#so that's partially why this is a bit late

[gotham-daydreams]

Writhing

Day 4 {Challenge Masterlist}

A day away. The end is near, but they get closer. Too close.

[Yandere Batfam x Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide (only mentioned in dialog), cult, occult like activities, rituals, implied human sacrifice (in dialog), sort of implied gore?, body horror, violence, blood (minor), bodily fluids (minor), flesh, general mild gore, gross description (?).] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

Oops! A little late on this one, my bad! Body horror elements come in at the end of the chapter, when Selina says something to Bruce. It's over when Jason says "Thank god, he finally shut up-"

If there is such things as 'partial'/'soft' dead dove, that's how I would describe the end of this day.

-------------------------------

The day is hotter than it’s ever been for fall in Gotham, and nearly everyone could feel it. Yet, strangely enough, a noticeable amount of people seem perfectly fine with it – even if some are practically sweating in their clothes, they still go about their lives almost scarily unbothered.

Most would think that Duke would be complaining, or at the very least breaking a sweat with how long he’s been in his suit, but strangely enough, he feels comfortable like this. Almost content, but he couldn’t be – not while being so far away from you. A window was the only thing truly separating you from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it and slip in. Almost like something deep inside of him was telling him you wouldn’t like it if he did, and Duke couldn’t understand why. You’ve been so nice to him up until this point, so welcoming – so you wouldn’t mind if he popped in extra early, would you? Sure you wouldn’t, Duke couldn’t imagine if you did, but he’s sure you’d understand anyway. If only he could explain it to you. Explain how he’s been feeling and that he had to be inside. Then you’d understand, forgive him, and everything would be okay.

Yet, something was still keeping him out, and it was honestly getting on his last nerve.

How Duke managed to slip out of the Batcave didn’t matter – not like he remembered, anyway. What mattered was figuring what was keeping him out so he could get in-

The young vigilante watches as you slowly, almost painstakingly begin to rise from your bed to sit up. For a moment, he holds his breath, hoping and nearly pleading with all his heart that you’re awake – only to see that your eyes are still closed, and it’s still hours away from when you’d usually be up. The only difference being is that your body moved in accordance to the sun, and you rose as it did. Almost as if you two were in sync somehow, and Duke couldn’t help but find that endlessly interesting instead of strange.

Even so, he had hoped you would have actually been awake – but he could be polite, so he waited. It wasn’t very comfortable being perched on the fire escape like this, but for something like this? Duke didn’t mind, especially not when he got to spend so much time with you. When it was just the two of you, alone, together.

Duke couldn’t even feel himself sweating in his suit, but even if he could – he didn’t care. He couldn’t. Not with you in his sights.

Time passed by like sand slipping through his hands, with only the smallest bits remaining under Duke’s nails and in the lines of his palm. Since he could feel it pass, albeit faintly, and could acknowledge its passing as well, but the actual length was lost on him – as if only minutes or seconds had flown by in the place of the few hours that escaped his memory.

Not that it mattered, as once Duke saw you begin to stir and wake up, he couldn’t help but feel all giddy as he practically jumped to your window sill, and tapped on the window despite the nagging feeling that tried to stop him. He watches as you rub your eyes before glancing over to him.

Another feeling washes over Duke, one of denial – and he finds himself panicking. You had to let him in. You would, right? You wouldn’t turn him away, would you? You couldn’t leave him out in the heat like this, you had come here for you. You can’t turn him away. No. No Duke can’t accept this – who are you? Where did you go? Did someone replace you? Was this a fake? Just what was going on-

The young vigilante’s thoughts are cut off as you open the window. “What’re you doing here, kid? I don’t remember making a call… unless there’s some trouble nearby?” Duke almost forgot he was in the suit, and he almost wanted to rip it off now, but he managed to keep it on… even if he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe despite how his own cowl was designed. Thank god, you were fine. Normal.

“I was just on patrol and, uh, decided to swing by? See how things are going, especially with all the activity around in the city as of late–” Duke is quick to reply, clearing his throat before admitting. “And I just wanted to see how you’re doing, y’know? Can’t imagine that things have been exactly easy these past few nights.”

You raise a brow, but just sigh and shake your head at his words. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but I got to get on with my morning, Signal.”

“I- I know! I just wanted to… do a search.”

“A… search?”

“Yeah, like- do you have any plants or anything around here?”

“Well, yes-”

“Perfect! Gotta check them and make sure they’re all good and healthy. It shouldn’t take long, and I won’t get in the way of anything, I promise!”

You can only raise a brow, but eventually relent and give a tired but amused, “Fine, do what you have to, then.”

So, you go on with your morning. Just getting ready, and keeping an eye on Duke – especially as he tries to make conversation. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but considering where you’re supposed to be standing, it is odd. Though, it only made you feel better as you decided to entertain him a little. Answering his questions, holding the position you’ve managed to maintain for the past few days, and keeping up appearances. It was easier during the day for countless reasons, a good night’s rest being one of them. Staying up was really taking a toll, and you needed your energy for what’s to come.

Nevertheless, it quickly comes to a point where Duke is obviously trying to stay, and you can’t figure out why. You feel like you’ve dropped enough hints at this rate, and so you try to confront him about it gently… only for him to stumble over his words and struggle to speak for whatever reason. It’s honestly a little frustrating, but you can work with this. You’ve dealt with worse than a clingy kid in a costume.

So, putting on a more natural smile as you remember to compose yourself, you make the same offer that’s always worked for you time and time again.

“Say, why don’t we have a bit of breakfast?”

— — — – — – — — — — — —

Barbara was beginning to regret taking Dick’s advice on getting some air, especially now that she was a few ways away from the only useful computer they could use at the moment. She appreciated the effort, but given the countdown and the list of questions they still have to answer – well, they didn’t exactly have a lot of time for a break.

Still, it was nice getting out of the clock tower for a bit. That much Barbara could agree with, even if it was strangely hot for fall… it couldn’t be the work of another villain, could it? They had their hands full enough as it is, and this cult wasn’t helping with that – not to mention the fact they didn’t know if it was just that.

“Ugh, why’s it so warm? I don’t remember fall being this hot.. did the news even mention something like this?”

Dick hums for a moment, and gives a shrug as they continue down the street, “Hm, I don’t think so! Just said something about today being nice?” He snickers slightly, “A little ironic, huh? It’s almost like they’re trying to downplay it! But who knows? Maybe they don’t even notice!”

Barbara can only huff in response, “How can they not? It’s almost like spring out here, or even summer, honestly-”

[“Oracle, focus.” Bruce’s voice so rudely pierces through the moment.]

“I would be if someone hadn’t taken me out.”

“Hey! It’s not a crime to get some fresh air every once in a while! Especially when on a tough, grueling case like this… you know that if we keep going at it with no breaks, we’ll all drop before that countdown even finishes.” Dick tries to defend himself, and Bruce at least acknowledges his point by staying silent – the only sign of him still being on the line being a gruff exhale he lets out.

Barbara just shakes her head and rolls her eyes, not bothering with a response as she waves off Dick’s words and usual antics. Though, it was a nice change of pace compared to how the last few nights have been – even if they somehow managed to avoid any more deaths last night. Tragedy was to be expected in their line of work, and Gotham’s reputation only made that more apparent, but this was… something else. It didn’t feel like they were any closer to figuring out the answers to questions they had even at the start of all this, or only had half of a possible answer. Like how they knew the other groups Clark was able to track are heading towards major cities, but they still didn’t know why aside from the Red Dawn you had mentioned.

At this point, it almost felt like a goose chase! And if they didn’t get anything concrete fast, who knows what could happen-?

“... Hey, what’s with all the people in front of that book store?” Barbara points out as she taps Dick’s shoulder, grabbing the officer’s attention.

Humming, he looks over to where Barbara was gesturing towards, and shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe there’s a sale or something? Some famous person released a new volume?” The very idea nearly makes her laugh, and as much as Barbara wants to – she’s getting a weird feeling about it. Like something important was going on over there, and that she had to check it out now.

“Well, it couldn’t hurt to check it out, right?” She suggests, only for Dick to remain where he was, which only now she realizes that they’ve stopped moving all together. Huh, when did that happen?

Nevertheless, Dick gives the shop a once over, his eyes narrowing slightly at the crowd that’s formed in front of it, and is continuing to grow as the seconds pass. Some still walk past, and seem to mind their own business – but for some reason, others seem drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and there could be only one explanation for it.

“Nah, I think we’ll be fine right here.” He says, sounding almost a little too sure of himself.

Barbara raises a brow and looks over to Dick, curious but also a bit annoyed for reasons even she can’t place. “Why do you think that-?”

Before she can even finish, you come strolling out from the alley just a few inches ahead of them, and Barbara blinks in slight surprise. What were you doing awake-?

“Hey, [Last Name]!” Dick greets without missing a beat, an odd sort of smile making its way across his face. “Where were you last night?”

You look over to him, blinking as well before straightening yourself out. “Oh! Officer Grayson, what a surprise… and Ms. Gordon? What are you both doing out?”

Barbara’s brows furrow, but before she could speak up, Dick spoke up again. “I asked you first, [Last Name]. Where have you been? I can’t imagine you’d take the night off in the middle of a serious situation.”

“I’m… sorry, but something had come up- and I apologize, but I don’t remember anyone mentioning you looking for me?”

“So you were on duty last night-?”

Barbara nudges Dick’s arm, “I’m sorry for my friend here, you’re one of the officers that came in from Metropolis, right?" She interrupts, surprising you a little more. Though, you take the opportunity and give a nod, offering a hand - one that Dick eyes before looking back at you.

Not once does he even attempt to glance at his supposed ally.

"Yes! Officer [Last Name] at your service, ma'am. It's been an honor working with your father."

Barbara nods, taking your hand... which gives her an oddly tingly feeling. One that makes the hairs on her arm stand, but she hardly notices. "Really? Well, I wouldn't get too used to that - wouldn't want to stay in Gotham for longer then you'd have to, right?" She laughs lightly, "I hope the city hasn't been too much of a handful, Officer."

"Oh, there's no need for that, Gordon! Everything's gone... well, as good as it can. We're doing all we can to resolve things as quickly as possible- I assure you." You try to reassure, and while Barbara appreciates the effort - she was still getting the funniest feeling that you were down playing the situation too much. To say you were calm felt like an understatement, you're more laid-back then anything, and for a case like this? That didn't feel like a good thing.

Still, she plays along as well. "Is that so? Then is there anything you know about the case?"

"Well, I don't think we know more then the commissioner's friend per say, but the detective's coming in later and-"

"Wait, the detective-?"

It's only then that you notice something, and already try to take your leave.

"I really wish we had more time to discuss! But I must be going now, please forgive me, Gordon- ah, and of course you, Grayson."

"[Last Name]-!"

Dick's plea is swallowed by the sizable crowd that passes them, and almost seems to go in the direction you were headed in. Yet, when trying to catch a glimpse of you - you're nowhere to be found.

Folding his hands into fists, Dick's nails dig into his palms - something he doesn't even seem to notice or feel. "Damn it." He curses under his breath. So much for that, now he'll have to-

"What was that about?" Barbara can't help but ask out loud, looking at the crowd that was already disappearing before glancing up at Dick. The expression he wore making her worried, and she reached out a hand. "Hey, you okay?"

He shakes it off, and just gives a nod, smile strained. "Just peachy, Babs."

Again, before Barbara could another word out - her phone buzzes, and it's only then that she realizes her commlink was disconnected for... whatever reason? Nevertheless, she picks it up, and tries to gesture to Dick that they should go, which... takes a while. Almost too long, considering how they've got less then twenty-four hours left on that countdown.

Selina's on the line, and she and Barbara try to figure out what they can - and Barbara can't exactly place it, but it feels like only her and Selina are even somewhat level headed. It makes no sense, and she doesn't have time to dwell on it, so Barbara just pushes it to the side for now.

Somehow, they're still having trouble getting the Batcomputer up and running, so Tim and the samples are going to be at the clock tower for the time being so they can continue to work despite the 'hiccup'. Until nightfall comes, Bruce is looking into what he can while trying to get the Batcomputer even semi-functional, and is talking with everyone he can, sharing all the information they have at the moment - trying to see if anyone else knows something they don't.

Meanwhile the other's seem to be doing... something. What exactly? No one's totally sure, but considering the time they've got left? Well, they can only assume it's something useful.

Which... made Barbara remember something just as the call ended. Sighing, she just sits back as her wheelchair continues down the sidewalk. "Where even is Duke, anyway? I can't believe he managed to slip past everyone before his patrol... and before we could come up with a plan too." She can't help but grumble, but really only hoped the kid was okay.

Dick, who had been quiet even since they turned back around - let his silence linger for a moment longer, as if thinking before responding. "Something tells me he's on patrol."

Barbara glances at Dick once more, "Oh yeah? And how can you figure that out when he left without his phone and commlink somehow?" 

Dick only gives a smile, one that Barbara had never seen before that gives her... mixed emotions at best. His eyes closed, and though the rays of sun only made him look better, Barbara couldn't deny the way his heart paused at the sight. What kind of smile even is that-?

"I've just got a really good feeling. So let's go back to the tower, m'kay?"

For once, the chirp in Dick's tone did little to ease Barbara's sudden feeling of dread. One that all too quickly turned into something similar to comfort, and she couldn't even fathom why.

— — — — — — — — — —

Before the moon even has the chance to fully rise, a certain mishmash family of vigilantes is still hard at work. Whatever a few of the others were working on in the batcave, Duke joined them the moment he got home - but after his suit was put aside, and practically put on quarantine with how much of the red stuff it had on it. It was like sand and had gotten into every small crevasse it could - and not just in the suit.

When asked about it, Duke just didn't know. Claiming he didn't remember even losing the suit, but knew he had it on this morning because - well, why wouldn't he? The questioning seemed to confuse him as much as everyone else, and Dick eventually put a stop to it... strangely enough.

Nevertheless, Tim was able to find a bit more information, and when asked he simply said, "Well, I don't think it'll help us right now but... these guys- the group, at least- has been around for a while now. Not like Ancient Egyptians or anything, but they've definitely been around longer than just a few months. It's hard to pinpoint when they were exactly formed or founded, but I'll give it a few years. Maybe even decades."

Chipping in, Barbara adds, "They've got their hands in just about anything you can imagine. It's hard to tie them to politics, but they've got banks, industries, and so on that have supported various churches that are around some of the areas Clark marked before... well, the black out last night. Thank god a backup was sent to the Clock Tower's database."

Tim hums in agreement, "Exactly. And, to add on to that- but even some businesses have given to a few of these churches or groups, but most seem to have their own way of spreading... whatever this is. Though, if only certain banks from these companies support the 'cause', or the company itself supports it is harder to figure out."

"Again, not super helpful, but definitely gives a better idea of who these guys are. Wouldn't be surprised if for most, this is a legitimate religion disguised as another."

Well, Tim was right - it didn't help them immediately, but it gave a bit of insight. These guys have been around for a while, but now the question is why they're popping up now, and if it's because of this 'Red Dawn', then they absolutely have to find out what that means before time is up. However, amongst the investigation, another question eventually pops up, and one that almost feels foolish to skip over.

Where are the bodies from the people who were involved with this cult, but ended up killing themselves when caught-?

Then, Bruce's phone rings just as he's about to contact Gordon. It's not a number he recognizes, but something, for some reason not even he can explain, compels him to pick it up.

Before Bruce himself can even try to resist, the button is already pressed.

[The person on the other end clears their throat before speaking. “Hello? This is Detective Greenwood, and to my understanding, this is Batman’s number?”]

Of course, naturally, Bruce doesn’t say anything. More or less just… confused. Was this even real? How could anyone expect him to believe that the detective that’s been absent for nearly four days, maybe even longer, is only now trying to show up? Talk about convenience. Not to mention priorities and dedication.

[The man on the other end sighs. “Well, if this is the right number or not, I’ll find out soon enough. I’ve heard you're not exactly a patient man, so I’ll keep this short- just for you. Meet me at the diner on fifth. It’s getting late, I know. Place is about to close, but I’ll be here until it does. If it’s closed when you decide to come by? I’ll be at the station, cleaning up the mess.” A beat of silence passes, and a small clinking sound could be heard before he adds, “I’m sure you’re aware we don’t have much time, but hey. The choice is yours.”]

With that, the call ends, and Bruce is momentarily left in silence. Everyone else is doing their own thing and trying to figure out a plan of action they all agree upon but this… this could change things – but that all depends on what this detective knows. The timing itself is a little more than suspicious, and while you had apparently mentioned the detective’s arrival earlier, being gone for so long, and during a time like this no less… almost nothing could make Bruce any less trusting of this. While he trusted your credibility somewhat – and that’s mostly due to Clark being able to back up the information you’ve been able to provide thus far – there’s no telling if this detective had any new information they haven’t figured out already.

… Yet with the time they have, and their lack of knowledge of what it even means, they didn’t exactly have the time to be nitpicky – and though it was highly unlikely, having someone explain or give a clue as to what this ‘Red Dawn’ even is would also be useful.

A rough sigh escapes Bruce, and from that alone, the room goes quiet. Glancing at the timer on the holographic screen of the Batcomputer, he takes a second or so before getting to work. “Dick, you’re coming with me to see this… detective. Selina, go with Damian to see where the bodies are. Jason and Cassandra? …Don’t follow too close behind.” They didn’t exactly have time to argue, and with Duke, Stephanie, and Tim doing something else? This’ll have to do.

Regardless, even if some disagreements and such are made, they all set out, and into the unforgiving city once again.

Knowing the area like the back of your hand certainly had its perks, and finding the diner itself isn’t very hard. Though before they can even think about stepping inside, the sheer emptiness inside the establishment is… not one any of them are familiar with. Not during a time like this, and especially not when there’s a bar inside the establishment. To say they’d stand out would be putting it nicely, but the invitation is already given once the single patron in the diner notices the only two visible figures outside and for them to come in.

Playing along never feels good, but what choice do they have? Besides, as if knowing something, Dick is the one that takes the first step forward. Bruce slides into the booth last.

Conversation sparks up, and it goes about as well as one would expect. The obvious questions are asked, but nothing notable or of any real importance is given. Greenwood only apologizes for his absence, gives little reasoning for it aside from ‘being caught up with something’ – as that’s something noteworthy, and yet not even Bruce has been informed of it. So, things are off to a great start.

Almost seemingly out of habit, Greenwood offers anything he can, only to be declined – something he just shrugs off before taking a stip of his coffee, or what looks to be something like it, as despite the hint of color Bruce swears he can see in the mug, it’s too dark to be much else. Still, all too aware of the time limit they’re working on, Bruce gets straight to the point, and Greenwood follows right along. As if to ease things, he even offers for the pair to call him John. Hm. That’s the first name he’s gotten out of the new batch without looking through records.

Strangely enough, Greenwood takes the time to even reassure them, saying of the waiter – the only employee visible at the moment, is blind. So they won’t have to worry about anyone spreading any rumors about seeing the Big Bat and Nightwing themselves in a diner late at night. When Dick remarks about passerbys, Greenwood only says, “A friend of mine’s got that handled.”

When Bruce understandably asks, “And who is this ‘friend’ of yours.”

Greenwood strangely responds with, “Well, I can’t say much for a list of reasons. But they’ve got a way with people, and even got me your number. That’s all you’ve got to know.” Pushing up the shades he wore all the while. There was no need for him, but the detective never made a move to take them off. Like they were a part of him.

To say the conversation got any more useful from there would be a lie. Greenwood treats it too casually, almost infuriatingly so considering the situation they’re in, but Bruce is able to remain patient despite it all, and Dick looks like he’s biting his tongue. Though, as if catching wind of this, the detective decides to finally move things in a meaningful direction, and offers for them to head to the station – which is conveniently when the diner was about a minute or so away from closing. Which, Bruce takes notice of how Greenwood pays as they move to stand. A Rose Bank card, huh? That’s… new.

Even as both vigilantes readily take the opportunity to meet the detective at the station, and in his office, the quietness at the city gnaws at Bruce.

Of course it bothers him more than he’ll ever let on, but it gets to him all the same. It doesn’t help that Bruce can’t explain it, but the silence itself feels like a taunt of sorts. Like a jab at him specifically – a show of how in all his years of being Batman and trying to look after this city for as long as he has, it’s only now, under mysterious circumstances and in the midst of this disaster of a situation, is the city finally quiet. Even if it’s not in the way Bruce wants it to be. Especially since it’s not the way Bruce would have wanted it to be.

Whoever’s behind this has got a real funny sense of humor, Bruce will give them that.

… Eventually, Greenwood reappears and greets the pair – seemingly unfazed by the fact that they’re already in his office, even if he does make a show of acting a little shocked. Hm.

“I assume you’ve gone through the files I’ve had out already?” It’s a promising start, at least. Especially when compared to being offered coffee just moments before.

Still, Bruce just narrows his eyes, and Dick remains… oddly quiet – something that’s starting to make Bruce question if he made the right choice with bringing him along. Though, there’s no time for regrets now, is there? “Among other things. Your investigation has been…”

“Confusing? Nonsensical? Well… I can’t really blame you there. Everything dealing with them seems odd at best. Alien, perhaps, at worst.”

Bruce raises a brow under the cowl, only for them to furrow a second after. “Alien?”

Greenwood nods, “Put simply, yes. Some of the rituals performed by this group in the past have made little to no sense, and can vary in… well, intensity, so to speak. I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened the other day? It’s unfortunate and upsetting, yes- but it does tie into a theme this group seems to exhibit with everything they do.” Opening a file, he lays it out on the table, and the pictures shown are not for the faint of heart. To even say they were grotesque is putting it lightly. “Sacrifice.”

“... The human sacrifice kind?” Dick asks, but for a strange reason, Bruce already gets the feeling his son knows the answer – something that only makes him more unsure of all this, even if, strangely enough, a part of him is starting to almost accept it?

Regardless, Greenwood shakes his head. “Not quite, even if I don’t blame you for jumping to that straight away. Their version of sacrifice seems more… personal, or at least to differ greatly depending on the ritual. It’s hard to say what people are making these sacrifices for- but if you’ve talked with anyone who may be in this group, their reasons tend to differ. Like they were all promised something that caters to them specifically, and thus whatever it is, through these rituals- they are making the necessary sacrifice for it. Such as their eyes, legs, arms, heart, soul-”

“Life.” Bruce finishes, and Greenwood nods. Though, with all of this, only one question seems obvious. “How does the head of the group even know what someone would be willing to make such big sacrifices for? Especially if they’re all personalized.”

“That’s where the weird part comes in, since… well, in all my time as a detective working on this case- I haven’t been able to figure that out. At a certain point, they seem to just know.”

Bruce’s brows further knit together, and his eyes narrow further, “That doesn’t make any sense-”

[“Hey~ Bats? Yeah… you know those bodies you had me and the kid snoop around for-? Which, you owe me big time for this, just fyi.” Selina’s voice rings through the commlink.]

Bruce pauses, left staring at Greenwood while Dick glances at him. The detective raises a brow.

[“Well, we’ve only got a couple of empty caskets from the couple of thugs that were from Gotham, just a bunch of that weird powder you’ve been obsessing over.” There’s a brief pause before she adds, “Kid thinks this is how they make the stuff. If so, with all the followers they have, and assuming they’re just as ‘devoted’ as the one’s we’re looking for? I think we’re way in over our heads here, B.”]

The vigilante didn’t even get a chance to respond, as an odd smirk grew on Greenwood’s face. “That’s the signal, huh? Damn, and here I thought I’d get a few more minutes in. Such a shame, you folk are really on top of things. Reminds me a bit of myself in my earlier days, honestly.” A sickening pop sounds, followed by the sickening echo of cracks and grinding bones as John’s arm extends unnaturally long.

His fingers become as thin as pencil tips, only to get filled as some sort of mass builds from the inside, and grows so large it strains the skin until it pops. Strings of nerves try to reconnect where they shouldn’t, muscle moves to almost reconstruct a stronger, larger arm - with bits of left over skin and flesh moving with it. Nothing ever stops moving, like it can’t ever settle in one spot, and the sheer mass of it all can be seen moving and writhing under John’s skin. Trying to spread itself over parts of his body with its gift.

Finally, he removes his shades, and reveals irises with a pale star pattern that shouldn’t be possible. Something that flickers and moves, with the sclera pulsating with prominent, red veins that only seem to be itching their way closer to the iris with each growth of flesh his body manages to create and sustain. Like a parasite itching to feed, and having been left to starve, it latches onto the side of his face, and practically devours his eye lid - revealing the muscle underneath, and using the mass of the skin to add to the muscular arm – which can hardly hold itself at the end, and comes undone in a pile of fleshy, squelching tendrils that wiggle and inch towards the heroes.

“Well, it’s as they say.” John chuckles, voice already breaking apart, and already beginning to sound wrong in every way. “It’s parents who make the ultimate sacrifice for their children.”

With that, the amalgamation of flesh in human form vaults over the desk, and grins as it launches itself forward, ”IT'S TIME FOR ME TO SEE MY LITTLE GIRL! You surely understand, don’t you, Man of BATS?!” A giggle in too high of a pitch escapes it, and more teeth could be seen peeking out from its gums.

Bruce and Dick are quick to dodge out of the way, and Cassandra is quick to use her cloak to cut all the lights in the station, but the office itself is left in a darkness only the blackness of space could replicate. Jason quickly jumps in, and the four get to work to subdue the creature.

The fight itself is a gross sight for numerous reasons. Acid is spit from the bellows of the organism's stomach, and yet sticks to any surface like a thick layer of pus. The flesh that makes up its arm travels along the body it now puppets, and tries to grab and become a part of all who come into contact with it. Even as shots and countless blows are done to it, all it does is laugh as it continuously launches itself forward haphazardly – as if chasing some sort of high. The fat of the torso is taken for tendrils that shoot out of its back and more flesh to enhance its own combat ability. The muscle and bone of the legs is consumed to enlarge the ribs and spine - making a whole other mouth that’s all bone and made vertically come out of it, and where the organs have moved to? Who’s to say.

Even as it’s thrown through the glass of the office, and the scratches make the thing bleed, it moves to stand and continue the fight – as if it can’t feel anything else, or, rather, it’s so focused on chasing that it’s able to ignore the pain? It’s hard to say, but laughs begin to mix with shrieking screams that ripped its throat and ruptured the stomach.

It was all messy, sloppy, and at some point, most were rushing to find a means to light it on fire – and when the opportunity came in the boiler room, and the most unlikely of them flicked the match as he tried to catch his breath? The nightmare refused to go down without the last say, despite never being given such a luxury.

“IT’S TOO LATE! THE NEW DAWN IS BOUND TO RISE, AND ONCE IT DOES WE WILL ALL BE REWARDED!! THE SUN, DRESSED IN RED SEES ALL, AND NOTHING CAN STOP IT! ALL PREPARATIONS HAVE ALREADY BEEN MADE! THE WATERS ARE BOILING! THOSE NOT AWAKENED WILL SEE! THE CHILDREN WILL SING ONCE AGAIN! AHAHA! THE EARTH COULD STOP ON ITS AXIS AND IT WOULDN’T STOP THE RE-”

Only for its violating, cries of praise to its lord and religion to swiftly be cut off by nothing but a bullet to its melting head that's flesh was tearing away at the skull of the human that once remained underneath.

“Thank god, he finally shut up-” Jason scoffed, only to cough as the smoke began to rise and he rushed out – following the others.

Outside of the station, they all tried to catch their breath. Beaten one way or another, but alive, and untouched. Still human, in spite of everything, and breathing through their own healthy lungs that weren’t nearly pulsating out of their chests.

The quiet streets remain, leaving only them. Yet, it didn’t seem to bother them now. They almost don’t notice it, and despite no words being spoken, they all come to a collective understanding.

When the commlink crackles to life, Bruce hardly reacts, and when he hears his youngest son’s voice – he feels like he knows everything just before he speaks.

[“Father?”]

“Yes… we understand now, too.” So, with this new information, and more being fed to them, they all head back home together. Now knowing what must be done, even without all the pieces put together. Almost as if, in a way, they just know now. Like something is telling them, and the more it gives. The more they need it.

The waters of the Earth begin to boil as it prepares to cry, one last time.

[energeticpoltergeist]

Part 1: Mad King's War

Prologue: Diverged History(pages 1-4)

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt my dupe ocs again... Maybe Quinn does have hashtag issues actually

[no-one-hears-me]

I feel terrible today

[blkkizzat]

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟹........... THE CULT LEADER ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: you shouldn't have even been watching the gate bunny, that's much too hard for you! so when you inevitably fuck up, your cult leader boyfriend—geto suguru—has the perfect punishment planned for you and your pretty pussy wait..in front of his entire congregation tho!? classifications: dumb bimbo!reader, canonverse of nerd!geto's bunny!reader, cult rhetoric, dark themes, sensory deprivation/amaurophilia, punishment, humiliation, shibari, edging, overstim, exhibitionism, toxic jealousy, possessiveness, yandere Suguru, drugged sex, cnc/free-use reader, mentions of orgies/group sex and a bit of forced breeding. incidents: 5.8k

“Nuh-uh, nope you gotta be a fake!”

Suguru sighed, irritation brewing beneath his calm exterior. If he didn’t convince you he was the real deal soon, he’d be late to his weekly midnight mass—a gathering of his most devoted (and wealthiest) followers he couldn’t afford to miss.

Be that as it may, he still tries to be patient with you—his Bunny. 

Ever since the doppelgängers started appearing, you’ve been a bundle of nerves, and Suguru knows you’re spiraling right now—he’s had to talk you down more times than he can count over the past few weeks. You’ve been worrying nonstop about something happening to him, Mimiko, or Nanako, even though they all possess far more cursed energy than you.

If anything, it’s you who should be worried about yourself.

Holding the barrier around the entire compound is already draining your very limited cursed energy, and it’s taking a visible toll—your fatigue evident in your wavering stance as well as the sweat beading on your brow.

Suguru, noticing this, shows a bit more patience—especially since he returned a day earlier than expected and, most conveniently, no one else is around to witness him being made a fool. Something that would be more likely now that his following had grown significantly during this doppelgänger-induced quarantine, demanding more of his attention by the day. 

“Come now, Bunny, let’s rationali—”

“Nope! No way! you can’t trick me! Besides, if you were the real Suguru, you could just break the barrier by now! I’m not stupid like you, ya dumb doppel!”

Not stupid?

Suguru would hate to have to tell you the truth to your face and upset his pretty lil’ bunny but, you were in fact, pretty ditzy—his current predicament a testament to that. Pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers, Suguru is almost at his limit with you.

But he couldn’t just break the barrier himself. 

Of course, ability not being an issue—he could easily do it. The problem is at this hour, breaking the barrier would trigger alarms throughout the compound, both cursed and physical, throwing cursed users and followers alike into a frenzy. 

It simply wasn’t worth the trouble.

Shaking his head, Suguru tries a different tactic with you. 

“Bunny, please—just go fetch Nanako and Mimiko. Bring them here to sort this out, alright? Can you manage that for me?”

A contemplative expression appears on your face, as if you were seriously mulling over the ramifications of his very simple request—a reaction he knew didn’t bode well for him.

“Hmm… nah!”

Frustrated, the cracks in Suguru’s patience with you begin to show. 

“And just why the hell not, Bunny?”

Surguru’s grits his teeth, brow twitching, attempting to maintain his cool as you look at him like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“They’re already in bed! They still have school tomorrow—even if it's virtual! I’m not waking them up just so they can see a doppel version of you! It might scare them.”

Rolling his eyes, Suguru blames himself really.

Since joining his cause you’ve spent more time bent over his desk, the plush round curves of your backside glistening with his cum that is painted liberally across your skin, than you’ve spent looking him in the face. 

But his weakness of being partial to the bounce back jiggle of your fat ass was now thoroughly biting him on his own—especially as you insist the problem is that his ear gauges are too big. Something Suguru couldn’t even be too upset about as after all, he had gone up a size recently, so you weren’t exactly wrong. 

Still, he hadn’t expected you of all people to be perceptive enough to notice, so he now regrettably never bothered mentioning it.

Suguru knew he’d have to come up with another way to convince you. At the same time, he vowed to kill whoever had been slacking on their job and put you at the gate. Tasks like these weren’t suited for you—though, to be fair, most tasks weren’t.

That’s why other than his personal fleshlight, when your sinful lil’ pussy wasn’t getting private spiritual guidance from his cock, you spent your time behind the front desk of reception. The perfect decorative bait for the followers flocking to his temple for refuge from the doppel crisis. Your beauty along with your bright cheery demeanor did just the trick to lure in those distraught and perverted monkeys into his cult, whose wallets he could exploit until they were no longer of use to him. 

Suguru takes out his phone, calling the twins himself but neither Nanako nor Mimiko answer. He considers calling someone else—literally anyone—but he knows they’re all gathered in the main hall by now, without their phones, as most electronics are strictly forbidden outside the dormitories.

As a last-ditch effort, Suguru scrolls through his texts to show you the lewd photo you sent him earlier that same day—the racy upskirt of you with 2 of your manicured fingers wedged into your tight sloppy cunt while stationed at the front desk accompanied by the ‘miss u daddy’ text.

“Oh woooow! Dopplegangers can clone iclouds too!? Y’all are really good!”

Oh for the love of… 

At his wits end, Suguru thinks he might actually have to whip his dick out in the middle of the courtyard—your slutty ass would surely recognize that if nothing else.

Yet saving him the indignity, suddenly, a bright camera flash materializes behind you catching both of your attention. 

“Nanako, this isn’t our room!”

Nanako and Mimiko?!

“Shhh—Shut it! Do you know how hard it was to get inside the barrier, at all?! Urgh I feel queasy now…Plus, I can’t concentrate because my feet hurt so bad from these heels. There was nowhere to sit in that club! Let’s just get back to our rooms before Geto-sama notices we—”

Yet realizing their predicament sooner, Mimiko’s eyes nearly pop out of her skull as she rapidly taps Nanako’s shoulder, who whirls around to see a now-visibly pissed off Suguru. 

“—Oh shii—Geto-sama…?”

Not only did he have to deal with his airheaded Bunny failing to recognize him, but also with two teenagers under his care sneaking out to god knows where, to do god knows what, with god knows whom.

All during a doppelgänger crisis.

Both were dressed in outfits far too revealing and mature for them, outfits Suguru figured they must have pilfered from your closet—since he would never have bought them anything like that in a million years, even if they were old enough to wear it. But Suguru would have to wait until tomorrow morning to have a good stern talk with them—right now he needs their help lest you leave him out here all night. 

“Girls, please. I am in need of your assistance. Don’t fret, neither of you are the one that’s in trouble right now.”

Suguru’s piercing glare startles you, his oppressing cursed energy sending familiar tingles down your spine and for the first time that night you begin to wonder if you had actually messed up. 

Oh yes, Bunny, you had fucked up—big time.

Failing to recognize him and letting the twins sneak out under your nose was a serious mistake and you need to be corrected.

Thankfully, Cult Leader Suguru knows exactly how to punish you and in a way that would further his own purposes too.

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

Lounging casually and only dressed in a thin white kosode, his priest robes discarded, Suguru gazes out at the sea of his gathered followers.

His irritation mounting as he awaits your arrival.

What could possibly be delaying you?

He had given strict orders for you to change and meet him in the main hall, where he intended to deliver your punishment.

Punishments from Suguru weren’t something you were unfamiliar with. He often finds himself frustrated with you and in need to relieve his tension, using your snug lil pussy as he sees fit. 

But the urges the bubbling anxiety he felt at the moment to lock you away, keeping you hidden where no one else could ever lay eyes on you, wasn’t about punishment.

No, the crux of it being, at his core, Suguru was a fiercely jealous man.

He wanted you all to himself, tucked in a delicate, untouchable box, far from the gaze of a world unworthy of what belongs to him.

But Suguru keeps that possessiveness well-hidden, just like all his other flaws.

Geto Suguru, the cult leader, always radiated an air of calm benevolence, a true messiah in their eyes. It earned him their unwavering devotion, even though they knew of his cruelty his followers justified it every time—convincing themselves that any punishment he inflicted was well deserved.

This rationalization, along with his suppression of personal desires, all stemmed from the unwavering commitment to his utilitarian views of the Jujutsu world.

Suguru knows he must set aside his own wants for the greater good of his cause. He had already made the ultimate sacrifices when he killed his parents and excommunicated himself from the rest—including the only other person to have ever known the true him—and he had no intention of stopping now.

That’s right, it was all for his cause and his cause is the sole reason a vehemently covetous man like Geto Suguru is about to fuck you in front of his entire congregation.

The heavy doors of the large meeting hall ceremoniously reopen and you are brought before him blindfolded and dressed in a similar matching kosode.

The wispy fabric only lightly touches your skin, offering little protection from the drafty air that seeps through as you are guided up the steps to the stage.

Yet little do you know the blindfold is completely unnecessary. 

No one else in the packed auditorium wears one, but Suguru self-indulges in this one thing with the reasoning that— ‘If you couldn’t trust your eyes to recognize him, then he will have to train your body to recognize his voice and touch alone.’ 

Once you’re placed in your designated position—on a smaller altar set upon the elevated stage—your retainers swiftly retreat, leaving you standing alone.

Facing Suguru, with your side turned toward the audience, you feel the weight of their lecherous stares even if you can’t see them. 

It was a peculiar yet thrilling feeling—losing your sight, yet knowing so many eyes were on you. 

Watching, waiting, and lusting over your body that only Suguru is permitted to touch. The notion alone is enough to make your body shiver harder than any chill would cause. 

Seeing you try to contain your nerves, Suguru regards you with interest as your small hands tug at the sides of your robe and you try your hardest to steady your breathing. At this point you were willing to do whatever it took to set right your earlier transgressions with Suguru.

You felt absolutely terrible for not recognizing him, on top of allowing Nanako and Mimiko to sneak out right under your nose! You were just thankful at the opportunity for forgiveness.

Although Suguru already knows you are too infatuated with him to deny him anything, especially when it comes to taking dick, anytime or any place he asked you to. Suguru, is throughly pleased with your obedience as he needed your cooperation for this licentious stunt.

Though Suguru finds the more debased aspects of cult culture crude, he knows they serve a vital purpose: ensuring total indoctrination.

With the rapid expansion of his following, fear-mongering and promises of salvation were no longer enough to maintain control.

Initially, the cult attracted outcasts and those on society's fringes. But as the poison of fear spread throughout Tokyo, married couples and families alike sought refuge from the new threat—doppelgängers visible even to those without cursed energy.

His inner circle of cursed users agreed—control was now more crucial than ever. Not just physical or emotional control, but dominance over every detail of his followers’ lives.

Suguru needed to dictate how they thought, what they ate, when they bathed, and how long they slept—every aspect of their pathetic existence. He intended to shape their perception of themselves in the new world he was building, so much so that they wouldn’t dare take a breath without first considering if it pleased ‘Geto-sama’ (it never would, though he tolerated it for the time being).

Now, the final step remains.

With the power he wielded as their omnipotent savior, Suguru couldn’t allow their vows to each other to interfere with their vows to serve him.

And what better way to weaken these bonds than through unadulterated hedonism?

Like the tenacity of Japanese knotweed, once the seeds of adultery were scattered, their venomous vines could not be contained. They would tear through the toughest stone as they would the supposed everlasting promise of martial vows and in turn shred them—making their relationships as fragile as wet paper.

And to do that, Suguru needed you—the object of lust for nearly every virile male monkey in his cult to spur them into a depravity.

Nevertheless, in this showcase of debauchery you would be the only one allowed to touch him—and regardless of any bullshit he feeds his followers, words dripping with a faux sugary coating of ‘sharing oneself wholly with your community’ to tempt his followers into the highest betrayal—he is the only one allowed to touch you.

Finally rising from his post Suguru approaches as you slowly begin to unravel, your senses fraying bit by bit as they are caught between both the fear and the eagerness of finally being touched by Suguru after he’d been gone three whole days.

However, despite your efforts to remain still you are nevertheless startle, not having sensed his presence behind you, when Suguru’s powerful hands rest on your shoulders, both reassuring you and securing you in place. 

Your breath quickens along with the dampening between your legs. Leaking, your arousal begins to secrete onto your thick inner thighs that are dutifully pressed together underneath your paper-thin garment.

One of his followers swiftly sets a cushion before your feet then disappears again as Suguru’s grip tightens and he lowers you, his precious little Bunny, onto your knees.

Anticipation surges through your veins and settles right into the fiery pit of need stirring in your core when you feel him kneel behind you. 

Even blindfolded, Suguru’s hulking presence has you feeling so small in front of him.  

“Let us begin.”

You feel yourself rattle from his voice booming over you while simultaneously Suguru’ swiftly pulls the ties on your robe loose with ease—snatching the garment away and exposing the sides of your naked body to his mass of followers.

Hushed whispers of the congregation immediately erupt, sending tingles racing across your flesh. You can’t help but moan untouched as an unfamiliar heat simmers in your bones. 

Sure, you were getting plenty turned on from being watched—not knowing how many of the familiar faces you greeted daily were now leering at you…but this felt like something…different. 

“Tsk.”

Suguru chides, surveying your body and noticing you as your chubby little clit, already swollen with need, eagerly peeking out from your folds to greet his congregation. 

With a slight smirk Suguru reaches from behind you to deliver a loud reprimanding smack to your pussy. Chastising your cunt’s lack of decorum in front of his followers, the slick moisture of your folds echoes throughout the silence.

Swallowing down your whimpers, you’re left panting, your tongue already out and your saliva falling upon the altar as you felt like you could have cum from just that single smack alone—something was definitely wrong.

If Suguru notices your sudden distress or hypersensitivity, he says nothing. 

Yet his hands never leave you as they begin to roam your body with more urgency, squeezing and kneading—breasts, hips, ass—the drag of his cool palms and blunt nails across your curves leaves scorching arousal sizzling in your very bones. The feelings only intensify tenfold when the sensations of silk begin to twist across your skin. 

Skillfully, Suguru weaves the braided ropes around your form leaving you dizzy, the pull and tightening against your flesh felt like the ropes themselves were alive.

Was this—shibari??

“Not to worry—” Suguru authoritatively pronounces when he hears rising murmurs of the masses, “—the restraints are only for the lovely maiden here, so the pleasure of being taken by a God doesn’t completely overwhelm and destroy her.”

Your brow furrows slightly, puzzled until you hear his husky voice coo heavy against your temple, finally cluing you in.

“Not that your slutty mouth isn’t loud enough already Bunny, but we have to make sure to really sell it. The tea’s effects shouldn’t last too long.”

Your breath hitches in a slight panic remembering the sickly-sweet tea one of the handlers told you to drink before entering the hall. Suguru attempts to console you as one of his hands finds its way to your neck constricting it with a gentle but firm pressure as he nibbles slowly up from your jawline.

“Be my brave lil’ Bun now, hm?”

You mewl softly, nodding as you feel completely overtaken by whatever drug he’d secretly given you. 

Ultimately though as long as it was Suguru, you’d never deny him anything.

Suguru presses a chaste kiss behind your ear as a reward for your compliance.

Continuing his shibari handiwork, Suguru’s low hums vibrate through you from your nape down as he continues to restrain you with the smooth ropes. 

"Bunny ears, bunny ears, playing by a tree. Criss-cross the tree, trying to catch me..." 

The dragonfly harness tie he’s putting you in requires bunny ear knots, the irony of your situation not lost on him and considering your nickname—Suguru changes the rest of the rhyme to tease you further as he coos:

“Bunny girl, bunny girl, fucked into my pole—leaking my cum from out the inside, beautiful and bold.”

Given the go ahead to be loud, you don’t restrain the sob rips from your throat this time as tears slip through your blindfold down your cheeks. You felt like you might die soon if he didn’t fuck you as the need racing through you taunted your every nerve.

But Suguru wouldn’t be rushed and takes his time finishing off your restraints with bight knots, the result Suguru deems is that you tie up beautifully in red shibari contrasting against the color of your skin. 

Although tempted, Suguru never used shibari on you before. Yet the way your soft skin bulged against the ropes digging into the flesh of your doughy body made his cock twitch violently—he’d be doing this again.

You whine when you feel Suguru rise up. You fear him leaving you bound and bare but his hand rests on the top of your head as if to silence your concerns, letting you know he was still near. 

Not that you thought he had gone far as you swear you can smell his very arousal filling the air. 

You weren’t wrong either.

Suguru had since moved to stand in front of you now and the evidence of his own heated erection becomes apparent when his milky beads slowly splat onto your face. Droplets rolling past the tip of your nose, your tongue eagerly darts out to savor his seed.

Moaning like a slut just from the taste of him, your visible hot breath openly salivating, your mouth so eager and ready to be used by him, makes Suguru throb harder. Your chest heaves, tilting forward for more as the restraints pinning your arms behind your back forces you into the most perfect little arch. 

Not being able to deny his lil Bunny her carrot any longer, Suguru taps the tip of his weepy length on your tongue. 

“Wider.”

And you comply.

The cavern of your mouth expanding to showcase ropy webs of spittle. Suguru’s meaty length breaks through them easily though as he slides over your quivering tongue hitting deep into the back of your throat. He’s thick, enormously so and tears sting your eyes under the blindfold as you passively let him use you.

That is, until you hear the command—

“Suck.”

Sighing with relief your mouth encloses the best it can, jaw relaxed yet strained to accommodate his size. You bob down further before rising up to suckle at his tip.

Humming with approval, Suguru is pleased that your restrained arms don’t stop you from being the cock-hungry slut he knows you to be.

True to form, although you cannot stroke him, you still lick him just as nasty—resting the shaft of his heavy cock on your chin while you tongue up the strong vein on the underside.

Completely, uncaring for the mess he leaks all over your face, you continue unhindered as your blindfold and cheeks are soiled in streaks of white. 

A ripple of hushed awe sweeps through the crowd, some who couldn’t resist stroking themselves as they watched with envy. Suguru casts an annoyed glance at them before returning his focus to you.

Filthy ingrates.

Grinding his teeth, Suguru has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at his congregation’s shameless lust over you. Even if you were a perfect slut, the human embodiment of a succubus, they still didn’t deserve to lay eyes on you—let alone stroke themselves filthy to you.

One day he would punish them all for it too. 

Rip out their eyes and summon the Rainbow Dragon curse to devour them all in one fell swoop—but unfortunately not today.

Suguru’s rising agitation makes his cock more impatient, the laps from your teasing whore tongue wasn’t enough. Hastily, Suguru grips the back of your neck, snapping his hips forward to thrust into your mouth fully without warning.

Your eyes shoot open, yet again are met with darkness—still blindfolded. Your breath constricts as he plunges himself into until he feels your nose press into the soft pubes at the base of his pubic bone. 

Allowing you to adjust momentarily, Suguru wipes away some of the tears and pre caking your cheekbones. His gentle caress travels down your face to wrap firmly around your throat that is bulging full of him.

“Good girl, Bunny, just relax.”

His whispered praises stir up the desperate ache in your pussy and you reflexively relax as Suguru weaves his hands around your hair. Fucking himself down your gullet, Suguru throws his head back.

Suguru’s cock had trained your throat well and like usual, it obediently opened for his use, your narrow tunnel of wet heat forming to the very shape of him.

But while your throat was subservient to him, your pussy was not. 

The effects of the tea in full force your cunt coveted the assault your mouth receives. The lust building in your core was maddening.

Fraught with need to relieve any of the tortuous thrum between your legs, cries vibrate through your windpipes restricting tighter around his engorged length causing Suguru to hiss, his own hips stuttering as he almost prematurely releases. 

Curious, Suguru’s eyes pry open to see your sloppy pussy soiling a large spot of moisture onto the cushion—somehow the pillow had shamelessly found its way between your plush thighs for you to hump down on. 

Pulling himself from your mouth with a pop, your voice croaks as you gasp for air but you’re immediately left pouting at the loss of him.

“Waste not the seed of God.”

Your throat is more than willing to have him back inside regardless of the wild fever fluttering in your pussy.

“Now, now—none of that, not when your greedy lil’ cunt can’t bare my cock to go in any other hole but her.” 

Harshly breathing out admonishments for your sluttiness against your neck, Suguru is behind you again, turning your body this time to face the crowd.

Shaking, small tremors of anticipation flowing through you but Suguru doesn’t make you wait long. 

His large hands take their fill of your curves as he snakes them across your body, one hand coming to rest over your womb while the other cupped your cunt. His dexterous middle finger rubbing slow agonizing circles on your puffy clit causing you to sob out.

The amount of slick pouring from you makes it easy for Suguru to manipulate his hand further into your folds, already drenched up to his forearm just from merely swiping his fingers through your sodden lips.

Suguru’s adam's apple bobs as he ruts his hard and weepy erection against the crack of your ass when your greedy walls unabashedly swallow up his long middle finger like it was his cock.

“Only one finger in this immodest lil’ hole and you are ready to cum for me?’ 

Another rapturous cry slips from you as Suguru digs another finger into your core, spreading your legs and granting him deeper access. Your squelching pussy getting finger popped is lewdly on display for the entire hall. 

Your other senses working overtime as Suguru cores out your insides, pushing into your g-spot and steady towards your release. The hand clutching onto your belly now fondles your spongy bud and you throw your head back against his shoulder. 

So close—So close…. Fuckk!

“Hold it.”

His authoritative words command your body to halt soon as you feel yourself about to tumble over your delicious peak. Suguru rips any relief from the insatiable burning in your guts away from you.

“MMMM-FUHHHH, No, no no! Pleasepleaseplease mmmm—Geto-sama! N-Need you!”

You know you should be silent. 

You know it’s almost certain he will punish you further.

But any punishment seems insignificant to the fact you feel you might actually die from need if you don’t get his fat cock inside of you soon, your heart feels like it might seize from distress.

Suguru goes still, his firm grip still on your body as his hands pull taunt on the shibari ropes draped across you, quieting your snivels.

Your fears are somewhat assuaged when you hear him chuckle huskily in amusement.

“Hmm—Shall I bless you?”

The question was spoken aloud, yet it is clearly rhetorical. 

Like you Suguru’s followers also knew to stay silent, yet cries of—“bless her!”, “bless her!”, “make her squirt!”, “stretch her out!”—ring from the congregation. Your cheeks burn with mortification as you had momentarily forgot just how many people are watching you get toyed with.

Yet you’d have Suguru broadcast this nationally if it meant you finally got to feel his cock inside you—anything to keep your insides from further liquifying, your pussy melting slowly in a puddle of its own desperation.

Suguru hums in approval.

Seeing you in this pathetic state for him overcomes any displeasure he feels from the hoard of monkeys chattering out of turn

As a result, Suguru shows you his mercy, waiting no time slotting his leaky cock between your cushy thighs. The bulb of his tip catches against your clitoral hood with every thrust of his girth parting your dewy folds. If it weren’t for his steady hold on the braided ties keeping you upright you surely would have collapsed forward from the toe-curling sensation.

The increased heat from the aphrodisiac drug had his length messing up your pretty pussy before it even got inside you. Your head luls back onto his shoulder as he continues fucking your thighs, unable to hold its weight up any longer.

Yet Suguru won’t allow you to tap out so early.

“No slacking, Bunny.”

Is the only warning you got before Suguru bullies the entire length himself into your tight lil cunt. Your pussy already so pliant from the light teasing and drugs gives him free access to reach your womb all in one go. 

The screech that strains from your abused vocals causes the tension in the room to awash with a heady lust as Suguru’s followers can no longer hold back from touching those around them.

Disgusting monkeys.

Surguru growls to himself but ultimately his plan is working maybe a little too well. He had ensured the tea was brewed for each in attendance as well, all had been delivered a cup before having left their rooms—yet still, the thought of them being so aroused over you sparks a deeper hatred for them in his soul. 

Fucking away what few remaining thoughts, if any, you have in your head, Suguru bucks into you with a faster force. It’s unfair of him, but he cannot control himself from taking out his anger on you. Recklessly Suguru’s hips slam into you in retaliation for being the seductive siren you are, enticing his congregation to disobey him—and most offensive, trapping someone as steadfast as him to covet someone as simple-minded as you. 

Sloshing claps echo from your bodies colliding to encompass the vast room almost as loudly as your moans squeak out, begging him to let you cum—to fill you. 

Your pussy is desperate for his absolution and it’s shown in the creamy rings of sap you drown his cock with.

You were his. 

Suguru would make sure no one here would be able to glance upon you again without remembering how well you slut out only for him.

Pulling the crimson ropes taunt enough to leave marks in your skin Suguru doesn’t realize for how long and just how much force his cock has been plowing into your messy pulsing cunt until he feels the tremors of your violent release rake through your body, snapping him out of his sadistic daydreams of murdering every monkey in the compound as your milky release streams down your soft legs to sully the floor beneath you. 

Sweat jewels across his own brow and Suguru knows he has to finish you for good soon, his concentration could only last so long before your soaked cunny would even prove to weaken even a God such as himself.

Suguru’s his hands crawl in serpentine trails across your middle edging lower until they are strumming impatiently over your clit once more, rubbing you near raw with pleasure.

Who knows how many times you’ve already cum around his cock? 

Truthfully, Suguru doesn’t think you actually stopped since the first time. 

However when he feels you start to limp, fading in his hold his heady voice is in your ear again, lightly nibbling your lobe as he encourages your consciousness to last just a bit longer.

“Show them how well you can take me, Bunny.”

“How you are the only one who won't break before me.” 

His firm grip clutching your jaw, Suguru pulls your face back to him.

“Remember, you are the only one suited to be their god’s obedient little plaything—my greedy lil’ cockwhore.”

Your voice barely above a whisper, you croak out to him urgently.

“S-Sugu…k-kissth me!”

Noting how your mouth is lax, drool glistening in its corners—Suguru doesn’t need to see your eyes to know how utterly fucked-out you are in this moment.

Completely lost in ecstasy, you easily forget yourself calling him by a nickname only you are privy to inside his bedroom. 

However, thankfully for your sake, no one else had heard it. The crowd of bodies too fervently occupied in their own debased copulation.

Yet still, your insolence of calling him anything other than ‘Geto-sama’ in public earns you a pinch so acute on your clit, that you see white even in the darkness of your blindfold.

Garbled cries spill forth as surges of rapturous electricity shock your every pore and in an instant Suguru’s fingers dive into your mouth. Not wanting you to injure yourself, Suguru permits you to bite down on them in lieu of own tongue as you convulse against his body.

The feral bite to his digits as if you’d rip the very flesh off him is only rivaled by your tight pretty pussy clam clamping down on Suguru’s cock enough to push him over the edge as well. Not even having the chance to pull out, your cunt bends Suguru to her will, forcing him to paint your walls white—your womb is a sponge that greedily absorbs his holy essence, squeezing him for every last drop.

The lock you have on him is so intense that Suguru feels his mask of calm begin to slip and he bites his inner cheek bloody lest a feeble moan slip out of him. Suguru always maintains a semblance of composure or he’d be no better than the orgy of primates beneath him. 

Releasing you, slowly you fall forward out of his grasp. Your face meets the cool floor but there's no pain from the impact, at least not enough to overpower the pleasurable spams still buzzing through your core or the dull aching of your neglected nipples now rubbing against the polished hardwood. 

The drug isn’t even close to being out of your system yet and you are wiggling your ass for more. Your delayed consciousness lags before whimper in the realization of your hollowed empty core.

“S-Su-Su—”

Your body is near destroyed but you were still horny as fuck. 

Suguru is quick to hush you, his hands running along the curves of your ass, massaging them. Gently plucking at your shibari knots, Suguru admires how they branded into your flesh. Continuing, his hands skate across your moist skin before pulling your cheeks apart to gaze at  his seed plugging your hole.

He hadn’t meant to cum inside you yet the way your cunt quivers, gaping open as it ejects loads of his cum to splatter onto the floor, he scolds himself for not doing so previously.

“Keep it in.”

Effectively corking your cunt closed, keen loudly as Suguru twists two fingers inside of you.

By now, his followers are fully in their own heat, a pile of withering bodies as pure hedonism had erupted in the auditorium.

No one notices as Suguru’s attendants bring out fresh robes as he hurriedly loosens your knots enough to carry you out, readying himself and you to make a hasty exit. Suguru would surely hurry if the stretch of the monkeys debauched copulation can reached his nostrils.

He'd rather continue your ‘punishment’ in private anyway. Fucking you in front of his congregation and showcasing you as his cocksleeve was not enough of a claim to calm his jealousy.

No, Suguru needed to have claim to you fully.

It’s in that moment Suguru mentally adds one final requirement to your penance—you’d bear him an heir.

A few in fact.

He’d have the perfect excuse to keep you hidden away too—for your protection of course.

You mewl as Suguru gathers up your limp half-conscious form and presses you to himself so possessively it hurts. Yet your mind is still gone, lost in lust as you’re still babbling nonsensical pleas for him to fuck you.

“Hush now, Bunny, my most devout follower, Geto-sama is here to take care of it all. I’ll bless you with my seed and keep you tied to the bed on your back until your belly swells full with my heirs.”

......RESULT: FAILED. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗—𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 ��𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢���𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚒 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation) a/n: this was way longer than i wanted it to be, was originally gonna cut it off before he actually fucked reader but decided to follow through since I owe y'all geto girlies some p in v djsdkjshk (nerd!geto p2 after kinktober i swear!)

comment and reblog! next up either Nanami or Choso—any preference? lmk! (both just need last bits of smut written/final review, they are actually 2 of my fav stories so excited to post them!)

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

[maxlarens]

Driver!reader and oscar starting the race from p1&p2 and before they put their helmets and stuff they kiss one last time on the grid and people go like "awwwww" because it was somehow filmed

i feel like u sent this in to be like a concept or something but I HAD to write it. i’ve been writing for lando so much lately i’ve very much been missing oscar + driver!reader. plus i’ve not ever written them in an established relationship before!

It’s not like you and Oscar are a secret.

It might have been easier that way, to keep your relationship from the public’s prying eyes, but it’s not really your style. It’s not Oscar’s either.

Being public comes with its problems— questions from the media, awkward interviews, your respective PR teams going a little buck wild, extra contracts and NDAs to sign— but it also has its benefits.

You like be able to talk about him, like being able to call him your boyfriend. ‘Oscar Piastri, the driver for McLaren? Yeah, that’s my boyfriend’. You like hearing him say things about you, praise your driving skills, talk about you as a rival and as his girlfriend. It’s all you can do to stop grinning like a madwoman whenever you’re in his vicinity. You equally like that the press can’t comment meaningfully on it, can’t speculate wildly about the nature of your relationship when you’ve made it clear.

Some people hate it. They think you’re a silly little girl with her head full of romantic notions. No room for skill, for ruthlessness. Which is funny, given that Oscar receives only praise for “bagging you”. You think they’re just jealous; if not of the fact that Oscar’s dating you and not them, then of your duality. The way you can love Oscar wholeheartedly and also race Oscar wholeheartedly.

They’re not mutually exclusive in your experience.

Naturally, there’s a massive buzz about you and Oscar being P1-P2 on the starting grid.

You’re not particularly surprised. The MCL’s had been performing well all through practice, just as you and Lewis had. You pull out pole in quail, fastest Q1 and Q2, with Oscar hot on your tail. There’s a barrage of bizarre questions in the media pen,

Do you think Oscar’s grid position will impact your performance during the race? Why would it?

Will this affect your relationship with Oscar? No.

What happens if one of you wins and the other doesn’t? The same thing that happens every time anyone wins ever?

You’re confused by it. Bordering on snarky and sarcastic the fifth time someone asks if you and Oscar might break up over this. Rolling your eyes, thinking your true feelings are obvious, you tell some Italian journalist that yeah no we might break up if he doesn’t let me win.

It’s funny, objectively it’s hilarious. You and Oscar laugh over it later that afternoon. Send the clip to a group chat you’re in with a few drivers closer to your age. And so what if it’s still funny when clickbait articles and gossip sites start saying that the two of you have broken up.

There’s even more buzz about it by the morning of the race. Journalists you’ve already talked to have suddenly become convinced that you and Oscar are on the rocks. You can’t help but play into it a bit— partially for the benefit of your PR team— arriving separately, forgoing the couple snap that you usually grace Kym Illman with, giving vague no-comment answers when the media accost you.

Maybe it’s a little childish, a little dramatic. But it serves them right for jumping to conclusions.

You avoid any presenters on the grid walk, sinking into the protective circle made by your engineers. Staying behind the roped off areas until about 10 minutes to race start when you finally hop over the MCL in P2.

Oscar’s drinking water, looking smug when you push through McLaren engineers, so used to your continued presence that they let you in with ease.

“Hey,” you greet, reaching out to smooth the collar of his fireproofs, “How’s it goin’?”

“Mm,” he hums, cutting a glance behind you, which you take to mean that there are cameras trained on the two of you, a reporter trying to get your attention maybe, “I’d be better if I was on pole.”

You hiss mockingly, “Yeah, too bad. You gonna break up with me about it?”

He raises an eyebrow, lashes brushing his cheekbones as he looks down at you, “I didn’t know you read F1 gossip sites?”

You shrug in response, “Don’t need to. The media make enough noise about it.”

He hums again, smile pulling at his mouth while someone from Mercedes shouts at you to get back. Rachel probably. You should go, you really should. But Oscar’s so close and so cute in those black fireproofs.

“Good luck,” you say,

leaning forward to kiss him, hand on the back of his head. A slip of tongue, not so much to be publicly obscene, but enough to leave him wanting,

“You’ll need it.”

You hear the sweet sound of him laughing as you slip away, back to where your car is sitting on pole. Ignoring the reporter dogging at your heels for a comment you don’t really need to give.

like maybe unrealistic. who cares!

[reiderwriter]

Can I request a Spencer babying the reader BAU and everyone on the team is so done with it but reader is confused and oblivious...?

A/N: Thank you for your request! I've been very much feeling post-Prison/ later seasons Spencer recently, so I hope you enjoy this fic!

Warnings: mostly fluff, implied age-gap, slight mentor/mentee dynamic.

Your first year in the BAU would've been tough had it not been for Doctor Spencer Reid.

It was tough still, but without him, you don't think you'd have been able to handle much of it. He'd been your mentor through each case, taking you under his wing when he wasn't on academic leave, teaching his criminology courses at the FBI Academy.

Those weeks were the hardest, and you found yourself moping about in the office, texting him once or twice a trip for advice.

On one particularly hard case, he'd come back into the office after you'd text. Not to consult on the case, but just to drop you off a chamomile tea and a pastry to brighten your day that little bit.

When he was back, your days were great. He knew so much, and you learnt so much from him so quickly, eagerly consuming his every word. You were so eager to please him that you often forgot others around the two of you.

“Spencer, if you're done fawning after Y/N we have a case to work on,” Emily gently chastised the man as he pulled out your chair for you, ready to sit down to hear the details of your next crime.

“Oh, Emily, thank you, but it's okay. Doctor Reid was just being considerate, I'm sure he'd have done it for anyone.” The shared glances around the room were filled with glib secrecy, but no-one commented further, leaving you slightly baffled.

Those shared looks between the other members of your team had become more common as of late, with each one more worrisome than the next. There was something unsettling about being the only one out of the loop, and as the newest member of the team, and the youngest, it often felt disheartening.

“Y/N, don't worry. Being the youngest member of any team is tough, but you're smart and you're holding your own.” With a pat to your head he walked away, lifting the weight off your shoulders slightly but not fully. You needed to get to the bottom of the BAU's non-verbal communications, and you needed answers.

Your first technique was interrogation. Surely one of them would break and tell you if you laid out your thoughts and feelings clearly.

Surely not, you found, as each member casually and softly blew you off.

“Y/N, you just need to think carefully about how certain members of the team act towards you. How familiar they are. How overly familiar they are.” Tara had at least told you that much, bit it had left you just as confused as the radio silence from the others.

“Everyone has behaved very professionally with me. You've all been very welcoming up to this point, which I appreciate greatly.”

“I wouldn't count gifting you flowers for your first successful case as the most professional act, Y/N,” she said as she sipped her coffee. “But I suppose that is just up to interpretation.

Doctor Reid had sent you flowers after you finished your first case. But there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. You'd both worked on the geographical profile on that case, and together had figured out the species of flower the unsub was using was only cultivated on one local flower orchard. It had cracked the case open and you'd found your unsub hours later.

So the flowers were an extension of that small joint success. That was all.

Your second attempt at figuring out what was going on was observation.

Partially taking Tara’s advice, you tried your best to track the moments when each of the weary looks would come your way.

Overwhelmingly, they seemed to be directed towards Doctor Reid whenever the two of you interacted.

You had to gently inform him of this, before it interrupted both of your abilities to work.

“Doctor Reid, do you know why Emily and Rossi are both currently watching us from between the blinds in their offices?” You whispered to the man, leaning in close to his ear. You were quite sure he didn't know, but a question seemed as good a way as any to broach the topic.

“I do, yes. It's best if you ignore them.”

His nonchalance in the matter shocked you, so sure you were that this would be news to him. You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

“Why are they staring at us?” You finally managed to force the words out in a small squeak, forcing his eyes back to yours.

“Don't worry about it for now, I'll handle it.” He smiled down as you, and the bright gesture washed away more of the tension you'd been feeling in the office. You smiled back at him as he rose from his desk chair and carried himself to the stairs. You giggled when he winked down at you, just as you noticed Emily frantically hurrying away from her office window as Spencer knocked on her door.

As much as he told you to not worry about it all though, you really couldn't help yourself. You found yourself growing more clumsy under the watchful eyes of your entire team, galling more times than you'd care to admit into Doctor Reid's arms. He always caught you, though, and you were thankful you never did yourself serious injury.

You finally got the answers you'd craved out on a case about a month into your struggles.

There was something slightly unsettling about the way the female Sheriff was paying attention to Doctor Reid, and it made you uncomfortable. Your mouth ran dry when she touched his arm, but a small part of you warmed up again when he shrugged her off. Until, at least, you heard him explain why.

“I'm sorry, I'm a germophobe, so I'd really prefer you not touch me.” His voice was calm and steady; it really didn't seem like he was lying.

“You're not pulling my leg? I'm sorry if I came on too strong, but-”

“Why would I pull your leg, I said I don't like physical touch?”

“Well, there was that young girl earlier, Y/N was it? You had your hand on her back as you walked in, so I didn't think…”

The woman had made a good point, and you crept closer to the edge of the door to hear Doctor Reid - Spencer's response.

“Sheriff, if we're done here, do you think I could get back to my job?” You were almost disappointed in the change of topic, but you weren't all that sad to see the Sheriff remove herself from the room. Slipping in behind her you decided to test the new theory that had slipped into your mind in the last minutes.

You called out to him to grab his attention as you walked into the room but before he had the chance to turn and greet you, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your body down against his, enveloping him in a back hug.

It was quite possibly the most familiar position you'd been in with him, but really it wasn't all that different from your usual proximity.

Unlike when the Sheriff casually brushed against him, he didn't stiffen, didn't pull away, but instead melted into your touch, looking up at you with a large grin.

You stood shocked for a minute before grinning back.

“Spencer, I think I know why everyone has been watching us for the last few weeks.” You said, causing his eyes to panic slightly as he acknowledged your words.

“The, uh, the Sheriff was just in here talking about a development either some of the DNA test results-” He desperately tried to change the subject, but you were locked in now, spinning his chair around to face you more as you came eye-to-eye with him.

“I know why the Sheriff was in here, Spencer, I heard it all.”

“It's not what you think,” you paused for a moment as your brow furrowed, trying to figure out if you'd somehow caught the wrong end of the stick.

“So our coworkers haven't been waiting for you to ask me out, having noticed large changes in your body language and attitude around me?”

“It's….exactly as you think.” His face was flushed with pink and your heart skipped a beat at the man in front of you. But you still had some questions.

“And you knew, but you didn't say anything to me despite the fact that I bought it up multiple times?”

“I'm…I'm not good with words," he frowned

“Are you good with dates?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're going to take me on a date when we get back to Quantico. After giving it some thought, Doctor Reid, it seems I've become quite enamoured of you.” You dropped into his lap then, sitting there like a cat pleased to take up residence on its owners legs. He stuttered for a few seconds but then found his voice again, face lighting up.

“Spencer. Please, Y/N, call me Spencer.”

[adieutristana]

hello omg just found your blog and might i say your writing style is so gorgeous?? absolute chefs kiss 💯. aaaaaanywho, i read your post about how the arcane women would be during aftercare. i was wondering if it would be possible to maybe write a dribble drabble of how sevika would react to reader going like completely nv (non verbal) and dissociated after said hankey pankey actions? 🤔 💭.

feel free to ignore if this makes you uncomfortable!! :3 have a good rest of your day/evening and happy holidays!

of course! thank you for the request <3 i appreciate your kind words, it means a lot that you enjoy my writing :) happy (late) holidays to you as well!

summary; sevika and her girlfriend during aftercare. reader goes nonverbal and dissociates.

characters included; sevika

tags/warnings; nothing explicit but very suggestive, comfort (no hurt), fluff, just sweet, nonverbal / dissociative episodes

men and minors dni.

your back hits the mattress, sheets clinging to your sweaty skin.

that was… intense. it usually is with sevika. but good. you can't feel it right now, but you know that in an hour or two, your legs will grow sore. your breath is coming to you slowly, although it's still a bit difficult. you're still slightly trembling. your girlfriend is in the next room, quickly rolling a cigar before she joins you in bed. it’s become a routine of sorts.

roll the cigar, climb in bed with you, hold you, talk about whatever’s on yours or her mind. sevika was always gentle, doting afterward. looking out for you, then herself. before entering a relationship with her, you’d never expected her to be affectionate. she never expected herself to be affectionate. but the moment your eyes locked with her own, things changed.

sevika slowly makes her way to the bed, sitting down next to you with her back propped on the headboard as she uses a blanket to cover her lower half. she comes to light her cigar, taking a long drag before looking down at you.

“you alright?”

you make a little ‘mm’ noise, your eyes fixed on the ceiling. your breathing has evened out for the most part, although sweat still clings to your skin and you’re still a bit shaky. sevika purses her lips, leaning down over you slightly. it’s not often that you give her this… lackluster of a response.

“you sure you’re okay?”

she presses, earning a slow nod from you. not much is getting through to you right now… it was good. amazing. but right now, you just feel so out of it. an out of body experience, in some way.

sevika lets out a heavy sigh and puts her cigar out in a bedside ashtray, deciding to inch closer to you. she's concerned, to say the very least. did she go too far? did she do something that she wasn't supposed to? not notice something you had said? she hesitantly drapes an arm over your chest, laying on her side as she takes in your flat expression.

“did i hurt you?”

she asks. always straight to the point, but she’s never seen you like this after sex. she’s worried. the anxiety is quickly relieved after she sees you frantically shaking your head. no, she didn’t hurt you. she wasn’t too rough. but that doesn’t explain why you’re just blinking with a dazed look, as if you’re only partially present. you’re aware of what she’s saying, at the very least.

but she won’t press. she’s concerned. she knows that you’re not completely yourself right now for whatever reason. she doesn’t want to force an answer out of you if you don’t want to give it to her at this moment. so instead, the woman opts to gently pull you into her arms and hold you close to her chest.

she feels your arms slowly wrap around your waist, and your head nestling into her chest. this is good. this is a good thing.

“i take it you’re just not up to talk right now, huh…?” sevika mutters, reaching to begin gently running her fingers along your bare back. lightly raking her fingernails in a soothing motion, the cold metal of her other arm slightly grounding you. “that’s alright. i can talk instead.”

sevika continues running her fingers over your back, a rhythmic motion that she hopes serves to soothe.

"you did great for me... you always do." she mutters, that low drawl of hers evident. "and you're doing great now. i don't know what's going on... maybe you need time to process?"

sevika wonders, maybe more to herself than to you. nonetheless, she presses a gentle kiss to your temple. lips the slightest bit rough, fingernails still going up and down your back.

"i don't know. but i'll be here."

she smiles when you slowly nod, making eye contact with her. you lean slightly closer to her touch, seeking the warmth that she offers. a calloused hand, firm body, soft touch. the smell of smoke and sweat. it's everything that you could hope for in this moment, paired with that low voice of hers.

"there you are."

your eyes looking at hers. what a privilege. this isn't something sevika thought she'd ever get, only having had flings and brothel visits in the past. she didn't think romance was something in the cards for her, and she didn't think she'd ever particularly want it. yet here she is, holding a woman who she loves and who loves her in return. after showing that love to her.

if that woman isn't feeling the most herself right now, then that's fine. at least she knows she enjoyed herself, but she'll be here while she finds what she needs.

"and you look as beautiful as ever."

she murmurs, moving her hand from your back to gently grasp at your shoulder. running a calloused hand up and down your upper arm in slow, caring motions. her eyes take in your expression, relaxed and a bit dissociated. you're always beautiful to her.

the curve of your cheekbones, the edge of your jawline, the softness of your cheeks, the way your lips curl up the slightest bit. sevika could melt. gods, she feels strange admitting that to herself. she could melt from how stunning her girlfriend is. who would've thought?

she continues to press light kisses to your face- your cheeks, your forehead, the bridge of your nose, over any freckles or moles you may have. this might be on sevika's list of favorite things to do, to just take you in. the way your eyes flutter closed as you feel her lips on you.

"let me know when you come to, but i'll be here until then... and after."

sevika murmurs, slowly dragging her thumb along your bottom lip. she can't deny that she's still a bit worried, although part of her will always worry. that's her job, isn't it? to make sure you're okay, you're safe, you're happy.

but right now, you just need her. and sevika is more than happy to give you everything within her reach.

[7ndipity]

Every Little Thing

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you’ve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him.

Word Count: 2k(wtf?!)

Warnings: angst, swearing, only partially proofread

A/N: Thanks so much to the lovely anon who requested this! This story, I... I don’t know what happened, I went from struggling to get it to work at all to getting waayy too carried away. I kinda had to stop myself at the end before it shifted into something else, but maybe if y’all want a part two, we can pick up from there?

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

As you got off the elevator, you couldn’t help the faint bounce in your step as you made your way to Yoongi’s studio, your bag slung over one shoulder, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks for the two of you to share.

Ever since you and Yoongi(and in turn, the rest of the members) had become friends, The Genius Lab had become a hideaway of sorts for you. Whenever you were feeling stressed or overwhelmed, you knew you could call Yoongi, and he would tell you to come over, letting you camp out on his couch while he worked, occasionally asking for your thoughts or opinions on a specific song or line.

As you neared his studio door, you noticed it was slightly ajar, allowing the voices from inside to slip out into the hall, quickly recognizing them as Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s.

“You wanna come to lunch with me and Hoseok?” Namjoon asked.

“Agh, I can’t, I told Y/n’s we could hang out today.” You heard Yoongi’s chair creak as he stretched, letting out a groan.

“Again? That’s like the third time this week, people are gonna start thinking you’re a couple or something at this rate.” Joon joked, making your cheeks flush lightly.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Yoongi replied, sounding tired. “They’re just being clingier than usual, you know what they’re like.”

You frowned at his words. What did he mean by that?

“I know it’s just cause they’ve been stressed lately,” Yoongi continued. “But honestly, it’s gotten to the point where it’s weirder for them to not be here.”

Joon chuckled. “I’m surprised you don’t find that annoying.”

“I didn’t say that I don’t,” Yoongi said. “But it’s Y/n, so I let it slide. Anyway, on that track you showed me-”

You stepped back from the door, the sudden tightness in your chest making it slightly difficult to breathe as you quietly made your back down the hall to the elevators. As the metal doors closed, you replayed what you had overheard in your head.

Yoongi had always told you that he didn’t mind you hanging around, but maybe you had started to abuse that privilege, grown too dependent on him. Was that how he really felt about you? Had you become a nuisance? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything?

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you quickly found his number and hit the call icon, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat before he picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, are you almost here?” He answered, sounding much brighter than a few minutes ago.

“Uh, actually, I don’t think I can make it today.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concerned.

No, one of my best friends hates me. “Yeah, everything’s fine, something just came up, sorry.” You bit your lip, managing to slip out of the building without running into any of the other members and making your way down the street to the bus stop.

“Okay.” He sounded unconvinced. “Is it anything I can help with, or-?”

“No, no it’s-, it’s a work thing.” You said, the words falling flat on your own ears. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright.” He said reluctantly. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up, letting out a deep breath.

You could tell he hadn’t believed you, but you didn’t really care at the moment. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, why should you be any different?

Suddenly presented with the afternoon to yourself, you decided to head to the park, wandering along the river as you thought over everything.

You and Yoongi had come here together not long after you had moved to the city, the last few blooms of the cherry blossom season clinging on stubbornly to their branches. He’d promised to bring you back the next year, so you could see them in their full glory at peak bloom.

Of course, life and work had gotten in the way, as they often did, and before either of you had realized, the season had nearly passed again before he could keep his word. You’d told him at the time that it didn’t matter, you’d just been happy to spend time with him, a recurring theme for you apparently…

Had you been a bother to him back then as well? You didn’t believe so, but the earlier sting of his words had left you questioning everything, even if you knew it might be an over-reaction.

It was dark by the time you made it home, flopping down on the sofa with a tired sigh as you contemplated your options.

So you’d been bugging him lately, that was an easily fixable problem, right? Just leave him alone for a bit, it was as simple as that, wasn’t it?

You weren’t so sure as your phone suddenly buzzed on the cushion next to you, drawing your attention to Yoongi’s name illuminated on the screen. You’d forgotten you said you’d call him.

‘Hadn’t heard from you, just wanted to make sure you’re okay?’ The text read.

Now who’s the clingy one? Was your immediate first thought.

‘I’m fine, just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.’ You typed shortly before turning off your phone and going to bed, with no intention of texting him the next day unless he did so first.

For the next week, you tried to keep up with your new normal; you didn’t go by the studio, you avoided texting him unless he did first, and generally avoided his invites to hangout with vague excuses.

One place you couldn’t avoid him though was dinner with the other members. It was a monthly tradition that you usually looked forward to, but as you stepped through the door of the restaurant, you only felt a wave of nervousness, for what though exactly you didn’t know.

“Y/n!” Tae quickly hopped to his feet to give you a hug, the others all greeting you enthusiastically. You noticed Yoongi didn’t speak, only nodding to you politely, but his eyes never left you for a second, seeming to study your every move.

“Y/n, do you want my seat? I know you usually prefer to sit by Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook asked, starting to get to his feet, but you quickly waved him to sit.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to move for me, I’m fine over here.” You said, settling in the free seat next to Jimin, which happened to be directly across the table from Yoongi.

Everyone quickly settled into their usual routines and conversations, the mix of voices blurring into an almost comforting buzz, allowing you to zone out for a moment and relax, but a single low voice managed to snap you back to attention.

“I haven’t seen you all week.” Yoongi said quietly, a noticeable heaviness in his voice.

“Yeah, things have just been kinda busy.” You tried to say convincingly, but it was hard to pull off under his gaze. Luckily, Jin asked you about something from the show you’d been watching and gave you an easy out of the conversation.

You managed to get through the evening well enough, talking with the others, even making plans with Jimin for him to help you pick out some new furniture for your apartment. You’d felt Yoongi’s eyes on you all evening, but hadn’t said anything.

It was later that night when you were pulled from sleep by the sound of someone knocking persistently on your front door.

Cautiously, you climbed out of bed and padded to the door.

Who’s there?” You called anxiously, trying to remember where you’d put your old baseball bat, in case you needed to defend yourself.

“It’s Yoongi.”

You froze, staring at the door in surprise for a second before going over and peering out the peephole.

Sure enough, he was standing on your doorstep, causing a brief sense of relief that was quickly replaced with confusion and the same nervousness from earlier.

Not quite knowing what else to do, you cracked the door open slowly, taking in his slightly disheveled state; hair mussed and faint bags under his eyes. He looked the same way as when he would pull all-nighters at the studio.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Why’ve you been avoiding me?” He responded with his own question, staring you down.

“I-, I haven’t-”

“Don’t lie.” He stopped you.

Glancing around quickly, you pulled him inside, not wanting to have this discussion in the hall.

“You’ve been dodging my texts and calls, you wouldn’t sit with me at dinner, you asked Jimin for help with furniture shopping, which you know he’s terrible at.” He continued as you closed the door. “So, tell me please, what has happened to make you start ditching me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I was annoying you?” You snapped.

He stopped, staring at you in confusion. “What?”

“I heard you and Joon talking last week,” You said, his face falling as the memory came flooding back. “About how clingy I’ve been, and how I’ve been annoying you by hanging around so much.”

“You haven’t been-”

“Don’t.” It was your turn to cut him off. “Don’t try to tell me that it’s not true or you didn’t mean it. What I want to know is why you weren’t just honest with me?” You hated the way your voice started to shake as you spoke. “Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off or something? Why do you put up with me if I'm such an annoyance?!”

“Because I fucking love you!” He blurted out.

You froze, staring at him in shock. “What?!”

“I-, I love you.” He said quietly.

“You love me?” You repeated, hurt and frustration still churning in your stomach, not letting you take his words to heart. “You love me, but you think I’m annoying?”

“I think everyone’s annoying!” He tossed his hands up in frustration. “The difference is that I like your annoyance!

“I like that you’re loud and weird and make terrible jokes, I like that you nag me to take better care of myself.” He said. “I like that you’re happy holed up in my studio with me. I like that you sing along to every song that you recognize, even without realizing that you’re doing it.”

He took a cautious step closer, pleading with his eyes as he spoke.

“I like every little annoying thing that you do, because they’re what make you you. I’m so sorry that I made you think anything otherwise.”

You hadn’t moved as he spoke, fighting the tremble in your lip as your eyes had misted over with tears.

“Y/n?” He asked anxiously.

You didn’t speak, choosing instead to lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him in a bruising hug. He staggering back slightly at the force of the collision, arms immediately coming up to hold you in an equally tight embrace.

“I missed you.” You sniffled, burying your face in his chest.

“I missed you too.” He replied, holding you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “I’m also sorry for telling you I loved you in a shitty way.”

“Eh, it’s kinda on brand for us, honestly.” You teased, making him let out a huff of laughter.

“I guess you’re right, fuck.” He shook his head.

“You wanna try again?” You offered.

He pulled back to look at you. “Really?”

You nodded. “If you want to.”

He nodded, pulling away enough to take your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his lips together nervously, eyes shaking slightly as he met your gaze.

“I love you, Y/n.”

He’d barely gotten the last word out before your lips were on his, effectively shutting you both up for the next several minutes.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were blown wide, lips swollen and red from your assault, his breaths coming out in shaky puffs.

“I love you too, by the way.” You said, grinning at his slightly dazed expression.

“Cool, c’mere.” He said, pulling you back in, making you giggle as he eagerly reconnected your mouths.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[callsign-datura]

a/n: sorry for the long wait! 4.7k words, the result of my last poll, simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p-in-v, creampie, hair-pulling, degradation, talking to the pussy

ghost didn't have many hobbies, but he did have a few he liked the most. His third favorite was being at the shooting range, his second favorite was cleaning his guns, and his first favorite was sparring.

he often sparred to ensure he wasn't getting rusty with certain hand-to-hand techniques. usually with soap, or gaz. late at night when he had energy to expel, or unwanted emotions to get out.

that's why he found himself in the gym, this time off the mat, wrapping his busted knuckles with bandages. he was dressed in gray sweats, a black wife-beater, and the mask. he flexed his fingers as he tucked the edge of the bandage beneath the edge of another at his wrist, bringing both arms above his head. he stretched, grunting quietly before letting his arms drop to his sides, squinting at the way the fluorescent lights made his head ache.

the door creaked open slowly. he tilted his head, watching you enter. you looked up and met his gaze, and he turned his head away and began wrapping his other hand with the same bandages.

you and ghost were cordial at the very least and hostile at the most. it wasn't that you got along-- sometimes his demeanor just pissed you off. so closed off, and for what? working with another person was better than working alone, to you, and you didn't understand why in the hell he was so rude to you.

you huffed under your breath, not expecting him to be in the gym so late. you watched his shoulders flex, the wife-beater a darker shade around his neck with the sweat that dampened it. he looked like he'd been hard at work for a few hours, the bandages around his knuckles tainted with a deep shade of red.

"what's the point of wrapping your hands after you've busted them on the bag?" you call, watching his shoulders shift a bit as he stops wrapping.

"i forgot to do it before." he retorts, not bothering to face you.

"didn't nurse sullivan tell you to do it before?" you put your hands on your hips. your tone is concerned, and partially, you are, but the other part of you is just looking to get on his nerves. you came here to train yourself, but messing with him seemed a bit more fun. "thought you'd remember what a nurse told you to do."

"didn't ask ya to remind me what sullivan said, i know what m'doin'." he finishes wrapping his other hand and goes back to the bag, getting into position and bringing his fists up. he starts throwing punches, the jangle of the chain and the thuds of his fists hitting the bag echoing in the room.

you approach him. "you know, sparring might be better than boxing." you offer, folding your arms behind your back as your gaze flickers over his stature. he's by no means a small man, and it's been a while since you've had the chance to spar with the other guys on base.

ghost's hands shoot out to still the bag, and his head tilts to the left. brown eyes peer at you from beneath the mask, and he huffs through his nose, looking you up and down. "tch. y'got a death wish? i've got a few inches on ya... not to mention pounds."

"i know you do. it'd be good training for me." you hum, looking to the side, then back to him. "for you too, maybe. having an agile opponent might be a bit challenging for someone so... lumbering."

"lumbering?" he asks, tilting his head as he turns to you completely. "and you... agile? got an ego, don't ya?" though he's excited at the prospect of sparring at all, so he's considering it.

you can tell you're piquing his interest, so you push it, ignoring the little jabs. "maybe a small one. sounds fun though, doesn't it? I heard it's been a while since you've got the chance."

he sighs. he feigns resignation, but there's a sparkle in his eye that you don't miss. he considers it for a few moments before he starts skulking in your direction. "you're gonna regret that," he huffs, stopping just short from you. "i've got some rules. one, you lose after i've pinned ya for 10 seconds. two, no dirty shots. i don't pull y'r hair, you don't kick me in the nuts. got it?"

he sounds so serious, you chuckle. "alright," you nod, agreeing to his terms. then you take your position on the furthest end of the mat while he takes position at the other end.

"ya ready?" he gruffs, and you nod, putting your fists up.

"alright then, you get the first shot."

"really?" you tilt your head, taking a few steps forward as you begin circling in the center of the mat.

"mm-hmm." he hums, rubbing his arms before putting his fists up. "wanna see what you can do."

you huff, then you go towards him, side-stepping and reaching out to grab his arm. you yanked on it, and he barely moved. he almost paused, somewhat amused that you even tried that. you let go and move away from him and he follows-- throwing a few punches without expecting them to land.

they don't. one disadvantage of him being so much bigger than you is the speed difference. you're so much faster than him. you can dodge faster, but if he finally gets his hands on you, you're done.

you're moving around the mat, dodging his punches and dodging it when he reaches for you, and he's growing increasingly frustrated.

"godammit, quit fuckin' moving." he hisses, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you in. he lets go to grab you by the shoulders, but before he can, you duck and use most of your strength to kick his shins, trying to debilitate him so you can get away. it doesn't work. you scramble away and he follows, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you close. he turns around to throw you off before shoving you to the ground and pinning you there by your shoulders, his body coming down on yours as his knees cage you in on either side of your hips.

you're squirming, hips lifting and hands clawing at his wrists in an effort to get him to let you go. his eyes narrow, getting some sort of satisfaction at seeing you squirm beneath him.

"one," he begins counting, signaling to you that you only have a few seconds to get away. his grip on you tightens, and you're almost sure he's gonna win when you get an idea. your grip tightens on his wrist before you drag your hand up it, digging your nails into the surface of his skin. you apply enough pressure to cut the skin, and his grip releases at the same time he hisses. he doesn't let go, but you take the opportunity to throw his hands off of you and turn around in his hold, tucking your legs in against yourself and pushing the bottoms of your feet against him to throw him off. then you scramble out from beneath him, getting up and putting distance between the both of you.

"hmm," he says, eyes focusing on you before he gets to his feet. "slippery fuckin' thing." he laughs, looking at the arm you cut up. crimson dribbles from the thin red lines you've left behind, and he rolls his head, cracking his neck as he goes towards you again.

there's something different in his eyes-- he's surprised that you're putting up such a fight.

"never expected a little thing like you to fight so dirty." he says, his voice low and husky as he stops a few feet away from him, intense eyes following you as you circle him. it's obvious to him you have no intention of making the first move again, so he opts to play with you a bit instead.

"y'r crafty too, huh?" he says, his voice mocking somewhat. "didn't expect you to claw me up like that. i mean, it worked..." he turns as you do, and your eyes narrow.

"i'm enjoyin' this one, that's for sure. maybe i should make sure that you're gonna keep comin' back?" he says, his voice husky again. there's a tone in it. it's almost like he's taunting you, or-- no, that isn't it...

"it's a shame they won't scar, though." he takes another step towards you, and you look behind you to gauge how much space you have until you step off the mat. you stay where you are.

"i like having trophies from my fights... reminds me how much i enjoyed it." he keeps rambling, and you're not sure what the point of all this is. it makes you feel fuzzy inside, kind of, like he's complimenting you.

he gets closer, and his eyes narrow further. you know he's smirking beneath the mask. you look meek-- is he flirting with you? is your lieutenant flirting with you? is simon "ghost" riley flirting with you??? he throws a few lazy punches, knowing you'll dodge them.

"not at all. it's a compliment, actually. small, nimble. i bet you rarely get into any sticky situations, huh? like a rabbit," he chuckles, his voice amused as he lets go, then shoves your shoulders hard enough to make you stumble. then, to make you lose your footing, he kicks your feet out from under you.

"ain't very often i get to fight people like you, after all." he hums, not even sounding like he's taking it seriously. you're visibly nervous, and you hold your fists up defensively. he leans forward, grabbing your arm and pulling you close. the rational part of you is laughing at your idiocy, but the other part of you is melting because-- he is flirting.

"ugh-- people like me? is that an insult?" you say, your chest close to his as he leans down. his face is inches from yours, and you can feel his breath against you.

you yelp, and you fall on your ass. the sudden tone shift is enough to send you spiraling. the way he talks to you makes something heat in your stomach. he gets on top of you again, one of his legs between yours and the other on the outside of you. he puts his hands on the mat between your arms, and he stays leaned over you.

"well... not really fighting back now, are you? that's a shame..." he huffs, his gaze drifting from your face down... your chest is heaving, and your eyes are shut. your hips shift, and he moves his leg up at the same time. the curve of his thigh bumps against your clothed cunt, and it makes you jolt.

"hey!" you hiss, not expecting the contact or the look in his eyes when you finally look at him.

"what?"

"i... i thought you said no dirty shots," you retort, your voice somewhat weak. you look away, your body flooding with some sort of warmth that his closeness produced in you.

he snorts, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "ain't a dirty shot if you're already on the ground and you've already lost. it's just... overkill." but he stays over you, despite the fact he just won. his gaze rakes over you in a hungry manner, and you can hear him suck in a breath when your back arches up off the ground.

"...you can get off me now," you murmur, avoiding eye contact. you feel shy, all of a sudden, and kind of pissed. he just won because he was toying with you on purpose to win. he was messing with your feelings! "get off me." you hiss, trying to get out from under him.

his eyebrows go up, sensing your sudden hostility. his eyes narrow. he lifts a hand and pins your shoulder down. "ah ah ah, the fuck are you doing? did i say you could get up?" he was enjoying this before, but now that you're fighting back like this he's a bit irritated.

your squirming just results in you unintentionally grinding yourself against his thigh. you suck in a breath when it happens, and your eyes narrow.

"you're such an asshole" you grumble. despite your arguing and your resistance, you press yourself against his leg.

he looks down when your hips shift. he watches the way they move, and when you finally relax, he moves above you and intentionally moves his leg to see your reaction.

your face flushes, and you whimper, looking away.

"well... look at that." he murmurs, his voice lilted and knowing. he looks up at you and makes eye contact, pushing it against you again to elicit another noise from you. you moan once again and your lips curl, eyebrows knitting in response to the jolt of pleasure he causes.

"isn't that cute?" he teases. "does that feel good?" he says, his voice almost mocking as he lifts his thigh and presses it against you, gently pushing it against you in an even motion to make you squirm even more.

"g-god, you're such an ass," you moan, body falling limp and losing whatever ounce of fight you had. you still mouth off. "do you do this with everyone you spar with? i-is that why soap is always asking you to spar with him?"

he rolls his eyes. "shut up, girl. i'm surprised you have the audacity t' speak to me that way when you're gettin' off on my fuckin' thigh." his voice is almost scolding, but he doesn't grind his leg against you any harder. just goes slow... it's almost torturous. you can already feel yourself drenching your panties. it's a culmination of this entire thing. the way he smells, how close he is to you, the way he's staring at you so hungrily... all of it is making you salivate, except your mouth isn't the only thing drooling.

your head falls back, and your breathing is already so heavy. he tilts his head forward, and his lips are on your neck. you feel the wetness of his lips, the itching brush of peach fuzz, the fabric of his mask rolled up over his nose against your neck-- all of it makes you shudder beneath him. he nips at the flesh of your neck, pulling gently and kissing at the reddened flesh afterward. he puts his leg down, and places himself between your legs, one hand cupping the back of your thigh and lifting it to press himself against you. you feel the outline of his dick through his sweats, semi-hard but at attention. the girth of it catches your attention, and when he feels your body stiffen he chuckles.

"hush. we'll make sure it fits, doll." he murmurs, his voice husky and low, sending shudders through you with how close he is to you. he doesn't grind into you from that position. rather, his hands travel up and down your sides as he kisses your neck, sucking small hickeys and trailing them down. his hands shove your shirt up and over your chest, doing the same with your bra. he's intense, and very aware of what he wants-

you.

his eyes focus on your tits. round, perky and the perfect size for him to hold. so he slides one hand up to cup and fondle your tit, his thumb quickly traveling over your nipple. it pebbles and perks beneath his touch and against the cool air, and he hums. he salivates. he wants to taste your skin. drag his tongue over your flesh, feel the goosebumps that raise beneath his tongue. but he can't. he has to make sure you come back for more and that's exactly how he will.

and as always, he'll get what he wants, one way or another. you squirm beneath him, and noises attempt to claw out of your throat but you keep quiet. you don't want to let on how much you're enjoying this, but the subtle rock of your hips gives it away.

"tsk tsk tsk. are you really this impatient? haven't even done anything yet." he snickers, pulling back to look down at you. he pulls his mask back down before you can see anything, and he leans forward with his hips a bit. your legs still hover against his hips, your knees drawing together as a result of your embarrassment. your lips part and you pant, chest heaving once again.

his other hand slips down to your hip, lifting your legs up and together, over his shoulder so he can pull your pants and panties up your thighs.

"such a pretty girl. you know, i've had my eyes on you for a bit..." he starts. once your pants are around your thighs and he has enough access to you, he brings the hand that was on your boob, to your mouth. he eases his pointer and middle finger into it and your eyebrows knit at the taste of sweat. "suck," he instructs. you do, cheeks hollowing briefly as your tongue laves along his fingers, coating them in spit.

"hmm... always wondered whether or not you were the obedient type, but i never got a chance to break you in and find out." he chuckles, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and bringing that hand between your legs. he drags the tips of his fingers through your folds, humming when he feels how wet you are. you can hear how sloppy it is, and he laughs.

"i guess i wouldn't be breaking you in as much as her," he snickers. your face reddens and you look to the side, panting once again as he starts easing those two fingers into your sopping cunt. you comprehend then that the her was your pussy.

"mm-hm, tight, as i thought. are you that nervous?" he teases, tilting his head as he scissors those two fingers inside you. the feeling knocks the air from your lungs, and you gasp, bringing both hands to your face to hide how embarrassed you are. despite that, your body gives away how excited you are, your hips shifting and your back arching as his thick fingers curl inside you.

if you're moaning, your pussy is screaming. the wet noises of his fingers working you out is embarrassing and brings heat to your face, but you can't really focus on that.

it sounds so lewd, and it is. you let out a gasp as he pushes them deeper, the sheer girth of his fingers causing your gummy walls to strain. your thighs clench and your hands ball into fists. his other hand pulls your pants and panties off completely, humming as your legs fall apart.

"s'it that good, doll?" his voice is husky and low, teasing. he's getting off on your reaction to his touch. "c'mon, girl, look at me..." his fingers stop, and you whine, shifting to look at him. they start moving as soon as your eyes fix on his, and your lips part. you moan again, your lips curling.

"c'mon, talk to me." he encourages, and his touch is downright sinful in comparison to his tone. "does it feel good? this what you wanted when you started grinding yourself on my leg?" he chuckles to himself. "never woulda thought you were this kinda girl if i hadn't of seen it myself..."

his thumb moves, and flattens over your clit once he turned his wrist over. he rolls circles over it slowly, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on the outside of your thigh.

you squirm and whimper, and it takes everything in him not to just pounce on you. instead he opts to listen to your moans and the sound of his fingers inside you. he curls his fingers and inches them deeper until your body jolts, and he hums in approval at your reaction.

"s'that the spot...?" he asks, leaning forward as he curls his fingers against that spot again. you jump, the coil in your stomach growing ever tighter as you moan in affirmation. the pleasure is making your head feel light, your eyes fluttering shut again and your head falling back against the mat. you're squirming and shifting again, and you feel sweat on your neck and chest. you whimper a bit, the air feeling sticky and humid between you both. it's hard to tell whether that's just your body heat, or it's him.

and you whimper at him. you can feel your orgasm encroaching, and he can feel it too. your cunt squeezes around his fingers and he can feel you throbbing. your body tenses, and your orgasm is right there--

he removes his fingers. you slump down, tilting your head to the side and huffing in frustration when you feel so suddenly empty.

"...this proves that you're just... an asshole..." you grumble, bringing your legs together.

he's thick. slight upward curve, blushing tip and definitely not lacking in length.

there's silence on his end, and when you look at him, he's pulling his sweats and boxers down.

"can't be much of an asshole if m'gonna dick you down," he purrs. you don't look, but you feel his cock hit the side of your thigh once he takes it out. a hand wrapped around the base, he gives a few lazy pumps, smirking to himself beneath the mask when you lift up to look.

"hmm? s'this good enough for you? such a rude girl, calling me names," his voice is teasing. he shifts forward a bit and then lines himself up with you before he moves both hands to cup the back of your knees and lift them. he moves you just a bit closer. He shifts his hips, then without warning, pushing himself into you up to the hilt.

you gasp. he's big, and you wish he had told you he was going to do it so quickly, because you weren't expecting it. his size takes a bit for you to adjust to, the sting and the stretch causing you to squirm once again. he grips your hips to still you, and he hums. "shh... you can take it, can't you?" you continue to whimper, and he laughs. "so pathetic. s'it too big for you?" he mocks, leaning over you once again.

"so fuckin' messy. look at you, girl. maybe this-" he emphasizes that with another particularly hard thrust that causes his tip to attack your g-spot-- "is what you wanted all along. maybe you asked me to spar cause you wanted me to fuck the shit out of you," he huffs, his voice low and raspy and his movements aggressive. you can barely speak aside from squeaks and squeals, the feeling of his hips slamming into yours causing your vision to go white. you couldn't respond outside of gasps.

god. yes. yes, it was too big-- and it took you a while to adjust to it. he started moving once your hips started shifting into his. he tilted his head forward, tucking it into your neck and grunting quietly. you're still sensitive, so when your lips part in a moan, it all feels so intense. your back arches and your legs push apart, welcoming him. his thrusts are shallow, yet careful, (for now), and he grunts into your ear. you squeeze around him, and your head tilts back as you moan out, hands finding his shoulders and digging your nails into it. Your eyebrows knit and you whine.

"y'r pussy's noisier than you are. listen to her," he goes quiet and fucks into you harder just to emphasize the paps of his hips hitting the back of your thighs and the squelches of your pussy clenching around his cock. your slick dripped down your cunt, getting his sweats damp a bit with it-- he moved one hand up to pull your hair, tilting your head back so he could talk in your ear.

"fuck," he cursed, pulling your hair again and chuckling when you cried out. you were lost in the feeling. the feeling of him, the feeling of his cock and how roughly he fucked you.

"hah!" you mewled, your back arching up off the mat. you grabbed at his shoulders in utter desperation. your eyes crossed and you tilted your head to the side, your body jolting with each thrust he offered you- getting gradually rougher.

"y'sound so slutty, moaning for me like that... keep doin' it, pretty," he hummed, staying close as he rutted into you with a force that might as well have caused you to shriek. he let go of your leg, and both of them closed around his waist, ankles locking at his lower back.

"m'gonna cum," you whimpered, your voice soft and meek. he chuckled, and his movements got a bit more aggressive. he lifted himself up onto his hands, keeping them just over your shoulders and looking down to where your bodies met. his fat cock was pounding into you over and over, the squeezes of your pussy enough to make him moan a little bit himself. he looked up, meeting your gaze.

when he finally came, you were still on cloud nine, wailing and squirming beneath him when his hips slammed into yours and he spilled spurts of hot cum into your pussy. the sensation was almost enough to make you cum again-- especially when he ground his hips into yours, his tip grinding into your g-spot. plus his lovely groans were sending you straight to heaven. the noises he made were mostly groans as he fucked into you, making your entire body shudder from the feeling and the sensations flooding your body.

your eyes were glazed over. visibly lost in the pleasure and focused on nothing but your impending orgasm, he took that as encouragement. he took your legs again, sitting up and pulling them together but pushing them against your front. the angle allowed him to get impossibly deeper. each time he slammed into you, his tip hit your g-spot, applying enough pressure to graze the plug of your womb and create more tingling, burning pleasure.

"oh! oh, fuck--" you gasped, folding a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. your heart was pounding in your ears, and you swore you almost fainted when your orgasm finally fell over you. the feeling of the pressure releasing had you seeing stars, shaky crying moans leaving your mouth. your back arched and tears pricked the corners of your eyes. you were sure you'd be bruised on the inside by the next day.

"that's it baby," he hissed, his grip on your legs tightening. "atta girl..." he purred, his tone tense with his own incoming orgasm. he wanted to help you ride out yours first, so he did. his hips kept that brutal, hungry pace, slamming into your drooling pussy with a fervor he didn't even know he had. he wasn't much of a talker in the midst... you didn't notice that he'd gone quiet, though, too absorbed in the aftermath of your orgasm.

he groaned out, his eyebrows knitting beneath the mask as he tilted his head forward to watch himself pound you. "take it... that's it, fuck..." his tone was still encouraging, but it faded as his pace started to slow. your entire body was still ebbing with pleasure and tingling with the overstimulation of your orgasm, and you were almost struggling to come back to the earth. you were both still panting.

when he pulled out of you and tucked his cock away and fixed his sweats, he looked at you-- his tone was full of pride. "well... fuck... look at you, huh?" he tilted his head, sounding awfully smug. he retrieved your pants and panties and helped you get re-dressed.

"you know... that wasn't the kind of session i was expecting, but damn... i think that was the best i've had in a while." he stood up and helped you to your feet, patting your ass once or twice as he held you up while you regained your bearings.

"...whatever, ghost," you grumbled, still holding onto your stubbornness even after you'd been sent to heaven and brought back.

"you know where to find me. don't be afraid to come get some if you're in need," he hummed, "not like i'm in a position to deny ya."

[wonderjanga]

Stuck

Billy has been Captain Marvel since the middle of April. It’s the beginning of July. And that’s not how long Billy’s been Marvel as a whole, no, he’s been a hero for nearly two years. That’s currently how long Billy’s been in his Marvel form.

This all happened because of a, quite frankly stupid mistake. It wasn’t even a magical mistake, just an ignorant and naive one.

Billy: *walking past an alley and hears the sound of someone hurt*

His first mistake was even stopping because of that voice.

Billy: *hesitantly walks into the alley* “Hello? Is someone hurt-”

Thief: *stabs him and pushes him over before realizing he just stabbed a little kid* “Holy shit! A kid!?” *sounds horrified*

The thief then fled the scene, not even bothering to try and actually steal when he realized what he had just done. When Billy finally broke away from the fuzziness of his mind and came to it, he was laying face up on the ground and feeling a sharp pain blossom from his side. His hand moved and he could feel some blood seep past his fingers. Uh oh.

So, on the verge of death and partially delirious from the worsening blood loss, he said his magic word and was lightninged into Captain Marvel. Even as the Captain, he continued laying on the ground. The reason being that he was replaying what happened in his mind and trying to ignore the leftover blood that had been left on the alley floor. It was definitely seeping into his cape, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to get up. Why he was too busy thinking about how absolutely fucked he was over the all the concerned yelling from the DTC.

Marvel: ‘Oh my Gods. I’m going die.’

Mercury: “BILLY, WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU EVER GO IN A CREEPY ALLEY???”

Solomon: “He thought someone was in trouble, Mercury. Calm down.” *actually sounds the slightest bit panicked*

Zeus: “Calm down?! Solomon, the boy got STABBED!”

Hercules: “Solomon, what do we do? Is the Batson boy going to die?”

Solomon: “No. Not if he stays in his godly form at least.”

Achilles: “You hear that, Batson? Don’t you dare utter that word until we find a way to fix this!” *if Billy could see him, he would be wagging his finger*

So yeah. Thats why he’s been Marvel for a little over month and a half. See, it turns out that he can’t really do anything. His body was in stasis, completely frozen in time. That meant the wound wouldn’t heal or disappear like he prayed it would. No, it would just be there until he maybe switches back and dies from blood loss, which is something he’d rather not do. You can see his dilemma.

So what did he do to combat the impending feeling of dread that he’ll never get to be Billy again? He threw himself into hero work because to be quite frank, he needed a distraction. And that’s how you could see Captain Marvel in fucking Oregon, then South Dakota, and then Alabama helping whoever. He literally expanded his patrol to cover the entire country aside from cities that were already protected by heroes. After about two of doing this, of course, this caught the attention of others, but the last person he expected was Amanda Waller. She came to him alone after he stopped a car crash in Washington.

Amanda: “Captain Marvel.”

Marvel: *looks over* “Aren’t you Ms. Waller? Is there a problem, ma’am?”

Amanda: “Yes. You’ve been seen going around the entire country. I thought you supers only stuck to your cities.”

Marvel: “I… Well, most of us do. I just have a lot of free time on my hands lately. Do you need me to back off?” *really doesn’t want her to want him to back off because running around the country has actually been a really good distraction*

Amanda: “No. Not for now. Tell me, what do you mean by free time?”

Marvel: “Uh…” *confused as to why she cares* “I guess you could say I switched to heroing full time.”

Amanda: “Interesting.” *stares at him intensely*

Marvel: *starts to get nervous cause her stare reminds him of Batman a little* “Y’know, Miss Waller, Supes tells me your bad news all the time. Something about you hating us?”

Amanda: “He’s right. I don’t respect your kind and the slightest.”

Marvel: “My kind?”

Amanda: “Superheroes. You’re a threat to national security but you can also be useful if you’re on the government’s side.”

Marvel: Is this you proposing that I join up with you guys again?

Amanda: “Unfortunately, yes. Before the 60s, superheroes used to practically work for the government. So, I have a proposal for you.”

She wanted him to do some contractual jobs for the government. Which was no biggie. He remembers doing a few with the other Fawcett heroes and even some with the JSA.

Marvel: ‘Do you think we can trust her, Solomon?’

Solomon: “Just barely. I don’t believe she’ll stab you in the back, not yet anyways. I assume you’ll be working with that so called ‘Suicide Squad’ so she’ll likely want someone to keep them in line. That and aside from the shark man, they probably want another heavy hitter.”

And with that, Marvel shrugged and said “sure, why not?” It was more work for him to busy himself with anyways. Now, he won’t admit it to any of coworkers, but those Suicide Squad guys are actually pretty fun if you ignore that half of them are psychopaths and murderers. Captain Boomerang especially. The man was really funny when he cursed out people. There was also Harley Quinn, or Harley as she asked him to call her, who was also pretty funny too. Also, there was a lot of killing that occurred on these missions. Like, a lot.

Harley: “Geez, Cheese! I didn’t think I’d ever see a super so blood lusted before!”

Marvel: “Ah… my bad. It’s been a long while since I’ve been allowed to do something like this without having to worry about Mr. Batman Sir kicking me out the league for it.”

Captain Boomerang: “Huh…? Mate, are you saying you’ve killed people before?”

Marvel: “Yes?” *honestly surprised they didn’t know* “Back in the olden days when your parents were maybe kids, heroes were allowed to kill. That included me. Though I only stuck to murderers and rapists and all the junk. *wipes a bloody hand on Deadshot’s back*

Deadshot: “Wha- don’t wipe your fucking hand on me!”

Marvel: *stares for like three seconds before wiping his hand on him again*

Deadshot: *takes out his gun as if that’ll do anything* “I just said stop that.”

Though, his contracts for the missions ended after about a month and he said bye to them about a month later.

After his relatively short time with them, he went back to basically patrolling the country again. Which, although it wasn’t mentioned before, made his popularity as a sensational hero increase because this man wasn’t just protecting his city, he was protecting his country.

Now, left to his own devices once again, Billy let his mind wander as he was rescuing people from a burning building in California.

He thought about Fawcett. About his job at Whiz. Gosh, he was probably- no, definitely fired due to the month and a half of absence. (He wasn’t. Mr. Morris and the staff were all worried sick about what happened to him.) There was also Freddy. He’d only see the boy every now and then when he looked down to the crowds in the city. He wondered if he was upset. He’d hoped not. At this moment, Billy really really wished he had told Freddy about him being Captain Marvel. That way he wouldn’t feel so alone.

Oh, but you can’t forget the Justice League. Don’t think any of this behavior has gone unnoticed. They have been thinking about ways to bring this up to Marvel for a while. The team finally hit its breaking point when Batman shared that Marvel had been seen talking with Amanda Waller, and working with the Suicide Squad. How they found out? On one of the missions, the Squad had gotten caught and taken into a secret organization’s base. (They weren’t actually. They were mostly pretending so they could just get inside.) This was an organization Batman had been monitoring for a while. As a result, the man had obviously hacked the system and made sure to get updates on anything new. Imagine his surprise when he sees the pictures of each Squad member, including Marvel, all rocking the organization’s prison uniforms. So yeah, not Billy’s best moment for Bruce to catch him in.

Supes: “I just don’t understand! Why would you work with them?! They’re villains!”

Marvel: “I’m sorry! I just needed something to do. They’re really not that bad once you get to know them.”

Supes: “Not that- NOT THAT BAD?!”

Marvel got yelled at for like 20 minutes and only after making numerous promises about, never working with them again, did they finally let up.

Another month later, and that brings us to the present. It’s still the beginning of July. Billy didn’t know how much longer he could take this. He was growing restless because he might have to be Marvel forever. His villains were growing restless due to the fact that he kept leaving Fawcett and was barely around anymore. And unbeknownst to him, Freddy and Mr. Morris were already restless looking everywhere for him.

Thankfully, the Wizard finally came up with a solution that might actually work. It involved the Rock and a whole bunch of complicated magic. Billy wasn’t willing to explain. Anyways, the first thing Billy did when he finally was allowed to be Billy again, was go find Freddy.

Freddy: *walking down the sidewalk, keeping an ear and an eye out for any news of Billy*

Billy: *looking around for Freddy and spots him from behind* “Freddy…?”

Freddy: *pauses and whips around* “Billy!?”

Billy and Freddy: *stare at each other for a bit*

Billy didn’t even get to register what was going on before Freddy rushed over as fast as he could. The other boy dropped his crutch in favor of crumpling against his friend in a tight hug. They ended up sobbing together on a bench after that.

[thesilmarillionblog]

WICKED MIND ─ Dean Winchester

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, Dean can't resist masturbating while thinking about you.

+18! (Minors DNI), smut, male masturbation, wicked and dirty thoughts, kinky (it's just smut, sorry)

Word Count: 1187

A/N: English is not my first language. divider credit

Dean grumbled in frustration and opened his eyes again, unable to sleep well. He felt like a child who was struggling to fall asleep. It was an unbelievable agony to be so exhausted and yet be unable to sleep. Since he was busy with practically everything every day and coping with every bizarre one, he was positive that his body screamed for some rest.

It was about three in the morning when he looked at the clock. God. His eyes burned. Throughout his thirty-five years of life, Dean had never experienced insomnia, but now he did.

When an idea struck his head, he scowled. Years had passed since he'd jerked off to quickly fall asleep. Dean was unable to stop thinking about how terrific it felt. Why not? He had read and understood his body to help his eyes get the rest they required, and he didn't have drugs to use at the moment. Moreover, he hadn't gotten off for fun in quite some time. These days, Dean's sexual life is actually active, and he hasn't needed to help himself lately. 

Plain and simple, things had changed. It would be just to get some sleep. Nothing more. To tell himself that he didn't like helping himself would be a lie. It was always enjoyable.

After inhaling deeply, Dean moved the blanket away from his body and slightly lowered his boxers to reveal his partially hard cock. He assumed that he might not be able to sleep because of his cock. It didn't matter though. Now he would take care of this. 

Dean spat in his palm, then wrapped his cock with his rough fingers. His head turned to his cock, and his abs tightened. He licked his lips and started pumping himself, eager to get it done very quickly. His thoughts were instantly filled with pictures of you as he stroked his cock. 'Fuck' he thought to himself. Now, that was unexpected.

Realizing it would be tougher than he had anticipated, he spit into his hand a little more before tightening his fingers around his cock. He had a cock that was hard enough to keep him awake, but it was clearly stubborn. Come. On. Dean's thumb stroked his already hard cock's purple head as he bit his lips fiercely. He was now about completely erect. Almost.

He was taking heavy breaths, nearly grunting, as his mind started to play games on him. Dean couldn't stop picturing your ass and physique. It was difficult to not notice or forget the picture of you playing 8-ball pool yesterday. You looked lovely there.

It was enough to make his cock completely hard. Just think about how you bent before you took your shot and how the stick waited between your fingers. 

When Dean could no longer resist his demons, he gave up and allowed his thoughts to take control, concentrating on the pictures that were racing through his head. At that point, it didn't matter how awesome his hookups were. There was something unique about the way your ass appeared as you bent your body. Perhaps it was because the two of you were simply buddies. It was Fobbiden's thrill that made him feel like this. After all, the forbidden always tasted delicious. 

Dean considered lifting your dress up and putting your underwear aside. What color would you be wearing? Most likely green or pink. After all, you were fond of pastel colors. Pink would be preferable. 

As he visualized your pussy, his fingers tightened around his aching cock harsher. Dean had no doubt that you would take him well. However, he would make sure you sucked him well before giving you a hard fuck on the table. God. It would look great with your little mouth around his cock. He heaved his balls after groaning as his thumb continued to touch his cock's head and lingered around the thick veins. Dean grunted while he drifted off into his own thoughts. Whether that was the appropriate thing to do or not didn't matter to him. 

He needed that.

You would get moist there from the way he would fuck your mouth and throat. He would spill against your face and throat since he knew you would also like finishing him off and tasting him. He would push your head to his cock and put his hands behind your hair to make you give him all of your attention. He knew that you could take him all. You would moan around the head, suck the salty cum, and swirl your tongue around it. Fuck. Dean imagined fucking your face with both hands behind your head. As he pictured how he would handle your lovely mouth, he was firmly biting his lips.

The obscene sounds his hand made while he beat his cock were driving him insane. He knew he could hear the similar sounds once he started to fuck you raw and his heavy balls hit your pussy from behind.

He was average there—not very long. However, he was sufficiently thick, which was something of which he was proud. His cock was fat and heavy. Dean imagined your walls constricting around him. 

He slowed his hand to extend the process and enjoy a little extra fun just as he was getting close. He swiftly grabbed his phone and opened one of your photos. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but fuck it. No one would know, and there was no way of going back. As soon as he was asleep, he would forget about it. 

When Dean saw one of your 8-ball pool pictures, he let out an uncontrollable groan. "Fuck," he said. When you played it, you looked beautiful. He looked at your ass and concentrated on the way you bowed. Grasping the back of your neck on the table, he would swiftly and aggressively fuck you while placing his hands around your hips and pounding hard into your tiny pussy. 

Dean spat his palm again, and his motions became more intense and faster. He was staring at your photo as he groaned; he was thrusting into his hands rough. He whispered, “Good girl,” unable to stop talking this time. 

"I'll fuck you so good, fuck your tiny pussy against that table so fucking good... Fuck. Take me." 

He should be ashamed for acting in such a way. But he was absorbed in the right now. Dean knew he was about to finish because his cock was throbbing now. “Let me fill you; let me come inside you, baby.”

As he continued to stare at your photo, Dean's cock began to throb, and he felt the hot ropes against his bare chest and hands. In order to make sure there was nothing left in his hefty balls, he continued to stroke himself while groaning. Then, enjoying the experience, he set his phone aside and stoked himself a bit more. When he was done, shame was starting to rise, but he made an effort to dismiss it. Dean stared over his chest, panting fiercely. His entire body was covered with his hot white ropes.

He was a mess.

AN: SOrry. Let me know what you think loll

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[surielstea]

Blade Bound

Based on a request!

Pairing: Cassian x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Cassian walks his wife home, and then some.

Warnings: Pregnancy | Slightest bit of angst

3k words.

The glow of the forge warmed my cheeks as I flicked my mask up, wiping at the thin sheen of sweat on my brow. My eyes scanned the steel daggers in front of me, the heat of the fire still making the blades gleam red-hot. The rhythmic hum of hammers meeting steel and the hiss of blades meeting water filled the air—a sound I'd grown to love. This was my sanctuary, my space.

I was so focused on the metal that I nearly missed the soft creak of the workshop door. Nearly.

My head lifted, the sound cutting through the symphony of my work. My lips curled into a grin as I saw the tall figure step into the dim light of my forge, wings peaking over his broad shoulders. "You didn't tell me you were coming, Cass," I called out, my voice teasing but warm.

Cassian stood there, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he shoved his hands into his pockets. His hazel eyes glinted in the firelight, and the sight made my stomach do the slightest flip. "Hey, love," he said, his voice low and rich, his grin deepening as he took in what I was working on.

I turned my attention back to the sword in my hand, its unfinished hilt still warm against my gloves. "You come to give me a hand?" I asked hopefully, plunging the glowing blade into the barrel of cool water. Steam rose in a furious hiss, curling around us like a phantom.

"You know I'm terrible at making the weapons, much better at wielding them." He grumbled, approaching the countertop and drumming his fingers along it.

"Correction," I said as I removed the blade from the water. "You're terrible at the fine details. But you're great at the grunt work."

Cassian huffed, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he tried not to smile. "You married me for my muscles, didn't you?"

"Partially," I admitted, sliding the unsharpened sword back into its mold. "Why are you here then? I thought you had a meeting with Rhys." I pulled my mask fully off and ran a hand through my hair, shaking out the strands that clung to my skin.

"He called it early," he said, stepping past the counter, his large frame seeming to take up all the available space in the room. He leaned casually against the workbench, his arms crossed, but there was something about the way his gaze lingered on me that made the air between us feel charged. "Besides, I didn't come here for weapons tonight."

I quirked an eyebrow at him, already knowing where this was going. "Oh?" I leaned back against the anvil, folding my arms across my chest to mirror him. "And here I thought you couldn't resist testing out my new blades."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and it sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Don't get me wrong—your work is as flawless as ever," he said, his gaze flicking briefly to the daggers on the bench before returning to me. "But I came here to walk you home."

His words hung in the air, soft yet firm, and I found myself momentarily caught in the intensity of his stare. "Home?" I asked, tilting my head. "Cassian, I'm fine. Just a few more hours and I'll—"

"You've been at this all day," he interrupted, his tone gentle but insistent as he pushed off the bench and stepped closer. He reached out, his rough, calloused hand brushing a stray streak of soot from my cheek. "Take a break. It's getting late."

I huffed a laugh, though my cheeks flushed at the tenderness of his touch. "The weapons won't forge themselves, you know."

"They'll still be here tomorrow," he said, his fingers lingering near my face before he dropped his hand back to his side. His voice softened as he added, "You won't do anyone any good if you work yourself to exhaustion."

There was no arguing with Cassian when he used that tone—the one that was equal parts concerned and endearing. He knew I could hold my own, but he also knew exactly when to step in and remind me to take care of myself.

I sighed, the tension in my shoulders easing under his steady gaze. "Alright, General," I said with mock seriousness, pulling off my apron and hanging it on the peg beside me. "What do you propose we do instead?"

His grin turned roguish, his hazel eyes lighting up with mischief. "I told you I want to walk you home, maybe take the long way just to stare at the stars a little longer. You've been cooped up in here all day—I think some fresh air would do you good."

"A walk?" I teased, though I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "You're practically courting me."

His laugh was deep and infectious, rolling through my workshop like a melody meant only for me. "We've been married for centuries," he shot back, his expression softening as he looked at me, his grin a mixture of teasing and devotion. "So trust me when I tell you—you're worth courting."

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, freezing me in place for a beat too long. Cassian, with all his swagger and bravado, stood in the middle of my cluttered workshop, looking at me as though I were the only thing holding his world together.

I cleared my throat, shaking off the warmth unfurling in my chest. "Alright, you win," I relented, grabbing a rag to wipe my hands clean, but the skin remained stained with charcoal and soot. My voice came out steady, even if my heart wasn't. "Let me grab my coat."

I turned toward the rack, but before I could untie my apron, I felt the familiar warmth of his hand at my waist. He loosened the knot with an ease born of centuries together, slipping the apron over my head with careful precision. His touch lingered, just long enough for the air to thrum between us.

"Take your time," he murmured dryly, his voice a low rumble.

When I glanced back at him, he was watching me with that quiet intensity he so rarely let show—like the chaos of the world had stilled, leaving just us in the glow of it. For all his fire and fury, Cassian had this way of grounding me, of reminding me of the steady flame that burned beneath the warrior exterior.

I leaned in, brushing my lips against his in a soft kiss.

His grin was as wicked as it was endearing. "Save that for tonight," he said, pulling back just enough to tease.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. Rising onto my toes, I pecked him again. "Fine, fine," I huffed, waving him off as I grabbed my coat from the hook, swapping it with my apron.

Reaching for a small glass case on the workbench, I handed it to him. "These are for Az," I said. "He requested them—something about restocking the nursery." I arched a brow, skepticism dripping from my tone. "Can you tell me why Azriel needs daggers in our child's room?"

Cassian's grin turned sheepish as he shrugged. "He likes to be prepared."

"Prepared for what? A rogue teddy bear attack?"

"Hey, I don't question his methods. I have yet to find one around the house, and it seems to keep him happy so I let him."

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Cass, we're going to have a child. Daggers hidden anywhere in the house isn't exactly baby-proof."

"I'll talk to him," he promised, holding his free hand up in surrender.

I sighed. "I suppose if I haven't found any yet, he's hiding them well. Just make sure he keeps them out of reach, okay?"

"Of course, love. No need to worry."

I gave him a long look, trying to decide if he was genuinely serious or just placating me. Probably a bit of both.

"Alright," I muttered, sliding my arms into my coat. "Let's get out of here before I start overthinking the entire safety protocol of our house."

Cassian chuckled, tucking the case of daggers under his arm. As we stepped out into the crisp night air, he slung his other arm around my shoulders, tugging me close. The world felt lighter with him beside me, the stars above brighter somehow.

The walk back to our house was comfortable, Cassian's hand never leaving the small of my back as we made our way through the city. It was late, far past sundown but Velaris was alive as always, the streets bustling with fae chatting, laughing, and living as though it wasn't nearing midnight.

When we reached the house, Cassian held the door open for me, his teasing grin softening into something quieter. "I'll drop these off with Az. You head up—unless you want to supervise the handoff?"

I snorted, shrugging off my coat. "I trust you to make sure he doesn't immediately shove one under the crib mattress."

"Funny. That's the first place he'd hide one."

"Cassian!"

He laughed, planting a kiss on my forehead before disappearing down the hall. I climbed the stairs, my steps slowing as I passed the nursery. The room was still a work in progress the walls half painted and the dresser dissembled, but the crib stood at the center, its dark wood gleaming in the moonlight.

I stepped inside, running a hand along the curved edge. The weight of everything settled on me in that moment—the good and the terrifying. A child. Our child. I could already feel my heart making room for them, expanding in ways I hadn't thought possible.

The sound of footsteps drew my attention. Cassian appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. "You're worried," he said softly.

I nodded. "It's, a lot. Everything's going to change."

He stepped inside, closing the distance between us in a few strides. His hands found my waist, grounding me in that effortless way of his. "You're not in this alone, you know. We're a team. And if anyone dares to mess with our family, well—" His grin turned wicked. "We've got Az's nursery daggers for that."

I laughed despite myself, leaning into his chest. "We're going to be fine, aren't we?"

"Better than fine," he promised, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. "I promise."

And in his arms, I believed him.

Cassian's arms tightened around me, his warmth sinking into my skin as I breathed him in. For all his teasing and chaos, he always had this way of making me feel steady—of reminding me I wasn't just a blacksmith pounding out weapons in a forge, but someone who mattered to him, to our court, and now to the tiny life growing within me.

After a long moment, I sighed and stepped back, my hand lingering on his chest. "Speaking of Az's daggers, you'd think the Spymaster would have a little more patience," I muttered. "I'm running out of ways to make his blades sharper, lighter, or deadlier. At this point, I'm half-convinced he's just trying to keep me busy." I drone, thinking of the recent orders he's been making for no real reason.

Cassian chuckled, his hand drifting to rest on my belly, a gesture so absentminded and natural it made my heart clench. "Azriel keeps you busy because he's secretly terrified you'll run out of projects and get bored. And we all know what happens when you get bored."

"Oh?" I cocked a brow, crossing my arms over my chest. "And what exactly happens, General?"

"You invent something," he said solemnly, though the sparkle in his hazel eyes betrayed him. "Something new. Something terrifying. Something that usually involves explosions or blades that even Rhys has to veto before you can patent them and start selling to Lord Devlon."

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "I've only had two experiments blow up in my face this year."

"Three," he corrected, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Don't think I've forgotten about that flaming sword incident last spring."

"That wasn't an explosion!" I shot back, pointing a finger at his chest. "It was a controlled combustion—completely intentional, I might add. You're the one who decided to put it down on a wood surface."

He laughed, the sound rumbling through the quiet nursery. "It only burned down a countertop before we got the fire out. No harm, no foul."

I gave him a playful shove, but the warmth in my chest wouldn't go away. For as much as I loved the forge—the smell of molten steel, the rhythm of hammer against anvil, the satisfaction of shaping something raw into something powerful—moments like this reminded me why I'd taken the risk of opening my workshop in Velaris in the first place.

"Do you ever regret it?" I asked after a minute, my voice softer now.

Cassian tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. "Regret what?"

"Falling for someone like me," I said, gesturing vaguely toward the soot still staining my hands, despite my earlier attempt to clean them. "Someone who spends most of her days covered in ash and sweat, hammering out weapons instead of wearing gowns and sipping wine like a proper lady."

He stared at me for a long moment, his golden eyes unreadable. Then he reached out, taking my hands in his. His thumbs brushed over the calluses on my palms, the rough patches I'd earned from years at the forge.

"I've never regretted a damn thing about you," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Not the ash, not the sweat, not the fact that you could probably forge a better sword than all the Illyrian smiths combined. And definitely not the fact that you're about to be the best mother in Prythian."

My throat tightened, and I blinked quickly, trying to keep my emotions in check. "You're just saying that because you like getting the first pick of my weapons," I muttered, my voice breaking on the last word.

Cassian grinned, pulling me closer. "True." He smirks. "I love well-crafted steel. But I love you more."

I leaned my forehead against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat calm the storm inside me. After a moment, I pulled back, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face.

"Well, in that case," I said, my tone lightening, "I suppose I could work on a few more of those experimental blades for you. Maybe even something you'd actually be able to wield without slicing off your own hand."

"You'd patch me up." He says confidently.

I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips refused to fade. "Come on," I said, taking his hand. "It's late, and if we don't get some sleep, you'll end up snoring in the training room tomorrow."

We left the nursery behind, the soft glow of starlight spilling through the hallways of the house. The quiet was soothing, the faint hum of magic in the walls a reminder of the safety we'd built here. Cassian's thumb traced absentminded circles over the back of my hand as we walked, his touch grounding me in a way that words never could.

When we reached our bedroom, I let go of his hand to start unbuttoning my coat. Cassian, ever the helpful mate, came up behind me and slid the coat off my shoulders, brushing his lips against the nape of my neck as he did.

"Careful," I warned, though my voice lacked any real bite. "You keep that up, and neither of us will be getting any sleep tonight."

His chuckle was low and rough, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Noted," he murmured, hanging my coat on the nearby rack.

I crossed to the dresser, pulling out one of his old, oversized shirts to sleep in. As I tugged it over my head, I caught Cassian watching me from where he stood by the bed, his hazel eyes dark and unreadable.

"What?" I asked, tugging the hem of the shirt into place.

"Nothing," he said, though the softness in his voice told me otherwise. "Just, you're beautiful."

My cheeks warmed, but I rolled my eyes, trying to deflect the compliment. "You're just trying to butter me up so I'll make you another sword tomorrow."

"Maybe," he admitted with a grin. "But it doesn't make it any less true."

I shook my head, pulling back the covers on the bed and climbing in. Cassian followed, sliding in beside me with a contented sigh. He stretched an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

I rested my head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a sense of peace I hadn't felt all day. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my arm, and for a while, we lay there in comfortable silence, the weight of the day melting away.

"Do you ever think about the future?" I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Every day," he replied, his tone just as soft.

"What do you see?"

He was quiet for a moment, as though he were choosing his words carefully. "I see us," he said finally. "You, me, and the little one. Maybe a couple more, if you're feeling ambitious."

I laughed softly, the sound muffled against his chest. "Ambitious is one word for it."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Whatever the future holds, I know one thing for sure."

"What's that?"

His arms tightened around me, his voice filled with unshakable certainty. "I'll love you and fight for you—always."

I closed my eyes, letting his words wrap around me like a warm blanket. "Always," I echoed, my voice heavy with sleep.

Cassian shifted, pulling the covers up around us before settling back down. His warmth and the steady rise and fall of his chest were the last things I felt as I drifted off, safe in the knowledge that no matter what tomorrow brought, we'd face it together.

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[mrpenguinpants]

Sakura, did they...set off your romance sensor?

—  "Oh, listen, this boy here…whenever he senses anything romantic…he goes beet red in the face!!" - Tasuku Tsubakino (Ch.66)

— Hayato Suo, Hajime Umemiya, Jo Togame

[Masterlist]

Wow, my windbreaker brain rot has shot me into a whole new timeline where I can sit down and write. Not gonna lie, not my favorite but it is what it is. I've beat my first fic for a fandom nerves.

Hajime Umemiya

When Umemiya had called a rooftop meeting, Sakura had been through them enough to know what to expect. Umemiya would either show up late or be completely off-topic until someone, mostly Hiragi, stepped in to direct the meeting to its actual purpose. Most of the time, the distractions would be on his plants or his giddy plans of having another barbeque with everyone. It used to be annoying, Sakura once believed the reason why Umemiya was so unserious was because he didn't care. But he knows better now than to take that carefree smile on the surface level. Deep down, Umemiya is a great leader who knows when it's time to get serious.

But this...

Sakura's cheeks are already turning pink.

This is a bit too much for him. He hasn't leveled up enough for this.

"The Three Sisters is a method of gardening that involves planting corn, beans, and squash together. The corn provides support for the beans and squash, the beans add nitrogen to the soil, and the squash's sprawling vines create shade and discourage pests too. It's really quite fascinating, don't you think so Ume?" you ask, lightly petting the leaves of his most recent tomato plant sprout. Your eyes downcasted as you thumb away bits of dirt that happened to be blown by the wind onto the greenery. Perhaps it's because you're one of the few people who entertain Umemiya's rapid obsession with his garden, even going out of your way to tell him facts to better his plot and compliment him on his efforts. Heck, Sakura has seen Umemiya crying because Nirei has told him that his saplings look bigger each time. While Sakura does not doubt that those feelings and expressions were genuine, the look Umemiya is giving you, a look you're not even seeing, feels different. Umemiya himself is different.

"Yeah..." Umemiya responds in a soft tone, his voice almost a whisper. Their usually talkative leader who won't shut up for half a second, who talks over people, is currently so distracted that it's kind of embarrassing watching him. He's been staring at you, eyes zeroing in on your fingers as they brush against the leaves, almost entranced by the sight. Sakura would give anything to leave right now, this second-hand embarrassment is too much. Luckily, Umemiya finally seems to register that you and he aren't alone despite the fact he was the one who called the meeting in the first place. His head perks up confused, hands on top of his knees, as he's greeted with varying expressions from his grade captains. Hiragi in particular looks like he's having both a stomach ache and the urge to slap the back of Umemiya's head. The urge is only partially restrained when you also look up, sending them all a little wave. Hiragi isn't going to slug Umemiya if you're there to see it, it's the pride of a man to not get beaten up in front of his crush.

"Oh shoot, you're all here already? Why didn't you say anything?" Umemiya whines, standing up while dusting his pants free of any lingering dirt. He extends a hand to you, not before rubbing his palm furiously on the back of his shirt, to help you up, "I'll see you later?"

"Mm, sure. Good luck with your new sprouts. Remember to remove the bottom leaves once the plants are over 3 feet tall. I'll be upset if they develop fungus issues," you pat Umemiya's cheek gently, ignoring the way that Umemiya completely melts openly at the gesture. You turn to nod at the rest of them, offering another wave goodbye, as you pass them to exit the rooftop. The resounding sound of the door closing finally sets them back on track.

"We did," Hiragi speaks up as soon the vibrations in the air fizzle out with an exasperated expression, referring back to Umemiya's first question, "You were too busy staring. We've been here for almost ten minutes, you idiot."

"Sorry, sorry, my bad," Umemiya laughs easily, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Although he's been clearly called out, Umemiya doesn't seem the slightest bit ruffled. Sure, he looks a little bashful but Sakura doubts that he'll tone it back much to the embarrassment of any onlooker. Maybe one day, he'll be able to look that happy with his own feelings on display.

A sudden clap has Sakura jolting back to reality, Umemiya's loud voice returning back to something familiar, "Now then, come sit! I prepared some snacks for us all to share."

Everyone else seems used to Umemiya's behavior and they easily follow him, completely disregarding your and Umemiya's interactions as if they never happened. Sakura doesn't really get it but if everyone else is unbothered, it'd be seriously uncool if he said anything. He lets out a sigh, whatever. It's none of his business anyway.

"Sakura, why are you blushing?" Nirei, the bastard, pipes up behind him. Suo, the even worst bastard, laughs behind his hand like he's some rich Victorian lady.

"Huh, no I- I'm not." Sakura's cheeks went from pink to red, now that he's been caught. He looks away, avoiding eye contact, "S-Shut the hell up!"

Hayato Suo

"Mr. Customer, if you're dissatisfied with our menu, you're more than welcome to leave."

Sakura blinks, head jerking up as he crosses the threshold of Café Pothos. Initially, he assumed those words were directed at him even though it wouldn't make sense. He quite likes the menu despite only ordering the same thing each time. But no, when Sakura looks up it's to a rather unexpected sight. Suo sits at the bar counter, back ram-rod straight and his hands folded in his lap, with that ever-pleasant smile on his lips. Across from him stands a worker Sakura has never seen before. He always assumed that Kotoha was the only employee, but today seems to be full of surprises. A green apron with white ties, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and hands fisted against the hips.

"The bakery across the street would love to hear your complaints, Mr. Customer."

---

There is something about the new worker and Suo that keeps Sakura glancing back at them after he's sat himself in a secluded corner. Perhaps it's because it's a new face he has yet to meet at a place he frequents so often. It's normal to be curious right? Or maybe it's Suo being here alone. He's never seen the man "out in the wild" before. They aren't even looking at him, Suo hadn't even looked up when he first opened the door although Sakura is sure that Suo is aware of him. He's creepy like that. The new worker, however, whips an annoyed glance at Suo before letting out an irritated huff, arms crossing over the green apron, and glaring down at Suo’s smiling face. A face that would remain ever-pleasant in any given situation.

Regardless...

"Is this your version of service? It must be hard on the customer," Suo chuckles, a slight tilt of his head that bounces his tassel earring. Suo's laugh, however, causes Sakura to feel a hint of surprise. It's not a laugh he expects the man to give, yet at the same time, it suits him.

"That's because you're a terrible customer and a pain in the ass." The worker sneers, leaning in so the two of them are face to face.

Suo seems to be difficult for anyone to handle.

"It's busy today," Kotoha says, appearing out of thin air and scaring Sakura half to death. A plate of steaming omurice slides in front of him because he really does only order one thing here. It's not a great conversation starter, but it's nice of her to break the odd tension that has settled over the cafe. Kotoha is also looking to the side, watching the scene of her co-worker and Suo bickering and arguing. Passive aggressive comments are being flown out, scathing remarks padded with polite voices, so much so that the two of you don't seem to register anyone else around. Completely wrapped up in your world of irritation versus amusement.

"What…are they even arguing about?" Sakura chances to ask, his eyes still glued to the curve of Suo's smile, red eye focused solely on you. His hand idly reaches for his spoon, scooping up a bit of rice and egg, yet it hovers in the air ideally. Suo has his head tilted and is leaning somewhat in the worker's space. His eyes don't stray, watching each shift in facial expression carefully to gauge whether his words are having their intended effect. He looks like he's having way too much fun.

"Oh, that." Kotoha giggles, placing her palm on the table. She too looks like she's having way too much fun, "They always go back and forth like that. It's like a game of cat and mouse with those two. They're both stubborn as hell so it's a constant power struggle between them. Although, I wonder what they're arguing about this time. They always bicker at each other when we change shifts."

Kotoha shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She glances briefly at Sakura before her eyes drift back to the other two. She raises her hand, finally cutting the bubble between you and Suo.

"Hey, I'm back from break. Thanks for covering for me," she calls, waving her hand in the air. The frown that was permanently on your face melts away when you break eye contact with Suo, returning to a more neutral blank look. You only nod to Kotoha, flashing up a thumbs-up, and you move to head back to the kitchen. But not before sticking your tongue out at Suo over your shoulder as you disappear through the doorway. Sakura blinked surprised, he had somewhat expected a different reaction than something so...tame. His eyes drift to Suo and he can feel his cheeks heat up.

He doesn't think he's seen Suo look happier.

Jo Togame

"See, you peel off the seal on the cap. Remove the ring from the little plastic piece you use to push the marble. Then, with your thumb, press down, and poof, the marble drops and you can enjoy!" you grin as you move slowly for Sakura to see your hands with each instruction. The fizz of carbonation and the clink of the marble hitting the glass amplified louder in the abandoned auditorium. A few other shishitoren members are loitering, but only you and Sakura are sitting up on the edge of the stage. After the embarrassment of not knowing how to open the ramune Togame had given him, he sought you out to explain it to him. Sakura didn't think he could stomach it if he went back to Togame again for help. He follows your movement, his fingers removing the thin seal. Popping the ring off the marble pusher, and with his thumb, pushes on the marble. His thumb slips a few times, but you're patient as you coax him to try again. With his third attempt, he feels the marble give, the rewarding sound of bubbles popping.

"Thanks..." Sakura mumbles, a faint blush on his cheeks as you cheer your ramune's together as you take a swig.

"No problem," you say nonchalantly, leaning your weight back on your arms. With the bottle held in your hand, you watch Sakura, who is intently staring at the drink on his own. The silence between you isn't exactly uncomfortable, but you can sense the slight embarrassment oozing off him. "Soooo... how's it taste?"

He gives a soft hum before taking a small sip, the fizzy liquid leaving a tingling sensation on his tongue. It's not as sweet as he thought it’d be. It's rather subtle for a soda. He takes a longer sip this time, the fizz tickling his nose and bubbles popping against his lip. Looking at you sidelong, he can see you already staring at him excitedly. You weren't kidding when you said you were a big fan of this.

"It's sweet, I guess," his voice soft as he shrugs. A few strands of his white hair fell in front of his face. His eyes glance up at you as you stare at him intently, waiting for him to continue. He awkwardly bites the inside of his cheek. It still feels weird having people who actually want to hear his opinion, even if it's as small as a drink. "A bit strange… The flavor is nice, but the fizz is new."

He takes another sip, careful with the angle he tilts the bottle lest the marble block the opening. He doesn't really understand the appeal of the marble. It's a nuisance. The fizz was the best part of the soda, but the clinking made it impossible to drink it quietly. Besides, he holds the ramune bottle out, how the hell do you even get it out? Does he need to throw it against a wall to break the bottle? He doesn't want to get broken glass everywhere since someone could accidentally step on it.

"Is the marble irritating you?" you ask, laughing quietly under your breath to not set Sakura off into another tomato-faced explosion.

"No!" he answers with a quick hiss, cheeks flushing. He can feel you stare at him as a smirk dances across your lips. He can already envision the teasing you’re concocting to make him react. He gives another soft huff, refusing to look at you, as he fidgets with the bottle. He doesn't want to ask you to help again. He already feels like a helpless idiot. Instead of commenting, you swing yourself upwards, planting your hand on your knee. The other hand, wrapped around the bottle, moves to your lips as you down the rest of your drink. The fizz of bubbles pops in the air while Sakura looks at you bewildered. Weren't you supposed to drink carbonated drinks slowly or you'll stomach hurt? Did you become immune or something from drinking so many?

"Come on, let's go. I still haven't finished my ramune 101 class," you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, winking over your shoulder which sends Sakura into another pink mess, as you slide off the stage.

"W- What do you mean we’re not done?" he stammers quickly, flustered as he scrambles up to follow you. He feels a bit dizzy from going from a sitting position to standing too quickly. He grips the bottle in his hand and takes a few quick steps to catch up to you as you stride to the doors leading outside the auditorium. You laugh again when he rushes to catch up. His quick reaction time betrays his small stature. It's kinda cute.

"It means I'm gonna teach you how to get the damn marble out, genius" you tease, shoving his shoulder as you reach the doors. Opening them, the two of you were met with the cool outside air. It's refreshing after being indoors for so long and the auditorium has gotten you both hot and stuffy. Hence the initial ramune drinks. You quickly take his hand, ignoring the screams, as you drag Sakura to the side of the building. "Togame! Are you sleeping still?"

"Huh?" a tired voice answers groggily from the other side of the wall. Togame is sitting on the ground next to the wall with his back against the auditorium. He has his legs stretched out, his head leaning back on the wall, rubbing his eyes to clear the ever-constant droop in his eyes. He looks as if he is napping before being rudely interrupted, "I was..."

"Oops. Hehe, sorry," you chuckle, hands raised up in a mock surrender although you don't particularly look apologetic. To be fair, Togame doesn't look upset either. Only gives you and Sakura a sleepy smile and nods as he raises his arm high to stretch. His green eyes drifted to the bottles of ramune in your hands with a curious tilt of the chin. In response, you beam at him, rattling the marble inside the glass bottle before handing it to him. "Please, if you could."

Togame snorts as he takes the bottle. There's a hint of playfulness in his tired eyes as he shakes the bottle a few times, letting the marble inside thump against the glass. It's funny watching the marble rattle around. It reminds him of a little toy marble maze he had as a child. He flicks his gaze to look at Sakura, who stands off to the side stiffly. The poor kid looks ready to bolt at any second when given an opening. His own half-finished bottle lays limply in his hand, the marble reflecting off the sun's light.

"You know you just have to twist the cap in the opposite direction right?" he says, wrapping his fingers around the blue lid and twisting the cap off. Turning the bottle over, he catches the marble from the opening into the palm of his hand. He extends his hand, sliding the marble into your waiting ones. "I know you're strong enough to do that."

"Yeah, but my hands get cramps and it's impossible to move it!"

"I don't think that's how that works...But if it really is too hard, you can keep coming to me."

Sakura stands by, feeling out of place as you go back and forth with Togame. Yet, he doesn't feel like an intruder this time, merely an observer. He looks down at his own bottle, hands moving to twist the cap off while making sure he doesn't spill the drink.

It's easy. It pops right off with barely any effort. Sakura has quite literally seen you throw a man double your size over your shoulder.

The marble reflects his face messily, but there's a shine of red glinting off the surface.

[miguelsslvt]

ex nerd! scientist! miguel o'hara x slutty! reader

part two here!

word count: 745

TW: smut, nsfw, d/s themes, mentions of pet play.

A/N: THIS IS INSPIRED BY @nymphomatique SO PLS CHECK THEIR ONE OUT!! their drabble rlly inspired me so i thought maybe i could add a little twist;) welcome to the club!

back in your college days, you were.. promiscuous, some would say. well, you were the biggest slut on campus. if your body count didn't say it all, then the rumours sure did.

you took chemistry, maths, physics and biology. you wanted to be a physics scientist, partially because of the thought of there being lots and lots of different universes, but mostly because the pay was brilliant.

miguel o'hara was your 'pet' back in your college days, per-say.

you used him for your homework, and in exchange you would fuck him, give him head, handjobs, you name it. you took miguel's virginity, and every bit of innocence he had left. he was totally smitten by you. i mean, a pretty, popular girl giving him attention no one ever did? sign him up.

miguel was the biggest loser you knew back then. he wasn't the most muscly, and he had those ridiculous black square glasses, and his outfits were shocking. he had a slight lisp due to his late braces, and his hair was far too long and he clearly struggled to maintain it. to keep it blunt, he wasn't cool at all. he was a loser, a simp, and a goody two-shoes. perfect as your little pet.

it wasn't until after graduation did you stop your little encounters. after leaving college, you blocked his number and left campus on the same day. you thought you'd never have to see that nerdy freak again. well, that's what they all say, right?

that was until you finally got a job at ALCHEMAX. you were a 'technological support scientist', which sounded smart but really all you got to do was watch all the better scientists do tests. you didn't mind, it did more then just pay your bills. hell, with the checks you're bringing in you could probably buy a new car in a few months!

you thought things were all sunshine and rainbows, until the thunder walked in. it's funny though, you didn't realise thunder looked like 6'9 tall and 310 pound of pure muscle and attractiveness. his braces were gone, his hair more clean and cut a little shorter, and his glasses just resting on top of his head, but you knew exactly who he was.

'm-miguel o'hara?!' you said, shocked. he turned around swiftly, looking down at you, before his eyes widened. 'y/n l/n?' he said, surprised. you both had become blushing messes. well, his glow up sure came after only 3 years.

'you.. work here?' you asked, absolutely awe-struck. 'i.. do. i am a technological scientist here. you work here too? why haven't i ever seen you around before?' he asked, intriuged. 'i-it's my first day here. you.. matured.' you said, clearly checking him out.

the man smirked. he actually smirked. the man who would whimper, begging to just get off on your shoe, smirked at you like he was in control. 'and you look as gorgeous as 3 years ago.'

your heart stopped. who was this man? this muscular, defined, confident, completely self aware man.. this wasn't miguel. there was no way.

'you..you're very different, miguel.' you said, a blushing mess. he chuckled, putting some latex gloves on. fuck, even his hands were attractive. 'well alot happens to a guy.' he says smoothly, his voice deeper. god this was going to be hard.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

that very night, you were spread out on the bed, and you didn't recognise the man above you.

3 years ago, a scrawny desperate nerdy little boy was on his knees, as if you were a goddess. and now, that very man was on top of you, kissing your neck so skilfully, as if he's done this for years. his thrusts had rhythm, as he grinded along your g spot with ease, you let out a gasp and a breathy moan, as he shushed you.

'sh, bonita.. you've changed. where's that dominatrix you were back in college days? why are you so.. obedient?~' he whispered in your ear, as you moaned again.

'i-i think i-it's y-you that changed, m-miguel..' you breathily said in response, as he chuckled. 'oh no, sweetheart, i'm still the same loser that was begging on his knees for you. just now, i've learnt how to please you as well as me.' he said in response, his hands moving down from your breasts to your hips, his cock deep inside you as he grinded his hips as you felt every inch.

god, is this heaven?

♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

[sirxlla]

The Qilin Test

------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Fluff

Prompt: Meeting all Damian's pets (minus the dragon bat he apparentally has 😀 [im concerned for him a bit]) requested by @alexamars17

Notes: The title is a Harry Potter reference, Female Reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Meeting a billionare's son online was probably not on your bingo yard for the year... Definitely not something that Damian would ever think would happen but alas Jason had set up a dating profile for his little brother. (No matter how old Damian got Jason always called him his little brother cuz he knew a pissed him off.)

"Online datings tragic at best or its for casual sex, no one actually finds anyone that way." Damian rolled his eyes as his brothers attempts to get him back into the dating pool.

"Come on it'll be fun and plus you're more tolerable when you have a girlfriend." Jason just wanted him to try it, Damian had been miserable for months after Raven left him.

"Plus you wont have to worry about her reading your mind and shit cause chances are she'll be human and she wont be able to do that hoodoo voodoo stuff on you."

"Fine, Todd but if this goes south..." Damian huffed unhappy, Jason had probably made it all stupid in general and was doing this as some sorta prank or something.

"Just try it." Jason handed Damian his phone back, the profile was actually set up fairly nice considering Jason did it. It was clear to Damian at that moment that Jason was serious, a little light shone through the broken state of his heart that Raven left him in.

It had been months since Raven and he really had loved her but she had looked inside and saw memories he didnt want anyone to know about...Then she threw them in his face during an argument. He still loved her but he couldnt be with someone who chastised him for his past.

Anyways, he decided to give this a try and he found the girl that he just instantly clicked with. He could talk about whatever was interesting to him and she had no issue talking back to him about it. He was talking booby traps, grave guns and how during WW2 they would make bombs out of things that look like regular objects...

Damian found himself thinking about her during the day and he found himself staying up late just so that he could talk to her. They met up once but they were both extremely nervous and that was extremely obvious, the date had got cut short because of paparazzi...you know with him being Damian Wayne and all?

The next time he met you he decided that it would be a really good idea to introduce you to his pets, pets tended to make things go a lot smoother and everyone was a lot less nervous around a pet. He was so nervous that Titus might not like you...Bat-Cow liked everyone and Alfred was a cat so he was to be expected of a cat.

You came over to Wayne Manor where he told you to meet him, gentlemanly he opened your drivers side door for you and held out his hand. Reaching out to grab his hand you got out of your car and walked behind him, your hand still in his, he was suprisingly so gentle.

"Okay so I have three pets...I'll show you the biggest and most loveable- I mean they all are really but everyone loves her." He guided you through the yard and twords the little barn area he had built especially for her and your mind wandered to curiousity.

Damian keeps your hand in his so you dont trip cause its a little slick. Good thing he told you to dress casual. He gently guided you in and you saw the big white and brown cow.

"Oh, My- Wow. Oh, she'd beautiful! And so cute." You squealed over the cow. Each word that you said made him fall deeper and deeper into the love that you was already feeling for you.

"She's got a little bat symbol around her eyes that's why we call her BatCow." Of course you could only tell you partially what the reason was cause he hadn't told you his entire family is full of vigilantes.

"Oh, my god! Thats so cute and so clever!" Your eyes lit up as he explained that, his broken heart was being quickly mended and put back together by you, it swelled at the sound of your amusement.

Damian let you feed her and pet her for a bit before asking if you wanted tonmeet his other animals. This is where he was nervous, Titus listed with little issue but of courss but he was still worried about him liking you.

Using your hand he guided you up twords the manor. Of course you were in awe cause this place was beautiful so he walked slow. Once he got in he whistled and the dog came with little issue, Titus was well trained and well behaved but he definitely made his opinions very obvious.

Titus sniffed around her to see how he felt about her, curious sniffs quickly turned to him yipping like a puppy and turning around to get his toy for you to throw.

Damian smiled, the tension in his shoulders dissipating. He had never seen him act like this with someone that he just met but he seemed extremely happy and extremely trusting of you. Considering most people say that dogs can tell what type of person someone is without even being around them for long, this was a good sign.

Titus came back with the toy and you threw it and he went and got it and brought it back, yipping and wagging his body and tail. Whilst you and Titus played Alfred the Cat decided to come out abd brush up against you.

"Was this a dream?" Damian almost asked himself cause of how well it was going.

"Awww, Hello little kitty!" You doted on both his indoor pets instantly like they were your own and his love for you just increased ten fold, he'd never let anything hurt you not now when he was so completely enthralled with you.

"That's Alfred Pennyworth the cat, he's named after the butler and this is Titus." He introduces the animals formally.

"They're just the cutest little guys." You were just so happy and they were just so adorable.

"Little guys?" He thought, he didnt even notice the smile on your face and the way you treated every animal as if it was as small as a chipmunk and how they all got equal love. If he didn't know you were the one before, he definitely knew now.

Over time Titus took on the role of protecting you the same way he protected Damian. Both you and Damian too care of Bat-Cow and Alfred came and went as he pleased, if you sat still long enough he coiled himself up ontop of you. Damian had his own little perfect family and it was even remotely complete without you.

(Send me prompts if youd like.)

Masterlist