people."

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean? 'You of all people?' Of course, I'd be worried about you, dumbass. I care about you and if you're hurting, I want to know why."

And Logan was so painfully honest. It was so clear in his eyes, in his expression, in his body language that he cared about Wade. Deeply.

It made Wade snap.

"Just shut up! Stop fucking talking. I don't want to hear it." Wade wished he had hair right now so he could fucking tear it out. He'd take any kind of physical pain just to distract himself from Logan, worried and open and trying to pry him open.

"Wade, what are you—you know you can tell him about anything, right?" Logan tried to regulate his breathing, to keep his tone calm. To not show the panic he was feeling. (It was obvious anyway.)

"What, so you can throw that back at me, too?"

What? What was Wade—

"So you can tell me I'm a fucking joke? That every superhero team was right to turn me down? That I couldn't even manage to keep a relationship with a stripper?"

Oh. Oh fuck. That was—

"That I should just fucking kill myself, but of course, it's God's best joke that I can't die, so now my pathetic existence is on you?"

He couldn't possibly think Logan meant that, right? Couldn't have been thinking about that this whole time—

"I don't want to burden your royal highness with my stupid problems," Wade practically snarled, "so stay the fuck out of it."

He slammed the door and left.

And Logan was left alone.

Logan wanted to run after him, to grab him and tell him that he didn't mean it. He was pissed off and spewing whatever came to his mind in the moment to hurt Wade. (And he'd achieved that goal, hadn't he?) He felt betrayed and responded in the only way he knew—by lashing out. (But that wasn't an excuse, not really. Not to take everything Wade had trusted him with and twist it. To betray his trust in such a personal, visceral way.)

(Logan knew that Wade meant well. That he was just scrambling to save his world and thought of the only solution that would get Logan to help. That when he made an "educated wish" he'd still try to see it out, had still asked the TVA after everything. But he was so fucking angry and so fucking tired and just wanted any excuse to lay down and die.)

Did Logan really have the right to, though?

Wade had listened to him. Helped him. Even after what Logan had said and done, he'd still cared. (And wasn't that a sobering thought. That this whole time, Wade thought that was Logan's opinion of him. That he still cared about Logan despite having his voice ringing in his ears, tormenting him.)

(It made Logan angry to think that Wade was used to it. To setting aside how people treated him and not expecting anything in return for his kindness. To loving and giving without receiving. It made him want to murder the people who set the bar so low. It made him want to rip out his own tongue.)

(It made him realize, yet again, that Wade was a better man than he'd ever be.)

...And Logan had fucked up. Immensely.

Had given Wade hope that he could finally open up to someone who came from a similar background and understood his suffering. All to tear it away in one glorious, horrible, mistake.

Logan had no right to fix things. To ask for forgiveness. (From Wade. From anyone.)

But what was the alternative? Letting Wade think he hated him? Leaving?

Logan would rather die than go back to living completely isolated from the world. He couldn't go back to waking up every day and drowning his sorrows with alcohol. Letting memories flash behind his eyes as he replayed everything he fucked up and obsessed over what he could've done differently.

(Because, without Wade, he would still be there. At rock bottom. Without a place to belong or any reason to get up in the morning. A samurai without a master. A drifter without purpose. A stray without a home.)

The thought of leaving behind the only thing he cared about anymore made him panic. He felt nauseous, like he wanted to throw up yesterday's dinner and his own heart alongside it.

He knew it was selfish and pathetic, but he couldn't let go. Couldn't handle losing the only thing that made living worth it, after everything.

(Of course, when he finally found someone who was like him, who felt the same loneliness, who couldn't die, he had to go and fuck up. What is Logan good for if not ruining anything good in his life?)

Logan knew he was selfish. And pathetic. And stupid.

(He felt his mouth move around the words. Spit venom at Wade, who was completely, utterly silent. He heard them, vaguely, but they didn't register. He was running on pure rage and adrenaline.)

(Why did he take until now to notice?)

He knew that.

But he didn't think it was this bad. That he'd end up ruining the only good thing to come out of his miserable existence.

He thought, at least, that even if he'd fucked up everything else, he could be good with Wade. Could be good for Wade. It was the one thing he prided himself on.

And now look at him.

Instead of Wade, it's Logan who was God's best joke.

Fuck, he wanted a beer.

#deadclaws #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool movie #poolverine #kitkat #logan howlett #wade wilson #wade x logan #wade/logan #poolverine angst #LMAOOOO I HOPE YALL ENJOY #MAYBE ILL BE NICE AND MAKE A SEQUEL WHERE THEY TALK IT OUT #RIP POOLVERINE 2024 YOU WILL BE MISSED

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ink-n-shadow · 8 months ago

Text

don't mind me, just writing more pet play!141...😇

𝜗𝜚 pairing: pricegaz x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), pet play (are we surprised atp), owner!price, puppy!gaz and reader, brat taming?, bondage, punishment, oral (price!receiving), gaz being an angel

ik i talk a lot about pet play!ghoap x reader and how puppy!soap is a brat and reader is the angel, but what if i talked about pet play!pricegaz x reader, where puppy!gaz is an absolute angel and reader is a brat?

like puppy!kyle is the most obedient boy. he treats every word that owner!price says like it's the word of God itself, never giving any backtalk or second guessing his orders. price wants his cock down someone's throat for an hour? kyle is sitting pretty under his desk just waiting for him. his owner needs somewhere to tap off the ash of his cigars? kyle's more than willing to offer up the skin of his back.

you, on the other hand, are all snarling teeth and whines. following orders isn't easy for you, but that's okay—owner!price knows you just need a firm hand to make you all warm and fuzzy and pliable in his palms.

so it only makes sense that you’re often folded over in the king sized bed you three share, hands cuffed behind your back and resting on your lower back with your ass stuck up in the air. a pair of your underwear is stuffed between your slick lips, forced so deep that the lace tickles the back of your throat, and you’re whining pitifully at the fact that you’re unable to spit it out.

john is sitting off to the side of the bed in one of the plush leather recliners in your bedroom, legs spread to accommodate the way kyle is nestled prettily between his thighs. it's hard to make out all of the details in your tear-slicked vision, the only thing consistent being the bright orange glow of john's cigar each time he takes a puff. the only sounds you can hear over your own sniveling is the gargling of kyle throating his owner's cock and the jingling of the collar he wears (the one that matches the one currently tethered to your throat).

"what's wrong, pup?" john murmurs to you pitifully, head tilting and eyes softening in faux sympathy as he carelessly ashes off the end of his cigar somewhere over kyle’s knelt body. “y’want something? use yer words, then. loud and clear, pet.”

but you know that john knows you can’t, know that he knows he pushed your underwear deep enough in your maw that you can’t even form a syllable around the satin. it makes you whimper petulantly at his condescending words, the handcuffs jingling behind your back in an effort to squirm enough so that you can see kyle’s lips stretched around the thick head of john’s cock.

“no—stay in yer fuckin’ place,” john is quick to scold you into submission, the quirk in his brow more than enough to halt your movements and make you sink back into your folded position once more. “y’wanted to act like a brat, so ‘m treatin’ you like one.”

john’s scolding is interrupted by a ragged gag ripping through kyle’s throat when his owner’s cock slips to far, making him sputter up for a breath with drool and pre-cum slicking down his chin. the sight is enough to make john coo warmly, petting at kyle’s hair with a gentle touch.

“should’ve been a good pup like kyle is—yeah, good boy,” john’s words spill out into a rumbling moan as kyle sinks his mouth back down around his cock, taking him down until the head of his cock is brushing at the back of kyle’s throat. “good pets get rewarded, isn’t that right, pretty boy? tell ‘em what bein’ good’ll get ‘em.”

but with john’s heavy hand on the back of kyle’s neck, all kyle can offer you is a choked moan amidst the slick squelches of his throat being fucked.

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suempu · 4 months ago

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caleb blurbs because this text has me twirling my hair

-> minor spoilers for his interactions, jealousy (is it really a surprise atp lol), he's a bit petty, typical yandere caleb -> no pronouns used for the reader, not proofread (scratches head)

yeah you might think he’s some kind of mean hard dom 24/7 (and he’s definitely capable of that based on the situation) but first and foremost, all he wants is to good for you.

caleb’s always been a giver. he’s someone you’ve relied on ever since you were both young and he’d be damned if you ever stopped coming to him for help.

he wants to drink your tears, eat your skin, and live from each beat and pump of your heart. everything about you consumes him, you're his entire world— of course he'd do anything and everything for you.

from every miniscule muscle twitch of your face, he can read and dissect whatever you're feeling and thinking. he prides himself in knowing about your wants and needs.

so how would he feel when he finds you strolling around Linkon with what looks like if a bunny grew human legs. he feels a twitch in his eye.

or when he hears your heartfelt laughter in Meows Cafe with a suspicious looking man with platinum hair, who looks far too serious to be caught in such a cutesy place. his hand curls into a knuckle, eager to interrupt your outing where it not for the look of your face. and for the fact that he died.

it happens numerous times, different occasions of him spotting you in the most random locations. his squad member talking about a recent gallery of her favorite artist, caleb's about to tell her off about work until he catches the sight of your figure on the photo of her phone.

caleb's shaking his head with a frown. he's gone. he's been dead for a year... and he finds out you've been frolicking the fields with these men. holding hands with these people as if his fake body wasn't buried deep into the ground of the cemetery you visit each week.

post homecoming wings, he's crashing the party no matter the place and time. he keeps up the charming and boyish, childhood best friend act and tries to compete with the others. he does not give a fuck, he'll do what it takes to make you realize that he's much more capable than your replacements.

"oh, and who might this be?" his smile is so shiny and bright as if his chest isn't bubbling with anger. caleb traps you with a side hug, arms resting against your shoulder. "don't remember you introducing this face to me yet, sweets."

you'd have to drag him away after that, nagging when you get home that he couldn't just try and intimidate every person he sees you hang out with.

he's crossing his arms, watching you pace around your apartment with a sour look on your face. he only smiles condescendingly.

"come on, they aren't even all that. its not that big of a deal, pip. if he can't handle it then.... i guess he's just not good for you."

he's gonna downplay shit while wearing the most trustworthy smile ever and you're not stupid enough to believe half of the stuff he's saying, leading to squabbles.

but if caleb's being honest... he loves that you're fighting back. it reminds him of your childhood arguments and he's relishing in every moment he can spend with you.

he's too proud and sure that your rightful place is in his arms. he's not even worried that you're defying him. that's how big his head is, he's not even worried. (spoiler, he is very worried.)

"hey, come over to mine, i cooked your favorite ;)"

throughout the meal, he'll act like a mom chastising your boyfriends. always criticizing them, questioning their motives. you huff and puff, defending your... friends(?) with a determined look on your face.

caleb reaches a hand out and wipes the corner of your lip. "got a lil somethin' there, sweets." he murmurs before licking his finger off, maintaining eye contact. "they take care of you right?" he half chuckles— half scoffs. "bet they don't even know how you like your food prepared." "caleb..."

but no matter, he'll let you spread your wings, run around with these boys to god knows where. he'll cement his place in your life, being with you ever since you've been kids, and the heavens will have to drag his bones to get him away from you.

you'll understand soon enough that in the end— its always and only going to be him.

#love and deepspace x reader #caleb x reader #lnds caleb #lads caleb

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blackbirdsblackberries · 4 months ago

Note

I've been rereading I Hate The New Hero over and over. I love it so much! But while I was reading chapter three again and an idea hit me.

What if, on his way over to the toy chest, Tim's foot caught on a floor board?

He's able to immediately recognize that this floor board looks as if it's been pulled up multiple times due to some wearing down along the edges. He thinks he's just found some super secret area where you keep something you don't want anyone to find. So he lifts the board.

And immediately sets the board back in place again, gently because he's having a dissociative panic attack. Tim goes to leave, gets confronted by reader's father, and gets shocked out of his episode when he calls you a slut.

Tim is grabbing this man's hand and twisting the guy into a police hold and pressing, pressing, pressing til the guy is on his knees, then with his forehead to the floor. The reason he doesn't just slam the man down is because it could wake you up. With as little noise as possible, the father is on the floor with both arms behind his back practically licking the dirty boards beneath them.

And Tim whispers -no hisses!- into the quiet of this tiny apartment.

"If I ever see, or hear, about you calling her that ever again, Gotham will keep finding your body. I'll even start with those rotten fingers you use to communicate. Do you understand me?"

The man was chocking on shock.

Tim wanted a fucking answer.

"I said, Do. You. Under. Stand. Me." Tim punctuated the sentence with violent shaking of this man.

Reader's father nods frantically.

Tim let's him go. Takes a step back. His chest is heaving in rage. How dare this low life talk about you like this?

(How hypocritical of him, Tim vaguely criticizes himself. After all, he would have probably joined in on mocking you, or just walked out the door, if he hadn't seen what was under the loose floor board.)

Tim is still seething.

"I understand why your throat was cut. You must have made enough enemies yapping lies as if they were true. It makes me sick to leave you with even one of your digits. Let alone, all of them. But [Name] would get stressed or cry if I hurt her family. So, until I can convince her to leave this hell hole, you will not sign or glare at her. Even once. And don't tell her about this. At all. I still need to get a room ready, and I can't have you spoil her surprise."

Tim knows he has JJ's smile right now. His manic eyes boring into the man. Who was trying to prop himself up or curl into a ball; Tim couldn't tell which. All that really mattered was the man was looking at him. Tim's body was jittering from holding back laughter.

Aranea's suit was the most damning thing he could probably find. Tim had to mull over whether to believe you were the hero he viewed as a sister, or if you were someone else entirely.

Of course, Tim hates the thought he treated his sister so awfully. But! There's the chance you're not her! Maybe you're her friend?

Oh! You have a scholarship for engineering. You make Aranea's tech.

Well, if that's the case, he can see about getting you away from here so you're able to make better gear. Which explains Aranea backing out of patrol tonight! If [Name] isn't there to be her person in the chair, Aranea probably didn't feel comfortable going out.

You're probably Aranea's friend on top of that. She may even think of you as a sister! After all, she probably trusts you with her identity so you could make the custom suit. And all her tech.

Which also means that all your supposed hate was just a way to disguise the fact that you know her.

Of course.

No one could actually hate the spider hero, she's too sweet.

So you're behavior was you trying to protect her.

Tim is manic with joy at being one step closer to getting to know his sister. If that means becoming friends with you, it won't be hard.

He forgets to tell Bruce.

Tim greets the reader warmly the next day, saying about how she's not so bad once he ignored her being mean about Aranea. He then makes a comment calling the reader a Tsudere.

Bruce still threatens the reader and Tim freaks out about her skipping school to help Aranea with a day patrol. He then finds out what Bruce and Damian did and spams them to apologize.

Holy shit, Aranea is probably pissed at the Wayne's now! First with Tim being hostile, then Bruce and Damian. They were picking on her tech engineer and Aranea had to go release steam from being so angry.

Him just furiously texting, explaining that he found out reader was the creator behind Aranea's tech and the hater behavior was to protect her identity.

But he's only texting them, not the group chat. So no one else knows. Jason goes to give the letter letting go her mother and Dick still pours ice water on her. Which Tim, Bruce, and Damian find out through the chat. And promptly lose it.

(Excuse me, I'm very out of it right now but still wanted to send this to you. Have a lovely day!)

I love this!! It's been in my inbox for a while and I keep reading over it and forgetting to respond 💔

When Y/N wakes up she'll be in for a shock, her dad is avoiding her??? The stuff in her floorboard is slightly skewed??? Oh... Lucky her.

Tim greets her warmly and acts oblivious? She's holding back her punch right now, the nerve he has.

Then, she slowly realizes, Tim isn't treating her like he does Aranea, something's different. Surely he can't be that dense, right?

I think eventually Y/N confronts him on it, asking him what he thinks the connection between her and Aranea is. When he answers Y/N's shoulders literally drop.

Tech.. Engineer..? That could work, she guesses. But, she doubts the theory will last for long - she can't be in two places at once.

#dc #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #yandere #yandere dc #dc robin #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #blackbirds feathers

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awriternamedart · 6 months ago

Text

"How do you do it, gambler?"

Aventurine glanced up from the drink in his hand, an identical one clutched tightly in Dr. Ratio's.

"Do what?"

"Maintain a relationship."

Aventurine blinked, before his head shot up again to look at the doctor. Veritas didn't even spare him a glance, eyes glued to the scene in front of them— a grand IPC ball, held for investors and connections to be made. It was always a busy and grand event, one the Intellegensia Guild had to attend to maintain the IPC's investment.

It really wasn't Dr. Ratio's scene, but he had been chosen as their representative anyway.

"I'm not particularly adept at that, my dear doctor." Aventurine chuckled, watching the alcohol swirl in his glass.

"You are far more able then I am. Even upon falsities and fake promises, you managed to chat and converse with people in a sort of ease," Ratio slowly tore his eyes away from the crowd, glancing back to Aventurine before his eyes dropped to the floor in front of him. "..Its admirable."

Aventurine could just barely process what Dr. Ratio was exactly saying— direct praise?? From the good doctor himself???— before Veritas set down his now-empty drink on a bypassing waiters tray.

"Do you ever feel.. second-rate?"

Aventurine paused, taking another languid drink as he contemplated. It wasn't often the dear doctor opened up— he should tread carefully.

"I can't say for sure. Why?" He kept his tone even, trying not to distract from Veritas' thoughts. It was hard enough to get to know him in the first place, to squander his trust like this would be a waste.

The Doctor took a deep breath, practically hiding himself in the shadows of one of the many grand pillars decorating the room.

"I am not adept at conversation."

Aventurine could agree with that. Something about the doctor made it difficult to respond in kind— he was dry, a vague bit brutish, and if Aventurine dared, a little bullheaded. He seemed so sure of himself, founded confidence that was backed up by his many achievements. It was a little intimidating for the average person, he supposed. But as he looked on, that sort of Dr. Ratio seemed to fade ever so slightly, leaving behind someone who was still sure in his knowledge and discoveries— but struggled nonetheless.

"I find people.. grating, sometimes. But connection is one of the few necessities of livelihood, and so I try to converse with my peers as often as possible. It is.. difficult. It often feels as if they have no interest in what I am saying, neither asking questions nor inquiring further, and when I try to do so to show interest in their research, they often retreat back, saying it is not finished or the such. Offering to help only ever seems to drive them further away." Taking out the laurel clip in his hair, Veritas' thumb drifted over the gilded leaves, the polish in the finish reflecting his face back at him. "Despite my best efforts, I rarely ever follow up because I fear I intimidate them. I have seen them recoil at the mere sight of me."

Aventurine could just watch on in surprise— Veritas had never shown an inkling of this before. When he had first gotten to know the doctor, he had assumed Veritas simply didn't work with his peers due to a difference in dedication, or perhaps view. He was among the brightest and best in the Intellegensia Guild, always praised behind his back for being one of their stars.

Perhaps that wasn't the front Veritas had put up at all. Perhaps it was what Veritas was forced to wear in the face of his peers, forced to be seen as the cold unobtainable, the pinnacle of what they should be.

Being on a pedestal like that, it must be lonely.

"Do you not go drinking with your coworkers or something?" Aventurine leaned against the wall, cold of the stone seeping through his suit. Veritas glanced up at him, before looking back down.

"..I was never invited. It is against social convention to come along if you aren't invited, isn't it? I'd rather not strain and worry them more. It could impact them negatively if I were to come along and invite stress to what is supposed to be a time they unwind." He turned the laurel over in his hand. "..perhaps I missed my opportunity."

The light of the pedestal Dr. Ratio sat on seemed to blind all those who looked at it from underneath. They couldn't see his face, only his back— but as Aventurine leaned against the wall, gazing at the doctor in front of him, he got that different perspective.

There was.. resignation, in his eyes.

"Perhaps I am just doomed to be a looming figure above many. And yet, I'll still never be enough." His voice tapered off slightly, head dropping even just that hint bit more. "I am fully aware how much others are compared to me, and I hear them speak of my achievements behind my back. I wish they would stop, if I am being honest. Or at least tell me of my praise directly."

That surprised Aventurine.

"What, do people not give you a compliment or two? For someone so easy on the eyes and as esteemed as you, doctor, I find that hard to believe!" He chuckled— but it quickly faded out as Veritas looked to the side.

"Not often do I get comments directly on my achievements, no. Nor on my appearance, before you came along." He sighed. "You are.. the only person who does so."

The only one who's tried.

The Only One Whos Tried - awriternamedart

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secretkinkz · 7 months ago

Text

He tried so hard to let you be in control for once. He has to admit, you were sexy. Your small frame attempting to show dominance. He let you cuff him to the bed, leaving his robe wide open for you.

Sylus couldn't help but chuckle lowly, seeing you come from the bathroom wearing a costume. "So you're a wolf, and I'm…" He chuckled, looking down. "I'm a bunny. Hm, such a small wolf, I'm thrilled to see how you plan to feast on me."

His eyes roamed your body. The thong and tail you wore, really drove him mad. He licked his lips as if you were the prey. His breathing became unsteady as Y/n crawled onto the bed, her breast on full display as she placed the head decor on him. "Don't laugh, Sylus. That's not fair, I don't feel in control." You pouted, crossing your arms as you stood up.

"I'm sorry, dear. I'm just a brat. You know, like you. You're in my shoes now."

She dragged the whip towards him, slightly slapping his erect penis.

Keeping eye contact with him the entire time as she teased the tip with a feather.

"Lower your eyes," Y/n whispered.

Sylus kept his gaze firm. To his surprise, she slapped his thigh, and his gaze was immediately redirected to the red mark on his pale thigh.

He was impressed that she could hurt him.

Sylus's skin tightened feeling your hands barely wrap around his large length. A low guttural moan escaped his throat as he rested his head on the headboard. Y/n stroked him fast, he knew what was coming. Just before he could cum, she stopped. Even though Sylus predicted it, he was still annoyed.

"Stay.." She said shakily, noticing his gaze grow harsher.

Sylus watched as Y/n sat on the chair seated in front of the bed, her fingers rubbing her clitoris slowly. This is what did it for him. He leaned forward, getting a better look. Her soft moans were a melody for him, the sound of her wet pussy swallowing her fingers… It was enough to make him cum. "Sylus." She moaned, completely oblivious to the fact that Sylus had turned the cuffs into dust. Her eyes flew open feeling his tongue on her folds. "Sylus!" She moaned, in confusion. "You've done enough torturing, it's my turn little wolf."

He lifted her, tossing her onto the bed and towering her.

"That isn't fair, Sylus!"

"I'll make it up to you."

His tongue dragged from her lips, breast, stomach, pussy and finally at the thighs. He nibbled on the piece of meat, moving closer but not close enough to her throbbing cunt.

"Such soft purrs you release.." He whispers, flicking his tongue over the lips.

"S-Sylus." She moaned.

He moved his tongue past her lips, using his fingers to spread her wider.

"What do you want, princess?" He asks, slipping his long and slender fingers inside of her hole. "Y-You Sy-Sylus."

"What about me do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me, with your…"

"My what, dear. Do not be shy. You aren't afraid to cream all over it, so say it."

He lifts her hips, nearly burying his entire face in her pussy as he speeds up.

"O-Oh fuck, Sylus. D-don't. I don't want to cum yet, I want your dick. Put it in."

Her toes curled, fighting the urge to release.

"Mhm, good girl kitten." He chuckled, releasing her.

Sylus's phone began ringing, he stood up and grabbed it, making his way back toward the starving sheep in wolf clothing.

"Mister Sylus.."

She watched as Sylus pushed the tip inside, a smirk plastered on his face as he spoke on the phone.

"Don't." She begged, feeling him push the tip in and out repeatedly.

Sylus chuckled

"Boss?"

Sylus hummed. "Go on, I'm listening."

He withdrew, waiting for her to show a sign of relief before slamming into her.

She moaned loudly, before shooting a hand over her mouth.

"Are you okay boss? Are you perhaps interrogating someone?"

Sylus laughed hard, speeding up.

"Of course, I am. Do you wish to hear? They're taking it well, barely making a sound."

Your eyes rolled back as you bit your lip. "I'll leave you be boss."

Sylus hung up and tossed the phone aside, leaning down and kissing her. "Should I-" He tugs at the vibrator in her ass. "Take this out?"

"Yes, please! Please."

He enjoyed hearing the soft moans escaping whenever he tugged at it.

"You'll just have to earn it, kitten."

She whined, reaching between her legs. Sylus grabbed both hands and tied them to the railing.

"Sylus, I'll do whatever you. Please take it out."

"You'll do whatever either way dear."

He grabbed the whip she'd used on him earlier. "Endure and I'll take it out."

He strikes her breast until both are warm and sensitive, her moans and cries making it hard for him to continue holding back.

Sylus removed the plug and placed her leg on his shoulder, drawing his hips back and snapping them forward.

"Sylus! W-Wait!" She cried out, gritting her teeth from his brutal thrusts.

"Ah, good. You're even better in this position, I can see all there is down here." He hiked her leg back further, getting deeper inside.

Her pussy clamped down on his cock, signaling that she was near. Sylus pressed on her stomach. "I'm right here, Y/n. You feel it." He gripped her face, biting her lip and grinding his cock deeper before continuing his rough thrusts.

"When you cry, it only makes me want to go harder."

Y/n's eyes rolled back as her body convulsed. "N-Not inside." Her eyes fluttered open as he pulled out, releasing all over her stomach and breast.

Sylus bent over, taking her lips. "I'll be the bunny next time, kitten."

~~~~~~ A/N: I'll be prey. Always. Anyways, y'all can't even tell I hate using the dick word. P.S> If you see the word STYLUS. Just ignore it.

#sylus x reader #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x you #sylus smut

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minus-plus-zer0 · 9 months ago

Text

Working at Bakugou's Agency Headcanons - Part 1

| Part 2 | ♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Tags: None (Originally this was a one-off, but I found a good stopping point part-way through so I'm ending it here and posting the rest later)

You're his secretary. He's your boss at his self-established Pro Hero Agency. But you're right around the same age.

It's a little strange, really. You knew what you were getting into when you applied during the hiring process but it's still shocking to see someone your own age so much more accomplished in you. Makes you wonder what you're doing with your life when someone else is already so far ahead.

However, Bakugou (or Dynamight) sees potential in you and takes you as his personal secretary. Everyone else was fired because he wasn't too fond of any of them, so there was an opening. Despite him taking you on, you're really nervous about your job prospects given the graveyard of secretaries he's built up. But the pay is too good and you need the money.

Everyday at work, he's expecting your best. He's constantly barking out orders to any and all of his workers, and you wonder if this violates some "harassment of employees" policy that you're sure nobody really cares about at this point. At least he's not barking at you in particular. He's even slowed down to explain some things to you, which you really appreciated.

But your co-workers often talk about him when he's not around. They grumble about his aggressive attitude and protest against his constant criticisms. But they're here for the same reason as you (the pay rate), and on the bright side at least they know that Dynamight isn't corrupt or evil boss. Just a handful.

Your best efforts eventually become known at your organization and Bakugou gives you some rare praise. No gruffness, no insults, just genuinely saying "This is really well-done."

You almost couldn't believe it when you heard it. You laughed when he said it and then immediately regretted laughing when his eyes shot to yours.

"Sorry, I've just never heard you compliment an employee's work!"

He looked offended and he was about to say something but then he held back.

"Guess I shouldn't forget to do that."

Was he actually taking your criticism to heart? Who knows.

But Dynamight truly is one of the more perplexing bosses you've likely had to work for. You don't really have drinking parties outside of work with your boss or your colleagues, unlike other Japanese companies and organizations. Some other typical company traditions are eschewed, which you may or may not appreciate. Dynamight isn't really the type of person who would like any of those things. He's too straight-edge, too much of a workaholic. He doesn't see the point. But this makes it hard for anyone to get close to him.

Still, there is one day where you invite him out after work for coffee or tea, whichever you prefer. There's no ulterior motives, no wish for a pay raise, you're just honestly interested in his life.

The worse he can do is say no. Actually, he can do much worse than that, but you try it out anyways. To your surprise, he agrees immediately! It's a little funny how quick he was.

He's got the best taste in dineries, since he has high standards and all. He takes you to a really fancy restaurant and you're gobsmacked at the prices. You don't have that kind of money, but he brushes off your concerns. He's got money to burn.

You learn more about him. He's still pretty informal as ever, despite the suit and tie he's wearing per the restaurant's formal dress expectations. He doesn't really mince words with you or talk politely, inside or outside of work. But he's quite expressive and more willing to share about himself than you would've ever believed.

He's telling you about his high school years and how it led up to this point. You're familiar with the story since you've seen him at the Sports Festival and you just kept hearing about him and the other U.A. students from there. He states your Quirk is good enough to be a Pro and outright tells you he'd personally train you if you wanted.

You've got your hands full with your current life as is so you can't take the offer, but you're pleased he even suggested it!

"Maybe if I train, I'll even surpass you someday!"

"Don't get cocky!"

It's really easy to joke around with him and get into a nice flowing casual conversation. You've never seen him act like this. Even with other Pro Heroes it usually took a lot of time for their friendship to remotely get to that point.

In fact, you point that out to him, as well as his aloof reputation with the public. Normally you shouldn't tell your boss those kinds of things, but Bakugou isn't your normal boss.

Bakugou sneers at your playful observation and says if he doesn't need to open up then he doesn't do it at all. He says you're looking too much into things.

But he's smiling at the end, and he bites back at you with his own observation, saying that you've got a lot of time on your hands if you're keeping a close eye on him.

You say he's got some food stuck in his teeth and successfully distract him from the subject.

Okay, maybe you DO like him. Maybe you do fancy one of the highest ranking Pro Heroes in the country who acts just like a good friend with you when he's not in the office. It's not your fault. He's just so kind to you.

But he's your boss, and you know he's dedicated to his work above all else...

Still, you find him the next day at work greeting you first thing in the morning, remarking about your evening together. He's recalling it with a rare soft smile on his face.

You're glad it's a happy memory for him.

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frostedclock-writes · 4 months ago

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Crimson Magnolias

Part 4

----

Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings: Rated R and Mature themes, one sided romance, Hanahaki disease, Ace Alastor,

----

Part 3 here

How do you find yourself in situations like this?

Maybe you shouldn't panic agree to things. Why is your first trigger response being to agree to stuff? You tap your foot lightly on the floorboard of the limo. It was large inside, black velvet seats with blue threads, dark leather around the doors and then even a black privacy screen between you both and the driver. You sat across from Vox, who was dressed in a sleek cyan and deep blue suit, his vest held red accents on it. You drummed your fingers on the glass of whiskey he had handed you. Not that you were nervous to be in the limo with Vox, just your thoughts drifted to the dinner plans with Alastor. He didn't appreciate tardiness and you had rushed out so suddenly earlier.

" You look like you are doing well. Still wearing the same old style I see. " Vox swirled a clear liquor around in a martini glass, but you didn't know if it was actually gin.

" Well, it's something I'm used to. And I am doing well enough, " You make small shrug. " Though, I am not doing as well as you have been. How long has it been? Fifteen... Twenty years?"

" Twenty nine years but who is keeping track. " Vox gave a laugh, and then he set his glass down on the small table built into the armrest of the limo. " So, do you still work at that little club? What was it called.... "

" Ragtime... " Then you sigh and put a laugh on your lips. " But don't act like you don't know where I work now. Your little snake isn't very subtle. "

" That or your really observant. " He put a hand on his knee and leaned forward.

You set your glass down on the armrest table next to you. " Vox, if you just picked me up to see what Alastor is up to. You can just let me out here. I can find my way back. "

" Ahahah! " Vox bursted out with a laugh and slapped his knee. He wagged his cyan colored finger at you. " See? Always looking. Always watching, I always liked that about you. "

You cracked a small smile and hid it behind your glass as you picked it up and finally took a drink. " Well I don't know, and if that's all you were looking for. I'm quite a disappointment."

Vox waved his hand, he leaned back against the plush upholstery. " I guessed as much. " He drummed his fingers a little. " And I know better than to ask you of all people to spy on him for me. " He looked out the window for a moment, his screen reflected the sides of the street as it slowly passed. He had a slight smile. Not the usual shape grin. He looked back and put his hand out with his palms up , " Can't an old friend check in ?"

"After this long? " You chuckled. " If you really wanted to see me, you could have at any time. "

Vox made a scoff of a laugh that gave you pause. " Up until seven years ago, you were hard to get to. Without..." His cyan claw-like fingertips tapped on his glass as he picked it up. " Hmm well let's say if someone weren't on Alastor's good side, then good luck getting anywhere near you. "

You make a small laugh and roll your eyes. Finding it a bithard to believe. " You could have stopped by my house at any time. "

" Mmhmm. " Vox took a drink. " Well doesn't matter. Seems like Alastor is distracted with that, " He wiggled the fingers of his free hand. " Silly project of his."

" He says he was bored..." You glance at the time on the large clocktower as the limo crawled past it. Sixty minutes. Looks like you aren't getting shopping done. You didn't want to be late to the dinner though.

" That's not a surprise. "

You looked back to Vox, an eyebrow cocked. "Hmm?"

Vox made a shrug and then a smirk twitched alive on his screen. "Nothing. " He took another drink, he set his cup down, " Y/N, would you like to see Vee Tower? I think you would like it. It isn't anything like that filthy hotel Alastor tricked you into working at."

" He didn't trick me." You say but the sentence seemed like it was ignored. " And I would but I have plans tonight. Dinner plans with Alastor, and he wouldn't like it if I stood him up. " You make a laugh

His blue lined eye twitched a little. He seemed to force his laughter. " Right haha should have known. Alastor hasn't been back for long and you would prefer to torture yourself with his company. "

You snort a laugh and smile. " I have a feeling he would feel similar about me spending time with you. "

Vox made a light chuckle and shook his head a little. His broken antenna bounced a little. " Probably. " He shifted as the car pulled to a stop in front of the slightly gaudy tower with his brand plastered all over it with a mingle from the other Vee's. Sex and Fashion.

"Vox?" You glance out the window and then back to him.

" I was hoping to show you what I've accomplished since the last time you have seen me. I'm sure it's a step above that ratty hotel. "

You make a small sigh. " Vox, I have plans soon. I don't know if-"

He put his hand up and it gave you pause. " It will be quick. I won't show you all the floors." He gave one of those slightly cocked smiles. You look at the time. Fourty five minutes. " Come on. And I'll even drop you off back at that hotel. "

" I need to be back by five. "

Vox's smile grew wider. " Twenty minutes. In and out. "

The door was opened by what you assume was an assistant from what the fish-like young man with a earpiece and a clipboard with paper in tucked under his arm. Vox stepped out first and offered out his hand towards you as you scooted closer to the limo door. You looked at his hand then slowly put your own in his, he gently pulled you as he helped you out of the vehicle. You look up at the massive tower as you approached the steps.

Flashes of cameras took pictures of you and made you feel a bit dizzy even as Vox lead you inside and away from the commotion. Vox hadn't even spared them a glance, you assume he was used to such attention nowadays. The doors slid open and the smell of disinfectant and a faint scent that reminded you of electrical burn filled your nose.

" They are chomping at the bit, hoping to hear more about my 'Angelic Security ' that I announced. " Vox made a laugh. " This extermination business has the press crawling all over the place."

" Oh, right. I suspect your always in the spotlight now. Must get tiresome. "

" Ahaha you have no idea. "

You make a hum as he escorted you into an elevator. You pause at the door. You glance at it, it seemed newer and maybe safer - questionable- but you were still apprehensive. Vox looked at you with a cocked eyebrow for a moment but when you took a breath and stepped inside, he stood next to you. His arm was over the top of your back and a hand rested on your shoulder. The door slid closed with no noise and you only realized you had started moving when the LED display above the door began to change numbers. You clear your throat, the itch to it always present, like you always needed something to drink.

You relaxed and cursed at yourself for even being nervous. It was the Vees base of operations. It wouldn't have an elevator that could collapse at any moment. State of the art. That was usually the motto of the ads. The numbers clicked to well past twenty before it settled. The floor right below the penthouse. You werw curious as you stepped out of the elevator into what looked like it could be part of a office building but the sharpness of the decor and- is that a fucking aquarium wall?

Sharks.

"Vox."

Vox looked down at you and he had a smile on his screen. Shit eating, one might discribe it. " Y/N. "

" Did you really build an aquarium? For sharks. "

" Yes."

" What are you? Some Bond villain?" You cracked a smile as you looked at him with an accusitory look.

His screen tinted a slightly different shade of blue as he laughed. " Well I always did appreciate those men with class." He tugged his bowtie a little, tightening it.

"Well it suits you very well. "

You approached the glass and the sharks swirled around in the massive tank. A hammerhead slowly swam near the glass and looked at you with glowing red eyes. You make a small laugh, of course he upgraded them. You place your hand on the cold glass, in the reflection barely visible of Vox approaching behind you.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. " Beautiful aren't they? " Vox asked. " Always moving forward..."

" I suppose you can relate. " You chuckle and turn.

He shrugged a shoulder.

" Progress stops for no man. " Vox smiled a bit wider, it was kind of cheeky. " Would you like to feed them?"

You make a laugh. " What you got a sinner cut up in little bits just waiting in a bucket?"

Vox offered his hand out, the other tucked behind his back. " Come on, you know you want to."

You snort and take his hand. " You are still such a sap. "

Vox lead you to what you had assumed was a supply closet door but he opened it up andit lead into a large hallway with a ladder going up to the top of the tank. He lead you up to the top of the platform,it was made of steel and was quite study. There was in fact a metal bucket with pieces of meat and what might be fish of some sort inside. Must be expensive to import fish from the Envy ring, though, he probably has more money then most sinners. Perhaps Carmines were the only other rich sinners that could afford such a luxury. Vox plucked a fish from the bucket and tossed it into the water, it only took a moment for two sharks to start circling near the surface. You felt a bit nervous.

You took a few steps and then picked up a piece of what you were going to tell yourself was pork and tossed it towards the water, sharp teeth snatched it up and was beneath the surface again. Vox made a slight chuckle.

" You can come closer. Your with me, they are going to mistake you for a snack. " Vox laughed.

You moved to the edge and looked over. The expectant sharks loomed for another nibble. You made a nervous laugh and looked back to Vox. He stared into the water for a while " It's nice..."

He looked to you, tilting his screen just a little. " What is?"

" Seeing you do so well. " You smile as you shake your head. " That's all. "

" Well, I've worked hard for it. "

" I can tell. " You make a gentle sigh. " Sometimes I feel like I'm... Rooted I suppose. I just never had it in me to be cutthroat and down here , it seems like that's the way you make it anywhere. " You give a sharp look to Vox as you heard a bit of laughter.

" You have it in you. " His grin grew and he put his hand on your forearm. He chuckled again, " I once recall you-"

" Shh aph-pa-pa shush. That... That was different." Your face felt like it was heating up.

" You just need to stop holding yourself back. "

Your throat tickled a little. " I have trouble with that..."

" That's because you spend to much time with Alastor. He is allergic to progress it seems. " He hummed and then he pulled his phone out. The time flashed across the front.

Shit.

" Looks like I've kept you a tad longer then I had anticipated. Let's get you back. " Vox put his phone back in his coat pocket.

" Right. You can make it back to the hotel in ten minutes right?" You ask with a bit of a nervous laugh on your words.

" It shouldn't be trouble. "

You followed Vox back down the ladder. The walk back to the elevator went quickly and you tapped your foot a bit impatient as you began to travel down the dozens of floors down to the main lobby. Vox glanced at you out of the corner of his screen, you could feel his gaze. The doors slid open and he extended his arm as you stepped out to keep the door from closing and he slipped out behind you.

" I could give you a better tour when you have more time if you wish. Perhaps Velvette will be in a decent mood and I can introduce you to her. "

" Well as long as you don't leave me alone in a room with that Valentino, I haven't personally met him but I've heard enough to know I would rather not. "

Vox laughed and he put his arm on your shoulder as he escorted you though the crowd of journalists. " He isn't that bad... When he isn't fucking whining or in a pissy mood, which is a rare occurrence lately. Staffing issues one might say." He said it like it was an inside joke.

He opened the car door for you, and you slipped inside the limo and settled into the plush seats. Vox climbed inside next to you, and settled this time into the seat beside yours rather than across. The small table was the only thing that separated the two of you. You felt the limo start to move as soon as the door was closed behind Vox, leaving behind the assistant to deal with the slew of questions shot out like bullets towards Vox as he had gotten in.

The ride was thankfully quick, you wondered for a moment if Vox had control over the traffic lights as well as the surveillance on the streets. As the limo pulled in front of the gate of the Hotel grounds, you moved to leave the car. Vox opened the door for you and let you slip out of the limo without much difficulty, the window rolled down as the door closed.

You pause and look at Vox as he looked out of the window of the limo. " We should meet up again, catch up a little more. When you have a bit more time on your hands, of course. Just you and I and maybe some dinner?" He chuckled. " How about this weekend? Six o'clock. I'll pick you up. "

Was... Was he asking you out?

" Well uh... Maybe? " You weren't exactly sure if it was a good idea.

Vox extended a hand out of the vehicle and in his cyan fingertips was a business card. Shiny thick stock. You took it carefully, it simply had his name and a phone number on it. You look at it then back to him it's a raised eyebrow.

" Well, if you want to, just give me a call. That's my personal number so you won't get my assistant, so if I'm busy just leave me a message. "

You look at the enameled red numbers on the card. " Oh, alright. Thank you, Vox." You tuck the card in your peacoat pocket.

" Let me know. I hope to hear from you soon. "

You nod, and Vox rolled the window up. The limo slowly drove away , you watched for a moment before you turned to start ealking down the cobblestone path up to the Hotel entrance. You pause, frozen almost in your tracks. Alastor stood near the entrance of the hotel, his hands clasping the top of his microphone, his ever present smile greeted you. You slowly walked over, your stomach was doing flips. You felt guilty.

" Alastor.... "

" Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder where you had slipped off too, and if you would make it back for our dinner plans. Though, I didn't expect the... Company, you were keeping. " His eyebrow twitched and his smile looked more strained. Forced. He tapped the end of his microphone cane on the ground then spun on his heels." No matter! Best not let him ruin a good evening between friends. " Alastor offered his arm, you link your arm with his. His hand patted the top of yours.

" Right... " You whispered under your breath.

You felt like you might vomit.

Taglist: @boldlyenchantingfox22 @sirens-and-moonflowers @kerosene--lamp @girl-nahh-two @phoephan-123 @l3rittany

#hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hanahaki disease #crimson magnolias #hazbin hotel vox

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doveentrails · 1 month ago

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Happy Anniversary🖤 (NSFW)

You celebrate your one year anniversary with Art and learn something new about him in the process... Word count: 5200 (afab! reader) This is basically just me going on about how much I love the idea of Art being submissive, so if you're into that, enjoy!

“Do you want me so bad?” You ask, pouting like you feel sorry for him. Art nods.

“Good.” You stand up and step away from him. “Then get on your knees.”

It's your one year anniversary with Art, and it's been quite a year to say the least. In the early days you weren't sure you'd survive it, not trusting that your fallible human form would be enough for someone like him. But Art proved his devotion to you over and over, surprising you - and himself - each time he let slip just how much he adores you.

You trust Art. You'd let him do just about anything. He listens now when something is too much for you. He knows what you need and exactly how to give it to you. You've come to adore him too.

Tonight you've convinced him to stay in with you. An anniversary isn't that big of a deal to him, but you've explained what it means to you, so he obliged. You cooked dinner, Art doesn't really need to eat, but he humors you, and he does like your cooking. You also bought a fancy bottle of wine, pouring it into your nicest glasses. You've lit candles, set the mood, and under your comfortable pajamas you're wearing his favorite set of lingerie.

You've treated Art sweetly all day. You even got him flowers, explaining that it's something people do for each other on special occasions. He seemed to appreciate the gesture. You know though, that underneath his sweetness there's so much more sinister. Now you find yourself wondering what will be on the table tonight, knowing it could quite literally be you.

How will he have you? As always, probably however he likes, and he'll keep you guessing. Art always has a surprise for you, a new way to bring you pleasure, though not without some pain as well. He holds you under his control so easily, and you love it.

You wonder, though, if there's a part of him that ever wants to relinquish control. You've seen flashes of it in him before. Like when he sits so still and watches so intently while you strip for him, letting you decide what he gets to see. Or by the way he responds so enthusiastically to praise, especially when he's going down on you. You can tell he wants to be told how good a job he's doing, that he's working hard for your approval. You wonder if it's really a need, not a want.

These thoughts are in your head as you gaze at him over your glass of wine, and within you builds your resolve to get the answer as you take another drink. Whatever it is, you're not going to play nice about it. You're going to tease him, and make him admit it to you the hard way.

Satisfied with this little game you've created in your head, you snuggle up closer to Art on the couch, tucking your feet under his leg and leaning into his shoulder.

"Drink your wine, babe," you encourage him, "I got it special for us."

You look at him with a pout and he rolls his eyes at you, making a big show of lifting his glass to swirl and smell the expensive red wine. Then he pretends to hold his nose as he leans back and takes a sip, playfully grimacing at you once he swallows it.

"You're such a brat," You hit him on the arm, laughing. "I know you like this one. Drink it for meee?" You drag out the end of your sentence and pout your bottom lip at him.

Art waves his hand as though to say, oh alright, and takes another sip from his glass. He smiles at you, and you lean up to kiss his cheek. Your game is already beginning.

You sit on the couch together and watch a horror movie. Art laughs at them, and he also suspects (correctly) that they get you in the mood. The two of you work steadily through the bottle of wine. You're careful to pour more into his glass than yours. If your little experiment is going to work, you want Art nice and pliable, warm and relaxed. Alcohol doesn't affect him as much as it would a normal person, but you've noticed how he gets when you have wine nights - languid movements, more affectionate, sleepy kisses. This is going to be easy.

You feel slightly diabolical and can hardly contain your excitement at your plan. The movie continues and you stretch out on the couch, putting your feet in Art's lap. You wiggle them around, being a little obnoxious about it, until he starts to rub them for you.

"Thank you, baby," you say, and then, "Mmmmm, you're so good at that." You're worried you sound a little too theatrical, but Art just looks up at you and smiles, waggling his eyebrows. He focuses intently on rubbing your feet for you, not even looking up to watch the beheading onscreen.

It seems as though he's already all yours. You grow warm with the thoughts of what you could do with him. Could you make him shy? Embarrassed? You'd sure as hell try. You smirk and raise your glass to your lips.

Once he's rubbed your feet to your satisfaction, you cuddle up to him again. Art puts his arm around you and tucks you close to him. He feels warmer than usual, and you lean over to pour more wine into his glass. You think he might give you a side eye at this, and you wonder if he knows what you're up to, trying to get him tipsy. A thrill runs through you at the thought of toying with him the way he toys with you.

You can barely focus on the movie as Art continues to sip his wine next to you. You sink into the warmth of his body. His breath is low and even. Unable to stop yourself, you lean up to kiss his neck. You place slow, deliberate kisses from his collar to his jawline. Art leans in to let you closer, and you nip at his neck with your teeth, letting out a sigh. He looks down at you, a little caught off guard, but clearly into it.

"Sorry," you giggle, pulling away. You lean your forehead against him. "I'm a little distracted."

In response to you comment, Art pulls you into his lap, facing him. You shimmy your hips and get comfortable, heat rising to your face. Art doesn't do anything right away, just rests his hands on your thighs and looks up at you serenely. You know he loves to hold you in his lap like this.

Arching your back seductively as you lean, you grab Art's wine glass and hold it to his lips. He lets you pour the last of the glass down his throat. Then he meets your gaze with an invitation of his own, and you lean down, fitting your mouths together.

Normally he doesn't kiss you this gently. You're impressed by how nice he's playing for you - impressed and extremely turned on. You exchange tender kisses, holding his face in your hands. You arch your back, and swivel your hips, moving in all the ways he likes, but Art doesn't move his hands from where they rest, semi-innocently, on your thighs.

You cover his hands with yours and kiss him like this for several delicious moments. Then you pull away and look in his eyes where you see an undeniable hunger.

"What do you want to do?" you ask him with a wry smile. "Should we go to the bedroom?" He continues to gaze up at you with want. "The basement?" you test. At this he nods slowly, keeping his eyes on you.

You're up from the couch before you can think about anything else, leading Art by the hand as you head for the stairs. You feel giddy. You feel like an animal. You're going to make him admit exactly what he wants.

Art’s workshop is a place you two often fool around, testing out the new toys he comes up with for you. Now as you lead him down the stairs, you want nothing but to find out whether he’s ever been curious about being on the receiving end. Your pulse quickens and you can’t hold back a mischievous smile as you reach the bottom of the stairs and turn on the light.

Immediately you can’t help but turn around and throw yourself into his arms, getting on tiptoe to kiss him with all of the lust building in your body. Slow and filthy, with one arm thrown around his neck and the other hand cupping his cheek, you kiss him in a passionate embrace. Art keeps his hands politely on your hips. You’re surprised he’s not grabbing a fistful of your ass, or pulling you back by the hair so he can viciously bite your neck. Already, without any prompting, he’s letting you take the lead.

You pull away, panting against his neck, and Art stands still, holding your hips and waiting for your next move. You can feel that he’s already hard, and the heat pulsing between your legs is beginning to ache for him. Still, you stay true to your plan. You bat your eyelashes at him and look up coyly.

“So, where do you want me?” you ask playfully. Art makes no move to direct you. Your breath catches in your chest, and you’re intoxicated by the moment. You step towards him, forcing him to take a step back. You smile up at him, and he allows you to back him against the wall. Grabbing onto his wrists, you remove his hands from you and hold them down at his sides, leaning up to kiss his neck hungrily.

“Or should I tell you where I want you?” You purr into his ear. Art doesn’t move, and you decide to taunt him further. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Your voice comes out heavy and sultry, your breath hot against his skin. This has to be driving him crazy, but he’s not showing you anything.

“Would you like that?” you press, grinning devilishly and studying his face. Art nods and his mouth slowly spreads into a smile.

“That’s what I thought,” you say, and you wrap your arms around his neck, catching his mouth in another rough, passionate kiss. You pull away abruptly, leaving him wanting for more, and you lead him by the hand to the chair that you always sit in. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you lower Art down into the chair.

“Don’t. Move.” You tell him firmly. The smile won’t leave your face, you’re absolutely thrilled by the situation unfolding before you. Art at your mercy for once, how delicious. Art is watching you as you pace the room, deciding what you’ll do next. He keeps a straight face, but you see a spark of amusement in his eyes.

You decide to start with what you know puts him in the right headspace, and you stand in the center of the room to begin unbuttoning your silk pajama top. You let one side fall from your shoulder, revealing the deep red lace strap of Art’s favorite lingerie of yours. You see the delight in his eyes, and throw your head back to sigh as though he’s touched you. You leave your top partially unbuttoned and step towards him, hooking both thumbs in the waistband of your matching shorts.

Moving towards him, you gyrate your hips and flash your red lace panties. You come to a stop in front of him, standing within his reach. You turn around and bend forward, sticking your ass out so you're nearly in his lap. Swaying your hips for him, you pull your shorts down so, so slowly, letting them fall to the ground. Then you step out of them and turn to face him, your legs now straddling his lap, but not making contact. You give him a look that says, don’t you dare move. You bite your lip and smile down at him, making a display of pulling your top off over your head. Now you're right in front of him in his favorite lace, teasing him with the closeness of your body.

“How bad do you want me?” you ask, ghosting your hands over his chest. Art gives nothing away. You step even closer, your bare stomach just an inch from his face. Still he doesn’t move. You grab his chin and make him look up at you. “How bad. Do you want me?” you repeat sternly.

Then you let him go and push his legs apart, kneeling down between them. You tease him with your mouth, letting out a hot, heavy breath over his hard cock. You look up at him in the way that you know drives him crazy.

“Do you want me so bad?” You ask, pouting like you feel sorry for him. Art nods.

“Good.” You stand up and step away from him. “Then get on your knees.” Art does as you say, and you feel another heady rush of adrenaline. The way he obediently gets on his knees for you is nearly enough to get you off on it's own, and the way he's watching you, eager to see what you'll do next is just too good.

Dizzy from your power trip, you survey Art’s workshop. You get to decide what happens next. The feeling is absolutely intoxicating, and all at once you feel you understand why Art does things this way. Sure, you don’t have him restrained, and you don’t plan to hurt him, not badly at least, but the way he’s kneeling for you, handing himself over to you, is a level of control you’ve never had over him before. It feels like a key turning within a lock you didn’t know you had buried deep within you.

So many choices, you think as you look over his weapons and tools. A few jump out at you - should you prod him with something, or tease him with something sharp? Will you tie him up? At last, you find just the thing. You retrieve your selection from a hook on the wall, and walk back to where you’ve left Art waiting patiently for you.

“I have something for you,” you tell him. Then your hands go to his neck, securing the thick, black leather collar on him. You pull the chain leash tight and force his chin upwards. He’s used this collar and leash with you before, and having the roles reversed brings you a perverse delight. You see a similar shine in Art’s eyes as he looks up at you. You knew he’d be so down for this.

You step behind him and reach for the zipper on the back of his costume, undressing him slowly. He stays on his hands and knees for you, allowing you to pull off his shoes and carefully slide the fabric of his costume off his body. Then he sits before you, leashed and naked, awaiting your next command, his cock throbbing and leaking for you. You put your hand under his chin and stroke his cheek gently with your thumb.

“You look so good like this, baby,” you tell him. You can’t believe how obscenely wet this has you. You need to get things moving here. Roughly, you jerk him towards you with the leash. His nose brushes against your panties.

"Kiss me," you command, breathlessly. Instantly Art's mouth is on you, giving the fabric that separates you sloppy, open mouth kisses. The heat of his mouth sends pleasure rushing through your entire body. You make him worship you like this, through the lace of your underwear until you can't take it anymore. Gently, you pull him away from you and step out of your panties. Art doesn't make a move a muscle until you say it.

"Eat me." And his mouth is on you again with twice the fervor. He licks up into your folds roughly, your arousal coating his tongue. His nose presses against your clit as he pushes his tongue hungrily inside you. You can feel how turned on he is by the energy he's putting into eating your pussy. It's too good, and you want to lay him down and ride his face properly. Then you remember that you can do just that.

You jerk the leash harshly, pulling Art off of you, and he's literally panting. He looks up at you and you see desperation in his eyes.

"Lie down," you tell him, and he leans back onto the floor. You kneel over top of him. You cup his face in your hands and look him in the eyes.

"You're doing so good, baby," your voice is sweet as you look down at him, "I like you like this." You kiss him softly then move to straddle his face. "Now make me cum," you demand, pulling him towards you with the leash around his neck.

Art eats you out like he'll never get the chance to do it again. His tongue and his teeth feel so unbelievably good against your pussy. They always do, but this is ten times better than usual. You keep pulling on the leash, forcing him as close to you as possible. You can tell he wants to grab your ass, or do something with his hands, but you haven't given him permission, so they rest near your ankles.

"Touch yourself," you command in a gasp as you ride his face. Art obediently starts stroking his dick for you. "Keep going," you pant out, "but don't cum." Art nods his head underneath you while he continues to flick his tongue in circles around your clit.

"Fuck, babe, your mouth feels so good," you moan. At this, he catches the sensitive nub between his teeth, stopping your movement. He slowly applies more pressure, sucking and twisting, and you cry out in pleasure. He holds you there a moment, still pumping his cock, and looks you in the eyes while you writhe and squirm for him. The moment is electric, and you're reminded that the control you have over him has been gifted.

Then he lets you go and flattens his tongue for you to ride. You grind against his face until you feel your orgasm building steadily. Just the sight of Art with the collar around his throat is enough to take you there, and soon you're coming undone all over his mouth. You pant and ride out the waves of pleasure on his face, and Art licks everything up, making you twitch with over stimulation.

You notice he's stopped jerking himself off. "I didn't tell you to stop," you tease, and he wraps his hand around his length again. You watch him pleasure himself for you while you come down from your high.

"What am I gonna do with you now?" You wonder aloud. Art just keeps working his hand over his shaft, watching you with heavy lidded eyes.

"Bet you wanna fuck me, huh?" you ask him, and he nods. But you pause. This was the moment you've been after this whole time. "Or..." you venture, watching his face closely. "Should I fuck you?"

Art's face reveals nothing, but he's sure not saying no. He just lies there watching you, jerking himself off lazily. Right now he looks like he'd do anything for you, and gladly. You stand up on shaky legs, leaving him there, in search of a new toy. You really do feel like a maniac, rifling through Art's instruments of torture, fucked out and high on endorphins, only craving more.

Soon you find what you're looking for, a familiar friend, long and thick, made of silicone. Art has shoved this thing up your ass countless times, and you can't wait to return the favor. You return to him and pick up the leash. He sees what you have and he stops the movement of his hand. You almost laugh at the look of depraved excitement on his face. You can't believe how much he really wants this. How long has he been waiting for you to take him down here and fuck him like a slut, you wonder.

"Okay, get on your hands and knees," you instruct. Art obeys without hesitation. You've never seen him like this before. His bratty attitude, his sarcasm, all gone as soon as you had put the leash on him and started bossing him around.

You approach him from the front and hold the toy up to his mouth. He accepts it, coating it with a generous amount of spit and staring you in the eyes while he does it. "Good boy," you say and stroke his cheek.

Keeping your hold on the leash, you move behind him. You smooth your hands across his skin, and you feel him tense under you touch in anticipation. You reach out in front of you again to have Art suck on your fingers. Once they're equally spit coated, you press one against his tight entrance and push inside.

You work back and forth slowly, feeling his body respond to you. He lets out a sigh as you add another finger. You spit into your hand and keep working him open.

"You really like this, don't you?" you taunt him. "Tell me how much you like it." Art nods for you and leans down on his elbows, arching into the thrusts of your hand. You continue to stretch him out, but the toy is larger than your three fingers by a rather wide margin. Oh well, he's done worse to you.

"Do you want me to fuck you like a slut?" you ask him. Art doesn't give you a response right away and you yank on the leash. "Tell me," you demand. Art nods his head. "That's what I thought," you smirk, and you begin to push the toy inside him.

It takes some work and a lot more spit, but soon your thrusting in and out of him with ease. "Does that feel good?" You ask, and he nods in response. "I knew you'd be such a good slut for me," you tell him sweetly, keeping tension on the leash.

Art is moving in time with your thrusts, and you can tell he's really enjoying this. Something about fucking him like this feels so twisted, being the aggressor is so foreign. It sends a thrill through your body. The sight of Art's cock, leaking and twitching each time you hit his prostate has you so turned on all over again.

"Let me make you feel really good," you tell him. You let go of the leash and reach around to start stroking his wanting shaft in time with your thrusts. Art gasps at your touch. "I know it feels so good. Are you gonna cum for me, baby?" He nods his head.

You continue fucking him and stroking him at a steady pace, feeling his body tense and his breathing become shallow. You work the toy in and out of him faster and deeper, aiming to hit his sweet spot each time. Then you lick your palm, pulling away briefly, only to return your spit slicked hand to his cock with rough, sloppy stokes. In no time he's spilling himself all over the floor and your hand. You fuck him through his orgasm, and pull him back towards you, holding him in your arms when you're finished.

Art looks up at you, totally blissed out. You smile down at him. You reposition yourself and fold him against your chest. He rests his head easily on your shoulder. You kiss the top of his head, then his cheek and the end of his nose. Holding him like this feels so special and vulnerable.

Then he leans up to you and pulls you down for a kiss with a hand on the back of your head. It's a deep, dirty, needy kiss that leaves your heart beating faster.

"We're not done, are we?" you ask, and Art grins and shakes his head. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you on top of him in one smooth motion.

His hungry mouth is on your neck, liking, biting and kissing, while his hands find your lingerie top and make quick work of pulling it off and casting it aside. He presses your bare chest to his and grabs greedy handfuls of your ass as he continues to mark up your neck and shoulder with his mouth. You know that nothing with Art is ever over until he's fucked you properly at least once, and it's clear that's what he intends to do. You figure you've had your fun with him, time to let him do what we wants, but part of you thinks maybe you can keep his submissive streak going.

You grab a hold of the leash again and sit up, jerking him to attention. Art locks eyes with you in surprise and a playful smile spreads across his lips. You get up and stand over him.

"Come on," you insist, leading him back to the chair, and Art crawls, fucking crawls, behind you. Oh, it's still so on, you think. You put him in the chair and stand in front of him. You just watch him for a moment, enjoying the scene as it's unfolding.

Keeping the leash taught in your hand, you step towards him and let him wrap his arms around you. Immediately, his mouth is on your tits, pinching a nipple between his teeth, rolling his tongue across it, and his hands are on your ass again, caressing your curves. Art continues work his mouth over your breasts and palm your ass while you take his still-soft cock in your hand and stroke it until he starts getting hard again, which doesn't take long.

This moment is pure ecstasy. You hold Art's chin in your hand and he looks up at you with utter devotion. You kiss him sweetly and climb into his lap. You keep stroking him until he's fully erect, looking in his eyes while you do it.

"Should I let you fuck me?" you ask him. Art nods his head. "Are you sure you deserve it?" He pauses at this, unsure how to respond, and starts gently kissing your neck, as though to win you over. You push him back against the chair, drunk on power. "Beg me." You say simply.

Art might not be able to beg out loud, but he sure as hell was begging you with his eyes. You hold out, seeing what else he'll do. He raises his hands in silent prayer before you, bearing his teeth in a pained, desperate smile and that's all you need. You're on him in an instant, just as desperate for him as he is for you.

You position yourself on him and slide him inside your walls easily. You ride out the burn and stretch of his length spreading you open, establishing a fast rhythm right away. Art sighs and his eyes roll back, taking pleasure in the way you're moving on top of him. He leans back and watches you ride him, barely moving beneath you.

Heat is building in your abdomen quickly. The stretch of him is just too good. You continue to bounce on Art's cock, letting him fill you completely, while he reaches up to pinch and twist your nipples as your tits bounce in front of him. The added burn brings heat to your face and you let out a moan.

Encouraged by this, Art ruts up into you as your coming back down, a jolt of pain and pleasure shocks you to your core and you cry out. He's back to his usual self, laughing and bucking his hips into you again and again.

You slow down a bit and wrap your arms around his neck, catching your breath. You press your mouth to his and change your rhythm, grinding against him slowly, pressing yourself down onto him as hard as you can. Your tongues slide together, and you moan into his mouth again, rolling your hips faster.

Art grabs a hold of you to keep you steady, keeping your hips pressed down firmly while you writhe on his cock. He smiles against your mouth.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?" You sound completely breathless and desperate. Art nods and takes your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling you in hard. Your forehead pressed to his you look into his eyes, submissive Art is gone. What you see is determined Art, ready to unravel you. Still maintaining your steady grind against him, you kiss him deeply again. Your clit is rolling deliciously over the solidness of his pubic bone, and you can feel him deep inside you, bruising your cervix, hitting you in all the right places.

"Fuck, you feel so good, babe, I'm gonna cum," you tell him, and Art takes your hips in his hands and pushes you back and forth over his stiff length, doing the work for you. He keeps you moving at a relentless pace as you clench around him, not stopping until he's shooting hot ropes inside you.

You collapse against his body, worried that being in this position so long will have left you unable to walk. You breathe together for a moment, both of you appreciating the afterglow. When you look down at Art he leans up and kisses you on the cheek.

"You're so kissy today," you giggle at him. He gestures to the collar still around his neck, giving it a wiggle, as if that's the explanation. "Well, if that's all it takes," you laugh, and remove the collar, dropping it on the floor. Art shrugs at you and raises his eyebrows. He gives you another kiss on the cheek for good measure.

When he sees that you're struggling to stand, Art gets up and lifts you into his arms, carrying you bridal style.

"Can we shower please?" You ask, and he carries you up the stairs to the bathroom, perching you on the sink while he starts the water running. He helps you into the shower. Once inside, the warm water hitting your body relaxes you, and you begin to feel more steady.

"You know," you say looking up at him, "I'm gonna be meaner to you next time." You give him a playful smile. Art balks at you.

"I'm serious," you tease, "I'm gonna be so mean." You reach out and twist his nipple and he bats you away, opening his mouth in pretend shock. "I know you love it," you jeer. He sticks out his tongue and pulls a face at you.

You finish showering together and step out into the cool air of the bathroom. Both of you towel off and Art puts on your borrowed bathrobe. It's pink and threadbare and way too short for him, hitting him above the knee, but you think he looks adorable in it. You put on your own plush robe and step towards him to wrap him in a hug.

"Thanks for such a great anniversary," you say. And you really mean it, you couldn't have asked for anything better. Art kisses the top of your head and squeezes you back.

Then the two of you snuggle back up on the couch together and fall asleep trying to watch the end of your movie. As you drift off to sleep, you can't help but wonder how you're going to top this next year.

#art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #slashers x reader #slashers x you #slasher smut #horror smut

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