#luxury furnishing fabrics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaythes1mp · 6 months ago

Text

Here, Kitty.

Yan batfam x cat hybrid reader -> CH2

14925 words, 84394 characters, 792 sentences, 338 paragraphs, 59.7 pages. Previous chapter -> Next Chapter

As you come back to consciousness, you find yourself nestled comfortably on a luxurious cat bed that feels almost too extravagant to be real. The surroundings are lavish and comfortable, the room itself enormous, with almost too much space to take in all at once.

You're not sure where you are, but one thing you know for certain – is that it is definitely not your apartment.

You push yourself up from the plush bed, your paws sinking into the decadent fabric as you take a moment to survey your surroundings. The room is a mix of modern and traditional, with a hint of something distinctly Wayne Manor-esque. The furnishings are plush and expensive, and the entire room is immaculate, every surface spotlessly clean.

You can see a large window at the far end of the room, offering a view of Gotham City’s skyline.

You take another moment to look around, taking everything in as you process your new surroundings. It seems you're in a large living room of sorts, furnished with rich, high-end furniture and expensive-looking decor. Tall bookshelves line the walls, filled with all manner of books and trinkets. The most striking feature, however, is the excessive number of cat trees and wall climbers scattered throughout the room.

Confusion overtakes you for a moment, your mind still fuzzy from sleep as you try to figure out what the hell happened to lead you here.

As you shift up, adjusting your position on the plush bed, a small, bell-like sound rings through the air. In that moment, the memories flood back to you all at once. Nightwing, Robin, the strange collar.

The sudden, restrictive feeling around your neck is a stark reminder of your current predicament.

As the memories come flooding back to you, you instinctively try to raise a paw to rub at the collar around your neck, only to find that it's fastened on tight, the hooks holding it in place digging into your fur. Your movements are still a little sluggish from your previous unconscious state, making you feel more vulnerable than usual, trapped, in a place you don’t recognise.

As your gaze drifts downwards, you suddenly notice the subtle aching in your leg and near the base of your spine. Upon a more thorough inspection, you realise that there are small, almost imperceptible stitches in your fur, between the muscles on your left thigh. Panic rises within you, the realisation that something has been done to your body sending a wave of nausea through you, making you feel sick to your very core.

The fear washes over you in full force as you register the sight of the stitches on your body. It's not just the knowledge that someone has tampered with your body, but the thought that you were unconscious and vulnerable when it happened. Your heart races with a sickening anxiety, the fear coursing through you making your senses hyper-aware.

You quickly scramble up from the cat bed, your body a whirlwind of motion, you leap off the plush fabric, landing on the soft, carpeted floor with a thump. Your body is tense, nerves on edge, as you instinctively try to take in your surroundings. Your pupils have narrowed into slits, tail whipping around wildly, betraying your anxiety.

You start moving across the room, treading softly on the plush carpet beneath your paws, every muscle in your body tense and poised, ready to flee or fight at a moment's notice. Prepared for any surprise.

As you move through the room with tentative, calculated steps, your mind is on high-alert, taking in every single detail. From the placement of the furniture, to the large window at the far end, to the faint sound of a clock ticking on the wall, everything registers in your heightened senses.

There's a strange sense of being both trapped and exposed, in this grand space that is simultaneously familiar and foreign. The uncertainty of what might come next hangs over you like a dark cloud.

You go completely still, your fur standing on end, your ears perking up and shifting in the direction of the hallway. Your entire body tenses in anticipation as you listen to the loud, precise footsteps approaching you.

Every instinct in you screams danger, so you quickly ready yourself to either flee or fight.

A tall, slender butler emerges from the hallway, his pale blue eyes scanning the room before his gaze lands on your bristled, tense form. A single grey eyebrow raises slightly in surprise as he continues to look at you.

"You're up earlier than planned, young master," he remarks, his voice calm and even. A hint of curiosity laced within his tone.

The butler's casual demeanour is a stark contrast to the tenseness of your own body. His eyes linger on you with a sort of cool curiosity, taking in your fluffed up form. He looks unfazed by your reaction, his calm composure making it feel like this is a completely normal, everyday occurrence.

Your heart races as the words sink in, your mind racing with confused fear. What the fuck. Why is he calling me 'young master'? Where the hell am I, and what the hell is happening.

The situation feels entirely surreal, and more than a little bit terrifying. You just want to go back to the safety and familiarity of your own home, but instead you're here, trapped in this lavish living room, with a strange butler calling you by some title you've never even dreamed of being addressed by before.

The butler watches you closely, his cool blue eyes scanning over every little detail of your tense form, noting your bristled fur, your tail that's whipping around wildly, and the panicked look in your wide, dilated eyes. A hint of intrigue flashes through his expression as he takes in your state.

Then, he speaks again, his calm and steady voice betraying his thoughts.

"It seems the sedative is wearing off a little faster than expected," he says, taking a few steps closer to you. His voice sends a new wave of unease through you.

The calm, casual vibe the butler is giving off, coupled with the little almost-smile on his face, makes your already overdriven senses go into a frenzy. Every fibre of your being is screaming danger, and you instinctively take a step back, hackles raised further, your body tensed and ready to bolt.

Your fear and panic have heightened every one of your senses, and you're on edge, ready to react to any sudden movement or sound. You're poised to run, or if need be, fight. You try to keep your breathing steady, but the anxiety is bubbling up inside of you, making it difficult to stay still.

The butler's observant gaze is on you, studying your every move as you take a step back, your body tense in a flight-ready stance. He notices the panic etched into your form, and for a moment, he doesn't approach. Instead, he stands a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back, his form composed and relaxed.

After a brief pause, he speaks up again, his voice soft and apologetic.

"I apologise for the state you woke up in," he says, that almost imperceptible smile still playing on his lips.

The man’s apology catches you off guard, a tiny flicker of surprise in your wide, dilated eyes. The politeness of his tone combined with that smile makes him seem almost eerily calm, given the situation you're currently in. Even though his words are apologetic, there's a subtle undercurrent of something else in his tone that you can't quite place.

The older man continues to watch you, his cool, observant gaze tracking every little movement you make, from the twitching of your whiskers to the rise and fall of your fluffy chest as your anxiety makes your breaths a little more laboured.

He takes a few steps closer toward you, his movements slow and deliberate. He's treating you like a wild beast, trying not to startle you further.

"It was necessary for the procedure to ensure your safe arrival, young master," he continues, his voice still soft but firm. It's as if he's trying to reassure you, despite the fact that his words do nothing but the opposite.

You shiver as the butler moves closer to you, your body tensing even further as you try to assess the potential threat he may pose. The apology and the explanation for your current state do little to ease the fear and confusion swirling within you. The dubbed name young master is foreign and bizarre and does nothing to help the situation.

You're on edge, your muscles coiled tight like a spring, ready to dart away the moment you sense any danger. But the butler isn't making any sudden moves, his calm demeanour and soft, even tone sending a confusing message.

The butler's eyes are observant, taking in every single twitch and jerk of your tensed body. He seems to recognise your anxiety, your coiled form ready to dart away given the opportunity. Yet he isn't visibly phased, his composed demeanour and soft, almost soothing voice unfazed by your obvious distress.

He takes another slow step toward you, his movements deliberate and careful.

"I understand your fear and confusion," he repeats, as if he was trying to reason with a frightened animal. Which in this case, wouldn’t be entirely wrong. However, beneath the soft, reassuring tone of his voice, there's still something else present, something you can't quite identify. “But you have nothing to be afraid of here.”

You swear that you could hear a hint of warning in his carefully crafted speech.

He's close enough now to reach out a pale hand toward you, his fingers outstretched. From this angle, the butler seems considerably taller, more imposing, and more dangerous than he appeared before, his gaze calm and calculating.

The tension in the room is palpable, and the clock on the wall seems to be the only other source of sound, beating in tune with your fast, panicked heart. He is entirely calm, his gaze cool and calculating, studying you carefully, like a hunter watching its prey.

"Come here, young master." He says in that soft, smooth, insistent tone.

You feel frozen in place, your mind racing with panic and despair. The options before you seem limited, the need to flee battling against the growing realisation that escape might not be a feasible option, especially with the butler's hand inching closer. Your body trembles slightly, your wide, alarmed eyes fixated on his approaching hand, the subtle threat underlying his words making it clear that the consequences of running away might be dire.

His voice, though soft and controlled, leaves no room for debate or refusal. The command in his words is clear.

He expects you to come to him.

You feel as if time stands still, your fear and tension making everything around you seem heightened, as if every fibre of your body was hyper-aware. The butler's hand is still gently moving closer, as if he was simply going to reach out and scoop you up, as if he had done it a thousand times before.

Your mind is swirling with fear and confusion, your thoughts chaotic and jumbled. You can't think clearly, and yet the old man exudes an air that somehow compels your trembling little paws to move forward, into his extended hand. Your every instinct is screaming at you that this man is dangerous, that getting any closer is a bad idea, but the mixture of fear, feeling of dizziness, and the authoritative atmosphere around him seems to overpower your logic. You don’t want to find out what would happen if you went against him.

A subtle victorious smile plays on the corner of the butler's lips as you begin to move forward, stepping into the range of his hand. He can practically feel your internal conflict and fear, and yet he shows no visible sign of it bothering him. His eyes remain steadfast, his expression and demeanour calm and composed.

"That's it," he murmurs, a hint of satisfaction in his tone, his hand closing around your small form, carefully but firmly holding you in his grasp, just tight enough to keep you from bolting.

You find yourself held against the butler's chest as he carefully lifts you off the ground, cradling you against him, his hold on you surprisingly gentle yet unyielding. The warmth of his body against your small form is an odd, almost confusing contrast to the fear and confusion you're currently feeling.

He begins walking across the living room, carrying you as if he was holding a fine piece of art. Every one of your senses is on high-alert, and you can feel the steady, calm beat of the butler's heart against your small form.

His steps are sure and controlled, his pace steady. He says nothing, his eyes looking ahead as he carries you through the lavish living room. Every step he takes seems to bring more and more confusion, the whole scene seeming like some sort of surreal fever dream.

The living room is large and open, with high ceilings and several plush couches and armchairs arranged around a grand, stone fireplace. The rich decor, the tall bookshelves, and the numerous cat trees and climbing structures give the room a distinct 'manor' vibe.

Everything in the room seems to scream 'wealth' and 'luxury', the opulence of Wayne Manor perfectly represented in this single, large room.

Despite the grandeur of the room, the butler's attention seems to be solely on you, his eyes focused on your small form he's cradling.

He speaks up, his tone is matter-of-fact and business-like, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "Master Dick has requested your immediate presence.” He speaks softly, as if his words would clear everything up. You don't know who this Master Dick is, but the urgency in the butler's voice tells you that it's probably someone important.

His words linger in your mind like a heavy weight. You have no idea who they are, but the way the butler addresses them and the air that surrounds him leaves no room for doubt that the person is someone important, someone powerful.

He walks out of the living room, and a wave of cold, stark realisation washes over you, a sense of hopelessness that comes with the knowledge that you have absolutely no say in this. You are at these people’s mercy.

The halls of the manor that you find yourself in are long and wide, the floor carpeted and the walls lined with expensive and elaborate paintings and decorations. The place itself is beautiful, but you're unable to appreciate any of it, your mind racing and your heart beating rapidly. A fuzzy feeling basked over the back of your mind.

The butler carries you down the halls, his steps long and unhurried, making you acutely aware of how small and helpless you are in this unknown, vast, and intimidating place.

As you're brought through the seemingly endless halls, your mind is bombarded with a barrage of thoughts, all of them chaotic and confused. You try to look for a way to escape, but everything here is unknown and unfamiliar, and you have no idea which doors might lead outside, or if there are any windows you might be able to jump out of.

Your small form cradled almost carefully against his chest, his grip strong and unyielding. There's a sense of detachment with which he carries you, handling you like an object, a thing to be used and given.

The halls continue to pass by in a blur of rich colours and patterns, the only sounds being the steady thud of the butler's footsteps and your ragged, stressed breathing.

After what feels like an eternity, the man stops his movements. You find yourself standing before a large, grand-looking door, it's dark wood carved with elaborate designs and patterns. It looks like it’s been freshly cleaned, as if it used to home someone and they’ve only now started using it again. The door radiates a sense of importance, and you feel the pit of your stomach clench in fear.

He adjusts his grip on you, positioning you to be more presentable as he reaches with one hand to knock three times on the door. He looks down at you, a slight flicker of something in his eyes, and then he waits.

Your ears involuntarily fold back upon hearing the heavy, fast footsteps approaching. The door is practically wrenched open with a thud, and a tall male stands in the doorway. He’s grinning widely, his eyes almost shimmering in the light, and his gaze immediately settles on you.

The man’s presence is imposing, and you feel yourself involuntarily shrinking back against the butler, not knowing what to expect. He looks at you with a mix of curiosity and amusement, his grin widening as he takes in your small form.

The man who stands before you is tall, and broad-shouldered. He's dressed in casual wear, a light, well-fitted hoodie stretched over his wide chest tucked into dark jeans. His face holds an almost boyish charm, framed by dark, wild hair that tumbles over his forehead.

His eyes are a bright, intense blue, and right now they're fixed directly on you. There's a hint of both curiosity and amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

His demeanour changes almost instantly at the sight of you, his intense gaze softens as he takes you from the older man’s grasp by the scruff. He holds you up in the air, and you don't even have time to react before he's speaking.

"There's our baby." He coos, and there's a hint of something affectionate in his tone. The nickname baby is weird and confusing, but the man acts as if it's something perfectly normal. You’re not sure how to act. Everything’s happening too fast and you’re barely able to think, mind still hazed with sleep.

He doesn’t hold you forcefully, his grip not harsh but not soft either. You can almost feel the possessiveness in the touch, the way he looks at you, the sense of almost casual possessiveness. It’s like he believes that he has every right to be touching you, holding you, like you belonged to him. As if you were something he owned.

"Look at you…" he murmurs, his eyes taking in your form as he holds you up. "So pretty in person…"

There's a sense of satisfaction in his tone, as if you're better than what he had expected, and he's pleased by what he sees.

You can’t stop yourself from the deep, guttering hiss that escapes you as the man speaks, a mixture of fear, irritation and helplessness rolling through you. You hate how vulnerable you feel in his grasp, being held up in the air by this stranger, unable to break free.

The man chuckles, the sound loud and booming to your sensitive ears.

"Aww…" he coos. "I’m sorry, am I frightening you, little one?”

He holds you up to his eye-level, observing you with an amused yet soft grin, his eyes dancing with both curiosity and something else.

Your tail instinctively lashes around, thrashing in the air, trying to find a way to defend yourself, to break free of the strangers grip. But your body is slacking, the instinct to go limp when a predator has your scruff almost overpowering.

The position you’re in is uncomfortable and vulnerable and you’ve never been handled like this before. You’re finding it hard to move your limbs, breathing fast and overwhelmingly stressed. The helplessness of being carried like this is overwhelming. You want to scream and cry and run as far and fast as possible.

But you don’t. You forcibly stop yourself from letting the helplessness get to you. You refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing you scared, of seeing you so exposed.

I’m better than that, you tell yourself. Better than them. You’re stronger than that. You might be small right now, but you’re also stubborn as hell, and you’ll be damned if they get the satisfaction of seeing you scared.

He studies you intently, his eyes taking in every little detail of your form, from the twitching of your ears to the frantic movement of your tail. He’s still holding you up, his hold on your scruff not slacking in the slightest. His gaze fond and amused.

He lets out another small, amused chuckle at your reaction, his lips tugged into a small smile. “Don’t worry, kitten. You’re safe with me..”

His attention shifts back to the other man for a moment, giving him a nod of thanks. “Thanks, Alfred.”

The older man, Alfred apparently, gives him a small nod, his gaze is still set on you. "Of course, sir.” A slight frown on his face as he looks at the man holding you, Master Dick apparently, a mix of concern and knowing in his eyes. “Be careful. The sedative is still in their system.” The man gives a small hum in response, seemingly not bothered by the warning.

Alfred lingers there for a moment, looking at you, then looking at the man, a silent exchange between the two of them. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

And then, without another word, he turns and walks away, disappearing back down the hallway.

"Alfred is a worrier," The man mutters as he watches the butler walk away. He gives you a small, almost sheepish smile. "Sorry ‘bout that."

He turns back to you and continues scanning your form, his gaze thoughtful and curious. He speaks to you like one might speak to a child. Softly and reassuringly.

"You’re adorable, you know that?" he says, voice low and quiet. "Such a pretty little thing..”

He looks over you with an almost adoring look in his eyes, his thumb gently stroking the fur on the top of your head. You want to recoil from his touch, but you’re unable to do anything but stay paralysed in his grasp.

He seems to find your lack of reaction amusing.

"Not very talkative, huh?" he murmurs, tilting his head slightly to the side, watching your expression closely. "That’s alright. You don’t have to be."

He continues caressing your small form with his free hand, the stroking gentle and almost caring. His eyes flicker down to your ears and he grins. “You’re just a ball of attitude, aren’t you?” he notes, amusement in his tone. “The way your ears fold back every time I talk. So defensive.. Seems my youngest siblings are similar in that respect” He grins softly, pressing a kiss to your fluffy coat.

You freeze up, caught off guard by the unexpected and strange gesture. For a moment you’re too surprised to react, your body going limp before stiffening quickly again.

Your mind is reeling, trying to process this unexpected level of intimacy, from a complete stranger, no less. What the hell is up with this guy? He’s acting like I’m a pet. The thought is both angering and demeaning, you watch him with a mix of confusion and wariness in your eyes.

He brings you close to his chest, cradling your small form against him. His fingers run through your soft fur in a way that almost tickles, the feeling making your skin crawl a bit. The doors close behind him with an audible snap, the sound a little too loud to your sensitive ears.

Your eyes scan the room, taking in the ridiculous amounts of cat-related objects that are placed everywhere. Drawers filled with little outfits, toys littered around, cat cushions, scratch pads, catnip balls stuck to the walls, and more. You almost grimace at the sight.

The room is a cat’s dream, filled to the brim with cat toys and decorations. A large, king-size bed dominates the centre of the room, covered with different patterns of soft blankets, a pile of various pillows and cushions scattered around it. It’s like a cat paradise, and an absolute nightmare for you.

The man carries you further in, taking a seat on the bed and making himself comfortable. He continues to hold you close, rubbing the nape of your neck, his touch too soft. Like he was silently apologising for handling your scruff so roughly.

He plops down on the bed unceremoniously, the springs creaking under his weight. He adjusts his hold on you to make you more comfortable, his grip a bit more lax now, but still firm enough to keep you pressed against him.

His eyes run over your form, looking you up and down, like he’s mentally checking you over. He’s studying me. He takes in every little detail. Every twitch of your ear, every lash of your tail, the way you instinctively hunch in on yourself. “... Damian’s not going to be happy with the state of your fur, little one..”

He reaches out to pet you, not expecting the swift response as you quickly smack his hand away, your claws drawing lines of bright red across the back of his hand.

He jerks backwards, yowling softly, his expression going momentarily shocked as he looks at the deep thin red lines across his skin.

He stares at you for a moment, surprised and probably pained, but also...almost impressed?

"That hurt you know..” he grumbles, more amused than mad.

"...But that’s okay. Siblings fight all the time." He mutters, still looking at his hand, the long red lines standing out against his tan skin. He sounds like he’s talking more to himself than to you.

His gaze then moves to look at you, and his expression is mildly entertained. He gives you a small teasing smile.

"Just wait until the others find out how feral you are. They'll have a field day with you.." The way he speaks is as if he’s joking, but his words make your fur stand on edge. He’s calling any person's natural reaction to getting kidnapped feral.

As you replay his words in your head you freeze. Others? You repeat in your mind, a sickening feeling settling in your gut. Just how many of them are there?

He seems to notice your reaction to his words, noticing your stiffened form and the look of dread on your face. He gives a small hum, his fingers running through your fur gently, a look of feigned innocence on his face.

"Is something wrong?" he asks softly, his tone almost patronising. He keeps his voice gentle, like a big brother speaking to his smaller child sibling.

"Did the mention of our siblings scare you?"

He continues to run his fingers through your fur as he talks, his tone still soft. "I'm sure you'll come to love them.. They're a bit rough around the edges, but they're good kids. Once they warm up to you, that is. And you, lovely, are already in their good graces.” He’s doing it again, speaking to you like you’re a dimwitted animal, something cute and small and incapable of understanding him. It’s demeaning and agitating. It makes me feel pathetic.

Tim's sitting on the kitchen chair, his feet propped up on the marble counter, leaning back casually. His attention was focused on the tablet in his hand. Or at least it was, too occupied with secretly watching as Damian meticulously rearranged the fridge, his brother moving items around to ‘make it look perfect’ for his older sibling’s new arrival.

Tim lets out a soft sigh. Of course. His little brother is almost as obsessive about organisation as Batman himself. He’s not surprised, more amused.

Damian looks over in Tim’s direction for a moment, his eyes catching the sight of Tim’s feet on the table. He rolls his eyes, a small scoff of displeasure escaping him.

"Feet off the table, Drake." Damian says dryly, his focus returning to the fridge and its contents.

"Oh relax, Dames. The table's clean." Tim counters, his tone almost mocking. He knows it annoys Damian to no end, calling him by the childish nickname.

He props his chin up on his hand, watching as his younger brother systematically re-arranges everything in the fridge, his movements quick and precise.

He hums softly, his gaze shifting downward for a moment, before he raises a brow. “Looks like the kitty’s awake.”

His eyes flick over to the live feed on the tablet, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk as he sees you. You look uncomfortable and wary, bristled and defensive. The sight causes him to let out a small amused huff of air.

Damian pauses mid-action, a container of fluffy cooked rice held in his hands. He turns to face Tim, a curious look in his green eyes. "Give me the tablet," he demands, holding out his hand expectantly.

Tim raises an eyebrow sceptically, "Why? You wanna spy on em?" He teases.

Damian huffs, crossing his arms in irritation, "I don't spy. I observe." He scoffs.

Tim just rolls his eyes, but relents, handing over the tablet. "Fine. But don't do anything stupid, Demon."

Damian glares at the nickname, but grabs the tablet from Tim's hands without comment. Looking down at the screen, watching the feed intently, his expression contemplative as he observes you. His gaze is sharp and calculating. Scanning over every detail, noticing the way you look around the room, the way you hunch nervously, your ears pinned back and swivelling as you listen for movement.

He tilts his head slightly, studying your form with intense concentration, taking in every little detail. "How long have they been awake?" he asks, not looking away from the screen.

Tim leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table again and folding his arms across his chest. He glances at his watch, thinking for a moment.

"Five, ten minutes, I think." Tim responds, leaning back against the chair. He watches as Damian's expression shifts thoughtfully as he studies the screen. Drake can't help but feel a pang of curiosity as well, but he keeps it in check.

There's a beat of silence as Damian continues to watch you, his expression thoughtful. Tim can practically see the wheels turning in his younger brother’s head.

"Hasn’t tried to bolt yet..” Damian notes, his voice quiet as he watches you, studying your movements. “That's... interesting.”

Tim lets out a hum, watching as Damian's expression becomes almost intrigued, like he's analysing your every move.

Silence settles over the room again, only the sound of the open fridges soft buzzing filling the air. Tim notices the way Damian's expression darkens a bit. "They look scared." He mutters, almost disappointed by the observation.

Tim raises an eyebrow at Damian’s observation, watching as the younger Robin frowns a bit.

"They’re probably terrified, to be fair. Would you not be scared, if someone kidnapped you?” Tim points out, his tone a bit sarcastic.

Damian scowls, a small pout forming on his face, the expression making him seem childish.

“I’d be angry, first and foremost.” He counters, his hands clenching slightly. “Not scared.”

He turns back to the fridge, placing the container in its rightful spot. He steps back, taking a moment to observe his work with a critical eye, before glancing back at Tim over his shoulder.

“And we haven’t kidnapped them. We’ve simply brought our little kitten home." He corrects, his tone matter of fact. Like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

Tim just groans exasperatedly, dropping his head forward against the table. He shakes his head in disbelief, rubbing his hand down his face.

"You say it like it's the most normal thing in the world." He mumbles into the table top, his voice slightly muffled.

Damian rolls his eyes, like Tim’s comment is beyond unnecessary and ridiculous.

"It is normal." He says, like he’s explaining something obvious to an idiot.

Tim lifts his head from the table, giving Damian a withering glare. "Abducting people is not normal, Dames." He sighs.

Damian huffs, returning Tim's glare with an equally intense one. "It is to us." He counters, his voice hard and unsympathetic.

Tim just stares at him for a moment. "And that doesn't strike you as concerning at all? The fact that kidnapping is so normal to us?"

Damian’s entire expression hardens, his features going from annoyed to cold and stoic in a matter of seconds. He pivots back to face Tim, his gaze steely and icy.

“Are you implying,” he begins, his voice low and dangerous, “that we return our sibling to the filth they were wallowing in?”

Tim's expression drops, a scowl pulling at his features. "I would never joke about that." He says firmly, his voice taking on a dark edge. "They're ours."

He then turns his attention back to the tablet, watching the screen intently. "I'm simply stating the fact that abduction isn't exactly the most common practice, not that I would ever dream of letting them go."

Damian hums in agreement, his expression still stoic, but his eyes flicker with a possessive light. He watches the tablet as well, the look in his eyes almost wild.

Tim notices the look in the younger boy’s eyes, and he lets out a small huff. "Calm down, Dames." He mutters, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Damian simply rolls his eyes, "I am calm." He says dryly, but his eyes never leave the screen, his gaze fixed on your form. He raises a brow as Alfred approaches you over the cams.

Tim just rolls his eyes at Damian's response, not fully believing him.

As the elderly butler steps closer, the tension in your form becomes almost visibly apparent. You stiffen, your body going rigid, ears pinned back against your head, tail bristling like a pincushion.

Damian watches intently, his gaze fixed on the live feed, eyebrows pinching together in something close to disappointment.

“Look at them. They’re terrified by Pennyworth.” He says, his voice low and frustrated.

Tim glances over at Damian, seeing the disapproving look on his face, and smirks a bit. “Of course they are. They don’t know that he’s harmless.”

Damian huffs, his irritation growing. "It’s not about being harmless or not. They should just know that they don’t have anything to fear here."

He keeps his gaze fixed on the screen, his expression one of annoyance and annoyance at your clear fear of the elderly butler, the way you’re bristling like a porcupine. His brows pinching even further at the state of your fur. A disapproving scowl crossing his features.

“Not everyone is like us, Dames.” Tim points out, his tone a mixture of amused and sarcastic. “Not everyone is damaged.”

Damian glares at him, “I am not damaged.” He mutters, his voice a mixture of irritation and defensiveness.

Tim just rolls his eyes. “Of course you are, you’re a Wayne.” He says dryly.

Damian bristles a little bit, his irritation growing a bit more, but he doesn’t take the bait. He continues watching the live feed, watching as Alfred reaches out to grab you, your tense and wary form flinching away as he scoops you up.

He lets out a small sigh of annoyance, his expression still irritated and frustrated. “This is ridiculous.” He mutters, his voice quiet, but clearly annoyed.

“Relax, Dames.” Tim says, a note of amusement in his voice. “You can’t expect them to stop being afraid immediately. They need time to adjust, to get used to us.”

Damian lets out an exasperated huff, his tone sharp. “They shouldn’t have to adjust to us.” He snaps, still glaring at the screen, watching as Alfred holds you carefully, in a way where you can’t hurt him while also like you're a fragile and precious thing.

Tim raises an eyebrow, looking at Damian with a mix of curiosity and understanding. “You want them to just...accept us? Just like that?”

Damian's expression darkens, his expression almost pained for a moment, his eyes never leaving the screen as he watches the way Alfred’s handling you.

“Yes, exactly like that.” He says, his tone firm and underlyingly desperate.

Tim's expression softens a bit, realising how much Damian truly wants you to accept them, that you don’t fear them. His expression becomes almost sympathetic as he watches Damian’s reaction.

"Dames…" he says gently, his voice soft, but firm. “It doesn’t work like that, bud. It’s gonna take time for them to actually warm up to us. They’ve been on the streets for far too long, they’ve been alone for a while.”

His gaze shifts down for a moment. “For now we’ll just have to result to the sedatives to keep them docile.”

Damian's expression pinches, his features shifting into a mix of agitation and discontent. While he loathes the thought of drugging you, he knows that the rest of the family has already made up their minds.

He lets out a quiet sigh, taking in a deep breath through his nose. Closing the fridge door with more force than necessary, his jaw clenching.

Tim notices the look on his brother's face, seeing the clear irritation and disapproval, and rolls his eyes a bit. “I don’t like this.” The youngest Wayne mutters, his tone tight and disapproving.

“It’s necessary.” Tim counters, his tone matter of fact, though there’s a hint of discomfort in his voice.

Damian shoots him a glare, clearly not satisfied with the explanation. He crosses his arms, his expression hardening, his eyes filled with a mixture of irritation and reluctance.

“Is it really necessary?” He snaps, his voice taking an almost bitter edge.

Tim’s expression hardens a bit, not appreciating the attitude. He takes a step forward, his eyes meeting Damian’s in a steady glare. “Yes, it is.” He says firmly. “It’s the most practical solution. We need to keep ‘em under control. You know the others won’t be happy if we let the kitty run wild. Or god forbid they throw a tantrum and hurt one of us. We can handle it, but can Alfred?”

His jaw clenches, his hands balling into tight fists at his sides. He knows Tim’s right, but he doesn’t enjoy that fact. He lets out a frustrated huff, his voice tight and strained.

“I know.” He snaps back. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Tim sighs, his expression softening a notch. He understands Damian’s reluctance, sharing a bit of the same sentiment. But he’s also pragmatic, and right now their needs are priority, not yours.

“I’m not saying you have to like it, Dames. It’s not meant to be enjoyable.” He says, his tone is gentle compared to before. “It’s just what needs to be done. It’s what’s practical. Effective."

Damian’s shoulders sag slightly, his expression shifting into one of reluctant acceptance. He knows that Tim’s right, that practicality should be their primary concern. But it doesn’t sit right with him, treating you like some sort of prisoner. You’re family.

He lets out a soft sigh, his hands uncurling from their tight fists. “Fine.” He mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tim notices the shift in Damian’s demeanour, the reluctant acceptance showing in his expression. He gives his brother a sympathetic look, knowing how hard this is for him. They’re all used to dealing with criminals, dealing with bad people, but using these methods on you feels wrong. Unnatural.

He nods in acknowledgment, giving Damian a small, relieved smile. “It’ll be alright, Dames.” He says genuinely. “You know it’s for the best.”

Damian nods, his features a mixture of reluctance and resignation. He knows that Tim’s right, that this is the best course of action for the situation. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“Yes, I know.” He says, his voice quiet, but resigned. “It’s for the safety of the rest of us. For their safety.” He adds, his tone taking on a bitter edge again, as if the words taste rancid on his tongue. “But I still don’t agree with it. I hate that you agree with it.”

Tim lets out a slow, drawn-out sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He takes a deep breath before looking back at Damian. “I’m the one who concluded that we needed to sedate them. It’s the safest solution.” He admits quietly, his voice taking on a note of resignation. “It may not be the best option, but it’s the practical one.” His voice started to take on a more tired note. He hates having to repeat himself.

Damian’s expression darkens again, his irritation flaring up once more as he glares at Tim. “You suggested this?” He snaps, his voice tense.

Tim tosses his tablet down onto the counter at Damian's outburst, his expression becoming more guarded. "Yes, I did." He says, his tone firm and unapologetic. "And if you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it." His voice takes on a challenge, a daring note as he glares back at Damian.

The younger Wayne grows irritated at Tim's challenging tone, his eyes narrowing. He opens his mouth, about to shoot back at Tim, the argument on the tip of his tongue. But then he notices the hint of exhaustion in his brother’s eyes, the weary lines etched into his expression. He catches the frustration in Tim's tone, the tiredness seeping through. He closes his mouth, the argument dying on his tongue. He’s painfully aware of the older boy's self destructive habits.

He lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sag, and he drops his gaze to the floor. “No. I don’t.” He mutters bitterly.

Their attention is immediately snapped and drawn to the kitchen’s entrance as Alfred appears, a questioning eyebrow raised as he glances between them, seeming to take note of their tense exchange.

Tim’s expression shifts into one of slight relief, glad for the distraction from the argument and the heavy atmosphere of the kitchen.

Damian’s jaw clenches, his features shifting into a tight frown. He glances over at Alfred, his expression impatient and expectant.

“Where are they?” He snaps, his voice taking on a firm, demanding edge.

The butler glances between the two, his eyes lingering on Damian and his irritated expression. “The young master has been taken to Master Dick.” He says calmly, an air of mild reproach in his tone.

Damian’s scowl deepens as he processes Alfred’s words. The thought of you being alone with Dick makes his stomach twist with unease. He knows how overbearing and excessive his eldest brother can be, and he’s not exactly confident in Dick’s ability to handle the situation without causing some sort of incident. Plus, he wanted to be the first person you saw once you had woken up.

Tim, on the other hand, only looks only mildly concerned. He has a bit more faith in Dick’s ability to keep the situation under control, but he’s also not blind to his brother’s tendency to smother and overwhelm. But he has the cameras to watch over just in case the situation turns sour. So he’s not worried.

Damian’s face twists in irritation, and he’s about to demand to know where exactly Dick took you, but Alfred clears his throat before he can speak.

“I’m certain the young master is in safe hands, Master Damian.” Alfred says, his voice calm and gentle, a silent plea for him to hold his tongue.

Damian’s jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tensing further. He hesitates for a moment, wrestling with the urge to argue, but ultimately he swallows the words and just gives a tense nod.

Tim watches the silent interaction between Damian and Alfred, his expression still mostly neutral. He’s silently amused by Damian’s irritation, knowing how the youngest Wayne has very little patience with these kinds of things. But he knows that arguing with Alfred is usually pointless, the old butler’s word usually final.

So he just watches quietly, his gaze drifting towards the live feed fed from the cameras.

You’re curled up under Dick’s bed, body coiled into a small, tense ball. Your fur is bristled and your ears are pinned back, pressed flat against your skull. You’re tense and on edge, waiting silently for any sound from above, listening keenly to the movements of the man sitting on the bed above you who can’t stop giggling.

Grayson is sitting on the edge of his bed, a wide smile on his face as he looks down at the space under his bed. He’s trying to keep his voice relatively quiet, not wanting to startle you further, but he’s too amused to keep his voice completely level. He keeps chuckling to himself, he can’t help it. You were just so adorable. Even when you were angry, all fluffed up and hissing.

“Come on out, little thing.” He coos, his tone gentle and sweet. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He reaches a hand down, his fingers gently patting the carpet beneath the bed, coaxing you out from your meagre hiding place.

Your tail lashes out, thwacking against the underside of the bed. You roll your eyes at his coaxing, annoyed at the way he’s trying to get you out. As if you’re going to give him the satisfaction of coming out just because he keeps saying he won’t hurt you. How stupid does he think I am?

Dick huffs a quiet, exasperated laugh, clearly amused by your stubbornness. He continues to gently pat the carpet, his voice still gentle and coaxing. “Come on, come out, baby. I just want to talk to you.”

He shifts a bit, trying to get a better view of you under the bed, but he can only see a glimpse of your fluffy rump and tail.

You shift away from his hand, pressing yourself closer to the wall, your eyes locked on his fingers as they continue to pat the carpet. Yeah, right. You think bitterly, your tail whipping around irritably. Like I’m going to fall for that. A guttural hiss leaves your throat. As if I’d come out just because he ‘asked nicely.’ No fucking chance.

Dick can tell that you’re not budging anytime soon. He lets out an amused huff, still smiling down at the space under his bed. “Alright then.” He says with a small laugh, clearly not too bothered by your stubbornness.

“I’m not going to force you out. I can just sit here all day, sweetheart. All day and all night.” He says sweetly, his tone taking on a singsong edge.

Your ears go back, flattening against your head at the mention of him sitting there all day. You shoot a withering glare at his fingers. No way you’re going to let him get the better of you. You’ve dealt with humans trying to coax you out from hiding by pretending to be nice before. Never once has it worked. Not once.

My mother taught me better than that.

Dick watches your ears flatten against your head, his smile growing slightly at your defiant glare. He can practically feel the resistance radiating off of you. He knows that he’ll have to use a different tactic to make you come out. He’ll make sure to remember to get rid of the bed’s legs so you can’t hide under it again.

“Come on, little spitfire, you can’t stay under there forever.” He tries, his tone slightly softer. “I bet it’s cramped and uncomfortable under there. You gotta be getting tired.”

Your ears prick up slightly at his words, but you quickly ignore them. He’s right of course, it is cramped and uncomfortable under here. But you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. You keep your gaze locked on his hand. It may be a little claustrophobic, but the carpet laid under your little belly and small paws is softer than any material you’ve ever had the pleasure of feeling before. It’s more comfortable than the worn-out stained mattress you use as a bed. Everything here is, really. So you can deal with a little claustrophobia.

Dick can see the way your ears prick up at his words, and he can see the way your eyes drift around the carpet under the bed, taking in the soft material.

He can tell how much more comfortable this is compared to how you usually live. But he keeps that observation to himself.

He just continues quietly coaxing you, his voice never losing its sweetness.

“Yeah, I bet you’re cramped and uncomfortable, baby. It's awfully warm under there...” He coos, his hand continuing to pat the carpet lightly. “And you must be hungry by now, right?” He asks softly, his voice taking on a more sympathetic edge.

Your ears twitch a bit at his words, the mention of food making your stomach rumble quietly. He’s right, you are hungry. Famished, even. It’s been a few days since your last full meal.

You try to push down the ache of hunger in your stomach, your tail flicking irritably. You’re not going to give in just because he mentioned food. Even if a part of you is tempted, you’re not that desperate.

Dick’s lips twitch as he notices the way your ears flick, and he hears your stomach give an almost painful-sounding grumble. He’s silently satisfied that he’s at least getting some sort of reaction; a sure sign that he’s wearing you down.

“Aww…” he coos sympathetically, his voice sickenly sympathetic. “Are you hungry? Your tummy’s all grumbly.. I can hear it from here, kitten.” He leans forward, resting his chin on his folded hands. The position gives him a clearer view of you.

Your ears twitch again, but that’s the only reaction you give. On the inside, your stomach is practically clawing at itself, begging for some sort of meal. Your body is silently aching from how starved you are, the feeling only getting worse with each passing moment. Why the fuck did he have to say something? You hadn’t even noticed a few seconds ago.

But you keep your glare firmly fixed on his hand, refusing to acknowledge the pain. You’re determined to show him that you’re not going to give in that easily.

Dick hums thoughtfully, his gaze gliding over to the hidden camera in the corner of the room, his eyes locking on it knowingly. He casts the device a glance, his expression speaking volumes. He’s letting Tim know that he’s got this situation under control, but still mouths for him to send food.

He glances back down at the space under his bed, addressing you again, his tone still gentle and coaxing. “Come on out, baby…”

A soft growl rumbles in your chest, your mind still stubbornly set on refusing to budge. His soft tone and gentle way of speaking isn’t going to get the better of you.

You dig your claws into the carpet, a low, grumpy snarl working its way out of your throat. No. You think irritably, your tail twitching from behind, thumping against the wall in silent protest.

Dick hears the growl that rumbles out of your chest, and he can tell that you’re still holding out. You’re a stubborn little thing, he’ll give you that. It makes him almost proud. He’s proud to be your brother.

“Come on, kitty. Why don’t you come out from under there and let me see you?”

Your fur sticks up more at his words, your tail lashing even more furiously. He’s getting awfully demanding, which only serves to anger you more. You flatten your ears back against your head, letting out another low growl. Your glare locks intensely on his fingers, which are still lightly patting the carpet. Does this idiot honestly think I’d come out just because he’s saying please?

Dick tries to keep his calm demeanour, despite your visible irritation with him. He knows that you’re feeling claustrophobic under there, but he also knows that you’re too stubborn to come out just because he asks nicely. He silently notes the way your back rises and falls a little too quickly, a sign of how stressed you are in the confined environment.

He tries another approach. “Don’t make me come under there and get you…” he says lowly, his voice taking on a slightly darker edge.

Your ears twitch at the darker undertone in his voice, your body tensing further. You know that he means it, and the thought of him coming under there gets your claws digging deeper into the carpet.

You let out a guttural snarl, low and threatening. Try and get me out. Go ahead and try. I bet your big back can’t even fit under here.

Dick huffs a quiet laugh as he hears your warning snarl, but he’s not intimidated in the slightest. He knows that you’re just trying to sound intimidating, to scare him into leaving you alone. But he can see past the fierce demeanour you’re putting on, he can see the way your body is shaking with tension, the way you’re practically clawing the carpet to pieces.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment before standing. His hand reaching down and hooking under the frame of the bed, lifting it up with little effort.

Your body jerks back in shock as he suddenly lifts the entire bed into the air, the sound of the bed’s feet scraping loudly across the floor.

Your tail goes wild at the unexpected situation you’re suddenly in, waving uncontrollably behind you. Your eyes are as big as saucers, the sight of the bed being lifted up completely taking you by surprise. Fuck– how is he so strong?

Your heart is practically slamming against your ribcage, your adrenaline spiking. You’re suddenly feeling very exposed, pressed against the rich wooden frame of the underside of the bed with nowhere to go. You can see him peering under the bed, that smug smile on his face making your blood boil.

“Come out before I’m forced to grab you, spitfire.” He repeats.

A guttural snarl rumbles out of your chest, your legs bunching up as if you’re preparing to pounce. Your heart is racing uncomfortably. His tone is playful, but you can see the subtle hint of darkness in his eyes.

Dick chuckles as he watches your body tense up, the look in your eyes almost murderous. But despite your fierce demeanour, he can see the way your muscles are trembling beneath your fur.

He knows that you’re just scared. You like to put on a strong front, but your shaking body gives you away. He doubts that you’re even aware of it.

His arm is starting to strain a little, the bed is heavier than it looks, but he keeps holding it up with one arm, leaning forward slightly to peer at you.

A low hiss escapes your throat as you slowly begin to edge out from under the bed, your body practically scraping against the ground. You keep yourself as low to the floor as possible, as if you’re still trying to be undetected.

Then, you suddenly dart across the room, scrambling as fast as your legs will allow to the other side, putting as much distance between you and the dude. Once you’ve reached the far side of the room, your body immediately collides with a wall, your tail whipping around as you press yourself against the surface.

Dick sighs as he watches you scramble away from him, practically diving to the other side of the room and immediately slamming yourself against the wall. He lowers the bed back to the ground, letting it thump loudly against the carpet.

His eyes watch you closely, taking in how you’re almost vibrating with tension. He can see the way your eyes are wide, how your back is hunched against the wall, and your little ears are folded back against your head.

You’re ready to go at any second.

Your tail is lashing wildly behind you, your entire being screaming at you to bolt for the door. Get out. Go. Run. Leave. Now. Get out while you still can.

Your little legs carry you as fast as they can, the sound of the door clicking open ringing in your ears. The sound was as loud as a gunshot to your ears. It’s the only noise you need to hear before you bolt. The thought of escaping is a driving force, urging you to run as fast as possible. Darting as fast as your paws will carry you towards the door.

But your escape gets instantly interrupted as you suddenly crash into a pair of long legs, covered in posh looking suit pants. A startled hiss escapes your throat as you stumble back, your head bumping against the man’s legs.

You skid to a halt, your paws screeching against the floor as you collide with them. Your head snaps up, a hiss escaping you as you pull away and stumble back, trying to gain some distance. The rich black fabric now adorns a few of your fur's stray hairs.

A soft chuckle escapes the man just moments after your little stunt, the sound catching your attention. You look up at the man, his face calm and collected as he simply stares down at you.

He speaks in a light tone, addressing you. “Careful there, little one” His eyes are still locked on your small frame. His gaze then shifts back to Dick, holding out a tray to the man.

Dick huffs in amusement as he sees you bolt straight into Alfred, your legs carrying you so quickly that you don’t realise his entrance until it’s too late. He almost laughs out loud as he watches you scurry back awkwardly, your eyes darting back and forth between the two men.

He takes the tray from Alfred with a grateful smile, placing it on the rich wooden desk nearby. “Thanks, Alfie.” He says, his gaze shifting back to you, watching you closely.

Alfred hums softly in response, his eyes still locked on you, his gaze studying your every movement. You feel uncomfortably scrutinised as he looks you over, taking in your every feature. Jesus, he’s staring at me like I’m a bloody zoo attraction.

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes are studying your every move, as if you’re something of extreme curiosity to him. His intense interest in you is making you shift uncomfortably.

He didn’t do that earlier, did he? You think to yourself, your mind struggling to recall earlier events. But for some reason, your memories are just a big jumbled blur.

You can faintly remember waking up on a soft, plush material. Your mind struggles to recall the events. All you can remember are vague, blurry images, like watching a video through a rain-drenched window. One of those images is an unfocused picture of the butler walking, holding you in his arms as he moves. It’s anything but clear. You wouldn’t have believed that it had even happened if it weren’t for the fact that you are in the ‘Master Dick’s room.

Which, now that you’re thinking about it, sounds oddly familiar to you.

However, they don’t spare you much time to ponder over it as you’re forcefully pulled out of your thoughts when the door clicks closed behind the old butler as he leaves once more, your ears twitching in response to the sound.

Dick watches you silently as he places the tray in front of you, the aroma of cooked meat wafting towards your nostrils almost instantly, making your stomach rumble loudly, as if on a cue.

You silently berate your stomach in your mind, before glaring up at Grayson. He probably poisoned it, or something.

Your stomach lets out another loud gurgle as the meat fragrance hits your sensitive nose, the sound making your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You quickly try to silence the sound of your rumbling belly by internally scolding and cussing out the organ, but your silent tantrum is cut short as you glare up at Dick, eyeing him suspiciously.

Your mind instantly accuses him of tainting the food. He probably poisoned it. Or something. You think bitterly.

Dick notices the way you’re eyeing the food suspiciously, a small chuckle escapes him in response. He can tell that you’re silently accusing him of doing something to the food, and he can’t help but find the way your face scrunches up in a tiny little frown as you glare.

He leans down to sit opposite you, keeping a safe distance before he speaks, his tone gentle. He tells you. “The food is fine. It’s made so you can eat it in both forms.”

Your ears immediately perk up in surprise, your tail freezing in its agitated movements. You can feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins, making your body tense up. He knows I'm a hybrid.

A thousand thoughts run through your mind as the realisation strikes you. He knows. How the hell does he know?

Your heart begins to race even more as your mind instantly connects the dots, linking the events together like a piece of an unsolved puzzle. You recall the other man, the man who knew where you lived. You had no idea who he was, but he clearly knew who you were.

And now, Dick somehow knows about your unique condition.

Your mind quickly makes the connection. Are they working together? Is he with Jason?

You can already feel the adrenaline pumping through your system, your heartbeat sounding like a drumbeat in your chest. Your body is tense, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Dick doesn’t seem to notice your inner thoughts, or if he does, he’s not showing it. He sits calmly across from you, that annoying little grin still plastered on his face, his eyes studying your every move.

Your mind is racing, your body feeling like it’s ready to explode. You can’t help yourself, the thought of staying small and powerless while being in the presence of such a man is making you heave. Bile shooting up your throat at the mere thought.

You quickly shift forms, transforming into a human form. You’re still tense, on edge, but somehow you feel less vulnerable this way.

A large red and black hoodie hangs off of your form, the oversized material reaching the middle of your thighs. A pair of shorts hugging your legs, clinging to the skin tightly. You’re painfully aware that this is not what you had on before you were knocked out. And somehow, by the tight restricting feeling that adorns your neck, the collar has adapted itself onto your human form too. The sight confuses you and leaves you with a thousand questions, but you don’t dare ask any of them.

Your mind is too occupied with the dull ache that had been building into a painful burn in the muscles of your body, making it harder to concentrate. The intense pain has gone from an irritating dull ache to a stinging, burning feeling. It feels as if someone has dug into your skin, left something deep inside you, and stitched it into your flesh.

Your muscles tense, the overwhelming feeling making you nauseous. The pain is far worse in your human form.

Dick’s eyebrows furrow as he notices the way you suddenly curl in on yourself, your body flinching as if in pain. His heart clenches at the sight. He immediately rushes over to your side, stopping and kneeling down right next to you. His deep ocean eyes filled with concern.

He watches you carefully, his gaze studying every muscle twitch, every subtle movement. Something's wrong. His heart clenches at the sight of you in pain, a protective instinct stirring within him that he can't ignore.

His body is itching to reach out to you, to comfort you, but he holds himself back. Don’t make it worse. He thinks to himself.

He speaks your name gently, his voice filled with worry. “Are you alright?” he asks, his eyes locked onto you. “What hurts? Tell me, kitten.”

You’re curled up into a tight ball, your body tense and in pain. Dick’s voice is gentle, filled with concern as he asks you what’s wrong. But the sound of him calling you kitten makes you wince in annoyance, a slight hiss escaping you before you can stop it.

You’re about to answer him when a wave of intense pain shoots through your spine, making your body jerk involuntarily.

The sound that escapes your throat is something between a hiss and a whimper. Which does nothing to calm Dick, his face growing more concerned as he watches you writhe in pain, his mind practically screaming at him to do something to help you.

Dick is about to reach out and touch you, to comfort you, but before his hand can touch your shoulder, the bedroom door slams open violently. Damian’s face, uncharacteristically filled with fear, is suddenly in the room. Tim is next, rushing past the boy and to your side with a syringe in his hand. You don’t have any time nor energy to evade him. The sedative administered quickly.

Your body is tense from the pain, but you feel yourself start to relax as the sedative takes effect. Your mind is slowing down, the world around you becoming hazy. Your breathing is growing slower, your body slowly going limp as the drug starts to take over your senses. Falling backwards into Dick's readied arms.

Dick grits his teeth, looking up at his younger brothers with a deep frown. “Someone explain." he orders firmly, cradling you protectively in his arms as you begin to fall unconscious.

“We need to get them to Bruce.” Damian responds instead of answering. Your mind is barely registering the words before everything starts to go black and it feels like you’re drowning. The sedative completely takes effect as you slowly fall unconscious.

You feel yourself slowly awakening, your long kitten limbs stretching out as your paws curl in on themselves. A soft yawn escapes your lips as you blissfully blink your sleepy eyes open, you can’t remember transforming, but you don’t dwell much on it, feeling somewhat satisfied and at ease. A soft, satisfied purr escaping your lips.

You’re almost about to lull yourself back to sleep when the surface you’re laying on shifts under you.

Your ears twitch in response, your eyes widening with alertness as the soft, fuzzy feeling of comfort is instantly replaced with confusion. You quickly realise that the surface you’re sleeping on is actually moving under you, and that the slight thump thump sound underneath you is not your own pulse.

Your mind quickly processes the new information, realising that you’re not laying on a soft surface, but on someone’s lap. Your body immediately reacts, your ears flicking back as you try to scramble out of whoever’s lap you’re on, startled.

A deep, rumbling chuckle resonates from behind you, a large hand patting your fur gently. Your tail flicks in response to the touch, your mind registering how easy it is to move, how the pain is gone. You take this opportunity to leap up onto the large office desk, your eyes darting around to take in your surroundings – completely ignoring the large figure behind you.

Your tail instantly goes rigid as your eyes fall on the framed photo on the desk, your eyes instantly widening as you recognize the people in the picture. Your heart sinks deep in your chest. It’s a family. A large and happy-looking family. One that you are all too familiar with.

Your mind connects the dots instantly, the realisation hitting you like a truck. The familiar manor. The butler, Alfred. Master Dick. Those people. You're suddenly afraid of looking at the man behind you. They were the Waynes.

Your heart starts pumping furiously in your chest, your breathing becoming rapid and shallow. You can feel a wave of nausea overcome you, your stomach clenching and your head spinning from the force of it all. How exactly have you landed yourself right in the laps of the Wayne's, of all people?

You’re afraid to look back, afraid of who is sitting right behind you. The urge to flee and run as far as possible from this place is almost overwhelming.

The man’s voice cuts through your spiralling thoughts, making you realise that you’re far too deep in your own head. A shiver runs down your spine at the nickname. Sunshine. You haven’t heard that nickname in years.

"You gave us quite the fright there yesterday, sunshine."

You finally gain the courage to look back, your body tense and your breathing heavy. You meet the man’s eyes, and the sight of the soft, concerned gaze makes your breath hitch in your throat. His voice was both soft and firm, almost... paternal.

His deep ocean eyes were looking at you with a mixture of concern and worry. There was no malice, no ill-intent. Only concern that made your heart clench in your chest. His expression is soft, like a parent seeing their child in pain.

He's sitting in a large armchair, his tall frame slouched slightly as he looks at you intently. His suit looks expensive, but slightly rumpled, as if he hadn't changed in quite a while. His tired eyes never leave you.

Your mind instantly goes into a panic, your multi-coloured chest heaving as if you just got the wind knocked out of you. Fur going up and down at each breath.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Your thoughts are screaming at you, practically begging you to run. To hide. Everything in you is telling you to flee. You can’t go through this again. You were not going through this- not with Bruce fucking Wayne. One deadbeat mother was enough.

Your body is tense, your tail flicking quickly from one side to the other. You’re terrified, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through your body like a wildfire. You’re on the verge of bolting, of escaping as fast as your little legs can carry you. Your heart is pumping, your muscles tense and ready to jump.

But you can’t. You’re frozen in place, your body refusing to cooperate. Stuck there, looking directly into the eyes of one of the most powerful men in Gotham.

Your body goes stiff before you can stop it, your muscles flexing. You can barely even register that you’re being scooped up until you’re already in his arms, his large hands gently holding you close as he begins to scratch behind your soft little ears. His voice is low as he leans down and whispers in a soothing almost comforting tone, his warm breath on your fur making you shiver involuntarily. You almost don’t register his words, the soothing, deep baritone trying to reassure and coax you to relax. To calm down. He’s telling you that it was alright that you had nothing to fear. That you were safe.

“Breathe.”

You’re tense in his arms, your body fighting between the urge to stay and run away, to escape from this situation. But the soothing voice and the gentle fingers scratching behind your ears are starting to have a calming effect on you, despite yourself. His deep voice somehow helps soothe your inner cat, the instincts in your half-wild brain slowly calming down.

He tells you to breathe, to calm down, and you realise that you are holding your breath. You take in a gasping lungful of air, feeling your body sag slightly.

His large hands are holding you close, keeping you still and comfortable in his arms. He continues to run the back of his thumb soothingly behind your ears, the comforting gesture making your eyes flutter with pleasure as a soft, involuntary purr-like sound escapes you. He chuckles quietly at the sound, looking down at you with those deep ocean eyes of his.

“Good,” he says aloud, his voice deep and soothing. “Just like that… Easy, sunshine.”

Your body relaxes against his larger form as he continues to talk softly, his warm breath hitting you with every word he speaks. You find yourself leaning into his touch without meaning to, his strong hands and familiar scent comforting your inner feline instincts. The deep and soothing rumbling of his voice is a strange comfort to your nervous system, bringing an unfamiliar sense of safety.

“That's it... you're doing so well…”

His hands never leave your body, his touch still soothing and tender, like a parent comforting a scared child. His voice is gentle and calm, like a soft, warm blanket, wrapping itself around you and muffling your senses.

You find your body relaxing further, your muscles no longer as tense as before as you lean heavily into him, almost melting. His scent is warm and musky, bringing a strange sense of familiarity and comfort along with it. He chuckles softly as you let your eyes flutter closed, feeling yourself giving in to the comforting presence. You can barely think, just basking.

His large hands never stop their comforting motions, continuing to gently rake through your soft, fluffy fur. The sound of his low voice and the feeling of his warm breath on your fur are both soothing you further, making your inner cat feel safe and protected.

He continues to murmur soft words to you, saying that you're good and that you're doing so well. You feel yourself nodding in a haze, the praise making your half-wild brain feel satisfied and at ease for the first time in a very long time. Your entire body soaking in all the praise and affection. He continues to talk softly to you, his deep voice almost lulling you to complete and utter contentment. You almost don't register his words, still feeling all fuzzy from the sedatives.

He lets his voice die out for a moment, just watching intently as you curl into him. Then he speaks up once more, his low voice filled with genuine remorse and sadness this time as he speaks to you, his large hands subconsciously tracing carefully over the newly bandaged areas on your small form. He murmurs softly about metal allergies and implantation tests.

“We hadn't run nearly enough tests...” he says, his voice full of regret. “We would never have been so careless if we had known you were going to react badly to the metal we used… I apologise.” His large figure is still holding you tight against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around you. His voice is soft and apologetic. As if it was his fault that you were allergic to the metal. As if it was normal for someone to put things like trackers inside of you.

Your entire body tenses as you suddenly remember exactly where you are and who you're with. It's as if a switch flips inside of you. You can feel anger and fear rising up in your chest as your ears automatically lay back flat against your head. You suddenly find yourself not feeling safe in his arms anymore, instead feeling panicked. What the fuck did he just say? Trackers?

This time you don't even think, your natural instincts kicking in full force. Your pupils shrink into deep slits as your teeth bare in a feral expression, the fear and anger from before making your claws extend and dig into the billionaire's skin.

He barely has time to react before you're lunging at his wrist, your sharp claws digging deep into his expensive suit, creating deep red gashes on his skin. You're not backing down, not this time.

He lets out a surprised hiss of pain, his grip around you relaxing just enough for you to slip out of his arms. You land on the edge of the desk, your body already crouched low, ready to flee. You can see the Billionaire's shocked expression, his eyes darting quickly between you and the deep red gashes on his skin. He quickly applies pressure on the wound, the gashes deep. He doesn't look angry however, more concerned than anything.

He looks up at you, his expression shifting from shock to concern, making your anger flare up again. He's looking at you like a concerned parent looks at their child when it has hurt itself. He’s the hurt one. It's making you livid.

He speaks your name softly, his voice filled with worry and concern. His expression and tone remaining gentle. Loving. “Are you alright?”

The question makes you twitch in anger, your eyes flashing in irritation. You just mauled the man's arm and he has the nerve to ask you if you're alright?

He slowly reaches out towards you, his expression unchanged, still concerned. "Come back here." he says, his voice gentle and coaxing. "You shouldn't be moving around too fast yet."

You hiss at him, your anger flaring at his patronising tone. The idea of getting closer to the man is making your heart pound wildly in your chest. His expression only softens in response, like he's used to temperamental creatures. "It's alright," he soothes, his voice staying level and even. "Just come back here and let me check if you’re hurt."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he assures gently. "I just want to make sure you're okay. The sedatives should be just about out of your system now, but you really shouldn't be walking around yet." He's still slowly reaching out to you, his voice soft and soothing. "You need to rest, sunshine. You just got a big shock. Come back here. It's alright." His voice is still full of that same paternal concern. Like he's worried for his own child. Like you're some frightened kitten that needs to be comforted. It makes you want to claw out his eyeballs.

You tense, your entire body shaking from the adrenaline and fury coursing through you. The nickname Sunshine from earlier only serves to fuel your anger further. Bringing back memories from your early childhood that you've tried so hard to squash down. You can feel anger and fear mixing into a potent cocktail inside your body, making you feel like you're about to burst from the conflicting emotions. You hiss aloud at him in reply, your body tensing further as he still reaches out.

He pauses as you bare your teeth at him, your tail lashing around wildly. He sighs, his expression turning to one of resignation. "You really are a feral little thing, aren't you?" he comments aloud, his tone holding unfiltered amusement. But his eyes are still concerned, watching your every move intently.

He slowly lowers his arm, seeing that you're not reacting well to his attempts at coaxing you back. He leans back in his chair, seemingly giving you a safe distance to calm down. His gaze stays fixed on you, his large eyes watching your every move, like a hawk watching its prey. He's still watching you with concern, like he's worried you're going to do something reckless.

"Just take a breath," he instructs, his voice still gentle. "You're going to hurt yourself if you keep going like this." He's still watching you intently, like he's waiting for you to snap and attack him again.

The urge to transform back into your human form is strong, your emotions are a tumultuous storm inside of you. Wanting to cuss the old man out. But you resist the urge out of pure stubbornness, the part of you that still wants to claw him to shreds still in full control of your thoughts. But you want to scream at him, to say something cutting and hateful.

You have so many things you want to say to the Billionaire, so many insults and scathing remarks that are just on the tip of your tongue. But the feral part of you is not letting you shift to speak. You're stuck between wanting to transform into your human form and shout at him, and staying like this to claw his eyes out.

The elder man tries once more to reach out and grab you, seemingly sensing that you're not quite done with your outbursts yet. But you react quickly, your body moving before your mind can stop you, your paw coming up and swiping at his arm. Claws out and extended. However, this time he's prepared for your reaction. He's quick to grab your extended limb, gripping you firmly by the arm. Before you know it, you're hoisted up into the air, dangling by your arm as you hold back a whine.

He doesn't let go, his grip firm and unyielding. You can feel your arm stinging unpleasantly from where his fingers are wrapped around it, your feet waving in the air as you dangle helplessly. Your inner self hates being so exposed, your body hanging there like a limp doll. You despise being held like this, having no control of the situation. Your ears fold back and pin down against your head.

His pale blue irises focus intently on your outstretched limb, eyes narrowing as he takes note of your claws, which are bared and extended. Noticing how they're not as dull as they would be if they had been cut regularly. You can see his brow furrowing in deep concentration, taking in the length and sharpness. You can also see his jaw clench when he notices just how untouched they look, like they've never been cut before. He lets out a low hum as he studies you, looking down into your eyes, his gaze hardening as he clearly puts two and two together. Thinking to himself for a moment, not phased by your violent squirming.

His mind races at a million miles a minute as he looks down at you, studying your body and your reaction. He can already picture all of the damage you'll do to his furniture, his expression growing more and more stern as his thoughts linger on the possibilities. But as the thoughts of the damage you'll do to the property fades away, another one rises, even darker. One that has him clenching his jaw.

His expression turns grim as he mentally pictures the damage you could do to your other siblings, his eyes flashing with anger. He can see the scenarios clearly, the thought of you harming them making deep, cold anger spread through his veins. His jaw clenches tightly at the thought, his hand gripping your limb a little bit tighter. But there's something else in his eyes as he pictures the damage you could do. Something possessive that shows on his face as he imagines you hurting your brothers.

His eyes remain fixed on your claws as his mind works, contemplating the idea of having one of the boys trim them as soon as possible. But a part of him is also considering a way to prevent them from being used as weapons. A way to keep them from being able to do damage in the future. His jaw tenses again as he mulls over the idea of some sort of restraints, his gaze still on your claws as he plans the next move.

As his mind ponders the options, he thinks back to the scene that just happened, the violent outburst and the way you swiped your claws at him, clearly upset. He's trying to think of a way to keep you from reacting so wildly, and the thought of restraints seems like a good solution. But there's a part of him that doesn't like the idea, not wanting to use something so final on you. Especially when you're still so young.

Yet his mind is also thinking of the danger that your claws represent, especially to yourself and your siblings. He thinks of all of the dangerous things that you could do, the things that you could accidentally hurt. The damage you could cause, the damage you could do to yourself and those around you. His mind is wrestling over the best choice to make, between his protectiveness and his need to keep you safe.

You writhe violently in his hold, using every ounce of strength you can muster to try and tug yourself free. With as much force as you can manage, you tug yourself up to deliver a solid bite to the Wayne's first knuckle, trying to dislodge his grip on your small paw.

Your teeth dig deep into his skin, your sharp canines breaking through the skin like it's butter, drawing a small trickle of blood. With all of your strength you yank against his hold. He lets out a guttural growl of pain as your teeth dig into his flesh, trying to yank his hand away on reflex. He wasn't expecting the sudden attack, the pain of your little fangs burying into his skin making his eyes widened. His fingers immediately loosen around your limb, as he pulls away his injured hand to inspect the bite.

He holds his hand to his face, inspecting the fresh bite mark you left behind, a trickle of blood sliding down his pale finger. You're able to tug your limb out of his loosened grip, landing on the desk with a soft thump. He looks at you with surprised eyes, taking in your feral appearance, your teeth bared and eyes flashing, your pupils small and slitted.

The knock on the office door interrupts the Billionaire's thoughts, his head snapping up to see Damian walking in. "Father, the enclosure has been set u-." the young boy says, but his words die out as his eyes land on you, his expression going soft at first, but then hardening at the sight of the injuries on his fathers hands.

There's a beat of silence, Damian's gaze flitting between you and his father, taking in the scene of you and the older man. The clear evidence of your outburst still present in his bloodied hands.

"What happened?" he finally says, his voice filled with anger and worry. His eyes are hard as he looks at his father's injuries, his own expression hardening further. But his next glance at you is softer, more concerned, seeing your small and feral form hunched up on the desk.

He slowly walks into the office, moving into the room and approaching the desk, his expression still a mix of anger and worry. But his eyes soften as they land on you again, seeing your small fluffy form curled up on top of the desk. His gaze flicks back to his father, waiting for an explanation.

"It's nothing, son," the eldest Wayne responds, his voice calm and reassuring, but his expression is tense as he meets his son's gaze, attempting to downplay the injuries on his hand. But Damian's eyes flick back to the injuries once more, clearly not accepting his father's explanation.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Damian retorts, his voice slightly heated as he glares at the injuries on his father's hand. "You're bleeding." he says, raising an eyebrow in scepticism. His eyes narrow at the obvious lie.

"It's just a scratch," the older man responds, his tone still calm but with an undercurrent of tension beneath it. He can feel the anger rolling off of his son in waves, seeing the glare directed at the small bite mark on his hand.

You don't bother waiting around for the confrontation, swiftly leaping off of the desk and landing near Damian's feet, your small form making a light thump against the ground. You can feel the tension in the air, wanting to get away from the arguing voices and this entire situation

Damian's attention is immediately drawn down to you as you land at his feet, his expression shifting from anger to surprise at your sudden appearance. He looks down at you, his expression still hard but softening at the sight of you, his eyes taking in your small and fierce form.

He bends down to your level, a hint of worry showing in his eyes at your unexpected action. He seems torn between staying focused on his father and his apparent injuries or looking further at you and your current state. His gaze is flickering between you and his father, not sure where to put his focus.

You'd heard tidbits about the youngest Wayne boy before, the press often calling him the "youngest Wayne" whenever he made public appearances, and you remember hearing that he was around fifteen or sixteen. He has a well defined face, but there's still a youthful innocence about him, his features still holding a boyish charm. Your gaze doesn't linger on him for too long, your legs quickly darting towards the exit, your mind focused on escaping.

As you make a beeline for the exit, you can feel his eyes following you as you move. There's a hint of surprise in his expression at your sudden escape attempt, his gaze still flickering between you and his father. He stands there for a moment, torn between stopping you and letting you attempt. Then, the reminder that you're still recovering from the surgery rings through his mind.

With minimal effort, he quickly pulls something from his pocket, sending it flying directly at the door. The object hits the door's hard wood with a loud thump, causing the door to slam shut, the door's hinges groaning loudly in protest. Your heart skips a beat as you're suddenly blocked from the exit, trapped in the room with the two of them. What the hell was that??

kind of abrupt ending, but I was rushing to get this out. So... See you in part three?

All reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated and encouraged!

If I begged would anyone create me some fanart? Please…

A special thanks to @zenychwan , @143637-hrrm , @goddessofalltrash ,@amisupposedtomakesenserightnow ,@redeemingmygloryintopurgatory , @yune1337 , @busenxr , @probabydeadbynow , @imaginarydreams , @cyberwears and @tagzi with the friggin prettiest kitties n puppies ever who definitely helped me write this chapter by sending in pics of their pets!💚

Guess who can no longer get the one thing that I’ve been saving up for for my birthday because my pay got cut 🤗 I’m officially fucking broke now. I’m actually really upset. Probably gonna be forced to not do anything for the big 20th now.

On a happier note, the chapter is finally out! I thank all the people who've waited so patiently for this to come out, you're hella appreciated💚

2K notes · View notes

aartexfurnishingsindia · 2 years ago

Text

What is the best fabric to get on a couch ?

A couch or a sofa is one of the most important pieces of furniture in any living room. It's where you relax, unwind, and spend quality time with your loved ones. Therefore, it's essential to choose the right fabric for your couch that not only looks great but also feels comfortable and durable. With so many options available in the market, it can be overwhelming to choose the best one. In this blog, we'll discuss the best fabrics to get on a couch.

1. Leather:

Leather is a classic fabric that is timeless, durable, and adds a touch of elegance to any living room. It's easy to maintain and can last for years if taken care of properly. Leather sofas are perfect for homes with pets and children as they are resistant to spills and stains. However, they can be expensive and are not recommended for hot and humid climates.

2. Microfiber:

Microfiber is a synthetic fabric that mimics the look and feel of suede or leather. It's durable, affordable, and comes in a variety of colors and patterns. It's easy to clean and maintain, making it perfect for high traffic areas. Microfiber sofas are also hypoallergenic, making them ideal for people with allergies. However, they can be prone to pilling over time.

3. Linen:

Linen is a natural fabric that is breathable, soft, and perfect for summers. It has a textured look and adds a touch of sophistication to any living room. Linen sofas are also eco-friendly and biodegradable, making them a great choice for people who are environmentally conscious. However, linen is prone to wrinkling and staining and requires regular maintenance.

4. Cotton:

Cotton is a natural fabric that is soft, breathable, and easy to clean. It's perfect for homes with children and pets as it's hypoallergenic and durable. Cotton sofas come in a variety of colors and patterns and can be easily customized to suit your home's décor. However, cotton is prone to wrinkling and can be difficult to maintain in hot and humid climates.

5. Velvet:

Velvet is a luxurious fabric that adds a touch of glamor to any living room. It's soft, durable, and comes in a variety of colors and patterns. Velvet sofas are perfect for homes with a sophisticated aesthetic and can create a cozy and intimate atmosphere. However, velvet can be difficult to clean and maintain, and is prone to fading in direct sunlight.

In conclusion, choosing the best fabric for your couch depends on your personal preferences, lifestyle, and budget. Leather and microfiber are durable and easy to clean, while linen and cotton are breathable and eco-friendly. Velvet adds a touch of luxury to any living room but requires regular maintenance. At Aartex Furnishings, we offer a wide range of designer upholstery fabrics that are crafted for a niche clientele who understand sophistication and luxury. Visit our website https://aartexfurnishings.com/ to view our collections and choose the perfect fabric for your couch.

#Best sofa fabric #Upholstery fabric #Sofa fabric #Luxury sofa fabric #Designer upholstery fabric #Curtains fabric #Handbags fabric #Home Décor fabric #Outdoor fabric #Quilting fabric #best upholstery #furniture upholstery fabric #wholesale furnishing fabrics #best upholstery fabric #best furniture fabric #upholstery fabric india #upholstery fabric manufacturers #furnishings fabrics

1 note · View note

milkbobatyun · 5 months ago

Text

foolish little dove

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: the consequences of not listening to the head of the oak family

word count: 936

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear

a/n: this can be read as a continuation of my first yandere sunday piece 'my love, mine all mine'

the plush mattress of the bed dipped underneath you, the room furnished with an abundance of luxury—silk sheets, velvet drapes, golden accents, all shining in the glow of the candlelight. it was more than any common person could afford. yet, this was just a gilded cage, a dream disguised as a nightmare,

you were the dove, wings weighed down by invisible chains, helpless as you await for the fate your captor planned for you. the balcony teased you, thick, tempered glass doors teasing you, though it remained locked, the taste of freedom just out of reach.

oh how you prayed you could fly into the sky from the balcony, to feel the fresh air blow gently against your skin.

the vast room seemed to grow larger every day, the loneliness gnawed at your insides, making you yearn for company.

the sun rose and fell, night’s moonlight flooded the room. the repetitive ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs struck through throughout the room, the gramophone’s needle scratched out the same haunting tune, echoing around the bed chamber.

you lost count of how many days you were locked up. the staff brought you your meals, took you to the bathroom to bath, their routine revolving around you like clockwork. your days began to blend into each other, making your mind a blurry haze.

today, a key jangled in the lock, the soft creak of the heavy oak door echoing in the still room.

sunday’s heavy boots thudded across the floor, muffled by the plush velvet carpet.

your blank gaze slid away from where your hands tangled each other, your hair hanging around your face like lifeless vines, towards the new figure in the room. when you catch sight of a white coat and not the mundane black uniform of the servants, your head snaps up, eyes lighting up with hope.

your eyes meet sunday’s steady gaze, lunging forwards, hands grasping at him, at his clothes, to prove to yourself he wasn’t a figment of imagination. those hallucinations happened more often now.

sometimes, it was your family, screaming in agony, their bloody hands clawing at your exquisite clothing, cursing you to eternal suffering, their screams worming its way into your ears. other times, it was the trailblazer, haunting the dark corner of your room, a silent visitor who would stare blankly in your direction.

the smooth velvety fabric rippled cooling against your soft and warm skin. sunday’s mouth twitched into an amused smirk, as he closed the distance in a few long strides. for a fleeting second, you allowed yourself to believe that he was here, to free you from the cold shackles around your ankles. his cold hands, concealed by his pure white gloves, traced your face.

“my, my,” he purred, voice soothing. “how is my little dove?”

“please,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “please, let me go… i beg of you” your voice trailed off, dying like the hope you held in your heart.

a hollow chuckle flooded the room, sunday’s face twisted in cruel humor.

“you still don’t get it, do you?” he hisses, voice taunting. “you’re mine now, little dove. even if i let you go, where would you go? home?”

a twisted smirk adorned his face.

“oh right,” he continued, tapping his finger on his chin in mock consideration. “you don't have one anymore! maybe because…they’re all dead!”

his eyes were alight with evil delirium, looking down upon you like a hawk would upon its prey.

with one finger twirling a lock of your hair, sunday leaned close to your ear, lips brushing your ear like a lover’s promise, and whispered, “remember, my little dove, you’re mine now, always and forever.”

with a gentle, almost lover-like caress of your cheek, sunday placed a kiss on your forehead, before he turned on his heel, heading towards the door.

something within you snapped and you moved before you could think, hope shining in your eyes. you tried to run towards the opening. though your legs, weak with days of sitting around, failed you. sunday watched you with sadonic delight, gaze cold and emotionless as he observed you while you flailed about, like a newborn deer.

throwing dignity to the wind, you dragged yourself towards the door, the comfort of the carpet burning against your skin. you watched as the shining sliver of freedom shut behind sunday.

the door clicked shut with an echoing finality. hearing the snap of the lock, turning back into its place, you remained, clawing at the door. you were but a dove in a gilded cage, weighed down by invisible chains, freedom nothing but a cruel illusion, always out of reach.

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳) © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2024 / づ ♡

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #sunday x reader #yandere sunday x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere #yandere sunday #hsr sunday x reader #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere character #yandere character x reader #angstober #angst

661 notes · View notes

huggingkoalas · 10 months ago

Text

𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝? 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞? | natasha romanoff

pairing — ‧₊˚ avenger!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

summary — ‧₊˚ what happens when you have to share a bed with your enemy?

word count — ‧₊˚ 2.9k

warning(s) — ‧₊˚ fluff, teasing, gunshot wound, reader’s injured, pet names (sweetheart, love), one bed trope, enemies to lovers, they’re both so in denial it makes me want to bang my head against the wall

authors note — ‧₊˚ haven’t had the time to write in a long time. i honestly had a lot of fun writing this, natasha being the most annoying fucking tease is the biggest headcannon to me <3

“Need a hand, dorogaya (sweetheart)?”

“Shut up, Romanoff.”

“If you say so.”

With your dominant hand pressed firmly against your wounded abdomen to stem the bleeding, your other hand trembled as it swiped the card through the reader. Natasha leaned her back casually against the adjacent wall, her boredom thinly veiled by a feigned yawn as the reader emitted its third ‘beep’ of rejection due to your insufficient force.

“We’ll be here all day. Aren’t you supposed to have super soldier serum in your blood?”

“I said shut up.”

With an exasperated scoff, Natasha snatched the card out of your hand. She forcefully swiped it through the reader, the satisfying click of the door unlocking echoing in the corridor. As the door swung open to reveal the dimly lit motel room, Natasha couldn’t help but grin smugly.

“See? Easy as pie.”

You grunted in response, carefully adjusting your stance to maintain pressure on your wound. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, love.” She replied breezily.

With a nod of appreciation, you stepped through the doorway, a wave of relief washing over you, although the throbbing pain in your abdomen dampened it. Natasha followed suit, closing the door behind her and locking it. She walked past you, her demeanour shifting subtly from teasing to attentive as she scanned the room. Once she familiarised herself with the layout and window exits, she turned back to you, nodding her head to give you the all-clear.

The room looked ordinary like any other hostel room, with neutral-toned walls and simple furnishings. A small table sat in one corner, adorned with a lamp and a few scattered brochures. Across the room, a worn-out armchair stood next to a narrow window, its curtains drawn shut to block the dim city lights. On the opposite wall, a modest dresser provided limited storage space, its drawers slightly ajar. Despite its lack of luxury, the room emanated a sense of comfort. As you looked around the unremarkable surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of gratitude for the simple shelter it provided.

While you were busy surveying the room, Natasha’s attention was on your injured abdomen, a subtle flash of concern in her eyes. The sight of the fresh blood staining your shirt in the brief moments it took to open the door tugged at her heartstrings, even if she would never admit it to you.

“How bad is the wound?” She inquired, pointing a finger towards your abdomen.

You glanced down, noting the slight redness seeping through the fabric and onto your shirt. “Well, I wouldn’t have this wound if someone realised that a HYDRA agent was aiming at them.” You retorted.

Natasha smirked, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Hey, it’s not my fault they can’t resist taking a shot at me, I’m irresistible.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle despite the ache in your side. “Irresistible, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

“Of course.” She shrugged casually, giving you a knowing look. “I honestly think we both attract trouble wherever we go. It's probably the only reason Fury paired the two of the biggest troublemakers on this mission, right? He’s probably having the best day of his life without having to deal with us constantly being at each other’s throats.”

You smirked, acknowledging the truth in her words. “Seems like Fury knows what he’s doing after all.”

“Well, I’d like to think he’s getting some entertainment out of it.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Entertainment? More like a headache.”

Her smirk softened into a faint smile as she shook her head. “Just because you saved me doesn’t mean that I don’t hate you still.”

“Likewise, Romanoff. Just because we’re being all buddy-buddy right now doesn’t mean I suddenly like you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “Good. Wouldn’t want things to get too sentimental, partner.”

You knew that the word ‘partner’ was dripping with teasing and sarcasm. The two of you were anything but cooperative with each other. You both frequently exchanged biting remarks, teasing, and insults. You couldn’t help but wonder what you had done to make her despise you so much. You were nice to her when you joined the Avengers all those years ago, but it always seemed that she harboured a deep dislike for you. When you spoke up in a team meeting, she would scowl and you could always feel her gaze burning a hole in your skull.

In the beginning, you tried to get along with her and be as friendly to her as you were to everyone else. From offering her assistance during training or helping her with her mission reports, nothing you did ever seemed to break the coldness and distance in her heart. You knew she wasn’t the most extroverted person, but you never saw her act that way towards others. Eventually, you gave up and decided it was best to ignore her, just as she had ignored you.

Of course, once you started ignoring her too, Natasha’s behaviour changed. She started teasing and taunting you, finding ways to provoke a reaction from you even when you tried to ignore her. And she kept winning. Her incessant teasing had a way of getting under your skin. It was a frustrating cycle of provocation and reaction. You felt like you were constantly on edge whenever she was around.

But reluctantly, you couldn’t deny that everything had changed during the mission an hour ago. Despite the heated tensions, you both had an unspoken agreement to watch each other’s backs in battle.

As the weight of the moment settled on you, Natasha’s gaze softened, and her concern for your well-being was evident in the depths of her eyes. “But seriously,” she said, her tone changing to genuine concern, “let me help you tend to that wound before it gets infected.”

You shook your head slightly. “It’s okay, I can take care of it myself.”

Her expression tightened slightly, her concern unwavering. “Stubborn as always,” she muttered under her breath.

You met her gaze with a steely resolve. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve handled worse.”

Her lips formed a thin line, showing her frustration. "Think of it as a way of repaying you for helping me.” She insisted, her voice firm.

You knew she wouldn’t give the matter up. The both of you were equally as stubborn as a mule. “Fine.” You relented, offering a nod.

“Great,” Natasha replied, a hint of relief in her tone. “To the bathroom then. I’m sure this motel room has a first aid kit somewhere…”

You and Natasha made your way to the bathroom, her footsteps echoing yours. Silently, you took a seat on the edge of the closed toilet seat. You leaned back against the toilet’s tank, the cool porcelain surface offering a brief respite from the tension in your muscles. She wasted no time in retrieving the first aid kit from the mirror cabinet and moving towards you.

“Take off your shirt,” She instructed, settling the first aid kit on the tiled floor.

Your brows furrowed in surprise at her directive. “W-What?” You stammered, looking down at her with an incredulous look.

Natasha rolled her eyes at your surprise, her patience wearing thin. “Come on, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” she chided, her tone tinged with exasperation. “I can’t clean your wound if you have your shirt on.”

Reluctantly, you began to peel off your shirt cautiously. Each inch revealed the angry red gunshot wound beneath, eliciting a whine as the fabric grazed against your wound. At least you were lucky that the bullet passed through instead of staying inside your body. As more of your skin came into view, Natasha’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. A blush crept onto her cheeks, betraying her normally composed demeanour. Despite her best efforts to maintain her composure, the sight of your exposed skin stirred something within her, igniting a warmth that she couldn’t quite suppress. Quickly, she averted her gaze, busying herself with preparing the first aid supplies. Though she tried to hide it, the flush on her cheeks lingered.

As you finally removed your shirt, Natasha’s expression softened even further. “Thank you for sacrificing yourself for me. It was incredibly stupid, though.” She murmured, her voice softer now.

“It’s alright, Romanoff.”

“You can call me Natasha, you know. You’re the only one in the team that still calls me by my last name.”

“Alright, Natasha.” Your lips twitched into a small, appreciative smile.

In a comfortable silence, Natasha began to carefully clean the wound with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, her touch gentle yet precise. The warmth of her fingertips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. As she worked, you couldn’t help but steal glances at her, admiring the focused expression on her face.

Natasha’s brows furrowed as she delicately dabbed at the wound, her lips forming a thin line. Now and then, she would scrunch her nose up, a small, endearing gesture that softened her usual stoic expression. Despite the pain, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sight of her.

Once the wound was cleaned and dressed, her gaze met yours with a sense of satisfaction. “There,” she said softly, relief in her voice. “All done.”

You offered her a grateful smile, “Thank you.”

A small, genuine smile curved Natasha’s lips as she met your gaze. “Anytime, dorogaya (sweetheart).”

As she rose to her feet, a blush crept onto your cheeks. You were well-acquainted with Natasha’s tendency to use nicknames on you, especially ‘dorogaya’, but it was typically wielded with a teasing edge. This time, however, it wasn’t accompanied by the usual teasing tone. Instead, it carried a genuine warmth that caught you off guard.

“Uh…” You stammered, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest at the unexpectedly sincere endearment. Clearing your throat, you tried to push aside the fluttering in your chest.

Her smile widened at your reaction. “Nervous, are we?”

“Shut up, Natasha.”

She chuckled softly at your retort, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she teased, her tone light and playful.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips despite the warmth still lingering in your cheeks. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words.

With a shake of her head, Natasha reached down to offer you a hand. “Come on, let’s get you back on your feet,” she said.

You hesitated for a moment, touched by her gesture, before placing your hand in hers. With a steady grip, she helped you to your feet. She moved to the doorway before looking at you over her shoulder. “I’ll let you shower first. Try not to get water on the dressing.”

“Got it.”

With a final nod of acknowledgement, Natasha closed the door behind her, leaving you alone in the quiet of the bathroom. Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you slipped off the rest of your clothes and placed them in a pile with your soiled shirt. A sense of relief washed over you at the prospect of washing away the grime of the day’s events. You turned on the water, allowing the warm cascade to envelop you as you stepped beneath the stream. Despite the lingering ache in your abdomen, the sensation of the water against your skin was soothing, easing the aching tension that had settled in your muscles.

As you stood beneath the spray, you couldn’t help but reflect on the events that led to this moment. Fury had sent you and Natasha on what was supposed to be a routine mission, but as these things often went, it spiralled into chaos. The intel given was faulty, the security stronger than anticipated, and you were in over your heads before you knew it. It was a mission gone wrong, one of those rare instances where even the most meticulous planning couldn’t prevent disaster.

In the aftermath of the debacle, with your injuries sustained and the mission being held in another country, there was no choice but to seek refuge in a motel room for a night before a Quinjet could transport you back to the Avengers Compound. Fury had booked a motel room for you and Natasha, a nondescript haven tucked away from prying eyes. It was a humble accommodation, far removed from the luxuries of the Compound, but at least it provided a temporary sanctuary where you could tend to your wounds without drawing unwanted attention.

As you stood beneath the shower’s warm spray, the mission’s events were still fresh and raw as they replayed in your mind like a relentless loop. The close calls, the split-second decisions, the adrenaline-fueled rush of combat. And yet, despite the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remained constant — Natasha fighting with you side-by-side.

You couldn’t help but marvel at Natasha’s resilience. Her determination even in the face of overwhelming odds. She had saved your life more times than you could count, her skills as an assassin matched only by her unwavering loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D.

However, this time was different. During the mission, the roles had been reversed. In a moment of instinct, you had thrown yourself between Natasha and the gun aimed in her direction, putting your own life on the line to protect hers. The only reason you could think of for making a reckless decision like that was that simple — you couldn’t bear the thought of losing Natasha, even if you hated her with your whole heart. There was no hesitation as you acted on pure instinct, driven by a need to protect her.

As the warm water washed away the physical remnants of the mission, you emerged from the shower. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you stepped out of the bathroom, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as the steam-filled air gave way to the coolness of the room.

Immediately, your gaze was drawn to Natasha, who sat on the edge of the bed, her expression a mix of surprise as she took in your appearance. You couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves at the intensity of her gaze, prompting you to tighten the towel around yourself in a subconscious attempt to shield your modesty.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence. “Sorry for staring. I.. uh-” She faltered for a moment, her words trailing off as she cleared her throat, seemingly struggling to find the right thing to say. “We have a problem. There’s only one bed.”

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for how to respond. You looked down at the singular bed Natasha was sitting on. You couldn’t help but feel a flush of embarrassment colour your cheeks. The prospect of sharing a bed with Natasha added a whole new layer of complexity to your already complicated relationship with her.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Natasha suggested, standing up.

You felt a pang of guilt wash over you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t be fair for her to sacrifice her comfort for your sake.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You interjected quickly. “You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor instead.”

Natasha crossed her arms, regarding you with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not being ridiculous. You’re the one that’s injured, you should get the bed instead.”

You shook your head. “I appreciate the concern but I really can’t let you sleep on the floor. We’re both equally exhausted from the mission and besides, you need a good night’s rest too.”

Natasha’s expression softened, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and stubbornness. “I can’t let you sleep on the floor either,” she countered, her voice firm.

You sighed, realizing that neither of you would easily back down from this standoff. “Alright, how about this,” you proposed. “We share the bed. It’s really small, so we’ll have to sleep pressed up against each other, but at least neither of us has to sleep uncomfortably.”

Natasha hesitated for a moment, considering your offer. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone softening with concern.

“I’m sure.” You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “Go take a shower. You smell.”

She chuckled softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. “Yes ma’am.”

As Natasha disappeared into the bathroom, you took a moment to collect your thoughts, relieved that the tension between you had dissipated, at least for now. Sharing a bed with her was certainly going to be an… interesting experience.

You reached for the bag you had dropped near the doorway and pulled out a fresh set of clothes. Quickly, you dressed yourself. As you settled into bed, you heard the door open as Natasha emerged from the bathroom. You were facing away from her as you felt the bed dip behind you when she got into bed. Feeling her presence behind you, you turned your head to offer her a small smile.

“Can I… wrap my arm around you? It’s the only way we’ll both fit in this bed.” Natasha remarked, her voice laced with a hint of embarrassment.

You chuckled softly, feeling the tension easing further as you nodded in agreement. “Sure, yeah, go ahead.”

As Natasha shifted closer, her front pressed up against your back and her arm gently encircling your waist, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach at the sudden intimacy. Despite the awkwardness, there was a surprising comfort in the warmth of her touch, and you found yourself relaxing further in her embrace.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Natasha murmured, her breath warm against your ear.

“Goodnight, Natasha.” You replied, a sense of contentment settling over you as you closed your eyes.

#lumi’s fics!#marvel #mcu #the avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #wlw #fanfic #fanfiction

711 notes · View notes

whyeverr · 29 days ago

Text

Ingrid lives a life of luxury and larceny in a forever-half furnished supervillain modern mansion in Del Sol Valley.

She is singlemindedly devoted to her career as a cosmetic scientist, spending long days in the lab analyzing ingredients, synthesizing serums, and fabricating new technologies — allegedly, all in the pursuit of aesthetic perfection and youth eternal, though there might be some diversions here or there…

Her only friends are Bua Bun Ma, who works at the lab, and her random-generated butler, who she once saved from a dryer fire with her Freeze Ray portable CoolSculpting applicator.

#rotten berry challenge #ingrid stikkelsbær #ts4 vanilla

66 notes · View notes

redrose10 · 1 year ago

Text

Here’s just a little bit of fluff to get you through the weekend and the final piece to the story!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 1,734

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag list: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad @drrookie

You were walking around the mall for what seemed like the hundredth time. Today was Yoongi’s birthday and you still hadn’t gotten him anything. Normally you were so on top of things like this, but you were stumped. What do you buy a billionaire who can already buy himself anything he wants? Just last week he bought a $35,000 Rolex just because he said the blue reminded him of your eyes. It was sweet, but like seriously?

You thought about jewelry, but you already knew his friends would get him new pieces since it was the easy way out. You stopped to look at the suits thinking maybe you’d get him a new one, but then you remembered how he’s the type of person that designers pay to wear their clothes resulting in him already having closets full of high end fashion. Jimin had already told you about the very expensive bottle of whiskey he had gotten him so that was out of the question.

You did purchase a brand new lingerie set though. It was mostly a purchase for you, but you knew that once he saw you in the lavender colored one piece that was more ribbon than actual fabric he’d end up loving it more than you.

You decided to do one more lap around the mall before you were going to give up and just put a big bow on top of your head and call it a day. Out of the corner of your eye something caught your attention. Smiling to yourself you knew it would be the perfect gift for your husband and you entered the store to make your purchase.

Once back at home Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, but you did find a note.

“Y/N, get dressed and meet me in the lobby at 6pm. Love Yoongi. PS, I know you bought some kind of lingerie so make sure you wear that too.”

You chuckled at how well he knew you, but you were confused as to whether it was his birthday or yours and why you were being given a surprise. You didn’t have long to get ready so you took a quick shower and put on some makeup in a hurry. You picked out a simple black dress that showed the slightest hint of the lavender lingerie you had on underneath. Yoongi would appreciate the tease. Grabbing the gift bag you headed down to the lobby just in time.

Yoongi was already waiting. “You look beautiful.”, he smiled before giving you a kiss. He then helped you into the back of a vehicle that quickly sped off to its destination.

“Where are we going?”, you asked after he didn’t give any explanation. “You’ll see.”, was all he said in return warning a suspicious glare from you.

The car pulled up to a luxurious looking building. Yoongi helped you out and walked you inside to the elevators where you realized you were in an apartment building. After going up several floors and walking down a long hallway he stopped infront of an ornate door and entered in the code.

You were confused to say the least. After your shoes and jackets were removed he finally gave you an explanation.

“I want to start fresh. That old penthouse has a lot of bad memories and I think it’s time we started creating new ones in a new place. So we’ll be moving here. It’s pretty empty right now, but you can furnish and decorate it however you want. I want it to feel like your home too. I really hope you like it. I can always buy a new one if you don’t, but these places sell fast so I didn’t have much time to really think.”

You smiled at the slight blush creeping up on his cheeks as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“I like that idea Yoongi. A new start sounds nice.”

He took your hand and led you out of the entrance way and into the main living area. It was slightly larger than your current residence and had an incredible view of the city. You were taking in the views when something in the corner of the room caught your eye and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed it until now.

A grand piano surrounded by blue hydrangeas greeted you. Yoongi pulled you over to the bench sitting you down next to him. He handed you over a mug of warm milk causing you to chuckle, “Yoongi this is all so nice, but I think you forgot that it’s your birthday, not mine.”

“You’re right, it is my birthday and I decided to get myself a little present.”

You rested your head on his shoulder with your hands around his biceps feeling the muscle flex as his fingers began playing the keys. It was a beautiful melody that almost lulled you to sleep.

“I didn’t know you could play the piano.”

He smiled, “Well I am pretty good with my fingers.” You let out a dramatic sigh before resting your head back against his shoulder. You enjoyed listening to the melody for a while until Yoongi completely shocked you and started signing. Not talking, not rapping, but singing. The beautiful lyrics combined with his deep velvety voice making your eyes go wide in surprise.

As always you light me up You are still like a fragrant flower  Believe in me now Hold me again So I can feel you Give me an embrace

Without you, I can’t breathe Without you, I’m nothing

I still can’t believe it All of this seems like a dream Don’t try to disappear

Is it true Is it true You You You’re so beautiful, that I’m scared Untrue Untrue You You You

Will you stay by my side Will you promise me If I touch (you), you’ll fly away and break  I’m scared scared scared of that

You looked at him in awe as he continued on. You never would have imagined that he could write something as beautifully as this.

When you say that you love me I walk among the skies Say that it’s forever  just one more time When you say that you love me I only need you to say that one thing That nothing will change  just one more time

You are like the entire world to me Yeah, even if I want to fly, I don’t have any wings but your hands become my wings I want to try forgetting the things that are dark and lonelyTogether with you. Even though these wings sprouted from pain They’re wings that face the light Even if it’s hard and it hurts If I can fly, I’m going to fly Can you hold my hand So that I won’t be afraid anymore? Because if you and I are together I can smile

The melody faded to nothing and Yoongi looked over at you with a shy smile.

“Soooo what do you think?”, he asked. You sniffled not even realizing that you had began crying, “I mean I’m pretty sure I asked for a rap song, but I guess this will do.”

You both chuckled before you wrapped your arms back around him, “It was really beautiful Yoongi. I love it and I love you.” You sat there for a moment taking in the moment. The warmth coming from his body thanks to his nervousness created a comforting feeling. You took in the scent of his new cologne. Something you two picked out together a couple weeks ago. Woodsy with a hint of sweetness and a subtle floral note. You fell in love with it as soon as you smelled it, but wanted to make sure he also liked it. It smelled refreshing and like a new beginning and you thought it was perfect.

After digging around in his pocket he pulled out a small black box holding it up for you to see. He flipped open the lid exposing a beautiful diamond ring. It was much smaller than your original ring, but knowing Yoongi you’re sure it was just as expensive if not more.

“I know you didn’t really like the old ring because of how extravagant it was so I picked out something new that I think you’ll like better and since we’re starting over I thought a new ring would be fitting any ways.”

“ I do love it. It’s more me.”, you chuckled.

“I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize that I loved you. You’re a strong beautiful woman who deserved the world and I’m going to do my best to give it to you. I promise. Y/N will you continue to stay married to me?”

You bit your lip failing to hide your smile, “I guess that sounds alright.”

He playfully rolled his eyes while slipping the ring on your finger and requesting a kiss that you happily obliged.

“Ooh wait I still have to give you your gift. It is YOUR birthday after all.”, you giggled before jumping up and running to grab the item from the entry way where it was left.

When you returned you handed him the gift bag smiling to yourself as you were excited for him to open it.

“I thought my gift was that lavender lace I see peaking out of your dress.”, he smirked.

“That’s for later. Open this one now.”

He pulled out the tissue paper before looking into the bag and doubling over with laughter.

“Seriously Y/N? Where did you find this?”, he asked pulling out the small stuffed animal in the form of a sheep. The personalized name tag reading as Petunia.

“I saw it at a children’s store in the mall and thought of you. You know since you are an aspiring sheep farmer and all.”

He hugged the stuffed animal close to his chest before leaning over and giving you a kiss, “Thank you. I love it.”

He stared down at the sheep for a moment before looking over at you wiggling his eyebrows, “You know Y/N, Petunia could also be a good name for a baby girl.”

Standing up and adjusting yourself to be straddling his lap you began leaving kiss after kiss along his jaw and neck.

“So is that a yes?”, he chuckled.

“It’s a maybe, but in the mean time I definitely wouldn’t mind getting some practice first.”

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #cinnamon&vanilla #min yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi x y/n #bts x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi au #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #yoongi #bts fic

195 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 1 year ago

Text

Daddy Issues (Part Six)

Pairing: Dominant!Cillian Murphy & Shy!Reader (& Jamie Dornan)

Warning: Smut, BDSM, Daddy Kink, 4-Somes, 3-Somes, Sugar Baby Arrangements

Summary: Through your best friend, you meet actor Cillian Murphy and come to some kind of arrangement involving intimacy in exchange for being spoiled financially.

Written with: my beautiful wife @darkshelbyfiction

"That's a very nice hotel room," you said appreciatively as you entered through the door and surveyed the plush interior. Luxuriously appointed and tastefully furnished, it seemed tailored specifically for moments such as these – when intimate encounters would take place beneath the canopy of velvety darkness created by the heavy drapes. You couldn't help but feel excited about what lay ahead between yourself and your companion tonight.

"It's not too bad," Cillian observed before pulling you towards him and pressing his lips gently against yours.

Moaning against his lips, you returned the kiss and felt an undeniable rush of desire surge through your body at the thought of spending time alone together in this lavish haven. His touch was firm yet gentle - conveying a sense of authority mixed with tenderness as he groped your ass while, at the same time, circling his tongue over yours. It gave you confidence knowing that no matter how wild things got between the two of you during your time here, Cillian would be there guiding you every step of the way.

"I need a shower first. I have been working all day," you eventually declared however as you stepped away from his embrace momentarily.

Cillian nodded understandingly, his gaze lingering over your curvaceous form for just a brief second. "Make yourself comfortable. The bathroom is just over there," he said softly, his deep voice echoing throughout the room and, with those words, you disappeared into the shower quickly.

The hot water cascading down upon your naked body washed away any remnants of stress and fatigue, leaving only sensual warmth behind.

Feeling more refreshed than ever, you slipped out of the steamy confines of the shower. As you reached for one of the plush towels lying nearby, you could hear the faint rustling sound coming from within the main area of the suite.

Padding back toward the bedroom, with just a towel wrapped around your body, curiosity piqued as you were met with the sight of Cillian standing beside the large bed, wearing nothing but his usual black briefs.

He turned to face you once you entered the room, allowing his piercing gaze to travel up and down your still wet body. Your skin felt alive where his eyes touched, electrifying sparks dancing across your flesh like fireflies in a night sky. His presence filled the space with a palpable energy, making the air seem charged with anticipation for what was to come.

Slowly, he approached you, his eyes never straying far from yours, sending shivers down your spine. Without warning, he grabbed your wrist tightly, bringing it close enough so that his mouth almost brushed against your fingertips. The heat radiating off his chest was a tangible force, drawing you closer, urging you onward despite the uncertainty lurking beneath the surface.

"Are you sure that you want a taste of what it is that I am after? Because, we could just fuck, and then leave it at that," Cillian asked you and, nervously, you affirmed with a nod.

"Yes Cillian. I want you to show me the kind of the sex you really like and, at least this way, I can decide whether or not we can come to some sort of arrangement," you told him with blushing cheek, ultimately causing Cillian to laugh.

"Alright then. I will give you a taste of what it would be like," Cillian smirked before he removed the towel from your otherwise naked body and produced a length of fine silk fabric from nowhere.

"Hold out your hands," he ordered before entangling the silk around your delicate wrists. The cool material slid smoothly over your sensitive skin, caressing the vulnerability exposed to him without hesitation. This action further heightened the excitement coursing through your veins, causing an achingly sharp arousal.

"Now kneel down for me," Cillian instructed calmly, his tone laced with dominance that made it impossible for you to disobey. With trembling knees, you lowered yourself onto the floor and looked up at him.

"I need you to do exactly as I say," Cillian ordered authoritatively, his commanding presence causing your heart rate to quicken even more. "Don't speak unless spoken to," he then demanded and, those last few words held immense power, binding you to his will instantly.

With your wrists tied together in front of you, you replied with a simple "yes, uhm...daddy?" and your voice cracked, just as you uttered the words, feeling a thrilling mixture of fear and submission course through your veins.

Cillian smiled approvingly, pleased with your compliance. Gathering another piece of silk, he swiftly moved towards your head, whispering into your ear, "open wide".

Obeying instinctively, you parted your lips, exposing your tongue for him.

At that moment, you felt vulnerable yet intensely alive as you allowed Cillian full access to your mouth. His fingers trailed along your jawbone lightly, the friction igniting newfound sparks of desire within you. He continued teasing your lips with the tip of the silk fabric until they were moist with saliva, then pressed the end of the tie above your teeth. "Close your mouth around this," he directed firmly, his deep baritone cutting straight through your core.

"Now, you should still be able to speak, at least somewhat, and I want you to say 'red' if you can," Cillian told you and, obediently, you repeated, "Red..."

A small smile played on his lips at your response, satisfied with your acquiescence.

"Good. This will be your safe word if you reach a point where you can't handle any more," Cillian stated, giving weight to the gravity of the situation. Your brow furrowed, trying to understand why this particular choice had been made. But instead of asking questions, you swallowed hard and promised, "yes, daddy!"

"You calling me daddy is somewhat strange but also incredibly exhilarating," Cillian chuckled and, as you knelt there bound, struggling against the conflicting feelings of vulnerability and exhilaration, the sheer intensity of the situation threatened to consume you whole.

You found solace in Cillian's reassuring presence, which anchored you to reality, helping ground you amidst the growing chaos. However, his mere proximity also incited unbridled desires within you, making the temptation to succumb irresistibly appealing.

The scent of musky cologne clung to his body, adding a hint of mystery to his persona, enhancing the fantasy you shared with him.

"Do you trust me?" Cillian then asked softly, ensuring you understood the seriousness of this undertaking. You closed your eyes briefly, savoring the weightiness of his question before finally replying, "yes, daddy" again.

Your affirmative answer served as confirmation of your willingness to submit completely to his authority, granting him permission to guide you through the exploration of boundaries beyond your comfort zone.

"Good girl," Cillian acknowledged your response with a nod, a mix of satisfaction and anticipation etched on his features. Stepping forward, he grasped your bound hands before leading you gently toward the bed, the silken restraints holding your wrists securely.

"I will tie you to the bed now so that you cannot squirm away from me during our playtime," Cillian explained calmly, his voice retaining its authoritative edge.

As his expert fingers worked efficiently to bind your wrists to the metal frame, you began to experience an odd blend of anxiety and exhalation due to the vulnerability imposed upon you. Sensing your apprehension, he offered a kiss on the forehead before proceeding with care.

"Just remember, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, simply use your safe word. If you call out 'red', I'll stop right away," Cillian reiterated, maintaining eye contact to ensure comprehension.

Though the idea was both tantalizing and terrifying, your trust in him remained steadfast, buoyed by the promise of security he provided and, once you were properly restrained, you couldn't help but notice your own reflection sprawled across the mirrored wall opposite the bed.

Despite the initial shock, you soon realized that witnessing your own submissiveness added fuel to the fire raging within you. Seeing yourself like this elicited a wave of shameful pride combined with a deep yearning for punishment. It was odd and not something you ever imagined yourself being involved in while, yet, you had secretly fantasized about scenarios like this. You always wanted to be bound but your ex, James, was way too vanilla for anything like this.

It dawned on you that submitting yourself entirely into Cillian's capable hands meant relinquishing complete control, placing your destiny squarely in his domain and this turned you on incredibly.

"Now, spread your legs for me baby," came his demanding directive, his tone brooking no refusal. Nervously, you obeyed, stretching your thighs farther apart, exposing yourself fully to his scrutiny. There was an undeniably erotic charge filling the air, amplified by the silence, accentuating every gesture between you.

Seeing you in such a position must have stirred something profound within him too, as the intensity in his gaze grew stronger, his hand tracing light patterns over your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine.

Feeling his touch, you arched your back involuntarily, seeking more sensual stimulation as the anticipation built up between you. Cillian smirked knowingly, understanding how well he had captured your attention, knowing precisely when to push your limits while simultaneously reinforcing your trust in him.

Suddenly, he bent down to kiss your neck tenderly, slowly tracing the line where your shoulder meets your torso with his warm lips.

"One more thing, which I almost forgot to tell you..." he murmured into your ear, evoking goosebumps all over your body.

"You are not permitted to cum until I allow it, is that clear?" Cillian declared confidently, conveying total control over your most intimate experiences.

Staring into his piercing eyes, unable to look away, you replied with a solemn "Yes, daddy", your voice quivering slightly. His stern demeanor only served to enhance the sense of dominance encircling you, casting a spellbinding influence that rendered you powerless against his sway.

"Good girl,” he praised affectionately after imposing his rule. It was apparent that he took great joy in exercising his authority over you, evident in the way he effortlessly manipulated your desires, controlling your very essence with a single sentence.

"Now, let me show you what it means to submit, because this is what I am after in the bedroom. I want submission," Cillian commanded in a low, gravelly voice, causing chills to run down your spine.

He moved closer, his strong fingers brushing your cheek, sending a ripple of heat throughout your body.

"Relax," he whispered soothingly, instilling a sense of peace despite the heavy atmosphere surrounding you. Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in to kiss your forehead, leaving a gentle caress behind. The subtle gesture spoke volumes about his intentions, further solidifying your role as his subject – one ready to submit wholly to his demands. His slow movements served to highlight his mastery over time, allowing him to dictate the pace without losing control.

His hand glided downwards, stopping just short of your breast as he paused to trace the outline of your ribcage with his finger.

"Look just how fucking beautiful you are," he marveled aloud, his voice thick with admiration. You followed his stare, glancing downward at your exposed form beneath his attentive touch.

"Lets see how wet you get when I'm in charge," he taunted cockily, arousing both curiosity and eagerness within you.

You didn't respond verbally, choosing instead to convey your agreement through a silent nod, signaling your readiness to accept whatever he decided to do next. This act alone seemed to empower him even further, feeding off your submission as he proceeded to explore your body with calculated precision.

Reaching between your breasts, Cillian delved deeper, trailing his index finger along the valley connecting them, creating a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He watched closely as you squirmed underneath his touch, observing your reaction keenly. Pausing momentarily, he circled your nipples teasingly with his thumb and forefinger, making your heart race faster. Grasping them gently yet firmly, he pulled them gently outward, increasing their size visually.

Unable to resist the growing tension in your body, you let out a small cry

as his fingers pinched your sensitive buds rhythmically, causing you to wriggle helplessly beneath him. With his free hand, he reached around to cup your other breast, massaging it tenderly while continuing to manipulate your nipples.

"Please," you pleaded, wanting his hand in between your legs, craving relief from the burning desire building inside you.

However, he paid no heed to your request, instead focusing solely on your aching nipples. With each flick of his thumb and forefinger, you could hear faint sounds escaping your mouth, betraying your mounting excitement. His steady pressure intensified the throbbing sensation pulsing through your entire being, leaving you aching for more.

Desperate for his touch lower down, you cried out once again, unable to bear the agonizing wait much longer.

As if reading your mind, Cillian complied, pulling his hand away from your breasts and moving it lower, past your belly button, dipping into the dark treasure trove hidden below. Briefly running his fingers along your smooth mound, he made you moan louder, hungry for more. Then, unexpectedly, he shifted focus once again, cupping your bottom before giving it a light swat.

Immediately, you jolted upright from the sudden impact, catching your breath in surprise. Your eyes met his, filled with confusion mixed with a hint of amusement at your reaction.

"So responsive." Cillian commented approvingly, appreciating your swift physical reaction to his command. His words caused another wave of embarrassment to wash over you, heightening your awareness of your vulnerability.

Driven by an insatiable hunger for knowledge, you peered deeply into his eyes, trying to discern his intention.

"You want me to touch your pussy, don't you?" Cillian asked teasingly, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His question left you feeling incredibly conflicted - equal parts excitement and nervousness vied for control within you. Unable to answer immediately, you hesitated, unsure whether to confirm or deny his statement. Finally, finding courage within you, you acquiesced with a quiet affirmation.

"Like this?" Cillian asked, demonstrating his intentions, parting your folds with his fingers, gently circling your clitoris with featherlight strokes. You bit your lip, struggling to contain your response as waves of delight coursed through your body. His touch sent shivers down your spine, and your head began to spin, your brain becoming hazy with arousal.

"Or more like this?" he queried, inserting his middle finger gently into your entrance, testing your preparedness. At first, there was resistance, but upon applying slight pressure, you felt your muscles gradually relaxing, opening up to accommodate his intrusion.

"Oh god..." you exhaled softly, closing your eyes briefly, savoring the foreign sensation penetrating you.

Your body trembled ever so slightly, reflecting the tumultuous mixture of fear and excitement coursing through you as, eventually, Cillian added a second finger.

"You have had a long-term boyfriend before, haven't you?" Cillian then suddenly probed, analyzing your reactions carefully. His inquiry surprised you, but did not bother you really.

"Yes, I did," you admitted, the confession easing some weight off your shoulders. Shifting positions, you allowed him greater access at the same time, wanting his fingers deeper inside you now.

"Has he ever found your g-spot?" Cillian queried, pushing forward.

"No," you moaned in response.

Emboldened by your enthusiastic response, Cillian continued exploring you thoroughly, learning your body better than anyone else ever had. He used one hand to stroke your labia, while his other finger maintained thrusting rhythms deep inside you, eliciting gasps and moans from your mouth.

"No?" he grinned before, suddenly, he curled his fingers up inside you and you screamed out loud. Your hips bucked instinctively as you felt electric currents surge through every fiber of your being.

"No, oh god, no!" you gasped, shockwaves shooting across your nerve endings. Intrigued by your vocal reactions, Cillian increased the intensity, pressing harder against your sweet spot with his expert fingers.

"Well, there it is," he confirmed triumphantly, knowing he'd hit the jackpot. His tone held pride in having discovered such a profound pleasure point within you, a testament to his skillfulness.

The sight of him masterfully navigating these new territories ignited something wild and primal within you, stirring buried desires that came alive in an instant.

"I can't. Please. No more!" you groaned, arching your back slightly, seeking release from the relentless assault on your most intimate spot. The sheer force of the powerful waves rocking through your body grew stronger still, threatening to consume you entirely.

"Are you going to squirt for me? " Cillian asked seductively, drawing your attention back to him. His piercing gaze bore into yours, challenging you not to surrender completely to your climax. Desperately attempting to maintain composure, you fought to find the strength needed to deflect his provocative question.

"I never have. I can't. Oh my god, stop!" you begged, pleading with him not to push any further. But Cillian refused to relent, instead continuing his ministrations.

"If you think this feels good, imagine what else I will be doing to you," Cillian said cockily. Ignoring your protests, he pushed two fingers inside you simultaneously, reaching deeper than ever before. Growling with satisfaction, he moved his fingers rhythmically, brushing tantalizingly close to your G-spot until finally striking gold. "Isn't this what you wanted?" he smirked, his voice laced with amusement.

Sweat trickled down your forehead, leaving trails behind. It wasn't just the heat of his hands or the stimulation of his fingers that drove you mad, but also the way they combined to send your body spiraling into unknown depths of ecstasy.

"Oh, my fucking god...oh yes...fuck..." you gasped involuntarily, overcome by a tidal wave of erotic bliss as, eventually, you could not hold back anymore, and a torrent of liquid cascaded onto Cillian's waiting palm.

He smiled victoriously, pleased with himself, proud of his ability to bring forth such a strong reaction from you. His victory was evident in his expression, which only served to increase your own feelings of submissiveness towards him.

"I told you not to cum without permission, didn't I?" Cillian reprimanded playfully, removing his fingers from your dripping wet entrance. He then stood up, grabbing a clean cloth nearby to wipe off his hand.

Having regained his composure somewhat, you attempted to speak through the soaking wet silk scarf which had still been lodged in between your teeth.

"I am sorry," you gasped and, without missing a beat, Cillian chided you further.

"Next time I will spank you if you if you cum again without permission," Cillian said with a stern demeaner and, despite the harsh tone, your heart leapt in your chest, excited by the prospect of experiencing punishment at his hands.

A flush crept up your cheeks as you nodded solemnly, committing yourself to abide by his rules. His power over you seemed irresistible, enticing you to submit fully to his desires.

"I will untie you now as I think that this was enough until you get used to it," Cillian spoke matter-of-factly, bringing you crashing back to reality. With slow movements, he unbound your wrists and removed the silk scarf from around your face. You took a moment to stretch your limbs, marveling at how sensitive everything felt after the ordeal.

"Are you still going to, uhm, you know..." you stammered, causing Cillian to chuckle.

"Use your words baby girl," he instructed, encouraging you to express your desire openly.

Blushing furiously, you managed to say, "I, uhm...will you still fuck me? With your cock, I mean?" you told him while looking at his raging erection which was still covered by the fabric of his briefs.

"Of course. I have planned on fucking you all night actually," Cillian replied before removing his briefs and letting his massive erection spring free.

"Oh god, you are so hard," you blushed, staring at his engorged member, unable to look away.

"This is what you do to me Y/N," Cillian told you, then standing up and running his index finger lightly along your jawbone, before guiding your face toward his rigid phallus. As your lips closed around the tip, sucking softly, he let out a low sigh, clearly enjoying the act.

"That's a good girl," he whispered huskily, pulling you nearer to his manhood, urging you to take him even deeper.

Your throat worked diligently to envelop his thick length, bobbing your head up and down to match his rapid breathing. As he looked down at you devouring him, he couldn't help but notice your breasts moving rhythmically with your movements. It was an invitation too tempting to resist. Grabbing them firmly yet tenderly while you pleasured him with your mouth.

"Look at me," Cillian commanded authoritatively, capturing your eye contact. The demanding gaze set a thrilling challenge in motion. You obeyed him instantly, locking eyes with him, intensifying the mutual connection shared between you both. It was an almost supernatural feeling - as though something powerful were linking your souls together in that very moment.

"Now, swallow my cock. Take it all the way into the back of your throat," he demanded sharply, breaking the spell. This directive awakened you back to reality – you quickly complied, drawing his full length back into your mouth.

The warmth of his flesh filled your entire mouth, sending delicious vibrations throughout your body. Each movement of your tongue sent ripples of arousal throughout your core, creating a harmonious balance between giving and receiving pleasure. Your newly acquired skills made you yearn for more, leading you to become increasingly confident with each passing minute. This self-assurance brought immense satisfaction to Cillian, who watched approvingly from above.

"Take me deeper," he ordered authoritatively, commanding your movements.

Slowly but surely, you pulled him further into your mouth, allowing him to reach the back of your throat as requested. The sensation sent shockwaves through your system once more, heightening the excitement that coursed through your veins. Pausing briefly to admire his appreciation, you noticed a small drop of precum forming on the tip of his manhood. Unbidden, your tongue reached out tentatively to taste it, savoring its unique flavor mixed with the essence of your saliva.

It gave you a sense of accomplishment – that somehow, you had truly owned this dominant part of him, even temporarily. That notion alone left you trembling with excitement.

"Fuck that's it. Now let me fuck your mouth properly," Cillian growled, his hips bucking with each thrust. His rough hand grasped your shoulder tightly, holding you steady as he plunged deep inside you repeatedly. The friction caused by his vigorous movements amplified the sensations tenfold, triggering sparks of ecstatic pleasure throughout your body.

"God you are good at this,” Cillian admitted hoarsely, impressed by your agility and technique despite being novice. “Do you feel me filling your throat?” he teased and you simply moaned, struggling to catch your breath amidst the intensity of his thrusts.

"I never met a woman who could deep throat like this. Fucking hell, Y/N! Keep it up," Cillian praised, losing himself in the haze of lustful fervor. His hands explored every curve of your naked form, reveling in the suppleness of your skin beneath his touch.

As his pace increased, you struggled to keep up with the demands placed upon your esophagus. Yet the pressure built within your belly, intensifying the sweet torture that resonated through your entire body. Your thighs clenched in sync with his thrusts, providing additional stimulus for both parties involved until, eventually, he pulled out of your mouth.

"How on earth do you not gag? Most women would choke at this point," Cillian asked incredulously, marveling at your prowess.

"I would say that practice makes perfect but, in my case, that's a lie. I have no experience in this whatsoever," you blushed sheepishly, breaking eye contact for a fleeting moment. But instead of scolding you, Cillian merely laughed at your response.

"Well, it seems like your throat was made for this," Cillian grinned devilishly and your face flushed crimson, feeling both embarrassed and elated at his compliment. It appeared that Cillian understood exactly how to make you weak in the knees with his words.

"Then why didn't you cum in my mouth?" you asked curiously, causing Cillian to chuckle again.

"Because I want to cum in your pussy," he explained calmly, his voice laced with anticipation.

"Well, come and fuck my pussy then, daddy!" you begged excitedly, already knowing that you wanted nothing more than to be taken by him right there.

"Get on your hands and knees." Cillian commanded, directing you to position yourself accordingly. You did as instructed immediately, feeling the familiar surge of submission as you knelt obediently, awaiting his next instruction.

Cillian stepped closer, towering over you, his presence dominating yours. You trembled slightly with nervousness and anticipation as he began to prepare you, His strong, gentle hands caressed your shoulders and arms, tracing patterns that sent waves of pleasure through your nervous system.

With his other hand, he cupped your breast gently, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You arched your back instinctively, seeking more contact from him. Sensing your eagerness, he allowed his thumb to brush across your sensitive bud, sending electrifying currents racing through your body.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the groans escaping involuntarily from your lips. The sensation ignited an inferno within your loins, leaving you panting heavily. Unable to contain your anticipation any longer, you whimpered out a request for more intimate attention.

Grasping hold of your waist, Cillian drew you closer towards him. With practiced ease, he positioned himself behind you, aligning his rod against your wet entrance. The simple action sent waves of heat cascading through your core, heightening your need for him.

Desperate now, you pressed back onto his rock-hard penis, impaling yourself slowly as they aligned perfectly. Gasping in delight, you welcomed the initial press of his thick shaft, pressing ever so deeply inside you. Every inch that entered seemed to send fireworks shooting off within your loins, making you tremble with sheer arousal.

"Just like that…" Cillian murmured approvingly, grazing his fingers along your spine in a tender gesture that showered you with affection.

"Move with me, baby." His soft voice commanded your hips, encouraging you to ride him in tandem. Grateful for his support, you followed suit, gradually finding your own rhythm. The dual motions meshed beautifully, creating a synchronized dance where you moved together seamlessly. Each thrust of his hips pushed you farther against and onto him, sending unbelievable sensations radiating through your pelvis.

"Oh god yes... oh fuck, please don't stop!" You cried out, unable to comprehend the level of pleasure you felt. His powerful grip on your hips kept you locked to him, ensuring complete penetration and maximizing your climax potential.

Feeling empowered by your newfound skills, you rode him harder, matching his tempo. Together, you formed a rhythmic pattern, creating an erotic symphony echoing throughout the suite. Their bodies dancing to the beat of desire.

"You are so much more confident than before, aren't you?" Cillian noted proudly, watching as you matched his strokes without faltering. "This power exchange, it excites you, doesn't it?" You nodded enthusiastically, your eyes meeting his boldly. "Yes, daddy! It does!"

Cillian smiled at your submission, leaning forward to kiss your neck softly. "That's my girl," he whispered against your skin, eliciting another wave of goosebumps along your arm.

"I knew you were hiding some wild side beneath those innocent looks," he mused with a hint of amusement, running his fingers lightly down your spine.

"And now I plan to bring this wild side out of you fully..." Cillian smirked, captivating you entirely.

Emboldened by his compliments and promises, you continued to ride yourself against him fiercely, lost in the hypnotic dance of love and pleasure. The rapid thrusts coupled with the building pleasure in your core took your breath away, yet only served to fuel your drive for greater heights. In this primal union, there was no limit to how far you were willing to push one another.

Cillian's rough hands held you firmly, guiding your hips with precision as you braced yourself on all fours. His eyes bore into yours, burning with a mix of pride and desire, reminding you that this journey was as much yours as it was his. The undeniable chemistry between you two fueled the fire of your desires, pushing boundaries you hadn't known existed.

Your heart raced faster, drumming loudly in your ears while your skin prickled with anticipation.

"Oh god," you breathed, letting out a soft sigh as Cillian continued to thrust deeper into you.

The forceful movement drove your desire higher, propelling you toward a peak unlike anything you had experienced before. The connection between you was palpable, electric energy zipping around the room, weaving an invisible web of lust and devotion between you both.

His expert handling of your body brought forth a deluge of sensations - warmth spreading from your center outward, a gentle trickling urgency pulling you toward release until, eventually, you begged.

"Please. Please may I cum?" you pleaded with desperation, almost on the verge of tears. Your walls quivered and contracted tightly around him, signaling your impending orgasm.

Cillian obliged swiftly, picking up the pace even further, reaching deeper into your depths with every stroke. His relentless thrusts coaxed gasps and moans from your parted lips, drawing him nearer to his own edge.

"Good girl. You may," Cillian responded, giving a final sharp jerk of his hips, driving home his point.

"Fuccckkkk!!!" you cried out as the world around you dissolved into a burst of colors and sounds, releasing everything pent up within you. Your walls convulsed hard around him, milking his member.

"Fuck you are so tight!" Cillian growled hoarsely, losing his grip on his self-control.

He quickened his pace once more, moving in time with your writhing body. Your head fell back as you threw your legs wide open to accommodate his powerful thrusts as he filled you with his seed.

You could feel every spurt of hot liquid deep within you, marking the territory he claimed, which only served to intensify your feelings of possession. This physical and emotional surrender gave way to a euphoric state where you lost yourself completely in the ecstasy.

As the last echoes of your shared climax reverberated through the air, you collapsed onto the floor, contentedly panting.

Cillian stroked your sweaty brow lovingly, still embedded deep within you. His touch was tender, yet commanding, solidifying your role as his submissive partner.

Looking up into his intense gaze, you couldn't help but notice the look of satisfaction on his face, mirroring the triumph you felt in completing such a challenging task.

"Now that we got that out of our systems..." Cillian remarked huskily, withdrawing carefully and pulling you close into his embrace. "Do you think that this is for you?" Cillian asked gently, breaking the silence after your incredible experience. "Is this what you really crave? To submit yourself totally to someone else?" he asked and you turned her face upwards to meet his piercing gaze, contemplating his question seriously.

"Yes," you finally replied earnestly, a sense of confidence blooming within you. "It feels amazing submitting myself to you. Knowing that I can trust you enough to let you take full control fills me with a strange sense of security."

Cillian smiled warmly, appreciating your response before standing up and reaching for his phone which had been going off nonstop for the past hour.

"Good girl," he praised as he walked away from the bed briefly for some privacy while you sat there feeling a surge of excitement swell within you.

You marveled at the change that had occurred since meeting Cillian. Not too long ago, these types of encounters would have left you blushing and confused. Now, however, you found solace in submitting yourself completely to Cillian, knowing that he understood exactly what you needed and desired.

Unbeknownst to you, however, you were not the only one who felt that way. There was another woman too, back in Dublin, where Cillian resided most of the time.

Her name was Kindra, a 40 year old well-respected lawyer, independent and strong-willed in nature, never having allowed herself to be vulnerable when it came to men. But then, she met Cillian a few weeks ago, who made her feel things she'd thought impossible – a thrilling combination of fear and desire.

They maintained a discreet relationship, often meeting in hotel rooms as well or occasionally her house. Her body succumbed willingly to his domination, discovering new aspects of herself along the way.

The taste of pain melted into pleasure, turning her on immeasurably and, just as you were laying there, spent and splayed out across the bed, she was texting Cillian.

"When are you back in Dublin, Sexy?" Kindra texted Cillian just as he stood there, completely naked, near the bed you were laying on.

"Tomorrow Night" came his response which was short and sharp.

"Keen to catch up? I have been thinking about you all week," she continued, eagerly awaiting a reply.

"Sure. I will come to your place. 8 o'clock. Sounds good?" Cillian responded.

"I will be waiting for you, naked and ready," Kindra hinted, suggesting a steamy encounter.

"Good girl. Make sure that ass of yours is ready for me because I will be fucking it all night long," Cillian warned, texting swiftly.

"I am looking forward to it," was Kindra's final reply before, finally, Cillian turned towards you again and asked "ready for round two?"

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillianmurphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic

279 notes · View notes

sveinteriorjpr01 · 8 months ago

Text

Transform Your Space: Discover the Elegance of Wooden Flooring at Sve Interior in Raja Park

Welcome to the heart of Raja Park, where timeless elegance and modern sophistication converge at Sve Interior, your premier destination for high-quality wooden flooring. In this blog, we will take you on a journey through the artistry, craftsmanship, and bespoke solutions that define Sve Interior as the leading Wooden Flooring Dealer in Raja Park.

Nature's Canvas Beneath Your Feet: The Essence of Wooden Flooring

Wooden flooring is not just a practical choice; it's a statement of artistry in your home. At Sve Interior, we believe in bringing nature's beauty indoors. Our carefully curated collection of wooden flooring options captures the authenticity and warmth of natural wood. From the regal richness of oak to the timeless allure of classic maple, each plank tells a unique story, adding character and charm to your living space.

Craftsmanship Redefined: Sve Interior's Symphony of Quality

Step into a world where every step is a testament to quality and craftsmanship. Sve Interior takes pride in meticulously crafting each piece of wooden flooring, ensuring not only longevity but a timeless allure that transcends trends. Explore our exclusive range, where aesthetics seamlessly intertwine with functionality, presenting a masterpiece underfoot.

Tailored Elegance: Your Unique Style, Your Wooden Flooring

Your home is an extension of your personality, and at Sve Interior, we understand the importance of personalization. Our team collaborates closely with you to bring your vision to life. Choose from a variety of finishes, shades, and patterns to create a bespoke wooden flooring solution that harmonizes flawlessly with your style and preferences.

Eco-Conscious Luxury: Crafting Tomorrow's Flooring Solutions Today

In a world where sustainability matters, Sve Interior stands as a beacon of eco-conscious luxury. Our wooden flooring is sourced from responsibly managed forests, adhering to the highest environmental standards. Elevate your space with a clear conscience, knowing you've made an eco-friendly choice without compromising on luxury.

Sve Interior - Architects of Timeless Transformation

Transforming your home is an art, and at Sve Interior, we are the architects of timeless transformation. With a legacy of excellence, unparalleled customer service, and an unwavering commitment to quality, we proudly stand as the preferred Wooden Flooring Store. Step into a world where each wooden plank tells a unique tale, and every stride is an affirmation of style and substance.

Wooden Flooring: A Symphony of Nature and Craftsmanship

At Sve Interior, we view wooden flooring as more than just a surface to walk on; it's a canvas for artistic expression and a testament to the enduring beauty of nature. Our diverse range of wooden flooring options caters to various tastes, ensuring that every homeowner finds the perfect fit for their space.

Our collection includes the rich and regal oak, known for its strength and durability. Oak wooden flooring not only adds a touch of grandeur to your home but also stands the test of time, making it a practical and aesthetic choice.

For those who appreciate timeless beauty, classic maple offers a warm and inviting ambiance. Maple wooden flooring is renowned for its light, consistent grain pattern, making it an ideal choice for creating a bright and airy atmosphere in any room.

Craftsmanship that Speaks Volumes

Quality is the cornerstone of Sve Interior's ethos. Our wooden flooring is crafted with precision and a keen eye for detail, ensuring that each plank is a masterpiece in its own right. The process begins with the careful selection of wood, where only the finest materials make the cut.

The next step involves expert craftsmanship, where each plank is treated and finished to perfection. Our team of skilled artisans takes pride in creating wooden flooring that not only stands out in terms of aesthetics but also withstands the test of time.

The result is a symphony of wood and craftsmanship that transforms your living space into a haven of beauty and functionality. The seamless fusion of quality and artistry sets Sve Interior apart as a Wooden Flooring Showroom & Store in Raja Park committed to delivering excellence.

Tailored Elegance: Your Style, Your Wooden Flooring

No two homes are alike, and at Sve Interior, we celebrate the uniqueness of each space. Our commitment to personalized elegance is reflected in our approach to customization. We understand that your home is an extension of your personality, and your flooring should reflect that.

Our team works closely with you to understand your vision and preferences. Whether you prefer a rustic finish that adds a touch of vintage charm or a sleek, modern design that complements contemporary aesthetics, we have the expertise to bring your ideas to life.

Choose from a variety of finishes, shades, and patterns to create a bespoke wooden flooring solution that harmonizes flawlessly with your style. At Sve Interior, we believe that your home should tell your story, and our customized wooden flooring options are designed to do just that.

Eco-Conscious Luxury: Paving the Way for Sustainable Living

In an era where environmental consciousness is paramount, Sve Interior takes pride in offering eco-conscious luxury. Our commitment to sustainability is reflected in our sourcing practices. The wood used in our flooring is sourced from responsibly managed forests, ensuring that our products meet the highest environmental standards.

By choosing Sve Interior for your wooden flooring needs, you not only elevate your living space with luxurious aesthetics but also contribute to a sustainable future. Our eco-friendly approach is a testament to our dedication to creating products that not only stand out in terms of beauty but also adhere to ethical and environmental principles.

Sve Interior - Architects of Timeless Transformation

Transforming a house into a home is an art, and at Sve Interior, we take pride in being the architects of timeless transformation. Our legacy of excellence is built on a foundation of passion for design, commitment to quality, and a relentless pursuit of customer satisfaction.

As the preferred Wooden Flooring Dealer & Distributor in Raja Park, we go beyond merely offering products – we offer an experience. From the moment you step into our showroom, you are greeted with a world of possibilities. Our knowledgeable and friendly staff is dedicated to guiding you through the process, helping you discover the perfect wooden flooring for your home.

At Sve Interior, each wooden plank is not just a piece of material; it's a storytelling element that adds character and personality to your space. Our commitment to excellence is evident in every step of the process, from the selection of wood to the final installation.

Conclusion: Elevate Your Living Space with Sve Interior

In conclusion, Sve Interior stands as a beacon of elegance and craftsmanship in the heart of Raja Park. As your premier Wooden Flooring Dealer, we invite you to embark on a journey of transformation. Discover the unparalleled beauty of wooden flooring that not only enhances your living space but also tells a unique story.

From nature-inspired designs to expert craftsmanship, personalized elegance to eco-conscious luxury, Sve Interior offers a comprehensive range of wooden flooring solutions. Our commitment to excellence is unwavering, making us the trusted choice for homeowners seeking to elevate their living spaces.

Visit our Best Interior showroom in Raja Park today and experience the artistry, quality, and personalized service that sets Sve Interior apart as the go-to destination for wooden flooring. Transform your space with us, and let every step be a celebration of timeless elegance and enduring beauty.

0 notes

trocaine · 6 days ago

Text

paint it all in rouge, my dearest

prologue﹕when you have a sweetheart who's willing to assist you during rehearsals, you can't help but see him differently when he lets you powder his nose for the sake of ‘artistic reasoning’.

warnings ⸻ riding position, explicit content, moderate descriptions of the reader's appearance, facesitting, floral usage of metaphors, crying, doggy-like position, cunnilingus.

special word﹔have fun reading. reblogs and interactions are highly appreciated.

“you believed powdering my face like this would help you concentrate better? i look ridiculous, honey.” said the dark-haired man sitting across from you on the push sofa, a faux pout forming on his lips. the furniture itself carried features of a backrest with a dual crest design. the upholstery is a rich yellow fabric tufted with button accents for a luxurious, quilted touch. decorated with plush pillows and a dark-colored throw blanket resting between them. the frame of the furnishing was made from deep-colored wood, carved up with refined techniques, drawing attention to the curving and finely made armrests and legs of the object.

his sun-kissed flesh had been whimsically dusted with lily-white dust, creating a dainty contrast with his lips that were glazed with rich cherry-red hue. and to finish the overall look of this knockout, you had applied a faint layer of soft pink on his cheeks. it had him looking every inch the leading man described in the papers you were holding in your hands. the near-perfect performing buddy ready to help you with today's rehearsal. …if only it weren't for the gleam of mirth that flashes through his yellowish-brown eyes. “fine, fine. i’ll take it more seriously. no need to look at me like that.” he teased, arching an eyebrow upwards as he adjusted his position, leaning ever so slightly closer. reducing the distance between the both of you by the second as if his following words would contain a secret shared with you alone.

‘rhythmically’ was the adequate way to define the sound of the drops of rain, striking the glass of the sleek buildings that made up the majority of the city's intricate layout. long before the pouring rain began on the fourteenth of february, the skies showed an assortment of outstanding blue hues, which were the remains of the previous morning. like ink dabs swirling and twisting in once-pure water, the warm hues had changed to grayish-blue tinges that flowed into the sky by this hour.

by the eye of a potential outsider the current state of the living room could’ve been dismissed as nothing more but a dark, high-ceilinged cave, if it wasn’t for the traditional interior design that elevated the space by bringing an air of elegance. with its curved bay window that had intricate molding and brightly-colored drapery, lavish in material. not so far from the couch, on the stone-made mantelpiece frames an active, warm fireplace. the light spreads far, forcing the shadows to grow larger. an elaborate plasterwork decorated with flamboyant floral and scrollwork patterns adorns the room's ceiling. right in the middle of such, a magnificent chandelier hung. “if you mean by ‘ridiculous’, ridiculously handsome then i’ll have to agree with you. you look wonderful. gorgeous even.” you made a brief, round motion toward his face in a way to place more emphasis behind your words. “and besides, you look perfect as françoise. the blush really brings out your eyes. the extravagant attitude is the only thing lacking here. according to the script, he kind of enjoys being sexy. well, perhaps ‘sexy’ is not the right word…” after pondering for mere minutes you snapped your fingers in realization.

“sensual! provocative! that’s what i’ll need from you, my dear.” your girlish enthusiasm over this overall happening caused for laughter to escape the man⸻a sound that at the same time made your heart flutter and take part of the joyous activity. the disquiet of glee bounced off the garnished walls, blending together harmousily.

him? sensual? provocative? it could be because you had too much confidence in him. jayce hadn’t considered himself to be the suave type. not in the slightest. though, he wasn’t completely out of his depth when it came to taking the lead in a waltz of wits and banter. he could pull off behaving a bit coquettish by being lighthearted, slightly endearing, and finishing it off with a charming smile. yet at his core, jayce is the man who could coax even the most stubborn gears to run their course. he’s the one who stood behind the endless process of weaving of plans, not a dashing prince ready to sweep someone off their feet to a thrilling whirlwind of romance. instead, he thrived in spaces where conjuration, calculations and engineering were placed in the center. a fertile ground that brought his talents to a flourishing point. it was you, however, who had the ability to occasionally elicit those lighthearted impulses from him. to help him understand that both work and play could coexist.

“now i’m starting to believe that you asked this of me just to see me in cosmetics. admit it. your silly secret is safe with me.” those final words were spoken to you in whispers. “maybe i did,” with a smile playing at the edges of your lips, you slouched and leaned back into the couch. “but can you blame me? you’re an absolute vision. so much so that you are distracting me from my original idea, silly goose.” the melodious tapping of the rain has quieted down in the background, becoming a delicate whisper against the pane of glass. the illumination of the chimney brought out the soft creases of his expression. the gentle glow gives him an almost otherworldly appearance. “so now i’m a distraction? i feel wounded.” “yes, you are! and in order for me to begin practicing, i need you to stop being all adorable.” you sat up and cleared your throat. with a glow of resolve shining from your eyes, your braids cascading over your shoulders reflected the essence of what you were saying. “so let's start at scene eight of act one. it should be your dialogue that we begin with.”

“i haven’t taken you to be the kind of woman easily influenced by jealousy, gabrielle.” his head leaned on the palm of his hand, and his eyes swept over your face as it displayed various expressions. the lighthearted atmosphere had vanished as you placed your attention on going through each line written down on the screenplay at hand. you knew that jayce wasn't an actor at heart, this was evident from the way the warmth tinted his skin. the inconsistent eye-contact. yet, it still surprised you how well he tried to fit into the role. his chest was puffed out in pride, how he tilted his head to the side slightly…enough of the fantasizing; you had work to do!

“jealousy? what a dreadful word. all i did was tell our visitor that he could have expressed his gratitude without swooning over you like a puppy. how does that make me the bad guy, my love? how does that make me the bad guy, my love?” he could feel your hands moving behind his ears, up to the back of his head, and tugging on the soft ribbon that was a component of the costume during this little play of make-believe. the fabric became looser by the second. seeing you so comfortable in your element while you waited for him to say his line was making jayce experience a range of emotions.

you not only ‘acted’ what the script instructed you to do, to him, you had a way to embody whatever character got handed to you. let it be a princess, a pauper, pirate⸻a chameleon in human flesh is what you were when you let your passions drive you. and he? an invitation to such a display of talent was always appreciated by him. “wait, wait. give me a second. now you’re the one distracting me.” he threw a quick glance down to the writing before clearing his throat and flashing a confident grin, well, one that was believable enough. “uh-huh, care to explain why you are removing my ribbon then?” with some quick work of your fingers, the fabric had been placed on the small table standing in front of the couch. “can i not help you with preparing for the night?” the feigned ignorance virtually spurted down your tongue as you responded, raising a trained eyebrow. “you know it’s not about that. just as you know that ribbon has been given to me. from someone that isn’t you.” “if only you could see how much better you look now that i’ve removed that horrid atrocity.” your fingers slid beneath his chin, smudging the white powder down on the remaining undefiled skin; you received a gentle gasp from him.

“we will visit the marketplace first thing in the morning. if you want to wear ribbons, at least have it be one that is not only high quality but honestly suits you. whenever it be something as simple as linen or something as soft as silk.” the sudden loss of your touch reminded him sharply that this entire charade was nothing more than a round of practice, and it had left him utterly breathless. and because of how readily you embraced your role, you broke it down just as easily with an air of smugness radiating from you. eyebrows deliberately raised this time. “i totally killed it there, didn’t i? let’s continue practicing. four more pages to go and then i’ll whip the make-up off, darling. we’re on a roll.”

and each minute was filled with a mix of highs and lows as the hours continued to pass. “françoise! would you mind coming downstairs? i would like you to look into something.” the sound of rustling papers filled the momentary stillness as you both thoroughly flipped over the pages, scene by scene. “what is it, my dear?” your words bounced off the walls like sparks of electricity, and the living room was alive with contagious excitement. each and every word was performed with intensity, shifting from scenes full of heartfelt emotion to exaggerated screaming matches interjected with moments of crocodile tears and raucous laughter. the both of you behaved more and more like the characters you were playing with each line that got delivered. therefore, when you finally reached the pinnacle of the rehearsal, you were exhausted from the intense practicing. you sat there, with the cozy warmth of the fireplace as your blanket, both hands now empty of papers.

your head resting on the side of his shoulder. “i should ask you to be my practice dummy more often, jayce. we’re quite the dynamic duo.” as you intertwine your fingers with his in an act of comfort, a deep, gratifying sigh left you. “you know i would love to help you out like this more often. but, duty calls.” when he puts his head on yours, his darkish, disheveled hairs touch yours, and he sighs quietly. his eyelids briefly close, as though to relish the moment. in a gentle gesture that speaks for itself, his fingertips lightly touch the side of your arm. “...at least not tonight, right?” you questioned. he, in return, answered with: “gods no. especially not tonight. if i have to start on building one more hypothesis and figure that out, i’ll need you to announce to my assistant that i’ve unfortunately caught the ‘sleeping in’ disease. highly contagious.” as soon as he said those words, he drew you close to him and held you in a tight embrace. his lips poured a stream of innocent kisses across your face, compelling you to burst out fits of mellow giggles. “gods you’re such a dramatizer!” without trying to break free from the barrage of affection you were getting, you exclaimed. “it takes one to know another.” he retorted back, as lively as one could be in such a situation.

“well can i propose something to you?” you looked up at him, gauging his reaction, noticing the way he made faint wrinkles at his nose. he, in return, hummed in response to your question. “hm? sure, what’s on your mind?” once more, you sought the script, your fingers touching the papers with a trace of determination. while you flipped, your gaze locked onto the part you sought. but after you had located the part of the text, you gently touched the words with your fingertip. “you see scene four, right? the one with the kiss. i want to practice it one more time.” you admitted, your tone calm yet gentle. “then i promise we’ll wrap this entire thing up.” jayce nodded once again, a charming half-smile spreading across his face. “this is, by far, one of the silliest ways you’ve asked me to kiss you. are you sure you want to practice it again just for…artistic reasons?”

“why else do you think i would’ve asked you, my dear françoise?” your arms began to sneak around his neck, bringing him down closer to your lips. “oh, i don’t know. i have a feeling that tells me that there is more of a reason than ‘just because’, gabrielle.” even the most toothsome sweets couldn't compare to the sweetness of the kiss. you intensified the action by lightly pressing your fingertips against the nape of his neck. you caught a whiff of the white grain that was getting speared all over your lower face while the reddish tint of rouge got smuggled the longer you kept sucking face.

the sides of your noses kept being pressed up against each other as your breaths mingled into one. his lips felt wet to the touch, parted moderately, letting your tongues join together in a waltz, in which the orchestra accompanying said dance, had been influenced by desire. the weight of your clothes began to feel like a bother at this point. you wanted nothing more to have them removed, teared off, disappear⸻‘riiiiiiiip!’ a handful of textiles have found their way on your palms as your chest heaved heavily once you parted lips with the man. the eye contact you’ve shared with each other has remained unbroken up to this point. “...you see what you’ve done to me? how willing i’m to get close to you, jayce?” the slight tremor of excitement in your tone didn’t escape him. it caused electric jolts to rush throughout his muscular frame. not even seconds have gone by for the man to follow a similar trend. now both of you were sitting half-bare across each other.

your hands reached out to feel the outline of his rib cage. there just was something profoundly erotic beneath the act of touching that particular area. how you could feel the faint vibrations of the man's heart thumping quickly against his bones. the caress was continuous and felt like hot wax on his skin. persistent on leaving its mark. you leaned in to press a peck, two pecks, multiple ones all over the surface of his chest. applying a crimson pigment, given to you by the previous kiss you shared, to the swarthy canvas with the level of attention to detail that only a maestro could achieve.

jayce couldn’t even form a proper line of sentences that could adequately describe what you were putting him through. no longer was the want for your affection a sweet and pure feeling. you see, jayce wanted your teeth to puncture his flesh, for his love to stain on your lips. to see you satisfied with all he could⸻no. with everything he would unquestionably give you. even though it may sound grotesque to some, the man hoped that with every fragment and drop of his essence you would want to join him in becoming one. that his cries would fulfill your hunger. that together you would end up morphing into a garbled version of a serenade that was sung in the language of the flesh. this was more than just ‘sex’, where physical attraction was the main attraction; it was the union of souls into a single quaint entity. it was like a fire whose only standard to reach was to mindlessly consume whatever was in its path, rendering anything into dunes of ash. uncaring of its ardent nature and the destruction it left.

the imprint of your teeth were showing up as ruddy patterns once you took a moment to take in his disheveled state. “﹙name﹚…” the weight of your gaze brought a gratifying shiver down his spine. your name clinging to his trembling lips like a benediction. “i need you⸻damn it. i want you to be all over me. just take my clothes off and take me, ﹙name﹚. please.” his pleas sounded as sweet and honeyed as the softest symphony you’ve ever heard. all of the words in those few phrases were honest and tinged with frustration, gripping your senses and pulling onto your heart strings. it was practically impossible to say ‘no’ to the depth of vulnerability in the gleam you caught in his eyes.

with the exception of his socks, which were held up by coffee-colored garters you left on his calves, you kept your hands occupied by undressing the man. there went his shirt, following this belt, accompanied with his pants, ending it with his underwear. there he was⸻ripe for the taking. willingly displayed for the loving massacre that would be brought by your hands, tongue and teeth. grasping the reddish part of his mouth with your lips again, you swallowed whatever sound he made as you did so. “﹙name﹚! mpfh⸻! mhmmm…” his body sank deeper into the softness of the couch you had him lying on his back on, his muscles melting beneath your fingers. sitting on top of his lap, your body felt like a bundle of plumes. it was subtle at first, the flame-like tingle shimmering at the forefront of his mind. turning just as quick into a scorching sensation in his lungs that kept expanding further, the more he selfishly surrendered to the intoxicating sweetness of your lips. preferring them to the simple act of breathing.

he pressed his hand against the back of your head to keep you locked on him while his fingers wove delicately through your intricate braids, each touch gentle and purposeful. ardour intertwined in his actions. your body has been put in its most pristine state, nude, just like him. but eventually you pulled away from him. “jayce just hold on to me, okay? you’re doing wonderful.” you sat up straight and proceeded to move your hips from his lap closer and closer to his face. “you want me to feel good, no?” he managed to grasp onto the thickness of your thighs with his fingers. you got enough of a response from the lust-driven haze that veiled his eyes. that he was as eager for this as you are. “how can you think otherwise?﹙name﹚i can go for hours talking about how much i want to be the one to make you feel beyond great.” “o-ho?” the pads of your fingertips did little to hide the grin curling on your mouth. “...you’re correct. how dare i doubt your enthusiasm? you have always been the kind of guy to give it his all in whatever he puts his mind to,” once you were close enough, you raised your hips to hover just above his mouth. his eyes were so enthralled on the soaked slit of your pussy that he almost lost all attention to what you were saying. “would it be too much to ask for you to give me a reminder so i can’t never ever doubt your enthusiasm again?”

you let out a startled shriek as soon as you felt his arms drag you down his face with quickness. jayce let out a heavy groan as he dragged his tongue across the puffy expanse of your cunt, beginning with the swollen clit. in exchange, the vibrations of his voice caused your lower abdomen to tingle in a pleasant way. the way his mouth was latched onto your nub, adorned by your curly pubic hairs, bruising it up with licks and love bites. it was as plain as day that you were enthralled not only by the maneuvers he executed, but also by the sight of his eyes glittering like a mountain of citrine, and how his words and your groans merged passionately. it ignites a maelstrom of yearning within you. you bucked your hips right onto his mouth, your thighs that were so closely pressed against his ears muffled your following cry of delight: “jayce! oh jayce! you’re doing so fucking great. push it deeper in me!”

whilst he continued to vigorously suck all over your delicious cunt, fucked it all nice and well, more of your nectar was dripping down his neck, coating his mouth, and staining his chin. oh, how charming you appeared up there, seated in your proper place. tears of lusty satisfaction streaming down your swollen cheeks as his hands continued to guide your thrusts farther down his throat. for he would find no death sweeter than beneath you; lechery had completely seized your face, with the somewhat painful string of your palm holding his hair to press him further deeper, if that were even possible in this case. “fuckk yes!”

his cock has been furiously red at the top of the fleshy length during the entire ordeal. with every gasp of contentment that leaves your lips, droplets of precum are slabbering out of the slit of his cockhead, throbbing pitifully for attention. and you could sense the longing from jayce for an attentive caress, a loving touch that he knew only you could give. while your hips kept moving like they had a mind of their own, your hand finally settled around the man's dick's base and squeezed it, giving it a preview at what was about to happen. up and down, up and down, up and down! simple and repetitive was the motion of your hand. however, its simplicity had a profound impact on the man.

you could feel every vein against the palm of your hand, the blood rushing beneath them as you dragged your hand continuously as appreciation for the way jayce had turned your brain into a pinkish mush. dripping over your knuckles and even getting some of the milky white liquid on your wrists. lines of sperm gathered around the crack of your fingers pressed side by side. drenched by your arousal, he felt your felt squeeze his head by your thighs a little tighter. a faint tingle of panic bolting through him for a moment. but just as quick it came, it vanished once he felt your body sag down, swiftly following with a clear substance exiting your cavern of love. he sucked every last bit of your fluids down his throat with sheer gluttony. it triggered his climax as well. ropes of thick, white cum shooting up in the air. most of his spunk landed on his stomach with a firm ‘slosh’, and part of it even landed on your butt cheeks. oh poor little you, you couldn't even pull yourself away from the man's face!

you could feel the tremble coursing through his muscular arms as he brought you off him gently. the rhythmic contractions added on to the spur of the moment. the strength of his grip felt both reassuring and electrifying to you while the scent of his cologne mingled in with the sweltering air. “i thonk thet i moght doi. will...ot wuald bi griet dyong loki thos.” his voice had rendered to a slurred state, heavy with the weight of someone who seem to had continuously drown themselves with liquor. bottle after bottle after bottle. his cheeks were flushed with an orange-red rosiness, jayce looked up at you with a dopey expression. his lips formed a youthful grin, displaying a carefree innocence that seemed a little out of place given his circumstances. he felt your hand tapping against his cheek softly.

“hey, hey. you’re doing alright there, honey?” the deep sound of his lively giggles left you with a fleeting sense of comfort. but the man's distant glance, still swimming in the clouds of pleasure, made you a tad bit concerned. “a'm fanu, i’m fine. i just need⸻sigh. i just need a moment to collect myself here…” his face looked like an absolute mess of color and texture. his lips' vivid rouge had made playful traces on the flesh of the forbidden fruit between your legs, and the white face powder was smudged carelessly. “that sounds like a great idea. and…if you like. we could continue to have another round, hm? you did a good job reminding me. but there's always room for improvement, isn't there?”

“oh absolutely. but now i just want to…” he grabbed your shoulders and pushed you down clemently against his chest. he cuddled your body against his in a way that would indicate that merely touching you wouldn't be sufficient. it just felt…right. his love stained his actions through and through, enveloping you with tenderness and grace; leaving you with the desire of keeping this moment of tranquillity frozen in time. “hold you close to me.” you sigh, cuddling your head closer to his chest and listening to his heartbeat, which had begun to slow as the two of you spent time just laying there, limbs all intertwined with each other. gentle linear motions were being drawn onto your back with his fingers. “you’ve probably wrung me dry back there, sweetie.”

the sound of his laughter sent a wave of solace through the room. you tilted your head up to face jayce. “and what about you?” you shot back. “don’t expect me to not have a few remarks on how you nearly made me faint on your face. your tongue is wicked.” “wicked? you didn’t seem to mind just minutes ago. or am i suddenly misremembering it,﹙name﹚? ‘jayce! oh jayce! you’re doing so fucking great. push it deeper in me!’” you rolled your eyes in exasperation at the playful teasing the man brought. his voice rose to comical, high-pitched intimation of yours. his exaggerated mimicking was a clumsy parody, eliciting a mixture of amusement and annoyance as he overdramatically recited your wanton comments. “cheeky bastard.” “i learned it from the best.” oh, now it was back on.

you stood up straight with your hand firmly against his chest, feeling the fast rise and fall beneath your fingertips. a flash of intense resolve illuminated the fierceness of the moment, glinting in your eyes. he felt as though time had stopped in the ever-present tension between you since it was so engrossing that it briefly took his breath away. the soft hairs of your braids leaving a trail of goosebumps onto his tanned flesh as

you brought yourself to stand onto your haunches⸻you reached out for his lips with your fingers. tracing each curve and line as if you were sketching them with careful exactitude. jayce was a man rather blessed in the department below his waist. not too large to feel pain during the deed. and neither was he unimpressively small. the shape, the color, how it was curved somewhat towards his direction⸻all of it was perfect in your eyes. your voice was comparable with silk-covered steel with the following words that left your mouth. “mocking me, huh? you have the energy to mock me but can you handle the consequences of committing such grave wrongdoing? hm?”

you shook your head mockingly in dismay as you tutted. your breath gliding off his face. “jayce, you like to poke the bear so thoroughly. and then naughtily bat those pretty eyelashes at me as if you don’t understand what you are doing.” twitches of interest rushed through his cock again through your heated confession, the tip poking softly at the flesh of your stomach. “like you believe that the bear won’t bite when provoked enough.” you dragged one of your hands down from his chest, going from the base up to the tip of his hardened prick. holding your palm against his rosy head, you pulled him through the many levels of indulgence, smearing the remnants of his climax on it. your eyes narrowing slightly by the sight of the man who was rapidly getting aroused again underneath your grip. but your gaze didn’t hold any true malice. it was that air of barely controlled appetite that was spurring him on. how it brought a flood of exhilarating zeal in his chest, spreading gradually to the rest of his figure. the hazy clouds of desire fogging up his mind once more.

“then do something about it.” weakly he breathed out his response. “you can go ahead and do something about it. whatever it is,﹙name﹚. just quit talking all big and bad.” his eyes followed your tongue's path across your lips as you lifted your hips and brushed across his sobbing, fat cockhead. the cum that was once again dribbling from the slit of his tip was spread across the inner portions of your pussy. it was aggravating to the man to have the gates of paradise opened just enough to have a peak, but not wide enough to have him access the other side. “me? me talking all ‘big and bad’ as you…gracefully verbalized, is going to be least of your worries, my dear.”

giving the man what he's been waiting for at last, each time his cock pressed against your pressure point, you saw flashes of white, burning ecstasy. in response, your cunt's silky walls grew tighter around the big cock. wetted lips spreading apart like the soft petals of a beauteous flower blooming at the first signs of spring. the gratifying burn his cock left simply encouraged you to keep on moving. “godsdamn⸻!”the light of the fire brought out the beauty of your body even more as he continued on letting his gaze travel over every little detail to be found on your physique. the warmth of the closeness of your body humping up and down his shaft brought a delectable dizziness in jayce’s mind as incoherent words jabbered from his mouth. his hands help your wild movements, his hips jutting upwards in an attempt to gain more of that addictive friction. a torrent of debauched murmurs escaped from his moist lips. “ah! gods! you’re going to make me lose my ever-loving mind. c’mon faster. you can do it.” additionally, he didn't couldn’t find the urge to put some thought in this because he had more important things to focus on than his state of mind; such as the pornographic sounds your cum-coated asscheeks made whenever they returned back on his lap in a rhythmic manner that boarded on resembling something uniquely primal. again and again.

all of his muscles, from his lower abdomen to his thighs, were in a chaotic state, tensing up and relaxing carelessly. your pussy was simultaneously trying to push him away and pull him in. it was the most bizarre feeling, and the man felt as though he would explode if this crazy ride of yours proceeded with its show. as if something mystical was blossoming in his lower groins, threatening to send jayce plummeting into a dungeon of desire. hm? tears? oh, dear, how beautiful he looked. little, shimmering tears are forming at the corners of his eyes, making them damp and blurry. cascading down like tiny crystals. he hadn’t even noticed the waterworks had begun till you reached out to rub them off his face. your digits touched his warm skin, and your touch was anything but harsh.

“mhpfh, you want me to go faster? goodness, you’re insatiable.” your chuckles were a bit breathy on the tongue. instead of following his request, you slowed down the brain-melting tempo; arching your back beautifully, whining your hips with seductive slowness. you even went so far to drag your hips high enough to give him a good look of his erected length that had been coated properly by your obscenity. the only thing left between your swollen lips was his cockhead, which was translucent with semen. goodness indeed, you were starting to feel the burn of exhaustion knocking at your door. “ah, how about this then? you take the reins and make sure this night ends up to be one of our best, okay? i already gave you a headstart with bouncing on you like some sort of madwoman. surely you can carry this past the finish line, yea?” oh, you’re in for quite the fun missy!

once you had turned your body to the opposite direction with your behind now facing him, your head had been pushed down against the soft stuffing of the couch. his right hand wrapped right around your stomach with the weight of his body resting upon your back. the sensation by itself was comfortable. his teeth and tongue dragging and biting all over the surface of your shoulder. his left hand had its fingers wrapped around your wrist, intertwining your fingers together. the strength within his grip was surely going to leave faint marks on your bronzed skin. not that you mind when you could feel his warm breath tickling your ear, once he pushed through the soft ring of your anus with his dome-shaped knob. each inch sinking through the barrier caused the volume to rise higher. scorching to the touch did the feeling of your spongy walls squeezing around him, causing a shutter of pleasure to surge through his system. it took a few minutes for jayce to regain his composure again. “i’ll start moving okay? gods below, you feel so good around me. nghmff…” his words came out airy and breathless and he began to rock his hips in a forward motion.

the hand on your wrist, dragged on upwards to rest down on your jawline. both his index and middle finger probed around your mouth, in rebuttal, you parted your lips wide enough to have them pressed a good amount of pressure down on your tongue. as you received the gift that had been offered to you, drool poured from the corners of your mouth. you could feel your nearly choke. he could feel your tongue wrapping and flicking across the length as it moved across the side of his nimble fingers. then you took your mouth off his fingers with a wet ‘pop’. you could feel it dragging against every nerve as his long shaft spread you apart so obscenely around his cockhead. his rhythm had changed from a gentle one to one that was quick and frantic, as if he was racing to cross the finish line. as a result, your thighs trembled with excitement as his powerful thrusts rocked your entire body. jayce zeroed in on the way your back arched even deeper than it already was, and how your hips pressed up on him. your taut muscles glistening beneath numerous bodily fluids⸻overtaking his mind entirely. nothing else at that precise moment could rob you of his attention.

his sweeping knob repeatedly kept smothering your depths, like a heavy punch to the gut that knocked the wind out of your lungs. “jayce! oh bloody gods, goingtocum. i’mgoingtocumsofuckinghard⸻fuck!” nonsense. all you could form on your tongue with a mind that was rapidly bugging out was down-right nonsense as the time you needed to take in air grew shorter and shorter. familiar tensions grew more overpowering by the second. you hadn’t even picked up on how the warm hand of the man that had been squeezing your cheeks, leading to your lips to pucker up all pout-like, had shifted down between your legs and drew circles on your plumb nub, flicking it occasionally and squeezing it gently⸻just for extra measure. or simply because that harmless squash led to the straw that broke the camel's back. you were being fucked to utter stupidity by him. “shit!” a wave of heat slammed down with destructive intent.

as lengthy ribbons of cum strewn all over your velvety walls, the quantity of his spunk was astonishing to say the least. leaking from between your crack down to the cum-coated split of your pussy. contentment washed over the both of you; your cunt was squeezing all around his girth, sucking up every last drop he had for you. during the time the afterglow was passing by, the claws of desire were reaching out and penetrating deeper within your core. you felt your head splitting apart, your eyes rolling at the back of your skull, your body reaching searing temperatures.

“oh, jayce…” it was as if blossoms from an idyllic day had erupted from the core of your very own being. a vivid explosion of feelings that had taken you back by complete surprise. that's how overwhelmed he had made you feel. each petal was vibrant with color and brimming with vitality, transforming you into something more alive, something better than before. the sensation was exhilarating. like though you had just woken up from a long, restful slumber. the world around you is whirling wildly. you were clinging to that wave of emotions to never stop. a slight quiver rippled through your hand as you placed it on the back of the man’s neck, drawing him closer to your neck. his breath cascaded against your skin, the intimacy of his presence was making your heart race. you could jayce nuzzling his nose nuzzling into the sensitive curve of your neck, sending delightful shivers down your spine. “i’ll remember for the rest of the week. that’s for sure.”

#arcane #arcane netflix #arcane smut #fanfic #fanfiction #arcane jayce #jayce arcane #jayce talis #talis jayce #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis x you #jayce talis x fem reader #fem reader #x fem!reader #x black reader #x black! reader #x black!reader #smut #roll the dice．fics

43 notes · View notes