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acid-ixx · 4 months ago

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ch.3: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: allusions to sexual assault, prostitution, and alcohol abuse.

"hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!"

please stop.

"i know that we haven't been talking for quite a long time—"

no, you have never once had a solid conversation with him.

and you wish it stays that way between the two of you.

"—so let's catch up over coffee, yeah? i'll be staying at the manor for a week!"

you don't want to, you don't want to see his face at all, his dismissive eyes. don't want to hear his voice, how it only sings praises for everyone but you.

"(name)??? it says you have seen the messages :( are you asleep? you shouldn't sleep with your phone on, baby bird, that's dangerous!"

he doesn't have the right to scold you, he's not your older brother anymore. and you're not asleep, fuck, you regret not dozing off this afternoon. hell, you're more than awake and aware of the messages he's sending you, eyes scanning over the train of spam that clutters what was once an empty one-sided conversation.

"baby bird? c'mon, i miss you!!!"

lies, lies, lies. all he ever says are lies and you wouldn't fall for it, not anymore.

yet you're simply frozen in shock, seated up in bed as you simply watch dick's messages stack upon each other.

you watch, and wait. it's like you have lost autonomy over your body's actions.

five minutes pass.

your phone rings.

it was the only sound that fills the room other than the wringing in your ears.

it continues ringing, reverberating throughout the room, but all you do is stare, stare until the it ends, for everything to end and for all of this to be a sick hallucination your brain played on you.

there's nothing else you could focus on, your heartbeats spike the longer the call sound continues. you didn't even have the strength to decline the call, let alone move as you fear you might end up pressing the accept button.

so you wait, you wait until it stops.

and once it does cease, your sweaty thumb immediately pressed the block button on dick's profile, even going as far to delete all the past chats you had sent him. then, without moments hesitation, hastily scrolled all the way to the bottom of the list, where their other contacts lay barren of messages.

you have only used enough effort to message dick. that's what probably triggered his sudden intent on spending time with you, no? or was this all for his sick pleasure?

fortunately, all your other contacts with your past family are empty.

it will remain empty.

so you immediately blocked them, all of them. the thumps in your heart are erratic, so much so that you had to remind yourself to breath. through your nose, and out your mouth.

that's it, right? he'll get the message, definitely. that you don't want him to talk to you, to get rid of the false pretenses between the two of you, you don't want to "catch up" over coffee, or over anything.

it's all over, you tell yourself.

'calm down, relax...' you're in the safety of your own apartment, you should feel safe right now, he wouldn't bother you anymore.

not anymore would you be led to believe that they care for you.

— so why is it that you can feel that familiar rise of bile? taste it, even? why is it that your body is shaking so uncontrollably?

what the fuck.

seriously, just what the absolute fuck is wrong with you?

you never take yourself as an overdramatic person, especially not now, at the age of eighteen where you had finally learned to live for yourself, to never yearn what you knew was unattainable. your past tantrums were no more, no more you say but you wish so badly to carve a knife into your very heart.

why is it that now— now that you were out of your comfort zone, out of their empty presences and their overwhelming absences; why is it now that he just suddenly decided to appear? why is it just now that you feel your skin scorching uncomfortably at just a single message.

shit, your heart hurts so much. you want to take the beating organ out of your chest, just to make the pain stop.

your momma always told you, she said it herself that you are a brave child, her pride and joy despite the hellish living conditions you both were subjected to.

why is it so hard to believe her now?

just, why are you so weak?

when your mother hid you inside that closet - one too small for even a malnourished child like you to fit - telling you to hush for her, and that it's just a game of hide and seek with the 'bad guys', to not make a single sound at all or even come out if you hear screaming— you did what you were told, obediently, covering your mouth, trying your hardest to ignore your sore joints and heavy breathing.

"woah, mommy! is this really me?! you always make me look so nice." a young voice squeals, the sound echoing throughout the hollow room.

"yes, it's you, baby. you who are so strong, unlike me. momma will always love you." scarred hand, littered with gashes and soiled bandages run brush through your messy hair as your small form sat on the dirty bathroom sink. your eyes are drifted towards a mirror, checking out the new shirt your mother had bought for you.

"i love you too..."

you never cried that loud when light suddenly hits the cramped interiors of the closet, when you were caught and shoved outside of your hiding space by strange men, your mother nowhere to be found. when you felt the same men ripping your clothes apart, knives branding your skin like a searing hot pan; you never fought back because that's what your mother taught you. even when they pinned you down and injected you with a strange substance, head suddenly numbing and vision darkening; you still woke up alive, no?

... you woke up alive and conscious in a police station, where you had questiomed to the kind officer about your mother's disappearance, where she had bared the news that you would be taken in to a new family; a new home where your father resides in. one way cleaner, way safer she says.

yet for the next 15 years you were neglectef of the love your mother had given you. you were only raised by a butler too busy to fully focus on you. you had compared yourself to your siblings, siblings who had achieved so much in so little time.

and you?

you are only a wayne by name, but a (last name) by heart.

but you are brave, you are strong— you came from the lowest of the low, yet you pushed through and through to be a better person, and look where you are now...!

... just look at yourself now.

your phone lays untouched on the bed sheets. it tempts you, mocks your panicked state, and you want to rip that rectangular piece of metal apart. yet all you do is stare at it, sitting upright as one hands supports your weight. your fingers clench the mattress, it does nothing as your vision darkens from your lack of breathing.

breathing.

oh, breath in, breath out. do what alfred has taught you years ago, the- the one he uses whenever you would run alone in the desolate halls of the manor to alfred's room, just because you were anxious of the monsters in the corner of your eyes, where he would help you return to your senses and play you a lullaby from an old music box right after. the one he uses after you two would watch horror movies and you were too scared of any sounds that engulf your surroundings.

your throat tightens, and you want to vomit out the contents of what you have eaten— but you have to try.

five things you can see.

your eyes, although frozen wide and stinging with tears, darts around the room. everything is darker now, it's cold and you feel so small. your apartment was small. unlike the place you had lived before, it lacks of furniture, of life, of personality. the only things in your tiny apartment were basic necessities, but even food was scarce for someone like you who had juggle working multiple jobs and college just to pay for rent.

you can see your phone, the candy wrappers you had forgotten to throw, the overflowing trash bin, an empty bottle of prescription pills, alfred's gifts on the shelves counts, right? you laugh sarcastically at yourself; even a trashcan has more contents in your shitty apartment.

fuck, your chest throbs, you remind yourself to breath a little deeper.

four things you can feel.

the mattress is too hot for you, sweat already running down your forehead as if you had ran a marathon. you can feel the tears well up your eyes, overflowing with bitterness that you thought you had already buried deep down, and your hands gripping the sheets so uncomfortably tight. the weather is too cold, winter's nearing but the blood pumping through your veins scorches your very being.

that's four, three more to go and you hope this would all be over. you hope that this would all be a dream, a hallucination, anything.

three things you can hear.

does your choked sounds count? or does it need to be anything else? fuck, why doesn't it work as well as when alfred helps you through? you told yourself that you could take on anything in life, but is it all just a lie—?

focus. focus on your surroundings. you can hear your sniffling, heavy intakes of air, and a repeat of the phone ringing with dick's name as the contact.

shit, shit, shit. don't remind yourself of that. move on, just get onto the next thing.

two things you can smell or... taste? you don't remember, why can't you remember? your thoughts keep running back in circles to the messages, that stupid '<3', the way his desperation could be felt through the phone.

it reminds you of yourself.

before you knew it, your fist brought itself to punch your chest.

thump, beat, thump.

every time your heart beats too loudly, you strike your chest as hard as you can, uncaring for the pain it inflicts you, uncaring for the way you beat the air out of yourself. as long as it distracts you from the bile rising up your throat and the unsated nausea from sitting in the same position— it'll be fine if you hurt yourself. you've already done so a million times, no?

... yet nothing works.

why doesn't anything work out in your favor?

please don't do this to me.

your fists eventually stops. everything hurts even worse.

just earlier ago, you were praising yourself for all the progress you had made. how you weren't in need of validation anymore. you try so desperately to erase any inch of evidence that you were a wayne.

it all crashes down, again and again, and again and again.

moments ago, you were laying on your bed, scrolling through social media, making plans to hangout with your small group of friends in college, trying to cling on to the good parts of your past— ignoring the empty chats of what was once family.

but even without them, even if they haven't knew that you pushed them away from your life— they're always seeping their way at the back of your mind.

you truly can not erase your past. no matter how much you shake your head to rid of the thoughts, no matter how much you try to erase any documentations, any

even talking to alfred reminds you of your stupid past. a past that eats you up every time you wake up from the nightmares, wishing that there would be someone, anyone, who would hold your body tight and tell you it's alright. your mother, your father, your brothers and your sisters— they just were never there for you for so many years. and you hate to admit it but; you still cling to the wish that one of them would...

would hug you and kiss all your wounds away. drive away the countless of dreams filled with terror and torture.

you're independent now, but at what cost? what good does it do when you still try your damn hardest to live? when you know it in your soul that you still desire for a semblence of familial love.

and now that you've pushed alfred away, you're truly alone.

alone and stuck in a loop of trying to run away from your past and failing miserably.

and all you can ever do is, well...

you cry.

the tears bursts out of your eyes like a broken faucet.

you cry because that's the only thing you know how to do. you let the waters loose, hands quickly tangling itself on your hair, ripping fragile strands apart. you cry because you've been living a such a life full of lies, of broken promises, a life where you have to constantly walk on eggshells. you cry because you want to turn back and throw away all your progress just to feel the embrace of a family who had never once held you in their arms. you let yourself heave, let your voice wail out to its deepest frustration, uncaring for the thin walls, or the sleeping neighbors next door, or the rumbling of your empty stomach.

you cry, for what seems like hours, unending like the memories of solitary isolation, like the wanting of a love that you could never quite catch. you let your eyes become all puffy and red; red like the gashes you have scratched upon your skin, like the crimson, beaded blood from your bitten lips.

you don't find any strength in yourself to stifle your sobs anymore.

not when you're so, so lonely in this world.

and when your voice dies down, when your hoarse shrieking becomes no more; you simply force yourself to stand, despite the spinning of your vision, the stumble in your steps and the lack of air in your lungs; you run to your bathroom, slamming the door shut, letting adrenaline take its course into your already tired body.

your knees, they buckle after its few wobbly steps. it's sore and lacks the circulation to be properly controlled, but you ignore it in favor of expelling the acidic bile that finally rushes itself up your tongue.

at least you find just one thing to be grateful for— that your knees slipped on the wet tiles and land coincidentally towards the toilet's rim, a loud thud vibrating through the room.

alfred says the best way to cope is to never jar your emotions.

it's painful, everything is so painful that you want to scream; you need to let it all out.

you don't care if your knees were to bruise because you couldn't help it anymore, spilling out the contents of your breakfast onto the toilet bowl. your throat constricts into itself, and all you could do is gag and force every bit of food out of your mouth.

and it tastes so bitter that you cry even more. there were some bits and chunks stuck on the sides of your tongue, you can taste the acid on the back of your throat. you feel the urge to vomit even more but there's no more to expel. all you can do is dry heave, shaking hands finding its way to cover your mouth from gagging anymore.

it's so pungent, so fucking disgusting— but all you do is force yourself to stand once more, to look away from the mess you had created and flush it away.

the tears just wouldn't stop, the throbbing in your heart could never be expelled just as easily as the contents of your stomach.

yet you chose this life, there's no more alfred to assist you on your own personal struggles. there's no more rubs on the pack, pats on the head or a warm meal that greets you every time you drown in your own emotions. it's only you who can solve your own problems. you can't depend on anyone but yourself...

if only life was as easy as it is to flush away unwanted contents from your stomach.

if only you weren't in gotham... if only dick wasn't in...

gotham.

he's in gotham right now.

shit.

shit, shit, shit.

dick is in gotham, and you know he just doesn't give up.

he can track you down, he'll find you, he might hurt you because you blocked him— you know of his temper, of his unadulterated anger; you're scared of that. just what have you done wrong? did you take something that was his? no, no, never.

you've never been in his room before. he knows yours because he had visited once, but you don't know his. you don't even know which hallway leads to it.

oh, fuck.

you stumble towards the bathroom sink, hastily twisting the faucet's valve. cold water immediately rushes down, you cup your two hands together to collect the running water.

you need to get to you bearings, prepare for the absolute worst because you know, you know the power he holds in his arms.

with the amount of times he had spammed you, called you even— there's something he wants from you, and you don't want to entertain whatever he has on his mind.

you splash your face - splotched with tears, snot and drool - clean multiple times, rub your swollen, red eyes, and wipe the bits of vomit on the sides of your mouth. you can still taste the vomit. god, it's disgusting.

so you hastily grabbed your toothbrush, pushing an insanely large amount of toothpaste on the bristles. you scrub your teeth aggressively, feeling the urge to rid of the pungent taste of stomach acid. then you gargle mouthwash, twice, and spit it all out.

your movements are too quick for your own self to catch up, but you have to do this. your brain tells you to follow through whatever it has to do.

follow through instincts, get him out of your mind.

distract yourself from dick and the cryptic messages he had sent, that you had thoroughly deleted but...

it dawns upon you that albeit all your failed attempts at bonding with him— you know nothing about dick beyond the circus incident that had killed his parents and his identity as gotham and bludhaven's vigilante, nightwing.

you know nothing about him...

and you fucking blocked him before you could ask for an explanation.

what does that message mean? what does he want to talk about all of a sudden? a person doesn't just fucking waltz in someone's life after 15 years of absence and exclaims himself as close as your friend, no?

it had been so long since you had last heard him call you baby bird, let alone even read your messages, so why spam you now?

your knuckles grip at the bathroom sink's tiles, it was the only thing that provides you balance, legs too wobbly to support the dizziness. you feel a huge lump on your throat again, but you can't just erase all the efforts you had done to get yourself together.

— but at the same time, it's too hard to ignore the panic that resurfaces on your very mind.

so what do you need exactly?

distraction, something to get your mind off of the current situation? before you run away from gotham—

you need a distraction, anything. even if it's stupid, you'll regret it later, just not now.

cigarettes? no, you don't smoke. alfred will kill you if he finds out and you can never lie to him.

drugs? you'll be shot in the head by nasty criminals scamming naive citizens for half the price before you could even purchase them.

... then what?

you look at yourself in the mirror, puffy eyes glazing with emotions you yourself couldn't comprehend.

'despite everything, it's still you, no?'

if you could describe yourself right now, you would call yourself a mess, a big loser who had let their emotions run free for too long, let themself go way too quickly, gave up too quickly, and believed too naively. you had lost so much yet gained so little. a wayne so stubborn that it was the only thing you could ever relate to your father who had estranged you without knowing it.

there was more negatives than positives, you're aware of it.

but if there's one trait that anyone could generalize off of you, it would be that you're always desperate for something.

anything.

and just one time, you tell yourself. one time and that's it, nothing more, nothing less.

once you done relaxing, you're packing your bags and making a run for it. you'll even cut alfred off of your life once and for all. no matter how much it pains you to do so, it's necessary so you could make a new identity from scratch.

it'll hurt you so deeply.

but that's why you're going to do what you wish you had done back when you were still so young—

you need a drink right now.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, is truly just an empty palace that houses buried memories.

with walls that cover the cries of one lonely child; a child who yearns for the unreciprocated love of their family. it was a cage for a child who stalks the frigid halls without any company, who sleeps in a room too small for their age, who cries for anybody to notice the pain that they had hidden with rose colored tints for so long, who yearns for a warmth that could never be provided in the spaces of harsh, black wallpaper and harsh winters.

it will always be innately lonely, and cold.

yet it's even more sullen now, an atmosphere so empty nobody could pinpoint.

no more was the voice that sings of the butler's splendid cooking. no more was the etching of ballpens on smooth paper on an intricately designed diary that stores all the rants of one's daily life. no more were the strokes on colorful canvases that paint dreams of a different life. no more was the humming of multiple tunes every morning. no more was the presence of the ghost who water the plants every afternoon. no more were the footsteps that thud in the kitchen and the hands that opens the fridge.

and most importantly—

no more were the hushed cries of the kid who resides in the smallest room of the wayne manor.

a house could be described as a building where a unit, moreover a family, lives in; but a home is what represents comfort, a place of belonging and safety.

it was a place encased with deep, historical roots.

but right now, encased in a field of damp grass - wet from heavy rain - and the overwhelming scent of petrichor— the manor is simply a house.

for it could never be complete without the presence of the very lonely child who cries for a love never to be attained.

the wayne manor, in all its worth, would never be the same without (name) wayne, a child who had always belonged, but at the same time, always wronged.

bruce wayne never considered himself the greatest father.

he could be gotham's best detective, the most feared vigilante, or the heavily beloved billionaire who donates millions on hospitals, hosts charity events, and so much more.

he could spend his entire life saving countless of other lives that do not deserve the turmoil of living on edge constantly, attend meetings, plan out his every moves, sit on cushioned seats as he broods over where the all the next criminal hideouts; he could do everything and he'll be damned great at it.

—but he will never be the greatest at being a father.

he had long accepted that fact, embraced it even, facing countless of criticism from both alfred and media alike, but it would never be an excuse to neglect or mistreat any one of his children, just like how it would never be right to just ignore a kid's cry for comfort in the barren halls of a manor.

bruce was never outright cruel towards anyone, every action of his baring significance to his moral code.

which was why bruce feels a pit of neverending regret now.

in all the years that he had spent trying to raise his children, children who, in a way, are trouble. who all differ from each other from ideals, to pasts, to habits, to preferences— he wouldn't lie and say that he never had difficulty helping each and every one of them grow to be who they are now.

living through his decisions are never easy, especially if the outcomes were unpredictable; raising a child, let alone children, could go so many ways.

the lives that he had to juggle, alongside his identity as bruce wayne and as batman, they were all an endeavor that he had chose to balance. he had come so far and stumbled so often. but at least by the end of it, he would be proud to say that he truly will never regret having them by his side when he was at the lowest points of his life.

he had his flaws and his mistakes, he had done irreversible actions that he wishes he could reverse, and most importantly, he had failed each and every one of his children indubitably.

but he really tried.

he tried his best to be there for every single one of them. he was there for dick when he had witnessed the death of his mom and dad, adopting the boy who was overflowing with rage towards the killer of his parents and utilizing his gymnastic skills for good. he was there to pick jason up when he had stolen the batmobile's tires, helping the child unlearn the past abuse he had fallen victim to (and although he had died, then resurrected, and turned cold-blooded towards criminals, murdering without hesitation— he still cares for jason deeply). he was there when tim had lost his parents. there for damian who had only been raised as an assassin since he was born. for cass, for duke, for everyone.

he really tried to be active in their lives, supporting them through their blood, sweat, and tears.

... but he had never tried to be there for you.

his forgotten third child, the biological firstborn, child of a well-known prostitute, (name) (last name), whose identity has long been erased off of the face of the internet; the scandal of a century that took the shared efforts of him and barbara to decimate whatever information the late (or missing?) (last name) has in the underground.

(name), his child he has never once bat an eye on, too preoccupied with tim, aversing his attention away from you to train the other kid; ultimately ignoring the immense trauma you must have dealt with from being raised by a mother targeted by most criminal organizations from extorting their cash. it was sickening for him to think of just how cruel were the conditions the two of you were forced to live through.

it was sickening for bruce to imagine the even lonelier years you had to suffer through after your mother's disappearance— years where your father's presence was elsewhere, years that a child has to suffer through alone without any figure to look up to.

it was your name that he had hesitated to even say, in fear of butchering the pronunciation and earning more of alfred's judgemental looks.

(name) wayne.

not even a face can be associated with you, not your voice, your hobbies, nothing.

he couldn't recall a memory where he had taken you to a fancy gala, or one-on-one father-child dates, or any occasions that requires bonding with each other.

he wasn't the man who welcomed you through the doors of the manor, nor was he the father who should've picked you up at the police station.

bruce wayne knows nothing of his third child.

if alfred hadn't confronted him about your terrible living conditions as of now, living in debt whilst trying to push through college, then how long would he have ignored your presence inside the manor? how long would the years pass without him acknowledging any important milestones that you would reach?

until your untimely demise perhaps?

he couldn't even remember a time he had at least given you a gift during christmas or new year or any time of the day.

not even the name of your elementary and high school, or your college university. he doesn't know of your friends, your teachers or what subject you excel in.

you had already graduated highschool, and he wasn't even there for your ceremony. he wasn't there to walk you up the stage, wasn't there to shield you from the thousands of photographers who would've attended should they know that a wayne would attend, wasn't there to offer you a pat on the shoulders for a job well done.

then who had to walk you up the stage?

"alfred..." he stops walking, clearing his throat as alfred turns back at bruce, offering a raised eyebrow at the sudden pause and bruce's rigid pose.

"yes, master?"

"when... (name) graduated," he hesitated on saying your name again, catching on alfred's sudden squint of the eyes. "who walked them up the stage?"

he hopes you didn't have to go up there alone, that a teacher at least accompanied you or—

"i was the one who attended in your stead, master bruce." the butler replies without hesitation, as if it was a normal occurrence. he sighs again, too tired to scold bruce's surprise for absolutely dismissing all the important dates that include you and instead turns back to continue on his treck to guiding bruce to your room.

alfred's look of condescension makes him sink deeper into the void of regret. for being unable to

fuck, how many important events had bruce missed? from school plays, to parent-teacher conferences, to talent shows— was there ever a "bring your father to school" day?

oh... he really hopes there wasn't.

his hands find itself scratching his head, fingers tangling itself onto his hair in hopes of providing distraction— but his thoughts all circulate towards you, a faceless entity, an itch that he could never reach unless he sees you for himself.

the further he walks through frigid halls, the smaller the space seems to get.

how many birthdays had he missed?

when even is your birthday?

you are eighteen now, five when you were taken in which means... almost fourteen years of missed birthdays...

he didn't even give you a single gift card out of pity. not even money for allowance, or a birthday cake.

bruce was never there for you, and he has a feeling that that may have been one of the reasons of you moving out.

he needs to make up for it at least, once he contacts you he'll apologize for everything—

but first, he needs to see the state of your room. to at least have a first impression of you, of what your life was in the manor; any clues that pertains to just who his child is, as humiliating as that sounds for a father.

which was why he didn't hesitate to let alfred lead him straight to your room, albeit the shame he feels for not even knowing where his own child's room is located.

back when he had taken damian in, it was him who introduced the boy to his own room, whom had promptly thrown a tantrum and demanded someplace bigger before ultimately accepting his fate.

... how would you have reacted to your own? he wishes to at least picture your face, probably opposite to damian's, as you get to live in an entirely different space from what you're used to.

would you be pleased? would you look at him with sparkling eyes and thank him? or would you maintain a neutral stance? an overwhelmed one?

he really wants to see you, your expressions, just a sliver of your presence.

but nothing comes up in his mind. not the length or color of your hair, not your height, not anything. he could picture a vague imagery of your mother, but not you.

it makes him wonder; does any of your siblings know what you look like? were you at least any closer to them that you are to him?

he hates just how much desperately the darkness in the pit of his chest is crawling in need to hasten his steps towards wherever your room was.

the rain outside had already ceased, but a newer thunderstorm was brewing inside bruce's heart.

he needs to see you.

as he walks behind alfred through the halls of the manor, he had just noticed how barren the other side of the manor truly is.

cob webs and dust particles litter through the corners of the untouched furniture, the wallpaper peeling off itself and revealing untreated mold and even more cocoons of baby spiders that would soon crawl out, and even most of the ceramic vases they had passed by houses no flowers, instead being covered in a thin sheen of dust.

it was obvious just how neglected this corner of the house is.

just like you.

alfred was always meticulous in his duty as a butler, but bruce had advised the old man to leave unexplored parts of the manor be, seeing as how nobody would stroll by; and to only clean it whenever he would host an expensive gala in the manor with spare rooms as guest rooms.

it made bruce wonder if these halls are the path that leads directly to your room, which it actually does, and he feels even more guilty at just how... different your living condition is compared to your siblings.

it was no wonder why the butler would always excuse himself early, seemingly always making a treck towards a forgotten chamber that he rarely visited.

he'll make a note of relocating you to a room closer than his if you ever were to decide to come visit during holidays or vacations.

... alfred said it had been six or seven months since you had left, just how many occasions have he missed?

counting only fills the dread in his the growing hole of the pit of his heart.

yeah... he will get you a new room, one preferably closer to his; just so he could greet you every morning by knocking on your door and at least escorting you to the kitchen for breakfast. he'll try to make small talk, invite you over and... bond with you.

that'll be a good habit he could incorporate into his daily life.

a small part of him wishes you wouldn't look at him in disdain if he had to forcibly visit your apartment.

he swears it's in all the good of his heard; he just needs to check for himself if you were doing okay.

as him and alfred nearly arrives at your bedroom, the two had already noticed the light peaking from outside the doors and what seems to be two voices ensuing an argument.

even alfred, who had ceased his steps, looked surprised at the presence of the people who seemed to be there before them.

bruce doesn't even hesitate jogging towards the room, unaware of alfred's immediate shift to a calculating gaze, as bruce immediately opens polished, mahogany doors, inviting himself in.

... it smells of bleach and fabric refresher.

his heart clenches at the implication.

"father...? why are you here?" damian's voice cuts through the tension, bruce merely dismisses youngest child as his eyes takes in the space, ignoring how the other presence in the room - dick, with wide, feral eyes - quips about an ongoing "family" reunion.

bruce analyzes every detail, heart thumping loudly in his chest.

small... your room is way too small, and lacks of any design or life whatsoever. a tiny bed is shoved in the corner, the closet too miniscule to even contain clothes for someone your age (just where do you store them, then?), the windows barely welcome any ventilation nor sunlight, even your bedside table was too small to be considered one; the lampshade on top of it could be easily toppled over by a single sway of a hand.

everything is clean, too clean and orderly.

his eyebrows furrow at its state. even a model's walk-in closet is significantly bigger than the cramped space he calls your bedroom.

no proper ventilation, not even any space is provided for... your hobbies. hobbies that he wasn't even aware of.

is this how you had been living for almost eighteen years of your life?

how do you live like this?

just how much has he neglected you?

"bruce...?" it was dick's voice that he had now registered. it sounds out of breath, way too abnormally distraught and out of character.

he slowly looks at dick, equally befuddled at the presence of his eldest and youngest sons.

he seems disheveled, stressed even. the athlete's blue eyes were wide and dilated, seemingly unfocused as his stance was rigid. he was breathing too deep, hand clenching his phone too tight, veins popping through muscles, and he holds a... notebook in the other, this time like it was a delicate piece or artifact.

"... why are you here?" dick tries to cover his current state with an awkward laugh, but he could never hide the furrow of his brows, the flickering in his eyes, nor the anxious stomping of the his feet. sweat runs down dick's forehead; it looks like he's been inside the room the longest.

and dick refuses to get out of it. he won't, not until he finds out just why were you pushing him always all of a sudden.

he's afraid of forgetting his baby bird once more and neglecting your needs. if you were just as self-depracating as he is then... just how well would you be coping all by yourself?

does bruce share the same intentions as him? he doesn't know, his thoughts all leading to a path of thinking about, well, you.

you and your wide eyes looking at him like he was the world.

"i'm just here to visit... (name)'s room." bruce replies, a deep tremor in his parched throat, threading even further into the cramped space as his eyes seem to lock into the multitudes of messily stacked notebooks in the center of the bed.

they were all captioned '(name)'s diary', each having different fonts for every notebook and a date plastered on the very bottom.

"and you both are...?" he stares at them, demanding an answer as he sits on your too small bed (—it creaks, he hates that it does so he promises to get you a new one, a bigger one even, with enough space to fit in at least four people just as you deserve), picking up one of the diaries in his hand; it sports messy calligraphy and peeling stickers, reminiscent of just how old it was.

the hold he has on the diary is delicate as he flips through the first page the same way the eldest child had done. the papers were stained gray from the lead of the pencil, doodles littering every page, from flowers to animals and even faces that bruce couldn't recognize.

at least it provides the void in his heart food for thought, taking in every small detail about you and your hobbies.

you like documenting your life through diaries, that was the first thing he noted about you. the entries all date far from back when you were five or younger, the earlier pages highlighting, well, you and your mother's life. though the handwriting wasn't all that eligible, bruce finds himself becoming fond of the common topics you often rant about from "momma's burnt stack of pancakes" (paired with a drawing on the side, colored with dried markers and glitter gel pens), to the fairytales your mother loves to read you.

as much as it was entertaining for him to read through your mind, it's sad how aged the papers were and how some pages were crumpled to the point some contents were incomprehensible.

he'll get you even more high quality ones, rather than the cheap paper the one he's currently holding has. and he'll buy you designer pens, or do you prefer the more functional ones? would you like fountain pens or glass dip ones just to enjoy the experience?

bruce notices a pattern of the pen's strokes, an array of thinner lines were preferred in most of your entries compared to the thick pencils you sometimes force yourself to use, as there was an entry you had mentioned where if you use thicker lines then you'll run out of pages quicker, and "my mom doesn't have enough money to buy me one right now."

even the doodles in pencil had prefered line widths. finer quality for even finer details, thicker lines to emphasize and exaggerate your art on the side of the papers.

would you prefer mechanical or charcoal pencils? charcoal is messy and smudges, bruce knows as he sees small drawings of a tiny sprite that point towards a smeared sketch of a flower, a look of disdain on its furrowed brows.

he couldn't contain the upward quirk of his lips, blocking out dick's shadow that seems to get closer to bruce.

unfortunately, there were no ballpens of your preference on your bedside table for him to take for himself. he'll find out himself sooner enough though; what materials you like to utilize for your diaries and sketches. hell, it seems you like using a mix of normal and puffy stickers alongside a mix medium to obtain different colors.

journaling supplies, you'll find a lot of them in your arsenal soon.

he'll make sure of that once he finds out where you live.

he looks at damian flipping through what seems to be one of your sketchbooks.

art is, undoubtedly, one of your hobbies too— that's the second thing he notes, picking up what seems to be your second diary right after he flips through the first one, wasting no time to learn more about you.

this time, your second diary talks about your early life into the gotham manor. your anxious yet earger energy to meet your father, how the dick grayson (presumably your idol, with how you mention him as the) is now your brother, and how you almost got lost just wondering in the manor; they all highlight your innocence and curiousity about the world. you write so effortlessly, unafraid of writing down what you truly feel.

though you barely mention the incident regarding your mother, you have stated multiple times about how you miss her beautiful smile and her captivating laughter.

he's grateful that you're fond of writing diaries, exposing bruce to the deeper, more personal parts of your life. he doesn't need to pinpoint any lies or truth. all your secrets, your endeavors, your dreams and your passions are buried deep into the crevices of your diaries, etched in thousands of words and drawings that tell bruce just who you are.

and truly, you are his child.

bruce craves to know more about you in person the more he reads through your entries.

fortunately, it wasn't only him that feels an intense need to take you in, as the presence of his eldest cuts him off of the his train of thoughts.

"y'know, before you forget we're even here, bruce," dick quips with a fond smile as he looks at his bruce's unkempt state, taking a seat next to his father who seems to be in his own world just like damian. the bed creaks against their weight, both cringing at the sound before bruce returns to his own world of... analyzing you, just like he did hours ago.

but he knows that his father knows how to multitask, so he doesn't hesitate to answer.

"i'm also here for (name), i promised to take them out for dinner month's ago." that seems to actually catch bruce's attention, as he looks up from reading your second diary, gazing at dick as if to urge him to continue.

dick proceeds with a sigh, a smitten smile plastered on his face as he recalls the only memory he has of you.

"(name) really has a knack for writing and all, right? i love them for it. when i first met them, they were just so adorable. my baby bird tried to ask me for an autograph!" dick couldn't help himself from yapping, chuckling lightly as he remembers the deathly grip you had on alfred's cuffs, how you were hiding behind the butler's legs and looked at dick so enamored. he couldn't contain his unhinged smile, the goosebumps on his skin made shivers ripple throughout his entire body.

bruce (and even damian, who had all his attention on your sketches) had listened in on his monologue.

"i was the one who helped lead them to their room," he continued confidently, tapping his phone with his fingers, "they clung really close to me when we climbed up the steps, even tried to hide under my jacket..."

looking back, dick wishes he had carried you up the steps. thing was, you were incredibly small back then, and the manor's staircase is particularly hard to transverse through when ascending, so you must've felt exhausted and leaned onto him for support. your tiny legs must've been sore once you two had arrived by your room.

oh, he should've noticed. dick swears he won't make that mistake again once he gets you back in his arms, he promises to carry you the moment you even show the slightest bit of fatigue.

he swears he will, and he'll make sure to spoil you rotten with all the affection you deserve.

oh, dick really wants to see his baby bird again.

"yeah, that's, uh, the only time we had only ever talked." he admits shamefully, opening his phone for what seems like the thousandth time, looking at your profile over and over again, one that had him blocked.

he bites his lips, nibbling his skin in anticipation, in hopes that in the good of your heart that you just, unblock him.

it was just so unbelievable, despite you having all the reasons to push them away from your life, he just doesn't want to accept it. doesn't want to think of the worst outcome; of you hating him.

his baby bird blocked him and he just couldn't comprehend the amount of hurt he's feeling right now. what's wrong with checking up on his baby sibling? on someone he hasn't talked to for a long time already?

scrolling up through your previous messages fills him with both dread, and another emotion he doesn't want to admit— the slightest bit of pride he feels that you chose him over everybody else. you chose dick grayson as your idol, as someone to look up to and eagerly wanted as your older brother.

he was the favorite.

yet he feels terrible at the same time for taking it for granted, for forgetting your his own younger sibling. and bruce? bruce feels terrible just looking at how much your disappearance - an existence he didn't even know existed not until a few hours ago - impacted the atmosphere of the house.

is your absence the reason why the manor had felt too empty, then...?

even alfred seemed to sulk more often, always having his phone around and... talking to someone?

does alfred know where you are? or at least maintain communication with you?

it seems like the family was equally keen to find out just who you were.

whilst the two engross themselves in their own personal matters, damian continues to stand near the middle where the light hits the brightest, analyzing all the pages of your sketchbook. the youngest couldn't even afford to miss a single detail, green eyes mulling over the poses of your human sketches; the anatomy, the composition. all the progress, the mistakes, the erasures... his mind seems to eat up every drawing as if it was a piece of art hung in a museum.

which it should've been— but he wouldn't even let worthless critiques lay their eyes on any one of your sketches. they wouldn't understand you as much as he does.

it's his to look upon, nobody else could understand the meaning of your art, the meaning of his older sibling's art.

the older sibling who he used to threaten with his sword, who he called vile names — a bastard child, he told you one day. he was unable to ignore the glare you sent him, how he felt a pang in his heart after — the older sibling who he ridiculed endlessly in front of his best friend, whose actions he criticized without end; who had started to avoid him like the plague after all of his incessant bullying.

his older sibling who he had used as a punching bag for all his negative emotions, who he was incredibly jealous of, who he felt the need to fight, to compete with, all for the sake of grabbing your attention without seeming frail in his intentions.

his weak and incapable older sibling, who he knew hated him with all their gut.

the unwanted and undeserved treatment he had subjected you to was gruesome.

it was just exactly like your drawings... gruesome and brutal, to say the least. as if it was a medium of releasing all your unparalleled anger. charcoal strokes violently covers the entirety of your pages, it was unpredictable where the lines meet and end, whenever there is color, they blotch each other without harmony, all the subjects of your art either human or anything else within your vicinity.

if someone else with inexperienced, undeserving eyes were to witness your sketches, they would not understand and dare say, criticize your art pieces for being too contemporary, for letting your emotions run free through cheap quality paper without any ounce of care for the rips and tears of the pages.

but damian likes it... he likes the rawness of your pieces, likes it when you incidentally find a way to express tragedy, grief, and all the antagonistic traits a human could bare. he likes just how all thr subjects you paint were muddled with dull colors, sometimes too vibrant, sometimes too neon, sometimes a mix of all— your hectic personality bleeds through the pages.

you should've... shared your talents with him. albeit the jealousy he feels towards you, the sense of competitiveness— a small part of him admits his desire to bond with his only blood sibling... he doesn't even know why he treated you like trash, yet felt so incredibly heartbroken whenever you would retaliate with a blank, soulless stare.

he doesn't know why he felt so compelled to melt into your embrace, despite never once being physically close to you. your warmth always emanates off of your body; he hates that he wanted your validation, your praise and your attention.

he'll apologize to you sooner, damian will drag you back even if he has to, he needs to, actually.

needs to get you to forgive him, to look at him fondly, and to love him without bounds. he's on his path to redemption, he acknowledges his wrongs, all the wrongs he had done to you, he couldn't list it all out but he knows just much it affected your views on him.

damian knows he should've dismissed your reactions— he was raised by assassins for gods sake! he should not be so perceptive of every micro expression of yours, but the connection he feels towards his blood sibling is stronger than any bond, a bond that he himself chose to sever and came to regret afterwards.

he remembers one specific expression of yours after he had criticized your anger issues when he had heard news of you being transferred into another school. it was a glare that lacked any fight or bite, you had long since given up on him and allowed him him harass you whenever he felt like so. but that day was the same day you had snapped, nearly choking on his

he told himself to ignore it, that you were merely throwing a tantrum (despite how hypocritical he seemed)

yet he didn't expect to be overcome with regret.

with hurt.

with empathy at the tears that welled on your eyes.

damian doesn't want to admit it but, that was one of the first times he had hesitated to retaliate with an even crueler comeback to your glare. he wanted to so badly run to you and bond with you and your unadulterated anger, to comfort you and provide you the affection you had so desperately needed— but in the bitterness and the jealousy of his heart, he had forced himself to leave you be; a decision even until now he regrets because... you had no longer seen him as a younger brother, let alone treat him as one, as he desired to.

after that incident, you tend to avoid him more and more, not even eating in the same room as him, let alone ditching whatever you were doing in favor of keeping to yourself.

he should've held himself back from hurting his older sibling, the one who, despite doning no skills or talent in combat whatsoever, who knew that he was more of a threat than a younger brother; was brave enough to approach him with a tray of alfred's baked cookies and a hesitant yet welcoming grin.

and yet he had replied with a sword to your neck and an insult to your origin, calling you a bastard child; the product of a whore and his father's terrible decisions.

he had simply watched as you had left the hallway with a knick on your neck and a wobble on your steps, nearly dropping the tray of untouched goods due to the inconsolable shivers you must've felt.

you hate him, no? he could see it in your eyes, no matter how defeated it may be, there was always a tinge of resentment towards him that he knows he couldn't undo.

you hate him, you must've hated him so much and he hates that. hates how he wants to throw a rampage over the fact that you would never consider him as a younger brother.

... if things were different, if he had never let his emotions and his past dictate his actions, would you love him?

for the first time in quite a while, he had felt tender longing and desire, his hands caressing the pages of your sketchbook as if it could bring you back to the manor.

for the first time in a while, damian allows himself to want, to dream about a fantasy where you would cherish him, allow him to melt on your chest whenever he feels the pressure of the world getting to him, let him sulk about his deepest darkest insecurities as you would run your fingers through his hair and tell him it's all alright.

for the first time in so long, he would openly admit the immense regret he feels, wishing for an opportunity to turn back time, to never unsheath his sword towards you and to never open his mouth to allow vile words to spew out of it.

time passes by oh-so quickly when you are left alone with only your thoughts to accompany you.

it had been quite awhile since the trio were left pondering about your very existence, alfred noted, watching the three scramble about through their minds. they had seemed to have forgotten the very butler who had been observing every single one of their actions.

alfred had waited so long for this moment to come, for them to realize just how crucial you are to the family, how you are the very final jigsaw puzzle the complete the picture perfect definition of a home, how much they need you if they wish to maintain even the slightest bit of sanity.

it was only right that he decides to place the final nail in the coffin.

after all, this was all to get you back to your safety, to where you rightfully belong.

—"it seems like the family has finally taken notice of young master (name)'s disappearance...?" alfred buts in by the door, a single eyebrow raised, crossed arms, an all-knowing look that just screams 'i told you so'.

he continues once he had their complete attention, "i would like to say that i am heavily disappointed in how it took more than a decade and a half for all of you to find out about their existence. if it wasn't for the long months of their absence and even a personal sermon towards master bruce about their financial struggles, they would've long been gone. well... they would be gone soon if they are unable to pay this month's rent for their apartment."

his tone was sullen as he nitpicks every single one of their reactions, a mixture of confusion, shame and regret a commonality between the three.

"(name) is in financial debt?" it was damian who asked first with furrowed brows and wide eyes, unbelieving of what alfred had just stated. "but father wires money to all of his children, right?

the youngest turns back to his father's seated form, expecting a nod of some sorts, but all bruce had was a tense jaw and a solid stare. it speaks of volumes, all damian could do was shut his mouth, looking back at alfred with a pout.

alfred expected this reaction. it was truly unfortunate how the family would never know just how important you were in their life.

yet all he could do was press on, further their guilt and desperation.

"young master damian, i am aware of bruce's willingness towards providing for his children, but (name), like you, had adopted your father's stubbornness to accept any financial aid on their part..."

the silence was defeaning now, tension so thick that not even a knife could cut through it. fortunately, the people alfred were with are trained combatants, formidle not only through fights but with words.

it was a shame they had never used their brains to connect the dots with just how sullen the manor was the moment you were gone.

"how do we...?" this time it was dick who talked, albeit hesitantly. "bruce could at least send a few thousands to them, then? or i could do it, you could just give us their location and—"

"unfortunately, there is nothing i could do about it, master dick," alfred interrupts dick's sudden onslaught, "for even i do not have master (name)'s address. they refuse even the slightest bit of a clue, hence why i have confronted master bruce about it."

it was like a needle had dropped on the floor, an intense, numbing feeling everyone present was subjected to feel.

... what?

it was dick who had reacted first, springing up from his seated position as he stared at alfred's defeated eyes incredulously.

"are you serious, alfred? (name) could be anywhere in gotham right now? unprotected, unsafe, and in debt?"

a long, defeated sigh was what he had merely received from the alfred.

"yes, master dick, you hear exactly what i say."

"but the world outside is too dangerous for (name)! we can't just let them loose in a street filled with criminals who can take advantage of their innocence!"

"they're eighteen, dick." all of a sudden, it was damian who cuts back with a roll of his eyes, "i'm sure they can survive on their own."

"yeah right, and have you even read their latest diary, or are you just gonna pretend like you aren't going to keep their sketchbooks all for yourself, huh?" dick retaliates with clenched teeth, letting himself be swayed by his own emotions. "or... you're planning to track their location without us so you can get a reservation to visit them first?"

"calm down, dick—" bruce stands, immediately holding dick back, gripping the athlete's tense shoulders.

"why should i, bruce?! (name) can be anywhere, we— i can't afford to bide time on anything but them!" he glared back at his father, slammimg his fist onto your bedroom walls without hesitation. cracks immediately formed on the chipped wallpaper, a testament to dick's strength; you'll be relocated to another room, a better one anyways and they'll... they'll turn this one into a bigger atelier for you.

dick just needs to let his anger out, yeah... unfortunately, his father seems to think otherwise.

bruce retaliates with a snarl, "we need a solid plan, dick. we can't just randomly search where they are—"

"look, if none of you are willing to help, then fine, i'll track (name) all by myself—"

"— i've never mentioned not coming, grayson." damian cuts him off with a glare, possessively holding all your sketchbook in one hand. "i'll be the one spending time with them first."

"yeah, right... and you, bruce? you coming with or no?"

defeated, bruce replies, "... you already know the answer, dick."

"of course, dad. glad to know we're on the same team after all," dick lets out an airy laugh, returning to his old demeanor. but bruce could easily pinpoint the sharp edge to his giggles, how calculated it is and how it's all merely a cover up to hide the unbearable itch to get you into his arms.

not like bruce could help it too, feeling the same way dick does— all he wants to do is see you for himself after all.

"then call the others into the batcave, now. tell them it's a priority mission, don't let them say otherwise, and don't settle on any excuses."

bruce is so grateful that he had his hands on your diaries, that he was given the grace to read through your entries and embrace even the slightest clue about you.

although there was no face to associate with your name, no photograph nor portrait— he at least has an idea of your personality, of what you like and prefer; something that bruce would hold dear, something that feeds the growing urge to find you.

find you to not only correct his mistakes, to make up for all the lost time, but to also get closer to you. to bond with his child, the one he should've focused on all those years ago. the one who, despite showing disinterest to vigilantism, chose to not fall deep into the pits of resentment, of committing heinous acts— you had chosen to run away from them without any intentions of badmouthing your own family even after the years of neglect.

his child, (name) wayne.

you were a symbol of what he had strived to cherish, to protect. it was your innocence through these pages, your eagerness to the world despite its cruelty, that relays the message to bruce that he should've centered his attention on both you and tim instead of just tim.

maybe then the dispair he had felt after jason's death would've been less devastating, maybe then you'd act as his source of light in the darkness he had choose to brood in. maybe then he wouldn't have acted so rash, so impulsive and tense.

after all, you had lost your mother too early, and your father was just somebody you can watch through the television and read through the newspaper.

and you? you were forced to take the short end of the stick, without any familial attention nor emotional support whatsoever— a substantial failure on bruce's part. you didn't deserve anything you were subjected to, didn't deserve to know what pain and despair felt like.

bruce should've been the father who had to shoulder all your burden. he should've been there for you as he was there for all your other siblings.

he should've been the man who would kiss your wounds away whenever you go out to the park with him to play. he should've been the man who would sit on the crowded bleachers to watch you perform on a talent show. he was supposed to be the father who would hold you close to your chest as you cry about your first heartbreak, about your overdue projects, about the bullies in the school.

but he wasn't that father for you. and now, you seek love and attention from people who weren't even family. because they had failed you, he had failed you.

there was so much things about you that he doesn't know of, so much he had missed out on. his absence was a constant in your life; what would you have felt if he suddenly barged in on it then? especially now that you've moved out on the presumption of neglect?

but could he help it if he does?

could bruce help it if he was already concocting a way to bring you back? alfred had explicitly told him that you were living off of debt

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,100+ words. no beta we just die. undertale reference. this is my least favorite chapter LMAO, despite it's length i had to waste blood sweat and tears for this and i hate it so much. anways guys pls comment or send as ask if u like this and what's good abt it bec this chapter literally made me question my ability as a write 😭 erm im gonna take a break after this and mostly answer asks bec istg my energy is so drained. also is it jst me or does everyone default the reader as female ^^' it's jst weird for me bec i always write them as gn/male. oh and if anyone is wondering, yes i am gonna add the batgirls too bec they r family !! the entire family (universe) is obsessed with u !! also yall i cant add anymore to the taglist, tumblr won't allow me.

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku , @okaybutfullhomo , @trasshy-artist , @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa , @ilovvmyhusband , @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony , @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts , @darling006 , @starringyau , @samanthahanes, @rosecentury , @jaythes1mp , @pi1nkl0ver , @i-thirsty-boy, @sharks-are-cool-l, @silverklaus, @traumaramacenter , @maddimoon , @anxrq, @thedarknesslord , @h0rr0r-10ver-69 , @lazy-idate , @cupids-pretty-boy , @alishii, @mel-star636 , @sitepathos , @freakyotaku059-blog , @dirtydiavolo, @sunbleachedantlers, @24hrsoflanii, @ceramic-raven , @une-lueur-dans-la-nuit , @tdickensstuff4 , @thickerthanthieves , @arlandvery , @distressed-lezbo, @bunbunboysworld , @bellethesleepypotato, @nebuluma, @alliwantisadonut, @alishii, @kusakiguzen, @sirenetheblogger, @emmbny, @ryukyuin, @solkara, @starsdotalk, @nightstarblue, @huhuhhuhh, @shadowpup163, @sunshine-skz, @24hrsoflanii, @bazellawrites, @pato-spoiler-27, @harumy07cat, @rains-mae, @funnybunnyxxx, @littlelilithspost, @howisgroguthiscute, @yuyuzi-ling, @tullipam, @coldcrusadehideout, @princessloveweird, @hybridcon

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radiance1 · 7 months ago

Text

"Special delivery!" Shouted a boy, who should not be here at all speeding towards them on a hoverboard. Easily dodging the attacks that flew at him due to his sudden entrance with tricks and teases of "Miss me!" or "Even my dad can shoot better than that!"

Regardless, he came to a quick stop before the Flash, rummaged around in his pocket and throwing something into the air that quickly became a green shield that looked like a Lantern contruct but yet not quite.

"Fenton-made Ghost Shield Generator, or GSG for short." The kid shrugged, quickly reaching into his fanny pack and pulling out a full box of takeout that shouldn't have been able to full in there, warm and ready, and held it out to the Flash. "Usually, I would charge extra for it, but you can have it on the house!"

Flash and the boy exchanged their goods, food for money that the boy swiftly counted through. Unconcerned that he's one a battlefield while Flash ate his food.

"I might order from you again, honestly." Flash said, and the boy gave him a smile. "Please do! It's not every day we get someone from the League as a customer! Oh right!" The boy dug around in his pocket for something, pulling out a glowing green sticky note and putting onto the Flash's forehead.

Who didn't take any offense to the action, only letting out a confused gesture towards it.

"Something about warning you about something in the future, I don't know really." The boy shrugged, adjusting his stance on his hoverboard and hitting a button with his foot. "All his sticky notes are really cryptic though, cause he's just like that."

The GSG dropped into the boy's hand, staring at it for a moment before throwing it over to the Flash. "Eh, you can keep that. I can just ask my parents for another one anyway." He sped off, giving the hero a wave as he cackled while dodging more attacks. "Keep up the great work!"

Then he disappeared into a green portal, which closed behind him as quickly as it opened.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #Vaguely tied to that one post I made

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ribbonprincess · 8 months ago

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

"Do a lil twirl for me,yeah...your ass looks so good baby." Rafe chuckles,fixing his pants as they tightened around his crotch,the sight of you in a tiny white mini skirt the reason.

"You like it rafey? I bought It thinking of you" "yeah,no shit- you used my credit card" he chuckles. Moving from his spot on the bed,he walks over you,laying his hands on your hips as he squishes the skin. "You should wear it today while I go golfing,you can look pretty in the cart and if you're good enough daddy will buy you a drink."

He smiles before tilting his head down to press his lips against yours as you whine almost immediately,slapping his chest "my lipgloss! you just smeared it all over,daddy." Turning around to face the mirror as you try to deescalate the situation of your almost ruined makeup,dabbing at the area around your lips with a beauty blender.

"Yeah yeah,'s just lip gloss,it's nothing serious." Gasping dramatically you turn around,hand on your chest as if you've been shot as you point a finger at his chest "'s not just lipgloss.."

Chuckling to himself Rafe presses a kiss against your shoulder "I'm sorry cupcake, daddy's being mean yeah?" Nodding as you run your manicured fingers over his jawline,pressing your chest against his,making your tits more visible as you smile softly- a tragic contrast to your action.

꒦꒷︶°꒷︶°︶₊˚ʚɞ˚₊︶°︶꒦˚︶꒷꒦

As you sit prettily in the golf cart,sipping at your drink while watching rafe play with his friends,you can't help but feel lonely,so you decide to approach as he stands a few feet behind the others. "rayray?"

Turning around almost immediately Rafe's expression softens a bit before turning hard. "What are you doing here,told you to sit in the cart" "Yeah... I know,but I missed you" Emphasizing your words you run a hand over his chest,playing with the button of his slacks.

"Missed me huh?" Looking over his shoulder he shouts a quick "Little lady is feeling sick!" Before dragging you over the Golf cart and driving over a more secluded area of the field,covered by trees and bushes.

"Since you've been missing me sooo much,might as well show it. C'mon get on your knees" Taking one last look around you move to your knees on the moist grass,quickly unbuckling his belt as you pull down his pants and boxer just as much needed. Wrapping a hand around the base of his shaft you kiss the vein that runs on the underside of it, resulting in a harsh tug of your hair. "Don't fucking tease me."

Wrapping your lips around his tip before slowly moving down,twisting your hand around what you couldn't fit "Deeper...I've trained you better than this,kid" Rafe mumble from above you,shoving your head down until you gag harshly,tears already pooling at your lash line. "Yeah,there you go...nice and warm for me." Looking up through your clamped wispy lashes you start to move your head again,twirling your tongue around his length like a popsicle as Rafe groans from above you "Got myself the best girl,right? Sucking my dick like this where everyone can pass by"

Nodding as best as you can,you pull off him with a loud "pop". "Wanna make you feel good,daddy." Smiling to himself, Rafe wipes at your saliva coated lower lip before bringing your mouth back on him with a satisfied moan,brushing some strand of hair that have fallen over your face away. "Fuck,keep doing that and I'm gonna cum. You want daddy to cum in your mouth? Yeah,you do."

Meeting you midway as he thrust into your mouth,giving you no time to react or even understand. "shit- 'm cumming" As his rhythm gets sloppier,you suck around his tip holding onto his thigh as you feel a milky substance flood your mouth. Breathing loudly he pulls you away from him as he smirks "Show me your tongue,angel" showcasing your tongue with a proud smile you look up at him in search of praise. "good girl,what do we say now?" "thank you daddy!"

#first long drabble what do we think?#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe cameron smut #outer banks smut #drew starkey x reader #🎀princess

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inkedells · 2 months ago

Note

cowboy!logan teasing his girl when he figures out she likes him sweaty and messy from work...

[god him in this gif has me scratching the walls]

pairing: cowboy!logan x f!reader

wc: 587

Cowboy!Logan coming home to you after a long day of herding cattle.

His face is shining with sweat, his scent deliciously musky. Not far off from how he looks when he’s just orgasmed, you think, despite your best efforts not to let your mind go there. Dark denim stained with mud at the hem, his boots in a similar state. Plaid button-up tucked into a fat belt, the sleeves rolled up his thick, veiny forearms.

Yeah, you’re gonna make sure he fucks you. As soon as possible.

“Missed you, baby,” He says with the softest barely-there smile. He slides off his dirty boots by the entryway, mumbling an apology for the mess he’s causing. “And I’ll clean that up soon as I’m outta the shower.” It’s said with a grin and raised hands, as if he’s expecting you to scold him.

But you’re too busy staring at his arms.

“Something wrong?” He asks, his smile falling as he walks toward you.

“Don’t shower,” You say simply, quietly. You meet his eyes and watch his confusion transform into understanding—No, smug understanding. There’s a lump in your throat now, but you swallow it down quickly and stand up straighter. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

He’s smirking, even as he speaks. “‘Cause I’m dirty. And I stink. Don’t wanna ruin that pretty dress.” He looks down at you, taking in the sight of your body in the thin, sheer fabric. Of course, you go red in the face at his words and his scrutinizing eye, and of course, he takes it as his cue to crowd you until you’re backed up against the kitchen counter.

“But…” He starts, placing a calloused hand flat on the expanse of skin just above the swell of your breast. “You,” He pushes his fingers under your strap, “Don’t,” slides it off your shoulder, “Care.” He rushes to give your bare breast a long, firm squeeze, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you when he does. But then he pauses his actions to whisper teasingly, "Do you?"

You shake your head immediately, and he starts back up again. He plays with you, slow and methodical and loving, yet perfectly aggressive. Like a man.

While you watch his hand, hypnotized, Logan is intently observing your face and subconsciously mimicking your expressions. When your eyebrows knit, so do his. When your mouth falls open, so does his. And when you’ve only just begun to lean in for a kiss, he’s leaning in the rest of the way, capturing your mouth with searing hunger as he moves his lips against you expertly.

He’ll carry you into your shared bedroom eventually. Make sweet love to you until the clouds shielding the moon settle into a low fog in preparation for the morning dew. Until you’re just as sweaty as he is, until the only words coming out of your mouth are "I love you," and, "Don’t stop," and, "Faster."

And it’s that last command which consumes him as he kneels between your legs right here, right now, stroking you over your underwear while he fantasizes about fingering you open. He'll take his time with it, do it properly, so he can fuck you as deep and hard as he wants to much later—after your greedy pussy is inevitably tired of the decorum involved with simply making love for hours. You’ll want to fuck, dirty and messy and rough, and he’ll wonder how such a sweet girl could get so drunk on cock. He would bother spitting the question at you between sharp, relentless thrusts, if he didn't already know the answer. Only for you, Logan.

a/n: my requests are open! gimme all ur ideas <3 also reblog to support ur fav authors!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #cowboy!logan #cowboy!logan x reader #cowboy!logan smut #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman #old man logan x reader #old man logan

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planetaryupscaled · 2 months ago

Text

Sharing is Fun

Male Reader x Yeji x Yujin x Kazuha

Tags: 9k, smut, cheating, oral, anal, creampie

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

“Sorry but I don’t think I can go,” Yujin lied to her boyfriend on her phone. “No, I just don’t feel well, I drank too much last night.”

“What? No! they’re lying, I didn’t fuck him last night, he’s Yeji boyfriend!” Yujin wanted to get off her phone, but her boyfriend kept talking.

“I don’t know. I was at the party with friends, not just him! and then the next thing I knew, I woke up this morning, in my bed, alone.”

“Look, I got to go. I’ll make it up to you.” she ended the call and tossed it to the far end of the bed.

“You’re a liar,” I said when I was sure the call had ended.

“Shut up, mmhh” she moaned. Yujin was completely stripped of her clothing and was currently on top of me with my cock deep inside her. We’d been fucking when her phone rang, and she answered it, knowing that her boyfriend would not take her not answering her phone and not showing up for their plans as well.

So, as she talked, she slowly rocked her hips back and forth as she spoke with her boyfriend on her phone, but once the call was over, she picking things back up again. She sat straight up, arching her back, and swiveling her hip, enjoying the sensation. As good as her tight pussy felt on my cock, I could only sit back and let her ride me for so long before I could no longer hold back. I took a firm hold of her hips and thrust up into her.

“Oh, fuck,” Yujin moaned as I took control of the action.

“I’ll never get used to this. I can practically feel the thing in my stomach,”

“Yeah, Yujin, you like that?”

“Ahh Yes! Yes!” she moaned. “I’ve missed your cock,” she said, as she continued to bounced up and down.

Her soft breasts shook with every movement of her hips. I reached up to squeeze her breasts; she then bent down. We were about to kiss, but she turned at the last moment and instead she gave me a few kisses along my jawline.

“You such a tease,” I told her.

Yujin gave me her biggest smile and said, “Considering what we’re doing right now? Not really…”

I then kissed her neck before going down to her tit and sucking on her nipple. My hand then slipped down from her other breast and moved down between her legs. As she rocked up and down, my fingers moved to her clit. I knew just how to press her little love button as we fucked.

“Ohh Yes! Keep going… just like that,” she said as she moved her body. She began to move faster and I speed up my finger on clit. Within minutes, her eyes rolled back and her body severed as she succumbed to her orgasm. I kept brushing against her clit even as she was climaxing “Aahhhh,” she sighed as she came down from her high.

“It’s been a while since I’ve cum like that.” Yujin admitted.

“Really? Well, good news then, cause we’re not done yet,” I told her.

Yujin smiled broadly and even let out a small squeal of excitement in response to that comment. She then got off of me, and I asked her to lie on her stomach across the bed. Her head was facing one of the nightstands as I approached her near the edge of the bed.

While prone was never one of my favorite positions but it was always will be our position whenever I was with Yujin. Moving on my knees behind her, I slapped my dick against both of her ass cheek. Then I rubbed the length of my cock between her ass. Yujin even pushed her ass up towards me as I tease her rear.

“Please stop teasing and put it in me already,” Yujin pleaded.

“You might want to be more specific considering where my dick is right now.”

Yujin looked over her shoulder at me and said, “You wouldn’t dare.” Her tone suggested that she was challenging me rather than telling me not to. An idea came to my mind, but that thought was cut short.

“Just put it in her already! She’s desperate for it.” said the female voice. Looking up at the nightstand in front of Yujin, there was Yeji’s face on the laptop, watching what her friend and I were doing on the bed.

—

Yeji And I had been some kind of boyfriend-girlfriend for more than a year at this point since she broke up with her boyfriend because he found out from whoever that we’d been screwing around, and the next day she move in with me.

I could count on one hand how many times I’d been inside women who weren’t Yeji since I met a lot of her friends after that pool party in Busan, but the last time it happened was when Yeji, Yuna and I were in Incheon and we went all out that day and night, and the next morning I woke up with a naked Yeji on one side and a naked Yuna on the other.

That was roughly five months ago. Now, I'm in Incheon for work, while Yeji is in Seoul; she was also busy with her career as an idol. The two of us had only been in the same city for three nights out of the last few months, though we spoke daily. Earlier in the day I had been speaking with Yeji on the phone as I returned to the hotel where I was staying. We were discussing our day, and I told her that I met Yujin for lunch. Yujin was in Incheon to film her next project, and while she and I hadn’t hung out much, we were still pretty close. As we discussed my lunch, Yeji became oddly giggly, and as I entered my room, I found out why.

There, waiting for me on my bed, was Yujin. Dressed in a matching set of black bra and panties, next to her was a freshly open box of condoms that she had brought with her. I went silent for a minute on the phone, and Yeji asked if I liked the surprise she had delivered to my room. I questioned her if she had really set it up, and she asked me how else did I think that Yujin got a key to my room.

Yeji’s conditions for this were that I could not creampie her friend. Well, this condom thing is a bit funny given that I’ve creampied her friends before, but she’s become a bit protective of me since she moved in, and second Yujin was not allowed to sleep over afterward, and the third one was that Yeji wanted to watch. So, I set up my laptop on the nightstand with a good view of the bed.

So now here I was on a hotel bed, fucking Yujin in a prone position while her face was pointed right at a screen with Yeji watching, and who I could tell based on her shoulder movement was playing with herself off camera. Yujin moaned as I held her ass and thrust down into her.

—

“Ugghhh, I’ve missed this,” Yujin grunted. Had I not been looking up at the laptop screen at Yeji’s face, I might have slipped and said “Me too.” While I would never ditch Yeji for Yujin, I could not deny the fact that I had always found hooking up with Yujin to be quite enjoyable.

As we did it prone, my hands firmly gripped her ass. As we kept going, and I looked down at what was in front of me, my thoughts began to go back to the last time Yujin and I were together. As my thoughts lingered, I angled my hands differently and found my thumb moving down into between her ass cheeks.

“What are you doing?” Yujin asked as she felt my thumb begin to wonder.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” I told her. “Let me ask you, since our last time together, have you ever tried anal again?”

“Mmm, yes I have, but he didn’t like it so we’ve only done it twice.”

“All that time and he have only done it once more time than you and I have, huh?”

“Yes, ahhh” Yujin moaned, my thumb was now rubbing up and down her backdoor as we continued to fuck hard.

“Maybe we should even up the score?”

“You won’t,” Yujin said while looking at me over her shoulder.

“Do it,” Yeji said with a devilish smirk through the screen.

With my cock still slick from Yujin’s overly wet pussy, I pulled out and placed my cock head up against her rear entrance. I stayed there for a bit. I looked at Yujin, and she looked at me but said nothing. I gave a little bit of pressure and I took the knowing silence as consent. I pushed forward and Yujin’s legs kicked up in the air as she let out a groan. I tried to go slow and let her get used to it. After it seemed like she was comfortable, I slowly began sliding back and forth.

“God, you’re just as tight as I remember,” I said as I fucked her ass.

“Well, you’re thicker than I remember.” She replied.

Yujin ass feels heavenly; the only thing that bothers me is the condom; and I don’t want Yeji mad at me, but the heat of the moment, I said ‘fuck it’ and slowly pulling out, taking off the condom when I was sure Yeji was not looking, throwing it on the floor, and then sliding back into Yujin ass.

Yujin look over her shoulder and give me a surprised look, she knows.

“Want me to stop?”

“I didn’t say that,” Yujin answered. I started going faster and harder. Yujin started to moan louder and grip the bed harder.

“Damn, Yujin, you really seem to be liking this. Your boyfriend won’t do it?”

“No, he won’t.”

“Too bad, he doesn’t know what he is missing,” I told her.

“Maybe I’ll ask Yeji if I can borrow you more. My boyfriend can have my pussy, but you can have my ass.” I rechecked what Yeji was up to and if she had any issues with where our dirty talk was heading. She didn’t seem to care too much since her eyes were closed, her head tilted back and her shoulder was moving. With her busy pleasuring herself while listening to us, I continued.

“Ummm, I like the sound of that. Who’s ass it this?” I asked while slapping her butt cheek.

“It’s yours!”

“Who does your ass belong to?” I asked with another spank on her cheek.

“My ass is yours!”

“And I can have it whenever I want?”

“Yes! Wherever, whenever, it’s yours!” Yujin cried out.

Her voice was strained and desperate, I knew she was close. I slowed the tempo and pulled Yujin up to her knees, reaching under her. I then started rubbing her clit with my hand while pumping my cock in and out of her asshole.

We kept that going for a bit, but it wasn’t until I pushed two fingers inside of her pussy that Yujin finally surrendered to her orgasm and her pussy gushed to the point that she soaked my hand that I was fingering her with and the bed bellow.

“Wow, I didn’t know you’re a squirter” I said in a mocking tone.

“Shut up”

As Yujin’s orgasmic cries subsided, I heard some more moans from my laptop, and when I looked up, Yeji’s eyes were closed and her body seemed to be shuttering. With Yujin cumming as I fucked her ass and then seeing Yeji have her own orgasm, I was pushed to my limits. I considered finishing inside Yujin’s asshole or pulling out and cumming all over Yujin’s back, but with us putting on a show for Yeji and Yujin’s face still in front of the camera, I had another idea.

Pulling my cock out of Yujin’s ass, I jumped up and moved to the other side of the bed. Taking Yujin by surprise, I flipped her onto her back, and when she opened her eyes, she was looking at me upside down as I stood in front of her, with my cock pointed directly at her face.

“Give it to me,” was her only reply to the new situation.

I stroked my cock and Yujin’s hand went to her breasts and played with them as she patiently waited for me to glaze her face. It did not take me long to deliver what we were both waiting for. With a grunt, my cock erupted. My initial two blasts went long and landed on her chest, but after that, I took better aim and began covering Yujin’s pretty face with my hot load.

It had been a few days since I had taken care of myself, and it showed in the amount of cum on Yujin’s pretty face. When I began to slow down, Yujin lurched forward and took me into her mouth. She began sucking it, slurping whatever was left of me. When I was finished, Yujin let my cock slip from her lips, and she gave me a big smile while her face was drenched in my cum. I thought getting my phone to take a picture, but I was beaten to the punch.

“Now, there’s a picture,” Yeji said. That comment was followed up by the sound of a camera shutter.

“Did you just take a picture?” Yujin questioned her friend.

“Maybe,” Yeji coyly replied, which was quickly followed by the sound of her taking another picture.

“I should go clean up a bit,” Yujin laughed and walked naked to the bathroom.

“Is she walking okay after all of that,” Yeji jokingly asked.

“Her legs looked a little shaky,” I told her, and we both laughed.

Yeji and I talked briefly after that. I thanked her for allowing me to do all of this, and she told me that when I got back to Seoul, I would have to show her how grateful I was. After a few minutes, she said that she had dinner plans for that evening and she had to get ready, before she logged off and I closed the computer.

When Yujin came back in the room, I was lying in the middle of the bed and she pounced on me saying that she was ready for next round. While I never wore a condom after that, it always ended up with me pulling it off and finishing on her back, breasts, and twice in her mouth. Yujin did leave after she had me take her ass one more time while we showered.

We texted the next day, making sure we were both still cool with what happened and making it clear this was more or less a one-off thing. Though an audible groan did escape my lips as I read a text response. Yujin said she understood but she was on set and she could practically still feel my cock in her ass and it was making her so wet she’d practically soaked through her underwear. She invited me to come and visit the set. I was tempted to take her up on the offer since I had two days left in Incheon, but I ultimately decided against it.

—

Three days later, I flew to Seoul. After several delays due to bad weather, I arrived late at night and had a car service drive me home. Yeji and I had agreed years ago that it was not necessary for one of us to pick the other up from the airport, both because it was inconvenient and because the last time one of us went to pick the other up, we were nearly caught having sex in the parking lot. Since then, we have kept our welcome home greetings private.

It was a little after midnight when I walked through the front door. The first thing I noticed when I walked in and set down my suitcase was the lack of noise. Neither Yeji nor her dog. I was tired and left my bags by the door to deal with later. Walking around a bit, no one seemed to be downstairs, so I went up to the bedroom. The lights in our bedroom were off, but the bedroom was illuminated with a small light around the room.

Yeji was lying on the bed, wearing a see-through nightgown. She looked incredible, and as I looked at her, my exhaustion faded. Unfortunately, she was sleeping. She must have had a long day; Idol life isn’t easy. I stood there for a moment, pondering.

I decided not to wake her up but thought I’d help her put her sheer dress away. Kicking off my sneakers I got on the bed and moved toward her. I slowly pulled down her shoulder straps, and then gave the dress a light tug as I moved it down her body. Yeji stirred a little as I finished pulling the dress down her body and off over her legs. Once it was off, I got off the bed and folded the dress carefully over the back of a chair in the room.

Heading back to the bed, and looking over Yeji’s body, I had a slight change of heart and I decided that maybe I should wake her up and let her know that I was home. Rather than shaking her awake or calling out her name, I started by rubbing my hand up and down and silky-smooth thighs.

Yeji’s body fidged in her sleep as I touched her. Moving up, a light moan escaped her lips as I brushed my hand over her mound. Even with the cloth between us, I could feel heat radiating from her. With a little more rubbing, I could feel her getting warmer, and when I hooked her bottoms and pulled them aside, I could see Yeji had shaved. It wasn’t long before I brought my lips down to kiss her pussy lips.

I started with a few kisses, then a few licks. While I got a reaction from my light teasing, she remained asleep. I quickly changed things and began eating her out as if she was begging me to go down on her.

Yeji began to respond. Her breathing quickened, and her body started twisting and stirring more. I could tell she was about to wake up, if she hadn’t already. So, I shifted my gaze to her face, continuing my oral assault on her pussy.

“Minho, you’re home,” Yeji moaned, though her eyes were still closed.

“Even with your eyes closed, you can still tell it’s me?” I asked

“I know that tongue anywhere,” she replied, opening her eyes and smiling at me. I moved up her body and kissed her. She moved her hand behind my head, holding me in place while we kissed. “I was supposed to be the one that surprised you tonight.”

“Is that why your dog isn’t here?” I asked.

“They’re with my parents, thought we could use some privacy tonight.”

“Good idea,” I said. Then I went back down to finish what I had started. I began fingering her as I licked and sucked on her clit. I licked her feverishly as she became increasingly wet. I knew Yeji was close to climaxing as she moved her hand down to the back of my head and practically strangled me with her thighs. After a few minutes, she exploded, drenching my face with her pussy juices as she held my mouth in place, while the rest of her body trembled in bliss.

I moved back up the bed and kissed her again. After that, we lay side by side on the bed, making out for quite some time. My hand moved all over her body. As we kissed, my hands removed her top to freed her perky breasts, in return she pushed my shirt and sweatshirt off. I was already hard as could be. It felt good to have her hand press up against me, even through my jeans.

“Why are your pants still on?” Yeji asked.

I removed my pants as quickly as I could, once my pants were off, Yeji quickly rolled over on top of me. With me on my back, Yeji was now on her knees sitting on my stomach. My hard cock was pointed straight up, and Yeji moved back so that my cock was now lined up in the middle of her butt, with her two soft yet fat cheeks straddled my shaft. She then moved her hips and began rubbing her ass against my cock.

“Remember when you and Yujin were together and she said that her ass is yours? That it belonged to you?” She asked me.

“Yeah,” I said, unsure of where this was going. Yeji then raised her hips and moved backward. When she lowered herself back down, my cock was now straining right in front of her. She wrapped both her hands around my shaft.

“Well, I want you to remember that while her ass might belong to you, your cock belongs to me.”

“I had no allusions otherwise,” I told her. “Yujin is fun, but she isn’t you.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear,” she said as her hands continued to play with my shaft.

“You know what I’d like?” I asked.

“What’s that?”

“For you to prove that this dick is yours,”

Yeji gave a lip-biting smile in response before raising her hips. With my cock still in her hands, she lined it up and sunk her body down on it. Letting out a bit of a grunt as she took most of my dick with one thrust. Yeji then began riding me hard. At first slamming her pussy down my cock, before switching things up and going from bouncing up and down to swivelling her hips and grinding on top of me. As she bent over to kiss me, I took a firm grip on both cheeks of her ass, and just groped her firm butt.

“Ummm, I missed you,” Yeji said as she continued.

“I missed you too,” I told her before kissing her neck.

“I missed how good your cock makes me feel.”

“I missed how good your pussy feels.”

“Even after you got with Yujin?”

“Even after that,” I told her emphatically. I put my hand on her chin to make sure she was looking me right in the eyes as I told her, “If I had a choice between a single bathroom quickie with you or a week-long sex with Yujin, I’d choose you every time.”

“God, I love you,” she said before mashing her lips against mine. As we made out, I rolled us over so I was on top and she was on her back. Yeji quickly wrapped her legs tightly around my back as I fuck her hard. It wasn’t until she had an orgasm that she let up on the grip her legs had around me. Once I was free to move, I sat up and grabbed one of her legs, and lifted it in the air.

“God, your legs are still as perfect as they were the first time I ever saw you,” I told her as I kissed her from calf to thigh before resting it on my shoulder. I then did the same with her other leg. I placed my hands on her hips and started thrusting my hard cock in and out of her.

“Your cock is mine, right?” Yeji asked while trying to catch her breath.

“Always,” I answered her.

“Then make my pussy yours. Fill me and make me yours,” she pleaded. She repeated herself a few more times, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. I pushed her legs off me and bent down. I kissed Yeji while delivering another hard thrust until I bottomed her out and my cock erupted, Yeji once again wrapped her legs around me, and tighten them as much as she could, keeping my cock fully inside of her. As I shot rope after rope of cum deep inside of her womb, the two of us remained lip locked. Even as we moaned in pleasure, we moaned into each other’s mouths as we kissed. Yeji came almost at the same time as me.

Exhaustion and comfort took over after we both came. We soon fell asleep in each other’s arms. We slept soundly until Yeji’s alarm to get up for her morning workout startled us both awake. fter turning off the alarm, I convinced her to skip her usual workout routine and stay in bed with me. While she skipped the usual morning workout, the two of us still did several hours of cardio in bed that morning.

—

A week later, Yeji and I were in our bedroom getting ready to go out for dinner. After getting out of the shower, I entered our large shared closet to get my clothes for the night.

“Oh wow, that’s what you’re wearing?” I said when I saw Yeji standing in front of the full-length trifold mirror at the back of the closet. Yeji was wearing a long light-weight black dress.

“Are you sure we need to go out tonight? I think I rather just stay here with you.”

“Na-uh, we can’t cancel on them again,” she replied.

We were planning on having dinner with Kazuha and her boyfriend. We had already cancelled dinner with them the last two times we had planned to get together with them. While we were each still friends with Kazuha, neither of us liked her boyfriend. I found him uninteresting, thought he believed he was a lot funnier than he was, and the only thing that he and I seemed to have in common was that we were both men who had had sex with Kazuha. Though I am not positive he is aware of the last part.

“They’ll start thinking that we don’t like them and are avoiding them.”

“But we don’t like him and would rather avoid him.”

“Yeah, but we don’t want them to know that. Besides I’m sure Kazuha will break up with him soon.”

“That’s what you said two months ago,” I reminded her, as I continued getting dressed. “I’ve never understood people who drag out the ending to the relationship. They know it’s not going anywhere, some don’t even like the guy anymore, and yet they’ll still drag the thing out for another few months. When I knew the relationship had an expiration date, I ended it.”

“Well, some people are not as comfortable being alone as you. Most people don’t enjoy going to the movies or dinner by themselves.”

“You’re there to be entertained by what you’re watching in front of you. I don’t get why that’s weird to go alone. Is it just so you’re not sitting next to strangers?” I said defending myself.

“She’ll eventually dump him just like she did the others. Just give her time,” Yeji said as she decided what heels she wearing with her dress.

“Yeah, maybe someone should tell her boyfriend that she’s been messing around, or maybe, like one of those exes, I had to fuck her in front of him for her to finally end the relationship,” I said, referring to why Yeji broke up with her ex. Yeji was not entertained by my comment and shot me a look where she almost seemed to have daggers in her eyes.

“I’m not suggesting that as an option this time around.” She added.

“I’m just saying that it can take something big to jolt her into action at times.”

“Uh-huh,” Yeji replied, in a way that let me know that she was unconvinced by my defence.

We finished getting ready and drove to the restaurant. We arrived about ten minutes late due to unexpected traffic, and the hostess informed us that Kazuha and her boyfriend were already there. She led us to the table, and as we approached, I felt uneasy.

“Sitting across from each other? This can’t be good. We can still make a run for it.”

“Be good,” Yeji said quietly and gave me a bit of an elbow to the chest.

As we approached, neither of them looked to be particularly pleased to be sitting with the other. Kazuha expression brightened only when she noticed us approaching. She was quick to get up and greet us, while the boyfriend remained seated and only said ‘hi’ as Yeji and I sat down. It did not take long for Yeji and me to feel the obvious tension at the table between the two. I texted Yeji under the table that I was looking forward to telling her ‘I told you so’ when we get home. She replied with a middle finger emoji, which put a smile on my face.

Yeji, Kazuha, and I had no issue talking and conversing about stuff, but when I tried to make small talk with the boyfriend, it was like pulling teeth. No matter what topic one of us tried to bring up, it seemed like the other person had nothing to say or didn’t enough anything about the topic to keep a conversation going. When he did engage with whatever topic Yeji, Kazuha, and I were talking about, it always seemed like either he was undermining something that Kazuha was saying or vice versa.

It is amazing that when you have a partner that you really know well and have spent enough time around, the two of you can have almost an entire conversation with just a look. Being someone who naturally has a sarcastic and witty sense of humour, there were times when I wanted to comment while Kazuha and her boyfriend bickered. Yeji would just give me a look that says ‘don’t say it’ even before a thought of what to say could form in my head. And she was right to give me that look. Saying something would have only thrown gas onto the fire. So, after everything I did to try to keep the peace, it was a surprise that Yeji was the one who finally snapped.

When the check arrived, I went to pick it up and pay for the dinner, but Kazuha said that she wanted to split the bill. After some playful back and forth, her boyfriend told her to let me pay. When Kazuha questioned him, he said I had lucked into my money and that if I wanted to spread the wealth, she should let me. His comment did bother me. However, Yeji could not let that slide.

“Excuse me? he has worked really hard. He works harder than most people I know, and he for sure works harder and is better at his job than you are at yours,” Yeji snapped at him.

“Oh please…” was his only response.

“Babe, there is way more to it. I’ve seen him on set, Minho works very hard,” Kazuha spoke up.

“You’re taking their side? Seriously?”

“I am, because what’s your side? Minho works hard. You spend most of the day lounging around my house. And why do you even care who pays for dinner? It’s not like you were going to pay for anything. If we had split the check it was going to be my money we would have spent. Like always.”

After that, Yeji and I bowed out of the fight as the two of them went back and forth until he got up and stormed out of the restaurant. He just left Kazuha sitting there with Yeji and me. Kazuha did not try to stop him nor did she get up to go after him. After he stormed out, Kazuha called the waitress over and ordered dessert for the table. While the first few minutes of us just sitting there were awkward, things were kind of pleasant by the time dessert arrived. Things were pretty normal as we ate and when the updated check arrived at the table, Kazuha had her credit card out before it even hit the table.

Things started to get tense as the three of us got in my car to drive Kazuha back home. The closer we got to her place, the more wound up Kazuha got about the things she was going to say to him. By the time we pulled into her driveway, Kazuha was the maddest I had ever seen her. His car was there and the lights inside were on. As she entered her house I turned to Yeji.

“Should we wait?”

“We probably should give it five minutes,” she replied

Within three minutes she got a text asking if we were still close by. When Yeji texted back that we were still outside, Kazuha said she’d be out in five. I then suggested to Yeji that we have some red wine and popcorn delivered to our place because it could be a long night. As Yeji was finishing the order, Kazuha came back out wearing the same dress she had worn for dinner. She also had a large back over one shoulder and in her other hand, she had her dog leash, with it leading the way as they walked to my car.

“Isn’t this your house?” I asked, pointing out the fact that instead of booting out the boyfriend, she was abandoning her place.

“I told him he had 24 hours to pack up all his shit,” she answered.

The entire way back home we could hear Kazuha’s phone going off with text notifications. She would reply occasionally with voice notes and other times with her fingers would type away a response.

“Oh, wow. Now he’s begging me to come back so we could talk it out. He’s so full of shit,” Kazuha said with a mix of disbelief and anger.

“Maybe you should tell him where you keep your vibrator so he can go fuck himself with it,” I sarcastically suggested.

“No don’t…” Yeji said, but her words were cut off by Kazuha.

“That’s perfect!” Kazuha said excitedly as she began typing away.

When we arrived home, a delivery bag sat at the front door. Walking inside, Yeji’s dog happily greeted us, and it were also pleased to see Kazuha’s. Kazuha had come over to the house before, so they all knew each other and got along. Kazuha went to bring her bag to the guest room as Yeji let the dogs outside.

I took the delivery bag to the kitchen. As I opened one of the bottles of red wine, Kazuha came walking in dressed in sweatpants and a tight crop top.

“Do you want a glass?” I asked her.

“Yes, thanks,” she replied. However, she did not wait for me to pour a glass, nor did she take the bottle and pour her own glass. Instead, she took the bottle and drank straight from it. Taking two big chugs, she then grabbed a bag of popcorn with her other hand and walked towards the living room.

Yeji and I kept Kazuha company for a few hours as she vented everything she dislike about her boyfriend and all the fights they had. As she vented, she kept drinking directly from the bottle until it ran empty. Eventually, Yeji and I said good night to Kazuha and we retired to our bedroom.

“So, I think a ‘I told you so’ is in order,” I said as we walked into the bedroom. “I told you we should have just cancelled on tonight.” I expected some kind of blowback from Yeji, but instead, she surprised me by wrapping her arms around me and kissing me sensually.

“Thank you,” she said, as our lips finally parted.

“After a kiss like that? I am pretty sure I should be the one thanking you.”

“No, thank you for not being a total shithead like some other guys,” she explained.

“That’s all because of you,” I told her before kissing her again.

We slowly moved towards the bed, with me losing a piece of clothing with each step. Once I was down to my boxers, the back of my legs hit the edge of the bed and I took a seat. Yeji, meanwhile, took two steps back away from me. I looked her over. Still dressed in the same clothing as what she had worn to dinner.

Yeji reached behind her neck to undo the back of her dress. She then slowly and teasingly began to lower it down her body. When she had it down around her waist, she stopped to remove her backless bra. Even after all these years and countless times of seeing her naked, I still began salivating as Yeji exposed her tits. She ran her hands over her breasts before going down and finishing removing her dress, allowing it to fall and pool around her feet after pushing it past her hips.

Yeji was now left standing in nothing more than her black underwear. She stepped up close to me and then took my hand and placed them on her hips, right at the edge of her panties. I hooked my fingers into the waistband and removed them. Yeji Now standing naked before me, I bent forward and kissed her right above her pussy, then to her toned flat stomach, and moved down, my lips brushed up against the hairs of the patch that she was let grow in.

I attempted to remove my underwear, but Yeji stopped me. She took a step back and asked me to stand up while she dropped to her knees. She pulled down my boxers, revealing my hard cock sprang out.

Yeji pressed her lips against my cock, lightly kissing the tip. I could barely feel her lips pressing against my cock head. Then she repeated it, and again. She took the base in her hand and kissed up and down my shaft before returning to the tip. She took it into her mouth and swirled her tongue around the tip before messaging the sensitive spot just under the tip. It all felt unbelievable, but I knew that she was just giving me a little bit of pleasure. And appetizer before moving on to the main course.

She got up and we both move onto the bed. This was not going to be a lot of foreplay action like we often like to do. Instead, Yeji laid down on her back and pulled me on top of her. I gave a hard thrust of my cock into her, causing her to gasp, but after that, the two of us just kissed and made out lovingly.

We stayed like that for a while, just making out while basically in the missionary position with my cock resting inside of her. After a while, I did begin to rock my hips as we continued to kiss. While the two of us knew how to fuck each other, this time it was much more lovemaking than anything.

Our tempo was much slower and gentler. When our lips weren’t pressed together, we were staring straight into each other’s. We repeatedly expressed our love for each other. I was surprised by the way we were going, and when I warned her I was about to cum, she asked me to pull out. She had to tell me twice before I finally did pull out and I got up and sat on my knees.

Yeji then sat up and leaned over, swallowing the first few inches of my cock as her hand pumped my shaft. With my dick slick with Yeji’s juices, her hand easily slid up and down my shaft, jerking me off while her tongue played with the tip of my cock. It was only a matter of time before I started firing cum shots into the back of Yeji’s mouth, which she quickly swallowed.

“Fuck, Yeji, you’re so incredible,”

“You’re pretty great yourself,” she complimented me.

—

“Wow, that was hot,” said a third voice away from the bed.

We both quickly snapped our heads around to where the voice came from. There in the doorway, we both saw a drunk Kazuha leaning against the door frame. Kazuha was still wearing sweatpants and a crop top, but her shirt had been rolled up to just under her breasts, her hard nipples could be seen poking through. And while her pants were on, one of her hands was shoved inside, and there were clear wet spots on her crotch.

“What the fuck?” Yeji yelled when she saw her standing there watching.

“Sorry,” Kazuha said in a breathy tone. “I heard you down the hall, and when I walked by, the door was open…” I couldn’t look away. “You two are so hot together.”

“But still, Kazuha…”

“Sorry, but I started watching, and then I started thinking about the times the three of us got together, and I just got so horny I couldn’t help myself.” As Kazuha spoke and drunkenly tried to explain herself, her hand never left her pants.

“Go to bed and sleep it off, you’ll feel better in the morning,” I calmly told her.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” she said as she finally pulled her hand out of her pants, her fingers glistening with wetness, and she turned to go back down the hall to the guest room.

“I kind of feel bad for her,” Yeji said after letting out a deep sigh and running her hand through her hair. “She looked sad and… horny. That’s like the worst combination.”

“Yeah, well, she’ll be fine. Especially after she gets some sleep. You’ll see, she’ll be way better in the morning,” I told her. I then kissed Yeji on her neck.

“You’re probably right,” she said.

“Now, should I close the door or should we keep it open and let her keep listening? Because I am ready to go again.” I told Yeji as I kissed my way down the middle of her chest. I was about to suck on her tit when Yeji pulled my face up to hers and she gave me a kiss on the lips.

“I love you,” she said and then she called out to the hallway, “Kazuha, are you still there?”

There was a minute of silence before we heard Kazuha timidly respond, “No,” from just next to the door frame.

“What are you doing?” I asked Yeji quietly.

“I love you; I trust you, and she really hurting.”

“So?”

“So… I want you to absolutely wreck her,” Yeji quietly answered me. She then called back to the hallway, “Come in here!”

As Kazuha crept back into the bedroom, I looked at Yeji for confirmation that was sure about this. She gave me a nod, and then we both turned to Kazuha. No one said anything or did anything for a moment. Finally, I made a move. I got up off the bed and began walking to Kazuha. As I moved toward her, her eyes were not looking at me. Her eyes were fixed on my hard cock.

“In all your rantings about your ex, you never said anything about your sex life,” I said as I stood inches from her.

“He could get off most of the time, but it’s been a while since I came so hard with my leg was still twitching minutes after,” Kazuha told me, moving her eyes up to meet mine for the first time.

“How about we change that?” I asked her.

I did not wait for a response. I picked her up and tossed her on the bed. While she was on her back, I grabbed her sweatpants and ripped them down her legs and off her body. She was so wet.

I grabbed both of her legs, spread them out, and pushed them up above her head. With her wet pussy splayed in front of me, I dove down to eat her out.

“Nghh yess! eat my pussy, ahh, just like that…” Kazuha cried out.

If there was any question about how horny Kazuha was, that question was answered as she came within two minutes of me starting to go down on her. However, even as she came, I did not relent a all. Outside of Yeji, there was no one else I had ever enjoyed going down more on than Kazuha, and with the opportunity to go down on her again, I was not going to stop after only two minutes.

Kazuha had one of the prettiest, tightest pussies I’d ever seen, and she also had one of, if not the best-tasting pussies I’d ever tried. So, given the opportunity to taste her again, I ate her up like it was the last time I’d ever get to do so.

I devoured her pussy until I had her right on the edge again, and then I backed away. I started licking her juices, which had spilled onto her upper thighs. When she calmed down, I went back to her pussy and ate her out until she was on the verge, at which point I backed off again. I moved away from her pussy and began to play with her hard nipples instead. I would go on to edge her once more before Kazuha complained.

“What are you doing?” She yelled.

“You know exactly what I’m doing,”

“Please just keep going.”

“You going to do it,”

“Uh-huh,” she cried.

So, I moved back down her body and went back to sucking on her clit as I fingered her. Sure enough, Kazuha did exactly what I wanted. What I loved making her do.

When she climaxed again, she also squirted. And not just a small trickle, she shot some juices up in the air as her body erupted. Kazuha said that she had not had a real body-shaking orgasm in a while, well based on the way her eyes rolled back as she came it seemed safe to say that that streak had ended.

“Well, looks like you got her off pretty good,” Yeji commented as she looked at Kazuha lying there trying to catch her breath.

“Yeah, maybe we should give her a break for a minute,” I said as I moved over to Yeji, and the two of us started to make out and grind against one another while Kazuha lay next to us.

Yeji was still dripping wet as she rubbed her pussy against my cock. I was about to thrust into Yeji when Kazuha started stirring again. She was on her knees behind me, pressing her tits against my back and kissing my shoulder.

“I want your cock,” Kazuha whispered.

“I think you need to wait your turn,” I told her.

“I’ve been waiting, and you just fucked tonight,” Kazuha whined as I continued to pay more attention to Yeji than her, and Kazuha did her best to tempt me to turn around.

Yeji then moved in close to me, and whispered.

“Remember what I said before? Wreck her.”

Yeji then pulled away, kissing me on the lips before moving her body away. I spun around, and before I could react, Kazuha pounced on me, knocking me back onto the bed. She pressed her lips against mine, and then I felt her grab my cock. She began rotating her hips around the tip of my cock until she had a proper angle. She then sat down on it.

“Oh fuck! I’ve missed that feeling,” she said as sat on my cock. She stayed bent over my body as she began bouncing up and down.

“You feel so good Kazuha, So fucking tight!”

“That’s because I haven’t been properly fucked by a cock like yours in a long time,” Kazuha then looked up at Yeji.

“You’re so fucking lucky.”

“I know,” Yeji said confidently.

Kazuha rode me hard for a while. But eventually, we changed things up. I knew what Kazuha liked, so I had us get out of bed and head over to the dresser, which had a large mirror above it. Kazuha quickly bent over, bracing herself against the dresser’s edge. Sticking her cute fat ass at me.

I moved behind her, grabbed her hips, and slide my cock back inside her freshly fucked pussy. Once inside, I looked up at the mirror, and we made eye contact. Whatever drunken haze she had in her eyes when Yeji and I first saw her in our doorway was good. Now all that was lust and determination.

“Please fuck me hard,” she begged, so I did exactly that.

The room filled with the sound of my pelvis hitting her ass with each thrust as well as the banging sound of her dresser against the wall As I fucked her tight lips hard.

“Oh god just like that, fuck, your cock feels so good,” she moaned.

“And your pussy is just as tight as I remember,” I told her as I started playing with her asshole with my thumb.

Kazuha looked at my face through the mirror the entire time, and while I did try to focus mostly on her, my eyes would occasionally dart over my shoulder to the another gorgeous openly masturbating on the bed. I didn’t like the idea of just focusing on Kazuha while Yeji was also left in the room unattended by herself. So, I was happy when Kazuha’s leg buckled and she finally had another orgasm. I withdrew my cock and gave her some time to recover before making a suggestion.

“You know,” I said, “You should probably thank Yeji for letting this happen.”

“Oh?” Kazuha said playfully. “Do you think a thank you note and a bottle of wine will do?”

“It’s a good start, but I was thinking something more… immediate.”

Kazuha then went over to the bed and got on it right between Yeji’s legs. While she teased her for a bit, Kazuha did eventually expressed her gratitude and began eating her out with the same effort I had given her earlier in the night.

I sat back and waited, though I could not help but notice the way Kazuha kept her ass up high in the air as she ate out her friend.

Eventually, it was all too tempting for me. I couldn’t just sit back and watch any longer. In an instant, I was on the bed, slamming my cock back into Kazuha, while she continued to feast on Yeji’s.

“Ahh Fuck! Could you not warn me first?” Kazuha said as she looks over her shoulder.

“Shut up, or I’ll fuck your ass too” I told her as I began to play with her asshole, again.

“Ahh, you wouldn’t dare! and no…” she said, “not tonight,” she added in a whisper as she makes a suggestive look.

So now it was the three of us on the bed with Yeji on her back, Kazuha on her elbows and knees between her legs, and me on my knees fucking Kazuha from behind.

“I want to taste her,” Yeji announced. I knew right away what she meant. So I pulled out from Kazuha, much to her disappointment, she moved over to where my cock was now easily accessible for Yeji’s mouth.

“God, she really does taste good,” Yeji said as she sucked some of Kazuha’s juices off my cock. She continued to suck and lick my cock until it was no longer coated in any of Kazuha’s pussy juices, but only in her saliva.

It was time to finish her off. Kazuha flipped over onto her back, and Yeji straddled her face as I moved between her legs. I couldn’t resist getting another taste of Kazuha straight from the source, so I gave her a few licks before moving into position and inserting my cock into her. I lifted Kazuha’s legs again and spread them wide as I delivered, pounding her pussy hard and fast until my cockhead was rubbing her cervix. Yeji once again came on Kazuha’s face, and Kazuha wasn’t far behind with her own orgasm.

Yeji moved away from Kazuha’s face, and she also took her ankles from my hands and bent Kazuha’s legs back until they were on the side of Kazuha’s face. Kazuha had practically folded at this point, and I was about to warn her, but Yeji spoke up before I could. Based on the expression on my face, she must have known what I was about to say.

“Minho,” she said. “Remember our rules?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. I began to pull back, assuming she meant no creampies in or from others, until Yeji said something different.

“Forget them tonight. Fill her.”

“Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she nodded.

“What’s happening?” Kazuha said in confusion.

“This is what’s happening,” I told her and seconds later I blast my cum inside of her, painting her wall white with all I have.

“Oh my god yes! Give me all! Fucking fill me!” Kazuha screamed as she felt me shooting a seemingly never-ending load of cum inside her womb. Even I was taken aback by the amount I came.

“Damn, that was a good one,” I said as I pulled out and watched cum drip out of Kazuha’s now well-fucked pussy.

“I think you mean a huge one,” Kazuha corrected me. “I didn’t know if you were ever going to stop.” She added as a river of cum began flowing out of her.

“If only your boyfriend could see you now,” Yeji joked.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Kazuha retorted. And I wish he could. Would be no questions whether we were over or not now.”

“My phone is in my pocket,” I said half joking.

“Get it,” Kazuha said in a serious tone.

I got out of bed, found my pants, and pulled out my phone. Once on the bed, Kazuha instructed me to take several close-up photos of her wet pussy, which was leaking my cum. After about a dozen photos, including one in which she used her fingers to open her pussy lips wide, she took my phone and looked through the photos. She commented on which ones she liked best and sent them to her phone.

“I’ll send it to him in the morning,” she said.

Kazuha more or less passed out after that, leaving Yeji and I still wide awake on the bed. We ended up screwing each other’s brains out on the bed one more time with Kazuha sound asleep right next to us. Sleeping through all the shaking of the bed and all the loud sex noises we were making before I shot my third load of the night into Yeji’s womb.

“God that was amazing,” I said to Yeji as we now laid in bed together under the covers. The two of us had our heads on our pillows and were looking at one another as we spoke. Kazuha was on the other side of me still sound asleep.

“Yeah, that was fun,” Yeji replied.

“You’re still my number one, you know that right?”

“Of course I do. This was just a little bit of special fun.”

“So, I know my birthday is still a few days away but was this my present? I know you said you had something special planned,” I asked.

“Oh no. I didn’t plan any of this. Your birthday gift is still coming, and I think you’ll like that gift even more than this?”

“More than tonight?” I questioned her.

“Trust me, what I have planned is going to blow your mind,”

Yeji then gave me a quick peck on the lips before rolling over and falling asleep. I was left wondering what she could have planned that was even more incredible than a threesome with Kazuha.

#yeji smut #kazuha smut #yujin smut #itzy smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim smut #ive smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader

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incognit0slut · 4 months ago

Note

Hi author, can you write one where soft Dom Spencer (our beloved) is needy after work and tries to distract reader while she's cooking?

Heat of the Moment

warnings/notes: I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t have the energy to write smut but I will write the build-up scene to it. So suggestive content (MDNI) with a sprinkle of fluff and a whole lot of Spencer being horny. (This is also very self-indulgent because I fucking love mac and cheese, and if any of you hate cheese in general, I’m afraid we can’t be friends)

Cooking isn’t exactly your best skill. Just follow the recipe, they say, and you do, although following step-by-step instructions isn’t the same as having a natural knack for it. No matter how closely you measure the spices or time in the oven, something always seems a bit off. A little bit overcooked. A little bit burnt. But Spencer, bless your boyfriend’s heart, never complains.

“What smells so good?”

You look over your shoulder to see him strolling into the kitchen, still in his work clothes. Loose dress pants, rolled-up sleeves, top buttons undone. The tie you help him put on this morning is missing.

“You don’t always have to do that, you know?” You say as you turn back toward the stove. You stir the creamy, slightly lumpy mac and cheese, the thick sauce clinging to the pasta in a way that looks almost perfect, if not for the slightly scorched edges.

“Do what?”

“Pretend it’s amazing,” you reply with a sigh. “I know it’s not.”

You feel his presence behind you. “I’m not pretending.”

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

He peers over your shoulder. “I don’t need to. I trust you.”

“You trust me too much.”

“Just as much as you do,” he explains, placing his hands on your waist. “You trust me too, don’t you?”

“Trusting you to carry a gun isn’t the same as trusting your taste buds,” you reply, slightly leaning into him. Your back lands perfectly against his chest. “One requires skill, the other… a strong stomach.”

He gives your waist a gentle squeeze as his laughter fills the small space between you. You like his laugh, it’s warm and infectious. It makes you smile even though you’re feeling a bit self-conscious about your cooking.

“Well, I’ve survived both so far. So I think I’m doing pretty well.”

You stare at the pot, watching the mac and cheese bubble slightly. “What do you think the chances are of us getting food poisoning from this?”

Spencer gently pulls your hair out of the way, his fingers lightly brushing against your neck. He leans in and presses a soft kiss. “I’d say the chances are low,” he murmurs. “You're always too hard on yourself.”

You laugh softly, leaning back into him. “Maybe, but I just don’t want to mess this up.”

His hands start to wander, tracing gentle patterns on your waist before sliding around to your stomach. “You won’t mess it up,” he assures you. He lets his lips trail down your neck. “And even if you did, I wouldn’t mind.”

You feel a rush of warmth that has nothing to do with the stove. “Really?”

“It’s already good because you made it.”

You can feel his body pressing closer, his warmth enveloping as he lingers on the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Spencer, are you trying to distract me?”

You can practically feel the smile on your skin. He shakes his head, the slight roughness of his stubble brushing against your neck as he murmurs, “Not distracting, just appreciating.”

His denial is playful, his tone light, but his actions tell a different story. His hands continue their exploration, now slipping underneath your shirt. His palm is warm and slightly rough as it makes contact with your skin. He traces gentle patterns along your stomach, moving so slowly and as if he’s savoring every inch.

You feel your pulse quicken, each beat echoing in your ears. “Baby…”

“Hm?” he hums, and your breath catches when his thumb brushes just below your breasts.

“If you keep this up, there might not be any food for dinner.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

You try to focus on the pot, where the sauce has begun to form a thicker layer at the bottom, slightly burned and sticking. But his touch makes it difficult to concentrate. "Unless you plan to feed us on kisses alone, I think we might need something more substantial too."

Spencer laughs softly, a low rumble of amusement that you can feel as much as hear. "I don’t know, kisses for dinner sounds pretty tempting."

"I’m afraid it won’t satisfy our hunger."

"I think it’ll satisfy mine just fine."

“Oh my god,” you gasp, catching on to the deeper meaning in his words. You tighten your grip on the wooden spoon as you resume your stirring. “Stop distracting me.”

If anything, he clings to you even more. He rests his chin on your shoulder as his hands travel down your stomach again, only this time, they linger at the hem of your shorts. His fingers play with the fabric, teasingly tugging at it.

“Spencer.”

“What?”

And then you feel it, the unmistakable pressure of his arousal pressing against your back. It’s a firm, urgent presence, a hard line that aligns tightly against your own curves. The hardness of it distracts you even further.

“You’re making it really hard to cook,” you murmur, trying to sound stern but the breathiness in your voice betrays your growing distraction.

He slips a hand inside the waistband of your shorts while the other trace along your stomach. “I think we should forget about cooking for a while.”

“You know we can’t do that,” you try to argue, even as your hips instinctively follow his touch. “We need to eat.”

“But we could be doing other things,” Spencer whispers, nipping gently at your earlobe. His teeth graze your skin lightly before his lips close around it, tugging softly. The sigh you let out is shaky and breathless. The idea is tempting, dangerously so. The persistent heat from his hand, now tracing idle circles on your underwear, isn’t helping your focus.

“Aren’t you—” your grip on the wooden spoon loosens when he slips a finger over the waistband. “Aren’t you the one who… always says how our bodies need… what was it again?”

Spencer nods. “The human body need about 2,000 calories a day to function properly. But,” he continues, slipping another finger in. “We also need affection and touch for our emotional well-being.”

You swallow hard. “What else do we need?”

“Pleasure. Lots of it.”

You don’t know whether you should be laughing or not. His boldness is both shocking and strangely amusing. Spencer isn't the type to be straightforward when it comes to sex, but when he is, it's always intense. He's clingy, he craves attention, and even when his cheeks flush with embarrassment, it doesn't stop him. It hasn't stopped him in the past, and it's not stopping him now.

Your mind scatters as he starts pressing himself harder, slightly grinding behind you. And when he adds another finger in, then followed by another until all of his five fingers dive into your underwear, you know you’re already too far gone. You let go of your grip on the wooden spoon before it clatters inside the pot, reaching down to hold his arm to stop him.

“Fine. Fine. You win.” You breathe out heavily as you gently pull his hand out. “We should at least turn off the stove first.”

He grins, pulling away to turn off the burner. “There. Now, where were we?”

You finally turn to face him, your hands finding their way to his shirt. You grip onto the material. “I think you were about to prove a point about pleasure.”

His response is a soft laugh before his lips meet yours. He’s gentle when he touches you. He always is. His hands slides around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. You let your hand trail over his chest, up, up, up, until your fingers find the soft curls of his hair.

When he finally pulls away, he's smiling from ear to ear. "I think that's proof enough, don't you?"

You smile back, breathless and flushed. "Maybe," you reply, your fingers gently tugging at his hair. "But I might need a bit more convincing."

His grin widens, and he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, "I can do that."

You can feel his hands tightening around your waist as he begins to kiss you again, deeper this time. It's all teeth and tongue, raw and hungry. The forgotten dinner on the stove barely registers in your mind. But with his hands and lips distracting you, you find it hard to worry about anything else.

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dearaceofhearts · 7 months ago

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you walk out after an argument

characters: husk, alastor, angel dust, vox, lucifer word count: 2.9k genre: angst to fluff summary: after an argument with them, you walk out and don't come back for a few days. how do they react? author's note: hello yes this is my first time actually posting something. erm, i think i wrote too much (sorry) but hey we roll with it!! also dude i accidentally posted this before it was ready twice and i had a heart attack oh my god. anyways i don't think vox's is really fluff (oops) but everyone else's is

♡ husk

when you slam the door shut on your way out, husk lets out a low grumble, setting down the glass he was cleaning onto the bar counter with a quiet sigh. it was one of the first arguments you'd had in a long time. although he wasn't usually one to get riled up so easily, the two of you knew each other well enough to know just what buttons to push to get under the other's skin. that, alongside him already having a bad day, had been a recipe for disaster.

in the few days that pass by, it's hard to tell just how affected he is by your absence since he does a pretty good job of keeping a cool facade. to anyone looking, he wouldn't appear any different than usual, just idly cleaning bottles as he always does.

but it's the small things that give away just how much husk cares and worries for you, like how his eyes flicker towards the door whenever someone comes in, his ears perking up slightly. he hates the twinge of disappointment that follows when it's not you, a slight scowl curling at his lips as he takes a swig of alcohol from one of the many bottles on the shelves of the bar. he misses talking to you. you're his favourite drinking buddy, after all.

his gaze always seems to wander back to the front door of the hotel, lingering for just a little too long before he eventually turns back to the bar, expression settling back into its usual grouchiness. but underneath that lies a hint of worry that gnaws at him in the back of his mind, even though he knows you're more than capable of handling yourself. at the end of the day, you can never be too careful in hell.

husk won't force you to come back, but he just wants to know that you're safe and sound. he trusts that you'll come back when you're ready so that the two of you can talk it over and hopefully resolve things. he doesn't want to leave it like this, and he's sure you don't either. you mean a lot more to him than he'd like to admit.

when you decide to finally return to the hotel, he pauses upon catching sight of you stepping through the doorway. he can't help the small wave of relief that washes over him, though you wouldn't be able to tell by the way he smoothly resumes restocking the bar. when you approach the counter, he looks up, giving you a short nod. "hey." he greets you, tone surprisingly softer than you're used to, "you're back."

husk's not really the type to beat around the bush, so he'd likely address the argument pretty quickly. he's also not particularly one for verbal apologies, so he'd probably be more willing to show it through his actions. you see it in the way he lets you cling to him a little longer than he normally does, leaning into him as he wordlessly holds you, his tail loosely curling around your leg. if you listen closely, you can hear some faint purring, too. it makes you smile slightly.

"alright, 'nuff of this sappy stuff." husk grumbles after a few more moments, patting your back gently before pulling back. "i'd kill for a drink right now. care to join me?" he raises a brow, a familiar glint in his eyes as he slides back behind the counter, already moving to make what he knows is your favourite drink.

you grin as you meet his eyes, expression softening. "of course. i'd love nothing more."

♡ alastor

"you're not listening, al." you murmur, exhaling quietly. this makes him pause for a moment, head tilted. your voice sounds different to what he's used to — you're not even angry, no — you just sound... tired. the argument had been going on for a while, and neither of you were getting through to the other.

when you move to leave, he makes no move to stop you, simply watching you with an intent gaze. his voice rings out clear as day in the empty silence. "where do you think you're going, my dear?"

he falters ever so slightly when you turn back to face him with a sturdy, stern gaze, responding with a flatly spoken "out", leaving no room for anything more to be said before closing the door behind you with a quiet click.

alastor won't chase after you, because he expects that you'll come back to him of your own accord. to him, it's basically guaranteed how this'll play out. he's used to demons falling right into his hands without having to exert much effort on his end, and believes that this would be no different.

so when a few days pass by with you not approaching him at all, he finds himself slightly irritated and mildly perplexed, eyes narrowed as his clawed finger taps against his cane with idle impatience. why haven't you sought him out yet?

he's seen you around the hotel, but you've never once acknowledged his presence even if the two of you were in the same room, breezing past him while he's left staring, watching you converse with everyone except him. his eye twitches in irritation, the perpetual smile on his lips strained.

...eventually, after playing a long waiting game to no avail, he decides that perhaps rosie would be able to offer some helpful advice on how to approach this situation, since he's not used to actually handling delicate emotional matters without the— well, the manipulation and deal-making.

one of the main issues is his massive ego. it's that unfaltering pride that gets in the way of him apologising. he may be the radio demon, but all that power can't help him here. and he'd never openly admit to such, but he truly is at somewhat of a loss here. he's already tried most things that he's sure would usually make you forgive him, though for a reason unbeknownst to him, it's not working this time.

"oh alastor," rosie shakes her head with a small huff, "a lady's heart is to be treated with care." she lends some further words of wisdom and encouragement that he listens to with great attentiveness, since he does (begrudgingly) enjoy your company, and it would be a shame if it was lost over such a, in his eyes, trivial matter.

upon his return to the hotel, he manages to get you to sit down with him (after much polite pestering and insistence) to have a chat over some tea. when all is said and done, the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. you sip your tea, watching the blazing fires of hell from the balcony.

"refill?" alastor offers, glancing at you briefly through a sip of his own tea.

"much appreciated." you hum, legs crossed as you throw him a small, slack smile.

♡ angel dust

his frustration slowly fizzles out as the door closes behind you, and the guilt slowly starts to creep in. he knows he shouldn't have said what he did, and he wants nothing more than to apologise and make it up to you — but he understands that it's probably better to give you some time to cool off before trying to approach you again.

despite the argument and the harsh words exchanged between you, the fact that he cares for you with his whole heart will never change, and he hopes you know that too.

while you're away, angel always finds his thoughts drifting to you, wondering how you're doing. are you eating okay? are you drinking enough? sleeping enough? with a shake of his head and a small sigh, he tries his best to return his focus back to the task at hand, whatever it may be.

he knows you can take care of yourself perfectly fine, but he just... misses you. the guilt eats away at him when he's reminded of the look on your face when you left, the brief glimmer of hurt in your eyes before you masked it with anger and tore your gaze away.

one particular night, angel heads over to your room in the hotel out of habit, not really thinking about it when he raises a fist to knock on the door. he had been hoping to spend some time with you, since today had been a particularly rough day for him. he's also been craving for one of your sleepover nights for a while, those nights where you two would stay up to talk about anything and everything until dawn rises. those times were comforting for him — a rare moment of respite in his life.

but then he stops abruptly, remembering that you're not there. he lets his hand fall back to his side, expression quietly downcast. he stands alone in the silent, empty hallway. has it always been this cold?

after a few days, he's just about damn ready to go looking for you, making his way down the stairs as he prepares to head out. he's so focused that he almost misses the sight of you seemingly casually sitting at the bar, nursing a drink in your hands whilst exchanging low murmurs with husk.

he freezes momentarily, taking a deep breath. while he mentally debates with himself whether to approach you or not, husk notices him hesitating on the staircase. he catches angel's gaze, giving him a subtle nod. that's all the affirmation angel needs.

he slides on his usual relaxed demeanour, though it's a little weaker than normal, as he approaches you. he's admittedly a little nervous, but he's determined to work things out with you. he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder to catch your attention. "hey, darlin'. can i talk to you for a minute?"

the two of you head back to your room, where heartfelt apologies are exchanged and a long overdue conversation takes place. at some point during the talk, his hand had found its way on top of yours, thumb brushing over your skin gently. at the end of it all, he gives you a small, content smile. "...baby, you have no idea just how much i adore you." he whispers into the quiet, running his fingers through your hair comfortingly as your head rests on his shoulder.

it was an unspoken agreement that tonight was going to be a sleepover night. prepare for lots of cuddling and gentle, soft kisses.

♡ vox

he's the type to go "ha, see if i care!" when you leave, but he'll still check on you occasionally through the various cameras and electronics around the city — he swears it's just because he's making sure the new limited edition voxtek product he had given to you isn't damaged.

(...it's totally because he's looking out for you, by the way. even if it's only a little. you are his darling, after all. and uh, you'll never know what happened to that guy who tried to hit on you that one time).

(vox made sure not even a trace of that bastard remained).

his obnoxious pride makes him reluctant to reach out first. that, and he's a petty little shit. so everyone around him, whether that be the other vees or his employees, is stuck dealing with his foul mood. he's become even more irritable and susceptible to lashing out than usual since you left.

he'd rather die than admit it, but you were a calming presence in his life that he hadn't realised he needed until you were gone. he hates just how much power you have over him, though you may or may not realise it. he's supposed to be the one in charge. when did you manage to sneak into his heart? his mind is occupied with thoughts of you.

and it only frustrates him more, because you're not here.

all his employees are left on edge, even more so when he takes his anger out on some poor soul who had gotten the numbers wrong on the report they handed in. "clean this mess up." vox snaps, glowering as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeves. the demon at the door hurriedly moves to do as he says, not wanting to risk meeting the same fate.

"what? what are you looking at?" he turns, eyes narrowing at the rest of the employees who flinch, hastily turning their eyes back to the screens in front of them. "get back to work." he mutters sharply, an unspoken threat in his words.

his volatile temperament goes on for a while, until velvette decides she's finally had enough and sends you a (not so) polite text to resolve your little lover's spat before she takes matters into her own hands.

meanwhile, vox is in his office. nothing seems to be going his way, and he's just about to blow another fuse when you nonchalantly throw open the doors, inviting yourself in. he freezes, staring at you for a few moments. you raise a brow. "...so. i heard you were throwing another hissy fit."

vox scowls at that, grumbling under his breath. "oh yeah? and what'd you come back for, you prissy little princess?" he sneers, clawed fingers digging into the desk with a quiet screech. "couldn't go without me for long, huh?"

"ha. you wish that was the case." you scoff, rolling your eyes with a half-amused, irked smile curling at your lips. things escalate into another argument pretty quickly, with the two of you at each other's throats. he towers over you, eyes narrowing as his grin widens in mild irritation.

it's a back and forth for quite some time, until you get sick of it and grab him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer until you're glaring at one another face to face. "what the fuck do you think you're—" he starts, but he's quickly cut off when your lips crash into his. vox is stunned for a few moments but soon snaps out of it, swiftly returning your kiss with equal, if not more, ferocity and intensity.

"finally got you to shut up." you murmur, grinning as you part to catch your breath and release his shirt from your grasp. before you can pull back completely, however, his hand reaches up to rest against the back of your neck, the other firmly on your waist. it takes another long, drawn-out kiss for him to finally let you go — though not really, since he's still holding you close in his arms.

"...that was hot." he whispers breathlessly, staring down at you with a somewhat satisfied glint in his eyes. but you both know that there's more to come.

suffice to say, the two of you sorted things out.

♡ lucifer

he would regret everything almost instantly. lucifer realises just how badly he fucked up when you leave without looking back. he's not even quite sure what happened as he stands alone in the room, blinking as he's left to process everything on his own. his mind is a jumbled mess, and he can't think clearly.

all he can feel is a suffocating rush of fear as he snaps out of his daze and hurries after you, desperate to find you before you're gone. he doesn't want to take his chances. what if you don't come back? what if—

he had said things that he didn't mean, and now the weight of it all feels crushing on his shoulders. he's torn between wanting to reach out to apologise and giving you time to cool down. he doesn't want to be a bother, but also really wants to make things up to you.

most of all, he just wants reassurance that you'll come back to him and that he hasn't messed things up for good. he doesn't want to lose you. you're too precious to him for that, and he's mentally kicking himself for ever making you question your importance to him for even a second.

thankfully, you haven't gone too far so he's able to catch up to you, taking a hold of your wrist firmly. however, when you turn to look at him, he falters, the words dying in his throat. he swallows, softly clearing his throat as he scrambles to say something, anything to stop you from leaving. to reaffirm his love for you.

"...sweetheart, i'm so sorry," he whispers, expression twisted and heart heavy with remorse and sorrow as he brings you close, grip subconsciously tightening because he's afraid to let you go. "i'll do anything, i'll make it up to you, i—" he trails off, burying his face into your shoulder, "just, please... don't leave. i'm sorry."

you really can't stay mad at him for too long after seeing his genuine sincerity. he acknowledges his wrongs, wanting nothing more than to make up for his mistakes and make you feel as appreciated and cared for as you've made him feel over the course of you two knowing each other. you sigh gently, thumb lightly brushing over his cheek. "...alright, silly. let's go home."

his eyes light up at that, and he's reminded of just how grateful he is to have you here by his side as you guys make your way home together. he holds your hand the entire time.

after the two of you make up, you find that he'll leave little gifts and cute trinkets around for you despite your gentle assurances that he doesn't have to. he also gives you lots of forehead kisses. he just wants to make sure you never forget how much he loves you, and that you mean the world to him.

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ro-is-struggling · 7 months ago

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Earn It || Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: While Spencer was away on a case, you had no better idea than to send him spicy pictures of yourself as a way to encourage him to work harder to get home fast. You ignored his warnings and orders to stop and now that he was back home it was time to face the consequences of acting like a spoiled brat.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, porn without plot, established relationship, dom!spencer, sexting, masturbation, bondage, dirty talk, cum eating, deprivation of touch used as punishment (if that makes sense? idk it's just porn)

English is not my first language

Word count: 3300

Notes: idk what this is, I have had this idea in my mind for a while now and I only wrote it because someone left me a nice message praising my spencer smut, so enjoy, I guess

You were buzzing with anticipation, counting down the minutes until Spencer got home. You knew you'd be in trouble —it was clear from the short messages he'd sent you—, but that was part of the fun. You had crossed the line this time. The messages you had sent him while he was stuck at work could only be described as torture. But you couldn't be held accountable for your actions, at least not completely. You missed him-his touch, his lips on yours, the sound of his voice calling your name-and you wanted to make sure he knew it.

Spencer had been away from home for too long, working a few states over to catch a killer who targeted young, blonde women. It was apparently a tough case so for the last few weeks you had to settle for talking to him on the phone late at night. Hearing his voice before bedtime was nice, comforting, but over time it stopped being enough. You missed having him by your side at night, feeling his warmth and the touch of his fingers on your skin. You missed his kisses, his soft lips caressing your body while you whispered his name into the darkness of the night....

It was clear that phone calls were no longer enough to satiate your need for him, so in a moment of impulsive arousal you decided to give him a little incentive to work harder to come home to you. You were simply showing him what he was missing.

The first picture you sent him was simple and tasteful, a conscious choice intended to lure him into your trap. It only showed the lower half of your face, your lips drawn into a sad pout. It also showed part of your chest which was covered by one of Spencer's shirts. It had the first few buttons undone, showing your collarbone and the mound of your breasts, but nothing more. You sent it with a simple 'I miss you', hoping he had his phone nearby to see it.

His reply came not long after, and you almost felt bad for what you were about to do when you read his innocent and oblivious 'I miss you too :(‘. You replied with another photo, this time much more revealing. The shirt was unbuttoned now, revealing the cute red lace bra that hugged your breasts. It was Spencer's favorite and you knew it was going to have the desired effect on him. 'I wish you were here...' you wrote before you sent it. And without waiting for a reply you sent him another picture, this time showing the full lingerie being, posing in a provocative way. Without hesitation you wrote 'to rip it off my body' and pressed send.

You knew your little plan had worked because Spencer didn't answer for quite a while. He had seen the messages, but he was probably too stunned and busy to reply to you. When he finally did, it was a warning. 'Behave.' was all he wrote back, but you ignored it. In the next picture you sent him you had removed your bra, your hard nipples framed perfectly in the picture. Two of your fingers were lost between your lips, the red lipstick slightly smudged at the corners. 'I wish they were your fingers' you typed and Spencer's reply was another warning. 'But I guess mine will have to do for now' you ignored him once again, sending him a video of you burying those same fingers inside you as you moaned his name.

Your provocative messages didn't stop until you came, but even though you knew Spencer had seen them, he didn't reply. Nor did he call you that night like he had been doing every day. He was silent for two whole days. Two long days in which you kept wondering if maybe you had taken things too far. It was torture waiting for some kind of sign from him that would bring you some relief, but when you read the message he sent you knew that had been his intention all along.

'I'm on my way home. I want you in bed wearing the red set by the time I get there.' was all he wrote and you knew he was angry. Spencer was going to make you pay for behaving so badly and you couldn't help but wonder what method he would use to teach you a lesson. Punishments were always creative with him. Spencer wasn't very keen on violence during intimacy, it reminded him too much of his job, you supposed. He was rough in bed when he was in the mood for it and never objected to giving you a spanking or two when you deserved it, but he didn't enjoy making you cry in pain or leaving severe marks on your skin.

Spencer was more of a soft, pleasure dom, which meant that most of the time he was more intense than aggressive. He loved the irony of using pleasure to create pain, often overstimulating you to the point that your body would scream for him to stop. His domination over you was more subtle, more psychological, so his punishments always had a hint of irony in them. The worst one —and at the same time, the best one– had been once you had come without his permission. His way of teaching you a lesson that time was forcing you to cum over and over again, attacking your abused pussy with his fingers, his tongue and a vibrator without giving you hardly any time to recover between orgasms.

You wondered if Spencer had something similar in mind, the very idea frightening and exciting you at the same time. Your clit throbbed between your legs, your panties ruined with your arousal before Spencer even got to lay a finger on you. That was the effect he had on you. All he had to do was send you a stupid message and your whole body would begin to tingle with anticipation, waiting for his command.

When you heard the sound of the apartment door opening you almost jumped out of bed with joy. There was nothing you wanted more than to run into your boyfriend's arms and shower him with kisses as you told him how much you had missed him. But you knew you couldn't —or, rather, shouldn't— do that. Spencer wanted you in bed, wearing his favorite lingerie, and that's exactly what you did. Even though it was a little late to play nice now, you didn't want to give him any more reason to prolong your punishment —whatever it was. So you settled on the bed, putting yourself in a suggestive pose and waited patiently for Spencer to enter the room.

He took his time and you knew he was doing it on purpose. Your punishment had begun the moment you decided to ignore his warnings and now you had no choice but to accept it. Listening to his footsteps walking around the apartment, knowing that he was only a couple of feet away without being able to do anything about it was a real torture, but you deserved it.

"I'm disappointed in you," was the first thing Spencer said when he finally entered the room. He had that hard look in his eyes that he always gave you when you disobeyed him - the one that told you it was in your best interests to listen to him. His pupils were widened, the beautiful hazel color almost completely taken over by the darkness of desire in his eyes. You shifted nervously on the bed, suddenly feeling small under his intense gaze. Spencer walked toward you and you felt like an animal trapped by the predator that wanted to eat it. There was nowhere to run.

"You've been a very bad girl," he clicked his tongue in disapproval, bringing his hands to his neck to loosen the knot of his tie. "Teasing me with those pictures while I was at work, ignoring my warnings, cuming without my permission." Spencer shook his head and you sunk your teeth into your lower lip. The tone in his voice —too calm for someone in his position— almost made you regret your little stunt. Almost. "If you want to act like a spoiled brat, I'll treat you like one."

Spencer ordered you to sit on the bed with your back against the headboard. You obeyed without question, knowing that this was not the best time to complain. You watched him remove his tie in one tug, twisting the soft fabric in his hands before approaching you. He was careful in tying your wrists to the headboard, his fingers barely grazing your skin as he made sure to limit your movements, leaving you completely at his mercy. It was torture to feel him so close and not be able to touch him. Not to mention how incredibly frustrating it was that his hands barely rested on you when it was strictly necessary, as if your skin was burning him. You hated it, but when you let out a whine of protest, Spencer gave you a look that let you know it was best to keep your mouth shut.

"You're going to stay there and keep your eyes on me at all times." He stated with a calmness in his voice that should have alarmed you. But instead of wondering what he was up to —and what that calm meant to you— your mind was distracted by the slow movement of his hands as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing himself to you. " Now you'll know how I felt when I saw your pictures and those videos of you pleasuring yourself while I was stuck at work, unable to do anything about it."

Spencer moved closer to you, leaning down to be at eye level with you. The air caught in your throat as you stared at him, fearing that your mere breath might somehow cause him to pull away from you again. His gaze was firm, intimidating, but hidden among all the desire and lust you could still make out a glimmer of the characteristic softness in his eyes. It was an interesting contrast, captivating. It reminded you that no matter how rough he might be at the moment, the sweet, loving, everyday Spencer was just a word away.

You could hardly believe he was touching you when he took your face in one of his hands. His warm, slender fingers pressed over your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout. He used his grip to tilt your head up to make sure your eyes never left his at any time. He had you trapped between his hand and his eyes, frozen still as you anxiously awaited his next words.

"Now you'll be the helpless one. You'll be the one that has to sit back and watch as I pleasure myself, tied to the bed, unable to do anything to relieve the pressure between your legs."

After removing the last of his clothes, Spencer settled himself on the opposite side of the bed. He made sure you had the best view of him and his hard cock before he began to pleasure himself. Your eyes followed the movement of his hand as if you were being hypnotized. Up and down, up and down, his hand moved along his shaft while his mouth let out the sweetest moans you had ever heard. Every little gasp he let out went straight to your center, that throbbed desperate for attention. Spencer sounded desperate and you wondered if he hadn't relieved himself since you had sent him those pictures.

You fought your bonds without even realizing it, your body responding in its own accords to Spencer's stimulation. He didn't scold you for it, on the contrary he seemed to enjoy it. He increased the pace of his hand slightly, his eyes never leaving your figure. The way they roamed over your body —slowly moving down from your face to your neck, stopping at the curve of your breasts before trailing their way down your abdomen and to your legs— almost felt like his caresses. If you concentrated hard enough you could feel the ghost of his fingers following the path of his eyes. But it wasn't enough, not when you were trapped listening to Spencer's moans, watching his hand move up and down his cock as his tip leaked precum. Your mouth watered at the sight, yearning to feel the weight of his cock against your tongue. You could almost taste the salty treat on your tongue, your brain recreating it as best it could. It was criminal that he wouldn't let you touch him when he was so close to you.

"Like what you see?" Spencer mocked you as a pathetic whimper managed to escape your lips. "It's such a shame you were so bad 'cause right now you could be the one touching me... And I could be pleasuring you."

"Yes, please! I'm sorry, I won't do it again. Just please, I need it." you begged, momentarily excited by the mention of him pleasuring you. You were willing to do anything to end this torture.

But Spencer wouldn't budge. "Oh, I know you do, baby. I can see the wet spot in your panties from here. But I can't give it to you. Only good, obedient girls get what they want and you have been very, very bad."

He enjoyed every second of your torture, delighting in the whimpers you let out and the way you struggled against your bonds. Your body squirmed deliciously on the bed, protesting against the lack of attention. Spencer responded to your whimpers with moans, being more vocal than usual to prolong your torture. Every sound he let out increased the fire in your stomach along with your frustration. Your pussy tightened around nothing, desperate for attention. The pressure in your tummy was too much, almost unbearable. You needed relief, whatever would help you take the edge off.

You didn't even realize you were squeezing your legs together until it was too late. You were desperate and while the little friction your thighs provided as you squirmed was not enough, it was better than nothing. Your clit pulsed with every little movement, your juices trickling down your legs and making your job easier. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate on the subtle tingling between your legs to see if you could increase the pleasure that way somehow. The moan that fell from your lips was pathetic, a mixture of pleasure and frustration that alerted Spencer to your little trick just as you were getting somewhere.

You snapped your eyes open as you felt the impact of his hand against your calf. Spencer gave you a stern look, his expression blank as he forced your legs apart again. "You do that again and I won't let you cum tonight, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir!" you whimpered, feeling your hope renewing at the promise of a future orgasm. "I'm sorry! I'll be good, I promise."

It was real torture to have Spencer so close, naked and stroking his cock inches away without being able to touch it. His moans were getting louder and louder, his words dirtier and more condescending —praising your expression of desperation and mocking the way you twisted against your bonds. Your desperation increased along with the speed of his hands, which worked increasingly faster to bring him to the edge of pleasure. He was close, you could feel it, and as pathetic as it sounded, so were you. Your underwear was ruined, soaked with the juices of your arousal. Spencer hadn't touched you, but you were sure that a simple brush against your clit was all you needed to reach your climax.

"Was it worth it, baby?" He managed to say between gasps. "Was it worth it to disobey me? Sending all those pictures just to end up like this, tied to the bed, forced to watch me pleasure myself while you get nothing."

Oh Spencer was enjoying torturing you way too much. He wanted to break you, push you to your very limit and hear you beg for his forgiveness. He wanted you to earn your relief just as you had earned your punishment and he wasn't going to stop until you begged for mercy. In another circumstance you might have put up more of a fight, after all, it was always fun to riled him up. But you were far too desperate to feel his touch to play hard to get. You needed him, you'd been apart too long and you couldn't stand the distance a second longer.

"No, it wasn't! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it. I should have listened to you. I won't do it again, I promise! I'll behave! Just, please... please." There was no way to hide the pathetic tone in your voice. You were so frustrated, so needy for attention, that you could almost feel the tears burning in your eyes. You were willing to cry if that's what it took to earn Spencer's forgiveness. You would do anything to feel his hands on you.

"Oh yeah? You'll behave?" He spoke as if he didn't believe you, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he increased the pace of his hand. "Will you stop acting like a spoiled brat and be my good, obedient little girl?"

"Yes! I'll be your good girl, I promise! I'll be so good for you, sir! Please."

Suddenly, Spencer stood up from his place on the bed, approaching you in a couple of steps. "Open up then." He commanded bringing the head of his dripping, reddened cock close to your lips. You didn't need him to tell you twice, tilting your face up as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, eagerly waiting to taste him.

"That's it, that's a good girl... swallow it, swallow all of me... good girl." Spencer moaned as he came in your mouth, his hand stroking himself until he shot the very last drop of cum on your tongue. The squeal of bliss you let out at the taste of his salty flavor was pathetic, but you were too far gone to care. You eagerly swallowed everything he gave you, devouring it as if it were the sweetest candy.

Spencer mumbled sweet praises as he came down from his high, caressing your head with his usual softness. It was a small action, but you missed his touch so much that it was enough to fill you with joy. You thought you were finally in the clear, that you had received your punishment so well that Spencer would show you mercy and finally let you touch him. But when he sat down across from you again and looked into your eyes, you noticed that the intimidating darkness was still present in them. You struggled against your bonds once more to see if he would take pity on you and untie you. But he answered you with a click of his tongue that stopped you immediately.

"You did such a good job for me, baby." Spencer's voice was barely a husky whisper. He brought one of his fingers up to your cheek, collecting the drops of his cum that hadn't made it into your mouth. You tried to lean into his touch, but he removed his hand quickly, bringing his finger to your lips. He didn't have to tell you what to do, you automatically opened your mouth and wrapped your tongue around his finger, tasting his relief.

"But your punishment isn't over yet. You earned your relief, but haven't earned my forgiveness yet. You still don't get to touch me. Now open those pretty legs for me. I'll give you what you want and we'll see how much you can take."

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