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acid-ixx · 1 day ago

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ch.5 pt 1: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1,

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, typical implications of trauma and emotional neglect, allusions to self-harm.

you had always been a good kid.

you didn't have a consistent a plus, and you most certainly don't always win awards, let alone shower in a streak of gold medals and thick paper announcing your spot as first place. you're not the picture-perfect kid aunties will brag about and compare their other children to. you're not always refined, as a child born into the streets of gotham, bound to be rough around the edges—

but you were good.

and your momma always told you every night, in her hushed whispers and cuddling arms, after her sweet lullabies harmonizing with the hums of your broken fan, that it's alright if you're not the greatest; as long as you're good.

she taught you manners, to always respect everyone around you, your elders, strangers, even children your age, because blessings always come in the form of good faith if you're kind.

you believe her, of course you do, she's the only person you had in your life, the only person you needed. you should've never desired for anything else; what else could you wish for if not her love and presence only?

she's enough for you, and you're enough because she tells you too, with her siren-like eyes softening when she gazes at you with only love encrypted in her eyes, her once seductive smile plastered all over wanted posters now beaming with joy at having you in her arms rather than inauthentic pursuits of attracting men around her.

you always followed through with her words, because you love her and it's no doubt that she loved you more than enough too, too much that she had to continue on with her prostitute lifestyle to provide for your little family, too much that it was the reason why she had to be killed off in the first place.

because of her, you chose to be kind, you chose to lower yourself, to never raise your voice higher than those around you, to be humble, and to never show when you're at your limit, even to others closest to you other than your mother.

you remember so little of her the more you age, you grasp on straws just reminiscing on every moment spent with her.

"a good kid," she says, her voice almost a tantalizing memory threatening to drift away, "won't finish first, but fate will always make sure that they never finish last. so choose to be good, alright, baby?"

"yes, momma," your reply came in curtly, tiny fingers playing with the ends of her hair, without moment's hesitation, or doubt in the meaning of her words.

because her words are god for someone like you, because she is your mother who always knew what's best—

because she is your mother, and you may not like her for who she is as a person, for all the wrongs she did in the past before throwing it all away to raise you; but you love her either way, and follow whichever path she leads you to like a little duckling...

a good kid doesn't finish first, but they'll eventually get what they always wanted, right?

even if they wait for weeks, months, years; fate will find a way...

so why can't you have you have what he have right now?

why, just why, are you always finishing last?

why can't you receive the same attention tim did when he was first introduced?

elegant, poised, a rich boy with millionaire parents who had so much to spend, standing proudly and confidently at the doorstep of the manor, as if he had already belonged the moment he stepped foot into the staircase. thirteen year old, older and taller than you, better than you.

the memory is still clear as day, because it was the same day you had bothered alfred to update you on your offer to hang outside in the gardens with your father, only for the butler to look down at you with the same sympathetic eyes and tired smile, retelling you in his familiar excuse that bruce is busy.

'papa is busy,' the words echo in your brain in a mocking tandem, you wish to bang your head on the kitchen's mahogany doors at another attempt rejected. you wish to rip at your hair like you always do. but you can't, you just can't because alfred is in the same room as you, aged hands patting the delicate strands atop your head. you feel disappointment, you always do, then it's shame; shame because it's always alfred who has to witness your bated breaths and spilling tears at another day wasted alone—!

shame because this always happens, it's like bruce never wanted you in the first place; he probably doesn't even think you exist.

but of course, your young brain reasons, your father's always busy when it comes to you, only you.

his timetable consists of mourning his dead son, handling wayne enterprises and juggling his philanthropist career. when will you ever be worth enough that he places you in the same pedestal as all his other obligations?

and back then, you thought every night he spends missing are nights spent with multiple women— back when you've not known of his identity.

yet the point stands still, his missions do not relate to whatever situation stands before you now.

why?

why is it him to who answers the door to tim, the young boy's piercing blue eyes looking up at your father in a challenging gaze? whilst you stand, restlessly in a corner at the scene that unfolds before you. why is it him, who at first makes bruce hesitate, yet still take in the boy holding the camera, hand on his back to guide him inside, as the boy speaks cryptic words you couldn't fathom as you watch behind arch of the living room?

your blood curdles, heart starts to pound out if its gilded cage, and you feel your body buzzing in pure, unadulterated envy, the sole emotion you feel clawing its way into your vision; you see green, you can't see anything else but the scene before you. shaky breaths, blurry vision, balance barely stable as alfred could only offer a pat on your back and his pitying gaze on you.

no words, not even comfort, the manor seems dark again, everything feels as if it's closing into your body and devouring you whole.

why, why, why?

the questions circulate, the memories resurface all the time at just how easy it was for tim, just how he didn't even need to beg to have your father, yes, your father to keep his eyes on a boy whom he have only spoken once in his lifetime.

tim doesn't need alfred to relay a message, he doesn't even need to hesitate being in the same room as the man who seems always a mile away from you, who could never look down even when your fingers come up to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves, just like how you did with your mother's hair, all in the name of getting him to see you.

but you're not tim, you're perfect, you never will be.

it hurts, everything hurts when a stranger, someone like tim had the opportunity to talk to bruce, you never had any—!

even if you're always good, even if you always tried to succeed in your academics, your extracurriculars, your everything, even if you always try...

... the moment timothy jackson drake stepped into the manor, the moment his shining blue eyes, almost twinkling like yours when you've been first introduced, stared analytically at the man you called father, was the moment it piqued his interest; was the moment you knew that being good doesn't equate getting what you always wanted:

the attention of a father who chose to cope with grief in another new robin partner instead.

to be bruce's child first, rather than an afterthought later.

ever since then, ever since tim came into the picture, it was harder to gain bruce's attention. even alfred was divided between you and your seemingly divine... brother who just decided to take your place, who will soon be bruce's third child, erasing your name off of his memory.

being good was not enough, being great didn't even compare— your mother's words seemed easily overshadowed by the gnawing jealousy at just how wonderful your new brother is, at just how similar he is in regards to bruce, but different and also infinitely better than you.

it was the first crack in your fragile, glass heart after it had been wrapped in thousands of bandages from the heartbreak of your mother, it was the first rip at the seams at the already lacerated wounds that emotional neglect has left you.

from the days, weeks, months, you couldn't recall, trying to form some sort of interaction with bruce, dick and now even tim, instead of having alfred be your medium of communication.

from the cold, rainy nights spent with just your thin blankets and fading memories of your mother to soothe you from the nightmares that relishes in your fear.

imagining what it's like having your father speak words of assurances in a dull, almost alien-like tremor (you've never even heard his voice up close before...) comforted you at first, but now it became thousands of hushed whispers wishing you were never born in the first place if it meant your trepidation would end.

and it would've been better, the dread that buzzes restlessly under your skin could've been satiated if tim had even the decency to acknowledge your presence. but just like bruce, god, just like dick who had easily accepted the smart, academically talented boy as his own sibling— you're still amounted to nothing to be even considered worthy.

good, but not enough, not worth the effort of being greeted every morning, not worth the time spending small talks with. even dick, the athlete who once promised to ditch some patrols in bludhaven in passing moment's as an excuse to swat you away, have now opted to bother the newest addition to the family, forgetting that it was you who idolized him the most—

even if it was tim who met him at the carnival first, before dick's parents had died, going as far to dedicate the entire act for the boy— it was you watching him through the broken down television too, legs swinging back and forth on your springy, dusty couch as you doodle him doing stunts, talking to you because he meant the world to you too after you realized he was considered a brother to you.

tim met him first, yet you did so too, but as his younger sibling instead...! so it's unfair, it's unfair, everything is so unfair. tim and his stupid fucking goals of helping your father cope, your father, not his, his parents are alive, your mother is gone, goddamnit—!

it's all unfair. your mother says the world treats good kids like you right, so why...?

... what else could he want? what else does he want to take away from you?

and how could you blame him...?

he was perfect in the sense that you aren't. he was what bruce needed: a reliable pillar of support, stubborn enough to deal with the stress piling up with the loss of his second child, qualities that couldn't be seeked in you even if anyone tries their hardest to squint past that once wide-eyed, vulnerable exterior of yours.

all they could see is a broken child, but not of their own. they could offer you sympathy, pity at just how terrible your past came to be, but that's what every child of gotham goes through. not even witnessing your mother's last gulps of breath would be unique enough to pique their attention. they couldn't possibly see you being part of their family, never.

you learn quickly, that the world has always been unfair, that sometimes, your mother's words aren't always right, not always the best. you need to be better than best, but you couldn't.

so you still chose to be good still, because what else could you do? who else could your identity be outside of the morals she had taught you?

that's who you always are—

that's who you always will be.

always the lesser one. always the forgotten muse and the unspoken poetry.

because that's what good people are, always belittling themselves for others, always allowing the bigger people to step on them like ants. to crush on their hopes and dreams like the crumbs of bread that spill onto the sides of a pavement.

tim is a good person, it was why he wanted to help bruce in the first place, but you couldn't also forget the fact that he's the perfect son for bruce too— that's the main difference between you both. you're worlds apart. he's naturally smart, almost flawless both physically and mentally, and helps slowly but surely fill the hole in bruce's heart unlike you who realizes that you'll only deepen it instead.

and you're a good kid, you're his good child, you wish you were his kid.

you're kind but never the greatest, talented but not good enough.

and that's who you'll always will be.

just a person defined by their worth, by the words of their mother. just a kid with nothing more than a smile to offer, no matter how strained the side of your lips are, no matter if the tears threaten to crawl out your eyes like spiders the longer your presence get ignored—

you're good, but you'll never be good enough.

... so what made you better now? what made you worthy now that all their eyes are now on you?

you wish it was easy to answer, but life's always unfair to a good kid like you.

has anyone ever noticed why the wayne manor has been so dull lately?

why don't the blooms stand so prideful in the gardens nowadays? surely, alfred's green thumb could fix the problem, but it's been months and the most eminent scent that fixes upon their nostrils could only be obtained if they sniff hard enough to smell fresh flowers amongst the scent of mud after rain or wet concrete.

why does titus seem so down these days? damian tried to play tricks with him; his beloved pet only replied with a loud, high-pitched whine in reply and lay languidly at velvet carpets with a bone on his slack jaw. his owner noticed how his tail seemed to wag less the more the days passed by. and damian isn't stupid, but he notices how titus, with the addition of alfred the cat, would often frequent sniffing and lay on a spot damian's familiar with; one he's sure a certain rival of his would only sit upon whenever they'd hide from him.

why have there been fewer homemade baked treats in the pantry? hell, they seem to lessen every single day someone opens the pantry. wasn't it alfred who baked them? was there a thief who had been stealing, or was the steady decline not mere coincidence? nobody else took a hobby to baking, since they've all been frequently absent, prioritizing their patrols and mostly taking the cookies and crinkles at the end of their shift, munching on the treats all for themself. alfred hasn't definitely been taking a break and refuses any offers to, yet the lack of goods was noticable, and whenever alfred bakes, it doesn't quite share the same sugary, or savory goodness the past deserts have been sporting.

why has there been silence, one that so ominous, for months? dick swore he'd often hear someone conversing through doors with alfred. at first he assumed it would be tim, or cass, but with how feeble and meek the voice was, yet talkative and light with an accent he's sure he heard from bruce. yet he dismissed the implication of another presence in the room. but as of current, he misses that strange voice that speaks of stories about highschool drama and friends for terrible influences.

has the rooms been lacking of music lately? tim frequents the soft, buzzing hums his hyperactive form hears from across the living room or near the fireplace's burning embers. sometimes he'd be lulled to sleeping whenever he hears specific melodies. he'd listen so often that he even managed to recognize his favorite tunes with just a single note, eyes slowly closing every time he's in close proximity with that unknown voice, conditioned to finally sleep like a pavlovian dog. tim has been losing sleep these days, eyebags frequent in his eyes. he misses the music, he misses his only saving grace during restless nights with even energy drinks and bitter coffee being ineffective.

why has the dust been collecting off the bookshelves of their library? whenever jason visits the library, there would always be fingerprints he'd find on certain books, one he'd pick up and come to enjoy reading. some were collections of series, others being short novels. the ghost that graces him these recommendations, who sometimes even brings new books, hasn't been in the library for months now, and he's skittish the more he visits the manor each time. the library was his sanctuary for all the moments he'd have fights with bruce, or felt too deep into his traumatic anguishes. the tastes he shares with this lone stranger who visits the library at different lapses than him was now gone, and he's noticed the anger that pangs deep in his chest every damn time dust has been collected off of books, with no fingerprint in sight.

just, why has it been so silent lately? both physically and figuratively. no music dawns their ears, no hinge of the fridge being heard throughout the night, or at least the faint mutters of an unknown whispering.

these were all unsaid questions buried deep in the minds of the people under the roof of the manor. now the only things they could feel were the heavy knocks of the rain on the window and the cold sensation of tiled floors on their already covered soles.

it wasn't noticable by chance, but it could be felt by everyone, both inhabitants and visitors.

and the answers lie simple: it's a secret.

they're the deals you make when you want someone to keep their mouth shut close, they're the things you swear your life to to never confess upon. they're the unsaid statements which helped torment a certain child under the roof of an already lonely and ghostly manor.

sometimes, secrets don't take in the form of someone making one up, but rather, it takes in the form of an unspoken agreement, a pact with your surroundings, an untold promise with nature or the things around you.

you were never particularly secretive with your talents, for arts, baking, or anything that takes in the field of creativity. you kept to yourself, and don't bother anymore to annoy your family to look upon a sketch only to be dismissed, or to taste the treats you hide by a pantry for later consumption; but you loved it still whenever alfred gave you the creative liberty to stroll around the manor to decorate the bleak place into a less melancholic version of a gothic abandoned house by the forest, left with only the legacy of a long-standing family.

it was just, you never find it necessary to tell anyone why there's a charcoal portrait of alfred hanged in one of the uncrowded hallways, or why the colors of the walls change momentarily, or why certain colors of flowers were more present by the garden than other colors— so maybe you could consider that a secret.

and it made you feel less lonely, if even by a fraction. yet you don't know it, but your acts of service to the manor was what made the family enjoy their stay a bit longer, was what made them appreciate the backdrop of a new wallpaper they had thought alfred had chosen, or find the designs of resin furniture adorable.

you don't know it, but you were what made mundane living enjoyable for those who seek to relish in the sheer feeling of adrenaline instead.

when you were first taken into the manor, you were the reason why all their senses were stimulated. tiny, malnourished you couldn't keep your toes in place once you've been exposed to a new, more bigger environment.

back then, the manor carried this atmosphere of darkness, a reflection of bruce wayne's grief after his beloved parents' passing away from his arms. yet you took that pain, and turned it from its bleak, grayish colors, to an intimate, fluorescent glow. a soft, bright light emits from one of the random rooms, with custom-made beads dangling about and glow in the dark stickers that litter the room. it was one not too blinding to the eyes, and felt warm like the touch of a mother to their crying child.

your cooking of sweet treats were the ones they often like to fight over. it was through alfred's secret recipes he bestowed upon you, and your own alterations for your baking, that the kitches would always smell of cinnamon, brown butter, and caramelized sugar. it was because of you that you made the manor smell sweeter, more homey, like what would've smelled of an apartment during christmas eve. you've made them associate the kitchen with both famous, foreign, and local recipes that they came to love. steph loved it whenever she'd stumble upon a cookie decorated with purple, cass finds the ribbons on some cupcakes cute, associating it with ballet.

every time bruce, tim, or dick needs a place to destress, they often visit rooms with sweet humming or the occasional singing. it was sometimes gibberish, others with lyrics, yet pleasing to their ears all the same. it reminds them of their mothers' singing, whenever they'd knit or praise their precious jewelry. it makes bruce's stiff posture slacken, finding that odd voice sometimes sharing his talking habits through the lyrics they sang. dick would always sing along, feeling as if he was back in time with his mother playing with his hair as she sings circus music, and tim would close his tired eyes, laying his head on his hand as he dreams pleasant scenarios for once in his life.

although you never once felt any of their embrace, they've certainly felt yours in their hearts, minds, and sometimes even their body; a spiritual connection they've felt with you without even knowing it. the last time damian touched you was when he pinned your wrists to your side. and even if he tried his hardest to ignore the raging beat of his heart, screaming at him to release you from the tight cage of his grip, he refuses to. out of sheer anger and petty spite, or the desire to feel the skin of his sibling who struggles to let go from his hold, he doesn't know. but he certainly does remember how your palms lack callouses unlike his does, and how warm your touch felt, even if blazing with cold sweat from his threats.

he had remembered the smell of your sweat and even the taste of your tears by accident and committed it to memory.

it was through your indirect care that everyone felt loved and cared for, and find themselves enjoying the sweet, small moments of living within what was once a stuffy manor holding painful memories.

and nobody knows why — with the exception of dick, bruce, and damian now — that despite the batcave being filled with the entire family, it felt empty all the same.

well, not entirely empty, but bleak with color. every hue remained gray in their eyes, the pipe leaks were eminent, heavy breathing was evident all throughout. no music catched on to their ears, and they all remain skittish and rigid.

it seems as if everyone has catched on, that they're all holding their breath together as the leader of the group, batman, looks around to do a silent head count.

after all, he told both dick and damian to update the family that this meeting is urgent, and no one shall even bother ditching, or else they wouldn't get to the bottom of your disappearance without all the help they could receive.

in a race to get you, they need to burn off all resources or god help bruce because he'd run himself crazy searching for you.

alfred doesn't want that happening, but he understands.

you're important, and no one could dispute that fact. after bruce had gone through your all your diaries, your sketchbooks that he had to pry away from damian's possessive hold, and the box of belongings that you left that he stashed away in his office— he knew he couldn't just leave his child out in the streets of gotham.

you're his child, and a damn child of his means his responsibility. either he likes the obligation or not, it's his duty to protect you from the harm of living in such a dangerous city. and you're certainly not a vigilante, he'd already ran through multiple recent investigations before everyone came rushing down to the batcave to confirm you're not connected with any bad guys; which was good, and bad news.

that means you chose not to undergo the same, dangerous path jason chose, or rebel like damian, yet at the same time you must've been incapable of self defense.

and he knows that even if you fight with normal moves; without his guidance against a gallery of brutal villains out to destroy batman or anyone related to bruce, you're dead meat. bruce doesn't want you dead. the only times he wants to hold you in his arms were the ones unconnected to you laying limp with your last breath, no. he wants you alive, and well, and safe from harm.

his precious baby, his treasure. he wants to see your face in one piece, and he wishes cradle you in his arms. just because you're over eighteen doesn't mean he's fully lost you. he's your father, first and foremost, and your hero second.

that's why it's imperative that everybody follows his orders now, with the primary order being that everyone, under the guise of currently not holding a mission, is required to be in the batcave within the first thirty or forty-five minutes of the announcement. no, there's no excuses that should be said, or buts. this meeting is a priority meeting, and as vigilantes who fight for the safety of their city's citizens, they know not to disobey.

and as family members related to bruce's precious second youngest, it's an obligation for them to care as much as bruce, dick, and even damian does for the search of your disappearance.

though apparently, jason couldn't get that message, and didn't bother to update through comms over where he's at the opposite side of gotham, his devices turned off after he had recently gone off in a rebellious tangent yet again about bruce's refusal to mercilessly slaughter the deserving ones.

he'll lecture his second child soon after he reports to bruce, mentioning your safety on the line while at it, but right now?

right now he needs to address the elephant in the room: the overbearing anxiousness and antsiness everyone collectively feels, bruce's stern eyes replicating the anger, the surge of energy he feels to exact vengeance on every crime that litters the street, the same urgency he felt compelled to drown upon right after his parents have died right in front of him.

whilst alfred's knowing ones stare at each and every one of the culprits of your disappearance, all a direct reason why you had left in the first place.

someone sighs, and it's not bruce who speaks up first amongst the crowd of vigilantes.

"so what now, father? are we all just going to stand here, or are we going to address the main issue? or do you want me to be the one who brings them back home? i wouldn't mind finding them before all of you do."

"this is not the time to be... you, damian, we're all....we all need time to think." it was dick who spoke next, with a sense of urgency, as his eyes that tried his damn best to stare at damian softly, with a smile to accompany it, immediately plasters itself back on his phone, spamming your phone with messages damian was sure were all about him begging for you to take them all back. without any fights, without any hesitation.

ever the pacifist, one would think. but everyone could see wide blue eyes, glinting at the screen. begging for mercy for such a lost case, tears nearly rimming his eyelids, lips bitten raw as blood drips down his quivering chin.

cass could read his movements, she knows he's mad. but not even a master of body language is in need to know just how much dick's rage emanates off his body.

fingers clenched on his phone, teeth gritted as he spoke, eyes frantically searching through messages, scrolling up, then down, as if he's waiting for something. for someone no doubt.

tim deduces that the person they're focused on for this urgent meeting was the same person dick was trying to text. 'must've been related or close to us if it means it's this important for everyone to be involved.'

he'll look through dick's phone later to solve the itching case, his fingers twitching to whip out his side in the batcave's screen and make a new case file.

but he chose to ignore it for now, they all do, each one focusing on their primary worries.

"who's them? wait— what even are we gonna talk about?" duke's voice rang loudly through the cave. it at least broke through the tension, bruce's tense shoulders sagging in relief then suddenly reverting back to its old, rigid pose.

everyone noticed the action. they're trained individuals after all.

barbara flinched through her seat at the sight of the man, with her hands readily available to type at the keyboard. though her eyes stay glued at batman, looking deeper and noticing his fervoured state.

it's as if he is lost in thought.

and with just how much thoughts were racing in his mind, it's easy to drown. to get lost in that mirage of memories trying to link an image of you to anything he tries to remember. even now, bruce wants to see your face first and foremost. he wants to see an image of you sleeping in your tiny, creaking bed, and to erase any of those memories to replace it with new luxuries he could provide you in life; a comfort you should've been blessed with the moment you entered the double doors of his manor.

his string of pearls, his little treasure.

"(name). they left, and i need all of you to listen to me, now. rebuttals later."

when bruce spoke up, gruff and domineering, with no room for anyone to speak back, all eyes were now on him.

dick throws his phone across the room, ignoring the shatter of the pure, aluminum branded back of it. his foot was jittering, and his voice was as ready to command orders with bruce.

blue eyes stare, vicious and hungry, impatient at its prime. with the addition of damian's green, squinted ones, and bruce's stern glare, thundering and clouded.

it was a spectacle to witness the same emotions coursing through their veins. as if they're one and the same; vultures feeding off the feeling of need and urgency to actuate what seems to be an already brewing plan on the trio's part.

the rest, unknowing of what had just occurred half an hour ago within your bedroom, listens.

they ignore the gnawing feeling of intuition, of something, right at this moment, going wrong, just to hear bruce's explanation, with dick and damian butting in.

they listen, fascinated about you being bought up, a name so foreign yet familiar, a mystery in their eyes despite having met or seen you occasionally; a glimpse of you running through hallways or painting in the garden.

they listen, and all the individuals let deep, feral emotions fester within them the longer they allow their ears and their mind to devour the words dick says, all syllables a symphony of praises towards you, each vowel accentuating his favor.

they listen, and learned.

whatever happened within the batcave, is also a secret.

you have your own secrets. they have theirs.

except, yours were discovered, and they choose to let emotions brewing deep in their hearts as obscured within public view.

tim wants to search for you, steph joins in on his sentiment too. barbara's already at it whilst she types and listens in on bruce's words, cass ponders about your invisible presence and just like bruce, tries to think of memories of you stumbling by her, and duke just as much attempts to picture your face and remembers something sentimental; one he'd ponder on later once he's alone.

now they all know your secrets, not everything, but a semblance of it. they discover their neglects, and acknowledge the consequences. why throughout their stirring arguments, they all couldn't find your handmade night-lights that they like to look at during the dark, or smell the baked crusts on your home-made pumpkin pie recipe, or the humming of random music through the halls.

because you've never once visited the batcave—

and it was the only room not graced with your courtesy, care, passions, and love.

they listen to bruce's plan, yet they ignore the growing dread.

they ignore why jason is radio-silent all throughout too.

instead, they focus on you, trying to reminisce on old, buried memories they at least spent with you. good ones, not the ones containing your meek begs, and heartbroken gazes. or the ones where you stood in the corner of a room watching them talk. or the times where you all had dinner together and you're left in the wake of silence despite the chatter filling the dining room.

... and once they couldn't muster anything up, they figured on creating new ones instead.

warm.

this place feels so unnaturally warm, that it seeks shelter under your skin. warm, yet welcoming at the same time.

...where are you?

your bleary eyes slowly open, blinking gradually, squinting out the streaks of white in your vision. it's always a hassle to wake yourself up. sleep has never been peaceful for you: always awoken by nightmares, or tormenting paralysis, sometimes mere insomnia causes you to lay awake and sweating in your tiny room. and your dreams always has to involve your family, one way or another; of course it's always about them, they've been your only source of life despite never being there for yours. but now? now you feel like you've had a complete 9 hour cycle of sleep, with no hint of fatigue in your body.

you've never had any proper sleep. ever since you saw... you saw her dying that it never registers within your mind just how deprived you are of rest, constantly haunted by memories you wish you just could... forget. but you couldn't, not when your beloved mother is the only precious reminder you have in life to stay alive.

your arms, arms that were always sore, in twisted positions, bruised and with faded scars from all the times you felt too impulsed to hurt, the only way to forget the mental torment you've gone through; now lay atop cozy sheets with no pain bared, no extra sheen of sheen on sweat. your fingers stretch, you caress the pillows your head lays on, cold to the touch against your warm, uncrying face.

it feels nice, feels crisp against your skin. your ears don't burn and you don't feel the need to flip your pillow to the colder side.

a yawn slowly escaped your lips. you lick them, they're not chapped, nor dry. they don't feel bitten, nor streaked with blood. you lick again, there's no familiar sting, nor the taste of blood that seeps against cracked skin.

'this is strange.'

you feel unusually relaxed, your breathing's oddly steady. there's no scent of smoke and pollution invading your nostrils, no shadow of doubt cloaking your mind.

you don't feel like dying today.

it feels so nice, the weather's so weird... pleasant. but this? it's not normal, gotham has never felt so quiet today. there has never been a time where you wake up feeling so... human. this is not routine. you're not used to this. god, everything's so strange and yet...

it's been so long since you last felt like you were... home. wispy streaks of particles dance under the soft light that beams outside of crooked, wooden windows. it casts an angelic glow on your surroundings, unlike the shrouded darkness you're accustomed to.

your eyes do a double take, churning mechanically at an angle where you can clearly see the glass panes.

"hm?" windows that always fog up with polluted specks of dust, now clear, and bright as day. it feels like the sun is kissing your skin through the light that enters the glass, you feel the at ease as your bones crack comfortably, and your muscles stretch without ache.

and you...

you're laying in a thick mattress that buries you in deep burgundy sheets. blankets wrapped around your body like a welcoming hug, you're reminded of your mother yet again.

your heart thumps rhythmically, not erratically this time, no— you've never felt so invigorated. it's been a while since you slept in a comfortable bed, in a comfortable setting, with a comfortable atmosphere. not the sound of blades hit your ears, nor the honking of cars, or ringing of phones. wherever you're laying didn't feel stiff like cardboard back in your apartment, the pillowcases are cool to the touch. your clothes don't encase you uncomfortably tight, there's no random thread that persists on irritating your skin.

it feel so oddly peculiar, so comforting, and you want to cry.

you feel light, airy even. there's nothing but the buzz of empty warmth that encapsulates your entire body. you're not used to this, this disgusting feeling of comfort, you don't think it's real.

only one response enters your mind, the only thing you're accustomed to.

'i don't deserve this.' your thoughts drown you into a deep sea of anguish, but the dichotomy of comfort and pain stirs you into satiating confusion. this is the first time you felt blessed, the first time you wish you were good enough to feel like you're worthy of deserving such goodness in your life.

suddenly, you feel like crying, but no tears escape your eyes, and your heart refuses to beat out of its cage. you're in a trance that refuses to release you from its comforting hold.

the hazy tune of birds chirping snaps you out of your deprecating reflection of your life.

when you squint and look out the windows once more, you make out a faint reflection of green, dominating the entire view second floor view of what is supposed your home.

for the first time, you don't feel fear reminiscing on that earthly shade of color.

you're in a... forest.

your nose picks up on the scent of the damp, green, grasslands. your eyes makes out the scenery outside, droplets of water slowly dripping on tall leaves, the rivulets travelling from blades of leaves to nourished, wet soil. it produces this stimulating smell, one you haven't been able to experience for months living in the polluted air outside the windows of your apartment.

petrichor.

you don't know what, or how, or why this is happening.

all you know is common knowledge, something perceived through senses and observations. you're in a cottage, yes, the interior layout is filled with personal trinkets you know you would've bought with money if you even had it, and furniture suited to both you tastes and your mother's... but otherwise, nothing else.

other than memories of a fantasy you shared with your mother, back when you were innocent to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and its merciless passions.

"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 23.

i remember one conversation i had with my mother.

it was about something related to where would we choose to live if we had the choice. she asked me that, out in the random, and that took me by surprise to say the least.

huh, during that time, i never knew her intentions for my answers.

i answered her sincerely, told her that, well, i wanted to live in a comfortable cottage, with two floors and a spacious bedroom for me, with hers right beside mine; so she can keep all the monsters away when i got too scared living by my own.

i wanted fairy lights strewn on the roof of my room, and matching glow in the dark stickers of stars and constellations with hers, just like the ones we have in our quaint apartment. i told her it wouldn't be complete without the mini figurines on top of raspberry colored cabinets, the ones that i loved to collect whenever we thrifted at stores, and most importantly the picture frames of us together.

she giggled at my reply, and told me it was such a 'me' thing to choose what i had said. but i retorted and told her she'd choose the same thing. and she said i said what exactly was on her mind.

thinking about that memory now, i feel warm despite the fact that bruce forgot to attend another parent-teacher conference again this week. every memory of my mother... tugs at my heart, both painful and nostalgic. i miss her.

if my momma was here, she wouldn't even hesitate to pull out of whatever side hussle she had for a job at the first second i'd mention something about my school. she always prioritizes me as her only child. it makes me feel special, and loved, and cared for— i haven't felt that in a long time. i won't lie that alfred's presence helps but a mother's love precedes all essence.

i love her so much. i wish i never took her for granted.

now that i think about it too...

if my momma was here, we could've been in that cottage right now, living our lives, carefree, without nothing to worry us. whether it'd be food in our plates or money to pay the bills. we'll always be happy with mushroom foraging and sitting by the warm fireplace i pictured, with her homemade hot chocolate by the table. she'd be nestled beside me, keeping me warm. that's enough to make me happy, enough to dismiss the heaviness in my heart as i write this.

i wish we were at that cottage right now, forever actually. i don't need a big family, all i need is my mom. and sure we'll have some arguments along the way but it wouldn't be as bad as, well, damian threatening to draw his sword on me and stab me at the heart every second i made him mad, which is always...

funny thing is... fuck, i never noticed how she was saving up money and starving herself whilst simultaneously keeping me well-fed so she could pursue my dreams of actually getting a cottage. i was so oblivious to everything that i just, i never noticed that she was earning all this, to build my dreams, so we can escape from gotham and live new lives with each other by our side.

she was doing all this, for the sake of my comfort, my happiness, my everything. she lives her life with no breaks, and retired from her previous job as a... sex worker just so i can live normally, so i wouldn't be ashamed of being her child, of seeing her as my mother. she was everything i needed in my life. she sacrificed, and i took it for granted.

and i wanted to scold her so badly; doing this for such a lost cause as me. it hurts to think about it now.

so what if i wanted a cottage? what about it if i'm now living with my father, huh? i don't care about living comfortably at all, if that meant i didn't have mother by my side, to support me, to actually love me, then what is a house all worth for??? all i wanted and needed was her, just her. and they took me away from my mother.

my mother.

your heart breaks at the seems whilst you write that faithful night, the grip on your pen near to leaving dents on your finger. if it draws out blood, then so be it. your handwriting turns unintelligible, strokes not knowing where to end. what once was clean, white sheets of paper now crumpled by your despair, by the tears that escaped your eyes, by your fists balling at the paper, all your emotions boiling down to mere grief.

if bruce mourns for jason, you do so too for your mother.

yet you continue to write, and write, and write. it's the only medium of comfort you have, the only means to treasure memories long gone, heartaches and comfort all a coagulation of your retreat to the real world.

if dreams can come true, then you wish the fantasies of your mother being with you comes alive, that she'd be by your side, taking your pen away from your hands, kissing your sweaty forehead and matted tresses, assuring you she's fine. she'll smile with crinkling eyes, and set your quivering hands to a stop, then wrap you in her arms, shielding you away from the burden of living without her.

if you were her flower, then she is your hearth. the only warmth you'd feel in such a cold manor, the only one capable of dipping her hands into your chest, taking your beating heart, and melting off the frigid locks that kept your love in place ever since her death.

only then can you say that dreams do come true, only then can you rest; close your eyes without praying for a dreamless slumber, without nightmares, without swords piercing your body, or the dismissive turn of your family's back on you.

but if dreams do come true, what does that say about nightmares?

only reality can tell.

or you can tell.

at you current state, seated restless on your tiny room with barely any illuminated moonlight guiding your tired body, tormented by both past and future, writing endlessly on journals soon to be forgotten— wouldn't that be considered a nightmare? to be subjected upon unwanted isolation, from the very same people who promised their lives to protect lives such as yours.

your family, your father, brothers and sisters. through empty promises alone; all enough to destroy you inside out.

talentless, worthless, out of place.

yet even if your diaries were all torn apart, pages seeping with both blood and tears, you still write.

you write, and you continue through your endeavors. what once were fond memories were the same monsters chasing you through barren halls and empty rooms.

after all, it's the only way to honor her passing, even if it kills you all the same.

you continue, wiping at your sullen cheeks, and brushing away ripped strands of hair; pen inseparable from stubborn, swollen fingers.

now i'm living here, in this big manor, with nothing going on for me. i have alfred, and he's like a father figure right after mom, but it doesn't change anything... it doesn't change the grief i feel, the sorrow, the unwaning depression. nothing. i couldn't even get myself to stand up from bed because i'm so fed up with everything.

if i didn't try so hard in the first place, i would've never been left this destroyed.

i want to give up, i want to die and just disappear off the face of earth. no one would notice, and at least after i die, i would be reunited with her— but I can't. why?

i have to remind myself everyday. i just can't give up and let all her efforts go to waste. she doesn't want me dying, earlier than her age, too. she told me i couldn't just let go so easily, that life is beautiful if you try to find its hidden beauty. i'm still trying to find meaning in all her wise words, i can't just take her honor for granted, especially since i know that despite everything, she has her own anguish and regrets.

does she regret having me?

right now, i feel a spark of motivation. she's been saving up, just for me, and i want to honor her memories at least. if i can't feel like home in this manor, then i'll make myself a home. to honor her, and to build upon both our dreams.

i don't know when, or how i could even engage in this impossible goal. but for momma? i'll do anything for her, even if it means working myself to death. because at least that means proof that i tried, and she'll be proud of me in the afterlife. god, i hope she would be.

we'll get that cottage soon, momma. i promise."

thinking about it now, that was ten entries right after your breakdown during your birthday. it was at a period of time where you fully accepted that you'd never be loved by your family, that you never belonged, and matured just as quickly after taking a break from writing self destructive diaries.

you sigh, looking down at your clenched palms and indenting fingers on skin. you really wish she was here. it could've made everything better, you would've been better if she was by your side.

a knock ensures before your door, and that alone snaps you out of your thoughts. you jump in shock yet feel no pang of panic in your heart, but before you could reach out to defend yourself, the door opens after the prior knock, and your...

your mother enters.

angelic, glowing, beautiful.

she's decorated in a white dress, with a pearl necklace decorating her neck, glinting like diamonds, soft in its assertion. like an angel, rather than the devil she's portrayed to be in the newspapers she hid from you.

she looks beautiful, as always, breath-taking to the point it makes you wonder how you share the same genes as her.

but her beauty now precedes her beauty from when you last saw her bleeding in the cold tiles of your apartment. now, she looks old, yet ethereal. wrinkles flecked her skin, her eyes drooped at the lids, her hairs displayed streaks of white in some areas.

you've never seen her like this.

she had you very young, and you've lost her young. yet she looks as she's rebirthed now, living yet aging like fine wine.

she is happy, and content with her smile, and looks at you with a radiant grin, smile marks on her sunken cheeks, like you mean the world, walking towards your seated form as she hugs you weakly, yet lovingly.

warm, like the spring's gentle blooms, like the feel of petals rubbed against your fingertips.

you're caught breathless.

"momma...?"

beauty that is true, that is honest, and speaks of history. beyond the barriers of photos you see in her at her prime, when she was known as a 'man-eater', a lustful creature that steals from rich to survive.

you've never lied when you said your mother is always going to be the most beautiful woman in the world.

at least, in your eyes. because if she objectively was, then your father could've, should've stayed with her, for the sake of his pride and reputation at the very least. he could've had her by his side, even through a loveless marriage, if it meant it ensured her safety.

you dismiss the bitterness the brews inside you, and opted to focus at the strange, yet welcome circumstances beforehand.

your hands find a way to wrap around her crouched figure, fingers lingering on the once sinewy bones of her spine, now healthy even through the sagging skin.

"my baby..." you look up at her, her hands holding your head so tenderly, cradling you side to side.

"momma..." she kisses your forehead, then both your cheeks, and takes a seat beside you. when she did, you felt a surge of energy and warmth burst throughout both your body and heart. for once, you felt giddy, solitary confinement all but a dream in this fantasy land.

you don't let her hands go for even a second, fearing this moment will be taken away from you. there's warmth emanating off the fingers intertwined with yours, you wish this moment never ends.

the questions that almost left your silken throat took hesitation. you just can't ask why she's alive, where you are and why you're here in the first place; for fear she'll be taken away from you, that you couldn't see her beyond the conjured and brief memories you had of her.

you wish to cry once again, this time, you let out a small hiccup and feel saliva bundling on the back of your mouth. she hums in resounding worry, her other hand swiping away at the hair covering your wide eyes. the softness in her eyes doesn't falter, and she hums a familiar lullaby: one that triggers nostalgia, that reminds you of the days spent without electricity in your tiny apartment with her lighting a candle just so she could read you another one of your favorite stories, huddled beside her.

the last you've heard of her voice, it was parched and inaudible. she always sacrificed for you, and drinkable water was a privilege in the shady parts of gotham.

"you're probably wondering where you are and why we're here, aren't you, sunshine?" she cuts her singing off abruptly, your eyes snap open to look up at her through your eyelashes.

"... y-yeah," your reply comes in, voice barely whisper. unsure and insecure of where this conversation will go, you chose to bury your head in her shoulder. she smells of ripe strawberry and cherries, unlike the mixture bold perfumes mixed with the stench of booze she comes home with after another night of restless endeavor. yet you don't acknowledge the memories of the past, you're here with her now and it's all that matters.

"where are we, mom? am i... dreaming? please, i- i miss you." this time, your tears come out in a steady stream, but your throat doesn't constrict in itself, and you don't feel the urge to rip at your hair at anymore.

now you're just terribly sentimental rather than bitter. no more was the jealousy that aches, or the panic rushing through your veins. it's just you and your mother, and the memories of her passing that buries you at the hilt of your sadness.

"well... you're in the realm between life and death, my little angel," she states with lidded eyes, as if it is a matter of fact. her hands move to scratch your scalp, she hums and swings your crying body side to side, akin to a mother cradling her newborn baby.

you felt particularly reborn, the sudden change affecting you more than you'd like to admit. the light outside your window casts her in a sheen of white, glimmering like rays of the sun, or like the twinkle of the moon.

even if she was old, and grey and wrinkly, she's always been ethereal.

and you're convinced that she's the angel instead.

"you've been through a lot, haven't you?" her questions brought you out of your tearful stupor, she brings her lips to kiss at your forehead and wraps her palms on the sides of your face, wiping away at the waterworks refusing to cease.

all you could do was nod, and feel the warmth reflecting off her body, transferring all to you. even in the plane of death has she always been generous.

"i-i... i don't want this to end, momma..." you utter, gazing at her ever-smiling face. there was a faint translucency in her body, as if her form is slowly disappear. and for a second, you feel fear that she'll disappear. fear that dissipates just as quickly when you hear her heavenly chuckles.

"...baby, i'm here with you right now in because i want to remind you to choose the path to live. it's too early to die right now, it's too early for my baby to join me in the afterlife." her words are too complicated to comprehend with how muddled your thoughts were, her saccharine actions feel like a forbidden touch, and you just couldn't comprehend why, just why does she want you to live...

when there's nothing else left for you in the realm where she's not around.

"but i... i don't understand...? why can't, why can't i be with you, mom—?"

"because unlike me, baby, you have so much to do. i've nothing left of me to offer when i died, baby... at least now, at least you'll find that you're still always loved, even when i'm not with you."

she cuts you off with a hush, pinching your cheeks before another wave of tears and quivering hiccups escape your befuddled body.

but you can't afford to let her go a second time, you can't go back—!

you don't want to be back in that damning structure you call a manor, you don't want to watch your father from a mere corner shrouding himself in the pits of darkness you know you couldn't carry, you don't want to return to begging for dick's attention as he turns a blind eye, you don't want the pitiful stares from tim when he's in the same room as you, or duke, cass, and steph's hushed whisper whenever you pass by, plans being made without your knowledge, without acknowledgement of your presence. you don't want to be blamed by damian for even being born in the first place. you don't want anymore uncelebrated and silent birthdays anymore, or milestones celebrated with just a fucking cupcake and a pat on your head...!

you want your mom, you don't want your other family, not anymore...

even if... even if your disappearance paved the way for a new shift in interests in your family's mind, even if you're now unknowingly the center of attention after months of the manor's solitude without you; just like you had always wanted— you're tired, and you've long since given up and grown from selfish and unrealistic desires of a completely healthy family.

if you could even call them that wretched title.

if you could even consider them as one like how they never did you.

the tears return just like the pain you were temporarily barred from, now it's a waterfall that threatens to throw you off of your escape from the reality of life, stinging your eyes and falling on crumpled sheets as your fingers grip uncontrollably for a sanction of control. from what? from the fear that now is the moment that you'll truly never see her again, not even in your memories.

"... momma, please, stay—!"

but right before you could reason out, desparate words crawling and jumping out your heaving chest and into the spiraling room, right before you could beg her to stay closer with you with her flickering warmth for just a second further as her body slowly dissipates from her hold on you, as your vision darkens and you hear that faint, familiar murmur of gotham's bustling motorcycles and alleyway screaming—

her last words, full of assurances, just like the day she tucked you in that little closet and made you promise that you'd stay silent for her, sacrificing her life just so she could protect you; it grounds you into your spot, restless, broken, and chasing unsaid words to tell her before you lose her once more, and destroys any and all hope for complete, and utter happiness you forced yourself to truly believe.

"... i love you, my sweet angel. be good for me, alright...?"

and just like that, your eyes blearily open to find itself into a completely foreign surrounding yet again.

and this time, it is real and unwanted.

'jason todd, a good soldier,' were the words marked and engraved on his tombstone. buried under the healthy soils of the manor, he felt as if his presence was forgotten all the same.

it was true, he was a good soldier. always obedient, always listening and mirroring bruce's orders, even though he grew up in the ratty streets with a drug-addicted mother and an abusive father, when he was picked up by bruce and lead into the vigilante life with the beaming potential to combat even dick; jason was always the good kid, who, even if he became a tad bit rebellious on the years garnering on teenage life, died honorably for the safety of his biological mother who betrayed him.

jason todd, always the boy portrayed as a warning sign for all the future robins, always the child remembered as just that: a soldier of batman, the kid of bruce who died unfairly; the truth of his death, the truth of joker's fucked up foil to destroy the bat's mentality even further all for a good laugh, hidden beneath restricted case files and bruce's suppressed emotions— all left unattended, just for him to be replaced by another new robin; a telltale signal that felt like bruce was trying so hard to repair the broken fixtures jason left behind.

the implication itself felt as if the world is laughing at his heroic acts, never acknowledged beyond the faults that lie on his stubbornness; a learnt trait all robins grew into once they've been taken in bruce's care.

he must've never been a good kid if life decided to take him away, when his youth was at an all time high, when all he wanted to do was meet his real mother, and to save her even when she had left him to die with explosives laid beside his beaten body.

was it his fault that all he ever wanted to do was to make his father proud? what was wrong with being a hero, being robin with his magical passions?

jason was never the spiteful man everyone assumed him to be. he was never rebellious, or thirsting for vengeance, or came to hate bruce as much as what everyone else thought of when they'd first hear his name.

even when he was revived in that sunken pit of hell, nineteen with a seventeen year old soul, feeling his once lanky body too tall, too big for him to flex his fingers, to kick with his now muscly legs, crying and screaming under all the madness of forcefully having his soul be reunited with his body after two years of peaceful rest.

and when he had returned to his senses, when he discovered that there were two new children running around the manor, one a product of a one-night stand, the other donning the identity of a new robin, did jason become the spiteful image everyone imagine the young boy came to be from when he was just an impulsive teenager.

becoming alive once more, reliving betrayal after betrayal, watching in the background: never the full story, but enough to feel like he's been replaced— it became his sole duty to torment, to do to criminals what has been done to him, just to teach the bat that his moral code was flawed, was what caused a thousand other souls to be lost under the hands of the puny joker.

all this, just to feel a sense of right in a life constantly wronging him.

yet under all the blood-soaked jackets, the aluminum amoury, under clenched teeth and resentful, dead blue eyes stood a boy who loved. who stole tires to provide for his small family who never truly loved him: a father who beats at his body nightly, a mother who dismisses him in favor of her favorite substances. who read books of all genre— classic his all time favorite, jane austen his beloved author, he loved school, loved learning, jason always came home with an A+ in all his subjects, eternally grateful despite the years of betrayal, of heartache, of shredded photos and shattered picture frames.

who advocated his young life fighting crime, kicking ass beside his vigilante partner and a man he came to call his dad, even though he had all the opportunities in the world to turn rotten like the crime infested streets of gotham. because he was a good kid, too, and a soldier the next.

he was never the violent kind. he was the kid who loved above all else. idolizing dick, bruce, all the good people in the world with shining ambitions that should've never been stained so early. he even told bruce he always wanted a little sibling to care for. he wanted to teach another young, unfortunate child what it's like to share kindess in this shithole of a city.

jason todd was a ball of pure joy, loved by bruce to the point his father could've never moved on from his death, never acknowledging the next traumatized child that came after him, and also tim, too, who he always mistakenly call by jason's name.

jason couldn't see beyond the surface of what he knew, masked by hatred for what had become after two years, questions spiraling hid head that accompanies a darkness he never knew could shroud him like a cloak. bruce used to hide him under his curtain of a cape back when he was a small, manourished kid, his vision overtaken by pure black; but now the older version of him knew what true darkness is like without needing his vision disrupted.

death feels like eternal darkness, a void that devours your vision of all colors, no physical form, no thoughts, but unmoving with the feelings grounding you in place, like hell. and with the shadow of doubt that he was never truly cherished by a man he loved to call his father, that no vengeance took place after his death, jason couldn't fathom the pain greater than what he experienced in that cold, dark warehouse; spending hours hoping that he'd be saved.

how long did it take for bruce to replace him? days, months, weeks?

how long did it take for bruce to move on? was he just an afterthought to the man? was he just a good soldier in bruce's eyes?

and why, just why, does he also blame himself for his own doom? for being stubborn enough to pursue chasing after a clown smarter than him, why does he

... if he had never died, things would've never escalated that far, it wouldn't have created a domino effect that ruined not only his life, but his angel's too.

if he had never died, you wouldn't be bleeding in his arms like he did too in bruce's.

... except unlike him back then, you want to simply die now.

jason's passing was not only his guilt or bruce's, it also marked the start of your treacherous journey of thirteen and a half years living in silence, in fear and in constant yearning after your mother's death, for a love so passionate from bruce like the one he gives to all his other children but you.

for a love he had given all up for jason that he never had any to spare to you.

bruce never gave you what you wanted, what you practically needed. all in favor of mourning the passing of his second child, his son who achieved more than the levels you knew you'd never reach. you were never the desirable child, because as good as you were like jason, as nice as you could be, or talented— nobody could replace the hole that jason left within bruce from when he left the world.

you both were good kids, but jason was infinitely better.

when you were first introduced to the manor, jason assumed you and tim replaced him, he watched secretly after his resurrection, with grim prayers for your downfall 'cause he couldn't attack you like he did tim in the tower because of your civilian status, your involvement towards batman was close to zero.

you were a young child, you knew nothing, and he hates you.

he regrets hating you.

all because he hates seeing himself in those young, glinting eyes. he never realized what he felt was fear, fear that someone like you could end up like him, when he had first obsessively did research on your buried past. your world could've been so easily destroyed by the tips of his finger and he had done so mercilessly until it was too late.

he really hated you at first, but he couldn't do anything to hurt you without trespassing the manor and triggering all the signals and alarms he's sure have been updated by the new, puny little robin. he hated you so much for reasons he couldn't pinpoint, blinded by sorrow, and grief, and every piling resentment built on years of animosity he should've only directed only towards bruce, and never someone as innocent, as uninvolved as you.

you, who he calls his angel after the years of torment you've unknowingly and obliviously suffered under him.

but he was so angered, the darkness in his mind clawed him deeper in a frenzy for revenge, that it overpowered the empathy he felt for when he first saw you, standing alone in the kitchen room with an apple in your hand and a blunt knife in the other. not ready to defend yourself at the sight of him, not even pointing it at him, but inviting the man to eat with you your favorite abomination of apple slices and peanut butter— as if you didn't care about the gun in his hands and the window cutter in the other.

you didn't understand why it was so easy to ignore you. it had been years since you have talked, let alone find yourself staring at a person, that you never cared for your safety as long as it meant that... well, you could have someone to finally talk to, with your parched throat from all the moments of unuse, excitedly addressing him as mr. ghost.

he couldn't do anything, couldn't even stare at you for longer, so he ran away at first glance, and failed to see the heartbroken sigh from you agter and the tears that welled up having your hopes raised up only to be shattered once more.

that sight of you standing under the moonlit night triggered conflicting feelings within him– but it was always the strive for vengeance that took over his life, didn't it? even though meeting you bore solid evidence that you were none the wiser, that you didn't deserve anything coming from you; it was through his sheer dedication to destroy all things cherished by bruce that he never once realized that you were merely nothing to bruce— that he ruined an innocent person's life over nothing.

he resorted to praying for your demise if it meant he couldn't physically hurt you. he focused on tormenting you indirectly before the fire in his raging heart was eventually extinguished.

he was the man you see by the hallways, the monster you thought raptured knocks on your window in the middle of the night, the reason for why some of your old childhood toys would be missing eyes, had loosened stitches, or had their stuffings removed and displaced somewhere hidden you couldn't reach.

a cryptic message that made you run and bury your head in alfred's suit, asking the old man to spend the night with you after another one of your toys was ripped apart. a reaction that made jason scoff at your immaturity; as if the inner child in him wouldn't react the same way.

you were only a few years younger than tim, despite arriving in the manor before him, and jason was stupid enough to assume you had been raised well by bruce that you'd be mature at your age, he was such an idiot to think that you wouldn't be as emotionally affected but rather paranoid of the sudden paranormal activity surrounding you. that the cookies you baked were all left to be crumbs, after just leaving them to cool off for a few minute, the pens you used for journalling wouldn't have gone missing— he thought surely, you'd be broken mentally...

but never this... emotionally.

what he didn't expect were breakdowns right after, hair pulling, the biting of skin and panic attacks after panic attacks.

wide eyes staring at the ceiling, perspiration on your skin clinging on to blazing bedsheets at the lack of ventilation, sporadic breathing, bleeding scratches on your skin like a wild animal.

you cry like one, unashamed of how loud your sobs were for such a parched throat, at how long you've been wailing alone whilst hugging your too-little body, eyes closed and misty, as if it would rid you the images of your wrecked bedroom and missing journals.

yet jason never stops to wonder why no one had came running in your room to save you from destroying yourself even further.

he never wondered nobody bothered to acknowledge your crying every night, continuing on his tangent to destroy everything you loved just to prove a point, that you couldn't be worth the effort for bruce to care enough about, despite the internal conflict he felt ruining an innocent kid's life.

and he didn't even need to prove anything, because you were never worth anything. the longer jason went on without bruce's acknowledgement, the more everything felt wrong, the more he felt like whatever he's doing is torture, not retribution.

he's terrible for what he'd done, and slowly resigned to watching over you instead to ensure you'll slowly calm down after months of his monstrous presence looming over you.

but the damage was already done, and you're left to even smaller, shattered pieces.

and here he is now, watching as you bleed out in his arms, crying and babbling at the pain, yet begging under your breath to "please, please don't call batman, don't call bruce... please leave, please, please, please don't do anything stupid, jay..."

whilst pushing him away, as if scared of him, as if you'd rather death than... than to see bruce dismiss another relayed message regarding you.

even if you're dying, you refuse to undergo the same pain of neglect. even if you're dying, you don't wish to ruin their movie night plans just because you were stupid enough to drink yourself to near death to distract yourself from dick's messages.

all because you've taught yourself that you're never worth the wait, and jason takes blame in partaking the destruction of your optimism.

under the flickering light of the lamppost, your swollen eyes and snot-ridden nose don't pose the same satisfaction he felt when he first ripped your plushie apart, not anymore. all he felt was dread now, that you're bleeding, his angel is bleeding and everything happening is very much real.

he feels a hidden awe, too, at just how ethereal and warm your body feels, despite the light leaving your eyes, the fight slowly being replace by another one of your panic attacks. he holds you still, and stabilizes your body with his strong arms to prevent anymore bleeding, despite the wobbly legs and your losing consciousness.

jason couldn't afford to let you die in his arms, he couldn't fathom just how much he misses your presence.

and now he realizes just how much he hates it when you fear him throughout the entire procedure of calming you down. how you shiver in his gaze, how he feels the pricks of your goosebumps against the thick fabric of his gloves.

you never once feared him when you first met him, it was through your lack of it that he bonded with you, keeping the torment he put you through a secret. even though he makes short and sometimes brash comments with his unfiltered mouth, you'll always find joy in his words because he was the only decent guy around the manor, despite his presence being scarce and sometimes nonexistent.

you cherished him, and god, he never knew how much he cherished you too.

but now you're sobbing and mumbling incoherently about how you wish it was never him who saved you, that it could've been someone else, or you prefer to be left rotting in the damn corner, dead and discarded, if it means it wouldn't be him saving you, for damn reasons he doesn't even know.

why do you hate him so much now...? why does his precious angel look at him in a tearful daze, all desparate to push him away despite the soreness of your body, despite the blood dripping from your lower stomach all the way down to the floor in a swirl of nauseating crimson mess?

why does he see himself in you?

why does he see the same broken child who chooses to care for others than themself?

as much as jason hated to admit it, as much as he said he never wanted to die for the sole reason that he cherished the moments with his father at most—

jason wished he could've turned time back right now, at this instant. he wished he could've been stronger, could've been far more resistant of that damn explosion, that he never was stupid enough to fall for one of joker's traps—

if it meant he wouldn't be suffering from the gripping ache on his chest, from the dreaded claws you call paranoia at the sight of your ice-blue lips and dimming eyes from all the blood loss, your arms still trying to push him to a considerable distance despite him wishing to hold you oh-so tightly, as his fingers, shivering from a familiar panic he felt, try to wipe away at the river of tears collecting at the edges of your dirt-stained chin and wobbly lips, his helmet pressed atop your forehead as if to reassure you, mostly himself that you'll all be alright—

that you wouldn't go through the same route as him, scarred and traumatized after this moment under the moonlit night that watches jason wrap his gloved palms on the back of your neck despite the remaining fight and adrenaline in your body, the other bulky mass of muscles under your feet.

the polluted air bares witness to his hasty breaths, the protective hold that refuses to let go, body automated to run to his motorcycle, stepping carelessly on the bloody carnage of the alleyway's floor (they deserve torture after what they put you through, hell, he'll make sure their burial will be damning to both the police that failed to search you even though they were in close proximity to where you screamed, and the other related lackeys involved in this wretched smuggling crime), to bring you to doctor leslie for an immediate surgery.

jason hopes that instead of hate, you'll still feel a semblance of any remaining love for him instead of aching nostalgia after all this time.

he hopes you could forgive him as it is only now that he realizes how vulnerable you truly are, that despite jokingly calling you his guardian angel, he should've been the guardian, the knight, the man who protects you from all evil as what he calls his morals to be.

why were you even out in the first place? just why were you absolutely wasted? why, why, why does the image of your resigned, and tired eyes the only thing flashing and looping in his mind, filtering out the speeding motorcycle cutting through wind and traffic lanes, ignoring red lights and the loud beeps of the other vehicles before him, the pump of engines similar to the wild beating of his heart, as he speeds through shortcuts after shortcuts to take you to immediate treatment before it was too late.

he takes short breaths, too aware of his surrounding, too deep in thought, he couldn't waste any moments thinking about anything but his angel.

he wishes he could've changed so many things. but you couldn't change the past anymore, you couldn't change the grueling form of torture you call silence for a child who wanted the same type of love bruce had for when jason was alive, who had to deal with the aftermath of jason's death.

and now, as the ripe age of eighteen, still too young, and still bleeding, at the mercy of death.

it never occured to him just how interconnected your lives were together. just how much it was through his passing that affected your life.

he was the first brother who saw you without the need for your cries of attention every lonesome passing of time in the ghostly manor.

and you were the first who stared at him through tear-stained cheeks and diluted irises. not out of fear, not out of haste to warn other members of his growing family of jason's (a stranger in your eyes, no less, with armoured chest plates and a crimson helmet glinting mercilessly in the dark, lightless room only illuminated by the wretched moon, with guns loaded with bullets in his holster) sudden trespass within the kitchen windows, not out of every negative emotions he expects of you; but out of sheer shell shock that someone had finally caught you through your nightly sneaking.

out of genuine whiplash of someone finally looking at you eye-to-eye, head faced to one another, your cold fingertips pressing against the swell of your eyebags from restless nightmares and anxious paranoia triggered from academics, as if to tell yourself that this was all mere hallucination.

you matter so much to him, even if he tries to overcorrect his sins, trying his damn best to notice your presence whenever he visits the manor, even if his brash words sting your heart sometimes, even if he couldn't properly show you affection he should've given you—

it's not enough.

it was never enough, that even his gentle words spoken to you whilst he speeds through his motorcycle felt entire foreign. that despite unconscious and limp on his body, you're still flinching and the tears couldn't have enough time to dry. jason could've done so much more for his precious little sibling, he could've been the best older brother in the world like he promised himself to be back when he was an oblivious little child, just like how he sees you right now.

everything he did was not enough, but the doubts that circulate his mind didn't fester in his mind much anymore; because he turned it into motivation, he looks at you through the mirror of his motorcycle, vulnerable, aching with the need for affection (that he could provide, he could give to you infinitely...!) and transforms the regret into motivation.

to be better, to be the one you look up to, not with thoughts of how or when you'll be able to spend time with him, but with confidence and preference for his time. that he'll be the first you choose to look for.

jason promises you his undying loyalty, to protect you from the danger of this world, to savor the light and the warmth that emanates off of your presence. despite the heartache you felt because of him, because of all your tormentors— you were still kind, like an angel who had fallen from grace, but chose to grace the world instead with their remaining salvation.

if you manage to survive throughout it all, through the surgery and the anaesthesia-filled stitchings, with jason's scarred hands wrapped around your fists, daintier compared to the muscles in his. if by the end of this night, jason would have you alive (he will, he'll refuse anything else, even if it takes you being resurrected in the lazarus pit, then so be it) in his arms and resting peacefully in his apartment and not under bruce's roof, out of respect from your sheer insistence that you'd rather anywhere but the manor.

jason swears on his life that he'll make it up to you.

he'll be better for you, for his angel, to atone himself for all the sins he committed upon you.

and even if it means ripping the world upside down at its seems, even if it takes decades for you to feel comfortable within the confines of his arms, unlike the dread that claws at your body earlier, pushing him away, pushing your older brother away— he's willing to undergo even the same torture from joker if it means making up to you.

as long as he has you in his sights.

all this, just to see the fear in your eyes replaced by genuine happiness at the sight of your big brother, ready to do anything for you the moment requests spill out from your benevolent lips and gleaming eyes.

you truly are his saving grace, his angel in disguise.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 14,200+ words. no beta, we just cry. "i am good, but not an angel. i do sin, but i am not the devil. i am just a small child in a big world trying to find someone to love." it's a quote that inspired this half of the chapter partly. apologies to anyone if jason seems a bit religious here??? he's not, but i'm trying to establish connections on why he even calls you that nickname in the first place (and totally not me relating it to the flashpoint comic where he becomes a priest 😭). again, bit of a boring chapter, but no hate please haha, instead leave comments if you enjoyed reading it!!! more interactions = more content.

there are many lyrics and song references scattered about the paragraphs, can you guys spot it all for me 🫦? i'm a musically inclined guy, and there's also lots of not implicitly stated songs too, i lost count honestly. tysm for all your patience, because writing through my hectic schedule is honestly a struggle.

as stated, there are a lot of jason todd and mc parallels, i love hearing you guys' thoughts about me expanding upon this. they're very different but also share so many similarities, and i like to explore deeper on every character just to make the yandere element more obvious and distinct.

and like my previous announcement too, please please please do not copy off the scenes i wrote. although my writing is mid, it doesn't mean it should be stolen word by word or the entire scenarios or scenes i've written should be taken in and written into your own fanfics too. my potrayals of each and every characters are a bit more unique takes too (i like to make myself believe), so as much as possible, please credit me. i appreciate you all 🩷

yet again, leave comments, interactions, what you think of this chapter (but not too critical comments, or pure hate please). idk what to feel about my writing, i hate it a lot sometimes but oh well! merry christmas, this is my early gift for all of you guys and for the second part, i'll try to post as soon as possible (i need to generate more spotlight to ensure they get equal attention ofc).

taglist: @neerathebrightstar, @ghostdoodlen, @prince-nikko, @daisy-spot, @strawberryglass, @h0neybun-was-here, @confused-they, @weirdcore-fantasy, @mystyque234, @marssthings, @notwhoy0uthink, @aliengutzstuff, @lilyalone, @luffyadolover, @punpunsonny, @lazyemmy, @questionthegrapevine, @oh-nowo-i-got-uwu, @winter-world, @zavavas-dungeon, @budijojo, @altruisticbeauty, @dopepursebasketballplaid, @the-holy-pigeon, @red-phantom-0, @em-draws14, @thypplover, @cens0r3d-blog, @yl90, @sadeem575, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, @maicenitas, @kiiyoooo, @flyingpansaurus, @farmerboywakatoshikun-blog, @rogueofbullshit, @earlqurl, @dotomuses, @sheep-from-rad, @tsuniio, @thesm1l3yface, @nosochek-3o, @radiantharu, @iwasveronica, @kdjhubby, @ashstwin, @thetreefairypersonalblog, @se-rae2, @0ut0fsweets, @notwhoy0uthink

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anarchywoofwoof · 2 days ago

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every single comment on this post has been nuked by reddit.

per what reddit mods have said, they are apparently cracking down on anything glorifying Luigi Mangione or "promoting violence".

so we're absolutely clear on reddit's opinion of "promoting violence":

r/CombatFootage, which regularly shares high definition, extremely graphic war footage, including drones dropping grenades on prone soldiers in Ukraine/Russia and people having limbs being blown off by explosions, has 1,761,375 subscribers. It is one of the top 500 subreddits by subscribers and in the Top 60 NSFW subreddits.

The Columbine Shooters have a subreddit for discussing the Columbine Killers and their families with over 33,000 members. It has been active since May 5th, 2020.

The Sandy Hook shooter has a subreddit dedicated to discussing him with 3,551 members. Here are some of the posts, in addition to pictures of him as a child. It has been active since December 3rd, 2021. he is also described by a mod of the subreddit as "not a pedophile, but an ephebophile."

The Pennsylvania Weis Markets shooter has a subreddit dedicated to discussing him with 500~ members. It has been active since April 15th, 2022.

The Apalachee High School shooter has a subreddit dedicated to discussing him with 260~ users. It was created the day of the shooting, September 4th, 2024.

if you dig through the frequent contributors to these subreddits, you will find that the vast amount of crossover from the users occurs in communities such as r/teenagers, r/highschool, r/roblox and a wide variety of subreddits dedicated to self harm, severe mental health struggles and other mass killers or topics related to them. totally normal stuff that reddit allows.

this is without seeking out all of the alt-right rat nests that have buried themselves underneath somewhat innocuous-looking community names pushing dog whistles and avoiding overt calls for violence.

every last one of these social media platforms, including the one that we are on, overtly allows glorification and deification of the most notorious, mentally unwell, violent, extremist mass killers in modern history. but if you show any kind of approval of what Luigi Mangione is accused of doing, you are censored not in days, but hours.

i sincerely hope this opens the eyes of people who previously didn't see the forest for the trees. this is what is meant by “they got you fighting a culture war to stop you fighting a class war.” not that our cultures aren't significant or that we don't have differences, but that ultimately, the divide among us lies in wealth, not in skin color.

as long as the "poors" are killing each other, there's no reason for alarm or concern. it's only when the roles are reversed that we see action taken or examples made of people like Luigi Mangione.

#luigi mangione #uhc ceo #united healthcare #united states #us news #current events #fuck capitalism #anti capitalism #reddit #social media

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retrosabers · 3 days ago

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𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.

contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance

i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.

also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.

a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.

at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.

excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.

as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.

if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.

what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.

a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.

your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.

bucky barnes.

quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.

to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.

what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.

it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.

the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.

flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.

you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.

when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.

the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.

you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.

please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.

in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.

it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.

you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.

surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.

bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.

“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.

you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.

it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.

here goes nothing.

“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.

a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.

you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.

“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.

for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.

“don’t recall asking for that either.”

you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”

“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.

despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.

“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.

“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”

bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.

“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.

you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.

“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”

he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”

you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””

why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.

that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.

just your luck, he’s right on schedule.

“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”

a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.

before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.

“merry christmas buck.”

your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.

and yet. he enjoyed the burn.

as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.

“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.

you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.

while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.

he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.

that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.

a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.

his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.

i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.

merry christmas ♡

bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.

from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.

you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.

but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.

later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.

bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.

tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.

and to ask you about your record collection.

thanks for reading! <3

tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

#retrosabers #sid writes shit #ficmas #ficmas 2024 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan

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nosyp · 2 days ago

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Twst Third Years reacting to someone else calling you 'honey' or 'sweetheart'

First Years | Second years

A/N = Likes, reblogs and comments r apprecaieted btw!

Trey Clover

He raises an eyebrow. Like what did he just say?

“Honey? Sweetheart? That's a little forward, don’t you think?”

Gives the person a polite but firm smile, subtly stepping closer to you.

HE WILL try to keep things calm but is lowkey plotting how to make sure that never happens again. Like you should probably... do something about him.

BUT in private, he’ll ask you if you’re okay with it, but also makes sure to remind you he’s got your back.

Cater Diamond

He laughs at first, but the playful glint in his eyes slowly shift into something more possessive.

“Oh? So you think you’re that close to (Y/N)?”

Gives the person a teasing grin before pulling you closer to him.

“You know, I think I’m the only one who gets to call them that. So how about we leave the nicknames to me, yeah?”

When alone with you, he’s definitely more affectionate but might joke about it a bit more.

Leona Kingscholar

Glares at the person, his face darkening in the process.

“The hell did you just call them?” he scowls.

He doesn’t hold back. His tone DRIPPING with irritation.

“You’ve got some nerve. Back off, they’re mine.”

Will pull you closer to him, practically growling if the person doesn’t get the hint.

Vil Schoenheit

Freezes for a moment, then smiles, but it’s far from a kind smile. It's more of... getoutofmyfacebeforeismackyouintotomorrow typa smile.

“How cute, you think you’re that familiar with them.”

Casually places a hand on your shoulder, making sure the other person notices how close you two are.

His voice is laced with poison: “I think you should stick to more formal terms. After all, you’re not exactly their type.” ouch that kinda hurts.

Vil keeps it classy but is definitely claiming you in his own way. He's probably not gonna let you out of his sight after this.

Rook Hunt

He simply... smirks. He's entertained. He's slightly enjoying this... but of course with a possessive glint in his eyes.

“Oh? Honey, you say? You’re a bit too forward for my liking.”

Leans in close to you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“(Y/N) belongs to me, in a way that no one else can even dream of.”

He loves the tension it creates, and you can expect him to be a lot more possessive afterward.

Idia Shroud

His face turns red, and he freezes up.

'W-Wait, honey? Who the hell do they think they are?' his mind races.

You can practically see the steam coming out of his ears as he starts muttering to himself, fidgeting nervously. He's like a kettle about to BURST.

'I-I don’t like it when other people call them that! I get to call them cute names, okay?' he thinks to himself.

He doesn’t show it on the outside, but internally, he’s definitely marking his territory.

He tries to listen in on the conversation to know more about him for... reasons. AND goodluck to his online reputation cuz it's gonna be non-existent or absolutely ruined in a matter of seconds.

Malleus Draconia

Stares at the person, unblinking.

“Did you just refer to them as honey?”

His voice is calm, but his eyes have a dangerous glint.

Steps closer to you, his presence overwhelming.

“No one else has the right to address them that way. They belong to me.”

Will silently observe, but you’ll feel his possessive nature once the clouds start getting dark and raindrops fall from the sky. Then the air around you seems to shift, heavy with his unspoken claim.

Lilia Vanrouge

He chuckles, but his tone is laced with amusement and something more.

“Oh? Sweetheart, you say? How bold of you, but I think you’ve got it wrong.”

Laughs to himself and then ruffles your hair affectionately.

“(Y/N) is mine, so maybe you should pick a more appropriate nickname.”

While playful on the surface, you can feel the possessive edge in his words.

A/N = I love third years the most tbh

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smallpwbbles · 2 days ago

Text

SONIC MOVIE 3 THOUGHTS

There are spoilers here but it’s going under the read more but also don’t read if your avoiding spoilers of course

God the way the movie opened, where Shadows beginning to wake up and he’s seeing memories of Maria already

GOD THEY COULDNT HAVE WRITTEN MARIA AND SHADOW MORE PERFECT

This is my favourite version of Maria by far, she’s got a little more attitude and is so much more funny oh my GOD, every scene of her and Shadow is perfect

ITS THE FACT I MADE A COMIC OF HER DANCING WITH SHADOW ARE YOU KIDDING ME

They’ve changed up Shadows backstory a little, not having him be man-made but instead coming from a meteorite, they’ve also written out Maria’s sickness which I’m not really all for but everything else with Shadows backstory is great

SONIC CRASHING OUT BECAUSE SHADOW HURTS TOM THANK YOU GOD

Sonic locks the fuck IN are you kidding me it would have been the perfect opportunity to make him be dark sonic but I’m sure there’s reasons why they didn’t

Keanu isn’t my favourite shadow but he does a GREAT job for the lines he has

Revenge guac shouldn’t have made me laugh as much as it did

Knuckles and Tails are wonderful here omg this movie they really feel like friends/brothers

Tom and Maddie are PERFECT, the fact they were WAITING for sonic and co to come back with a world disaster to deal with because they were bored

They were not joking about the DBZ levels of fighting in this film oh my god

When live and learn started everyone in the theatre started clapping and screaming (THATS UNCOMMON IN THE UK)

I almost threw up when metal showed up, I screamed until my throat was hoarse when Amy showed up

Stobotnik was perfect in this film omg, that heart felt goodbye to stone was wonderful, if this is Jim’s last film then that’s okay he went out with a BANG (literally)

IF STONE ISNT THE VILLAIN OF THE NEXT FILM WHATS THE POINT

GERLAD ROBOTNIK WHEN I CATCHU WHEN I CATCHU GERALD

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie 3 #sonic movie #sonic movie 3 Spoilers

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ebodebo · 2 days ago

Text

Dinner, Dinner!

—jason misses your anniversary dinner, but makes it up to you…MDNI

"Would you like to browse our dessert menu, madam?" The waiter asks in a thick French accent as he stretches his arm out to pour your second glass of wine.

Your brain is fogged as your fingers fiddle with the stem of the glass as you swirl the crimson liquid around, splashing all sides of the glass.

"Madam?" The waiter repeats. You hadn't even realized you hadn't answered his previous question. You flick your eyes to his.

"I…um—sorry, can you repeat the question?" Your mind is clouded with a storm of fury and hurt. Jason, your boyfriend, had forgotten your anniversary dinner, leaving you to endure the sympathetic glances of strangers as they noticed the empty seat across from you.

"Of course, madam. I asked if you would like to see the dessert menu," the waiter repeats, his voice a distant echo. You turn your head to the empty seat in front of you, the thought of enduring the restaurant's atmosphere a daunting prospect.

"Could I just have the cremé brûlée?" You finally ask, your eyes still fixed on the empty seat, your voice trembling slightly. "In a to-go box, please."

It was the first dessert you and Jason shared at this very restaurant, three years ago today.

"Of course," the waiter said curtly, turning slightly before you raised your voice.

"And, um, could you take the other wine glass?" You awkwardly ask. He simply nods again, carefully placing the stem between his index and middle fingers upside down before turning away to tend to another table.

You should just leave.

It was clear he wasn't coming.

A light smile etched into your face as the waiter set the to-go box with the fancy dessert. You carefully reached into your purse, steadily gripping your wallet to pay. The waiters brought his hands up, shaking his head side-to-side.

"Please. No payment is necessary, madam. Enjoy the dessert," he says kindly. You sniffle, a stray tear falling down your face. You nod gently, issuing a strained, 'Thank you.'

He curtly nods, turning to go back into the kitchen. You gather your things, including the dessert, and move to walk out of the front door.

Upon stepping outside, you are met with the cold Gotham air. Your dress even sways in the wind as you walk, and your heels clank against the pavement.

The walk home wasn't too long, maybe six minutes or so, but God, did it feel like an eternity. All you could think about was how hurt and disappointed you were and what you would say to Jason when you inevitably saw him.

Your brain tried to conjure all the reasons he didn't show.

Did he forget, or did he purposefully not come?

Now, you knew it couldn't be the latter, Jason wasn't a dick.

He was just an idiot.

Your thoughts continued as you stuck your key in the lock and carefully twisted it to unlock your front door, pushing it open quickly.

You set your purse down on a table next to the door, glancing at a framed photo of you and Jason happily eating ice cream on Jason's birthday last year.

You felt sick.

You quickly flick your attention away as your eyes begin to well with hot tears, easing your way into the kitchen. You stand on the cold tile for a minute before getting a sudden inspiration rush.

You didn't want to think about him any longer tonight. You'd prepare a hot tea, watch a movie, or perhaps even read a good book.

Yes. That sounded like a fine plan.

As you were steeping the leaves in hot water, a knock on the front door pulled your attention away. You left the bag to steep and returned to the door. Pulling the door open, you were met with Red Hood—aka your boyfriend, Jason—gripping a bouquet of fresh flowers.

You're tempted to slam the door in his pretty face, but you don't—not yet, anyway.

"I'm an asshole," he says, his voice distorted from his modulator.

The sight was ridiculous; if you weren't so pissed, you'd laugh.

He realizes the absurdity of the situation. "God damn, fuckin' helmet," he irritably gruffs, ripping off his helmet. Your eyes widen, your mouth hanging open.

Anyone could simply walk by and figure out who the highly sought-after vigilante was.

"Jason, you can't just—get inside!" You grip his arm, dragging him inside the confines of your home—an action you immediately regret.

"Fuck, baby," he begins. "I'm—I'm so sorry," his tone is sincere as he anxiously drags his hands through his hair.

"I looked like an idiot, Jason," you breathe out, reaching for the bouquet of flowers he brought.

Hell, it wasn't their fault Jason was stupid.

"I know—" he says, following you into your kitchen as you fill a vase with water for the flowers.

"A fucking idiot," you snap, setting the flowers gently into the water. You reach for a pair of scissors. "I requested an extra wine glass when I sat down, and I had to be the one to tell him to take it away," you angrily say, snipping some of the leaves off.

"Baby, I'm really, really sorry. I got caught up with—"

"Where were you?" You set the scissors down, turning to look at him.

"Dick needed some help scouting a potential crime circuit in Blüdhaven," he sighs. "He told me it wouldn't take long. Should've known better," he wipes his hand over his face, hissing at the contact.

Your eyes sweep over his face, taking note of the fresh cuts and bruises that now taint his face. Fresh blood prickled from some; others were caked in layers of it.

"Are you hurt?" You ask, concern lacing your words.

He raises a brow. "Don't worry about me, Sweetheart. I'll be alright. I'm more concerned about you," he admits honestly.

"You're bleeding," you observe, wincing at the sight.

"Just a hair," he lightly smiles. "I'm okay."

Sure, you were pissed at your boyfriend, but you wouldn't let him be in agony like he was.

He was bleeding, for God's sake.

"Let me clean them up," you simply say.

"No, no. I'm fine—" he began, shaking his head lightly.

"Please," you insist.

He huffs, then accepts defeat. He takes your hand stretched out and follows you to the bathroom. He sits on the toilet as you fumble through your medicine cabinet to gather band-aids and Neosporin.

"I hope it's okay. I, um, only have these band-aids," you awkwardly say, holding up a box with a familiar blue hero on the cover.

"Baby, why do you have Nightwing band-aides?" He questions skeptically.

"Dick brought them to white elephant last year, and I got stuck with them," you lightly laugh. "He's a horrible gift-giver."

Jason laughs. "Promise to remind me to take them off before I leave. He cannot see me with these on. He'd have a damn field day," he grumbles as you laugh.

"I promise I'll remind you," you affirm, pulling a small step ladder in front of him so you could sit before carefully squirting a bit of the ointment out onto your pointer finger and pressing it to each of Jason's cuts.

He barely winces or whines as you continue the action, delicately tending to each cut. His eyes wander to yours, focusing heavily with determination on what you are doing, even sticking your tongue out to concentrate.

"I don't deserve this," he heaves as you open some band-aids.

"What? To have ten Nightwing band-aides on you all at once?" You laugh, carefully laying each of the band-aids over the cuts.

He snickers. "That and you taking care of me."

You pull back slightly. "What?"

"I ruined our anniversary tonight. I left you alone in that restaurant and, look at you, still taking care of me," he exasperates. "I don't deserve you."

You frown. "Don't say that. I mean, ya, it was shitty, but just because you did something shitty one time or even twice doesn't make you undeserving of my love, Jason," you gently say, fingers moving to caress his jaw on their own volition.

He leans into your hand. "I just don't want to lose you. I love you."

Jason and you have exchanged hundreds, if not thousands, of "I love yous" throughout your relationship, but this one felt different.

It felt more like a sacred prayer spilling from his lips—a tender plea from the depths of his soul. It felt all that much more divine.

You found yourself leaning to kiss his lips, your hands moving to thread through his hair. His lips instantly moved with yours, and his hand gripped your cheek.

It was a tender kiss—an 'I'm sorry,' wrapped in an 'It's okay.'

As the seconds passed, the kiss became more fervent—urgent. You even slipped off the step ladder and moved onto Jason's lap. He welcomed you with open arms, encasing you tightly with each of his hands on your hips as you straddled him.

Your hands glided through his hair messily and eagerly as his hands massaged the fat of your hips. You let out a whine that Jason catches as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You find yourself rocking against him, desperate for friction. He groans, gripping your thighs tightly as he stands with you, guiding you towards your bedroom.

Never once did your lips disconnect.

He gently lays you on the bed as he hastily sheds his boots, armored jacket, gloves, and pants. Your breathing is labored as you follow suit, gingerly slipping off your simple black dress and kicking off your heels, revealing your matching red bra and pantie set you had worn.

Jason stands in front of you in nothing but his boxers, eyes soaking you in.

"What?" You question nervously, feeling self-conscious with his eyes so focused on you.

"Did you—did you wear that for me?" He asks lazily.

Your lips quip. "Duh. Who else?" You giggle. "You like it?"

He lets out a dry laugh, moving to hover over your body, sticking his arm out to stabilize himself so as not to crush you. "I think I need to take a closer look," he cheekily says, moving his mouth closer to the strap of the bra, taking it between his teeth, pulling a little, then flicking it back. You let out a small whine, feeling the fabric snap back on your skin.

"Sure is sturdy," he observes, fingers coming to slip it down your shoulder. "And a nice color," he murmurs into your shoulder, sending goosebumps down your arm.

"Ya?" You idly question as his lips skim your collarbone.

"Mhm. It's very nice, Baby," he mumbles into your skin, fingers moving to skim the band of your panties. "And these," he begins. "Don't even get me started." He lightly nips your skin with his teeth, eliciting another whine.

His fingers slip under the band, pulling them down so they sit around your lower thighs. "Ah, there she is," he coos, cupping your dripping cunt with his hand.

"Jason," you moan, pushing yourself into his hand more.

"What, Baby?" His words were low and dragged out, almost breathy.

"I—I need more," you groan, hand moving to rest on his hand on you, encouraging more movement from him.

"I'll do you one better," he takes his hand away, making you frown, though he moves to slip his boxers down, showcasing his erect cock.

He strokes himself once before guiding himself into your entrance, leaning down to kiss your temple lightly as he pushes himself inside your cunt. You hiss at the contact, gripping his shoulders tightly.

He groans as one of his hands comes to grip behind your neck, and the other moves to lift your leg up slightly so he can grip your thigh, giving a better angle as he moves at a consistent pace.

A desperate mewl escapes your mouth as his pace fastens. Jason's hand has moved to rest on your breast in your bra as he throws his head back, groaning and spewing curses.

You sit up slightly, gripping his neck, pulling him down to your lips. He kisses you roughly, even sucking your bottom lip in the process. You bring your leg up to wrap around his torso, pushing him even more deeply; he groans as his hand slides to grip the hinge of your leg.

"Jay, I'm gonna—" You begin breathlessly.

"I know, Baby. I know," he purrs into your mouth. "Feel so good."

You grip his neck tighter, lips pressing into his shakily, as you feel yourself tighten around him. All you have had to do was moan his name into his mouth to have him following suit, even moving one hand to grip the sheets beneath as he comes.

You're both gasping for air. Jason eases himself out of you and plops beside you, pulling you close so your face rests on his chest.

"As far as orgasms go, that one was great," you pant, fingers moving to trace the lines between Jason's abs.

"Ya? Do I get a golden star?" He tuts, fingers playing with your hair.

"Sorry, Babe. I only give golden stars for extra credit," you jest, looking up at him.

"Extra credit, you say?" He asks, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "I think I can do that." He lifts up abruptly, getting off the bed.

"What're you—" You begin to question before he's tugging you towards him by your ankles, planting his face in between your legs.

"Jay!" You shriek, though make no effort to move as his tongue lapses at your sensitive clit.

"I really want that golden star," he mumbles into you.

a/n: finally finished this fic that has been haunting my drafts for months upon months ( ͡ಥ ͜ʖ ͡ಥ)

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

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district4loading · 3 days ago

Text

Blonde

Twice Sana x Male Reader

6K Words

Content Warning: angst, mentions of cheating, hate sex, possessive sana, breeding kink

Minors DNI

A/N: I've been wanting to write something about THIS^ Sana for a while now but I didn't really know where I wanted to go with the plot. That is until anon requested an interesting kinda angsty and toxic dynamic between reader and Sana.

From anon - "hear me out POSSESSIVE POWER BOTTOM SANA WITH A BREEDING KINK BUT WONT LET IT SHOW BECAUSE SHE’S A FUCKING BRAT AND YOU HATE HER BUT NOT HER BODY"

apologies to anon because I went a tad bit off script..

She's fucking blonde.

You don't know how you could ever allow Minatozaki Sana to ruin your life.

She's only five foot four and just a little over a hundred pounds but the heavy weight of her presence always seems to anchor you and keep you in her grip. You're broken up, you've been broken up for three months now. You made the decision to go no contact and completely cut her out of your life. It was the betrayal, the lying, the manipulating that acted as the final nail in the coffin, killing and burying any real love you had left for her. Now it's all bitter hatred.

It's taken you a while to get where you are. From thinking about her every day to only thinking of her maybe once a week. From not being able to listen to the songs you used to listen to together to merely flinching when they played on the radio. You weren't going to let memories of her turn the once normal parts of your life sour.

That's what you think right up until your doorbell rings.

You quirk your eyebrow and look up from your phone, wondering who could be at your door at five in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Package? No. Doordash? I wish. A friend? Maybe. You begin thinking of the possibilities as you walk the short distance from your computer to your front door. First you look through the peephole but you're only able to see your neighbors door. "Did I order something?" You mutter to yourself, checking your phone for a moment to see if you missed any emails.

Then you finally unlock your door and open it when you see that there was no email. You look down then you poke your head out, looking left then.. right. Your lips part and your eyebrows furrow as you try to process what the hell you're seeing in front of you right now. Or rather who. It takes you a minute to recognize that it's Sana and that's because something about her is different.

She's fucking blonde.

You're at a complete loss for words because you haven't seen or talked to her in months and now she's in front of you, staring into your soul with a fucking smirk on her face. She notices your gaze, full of confused awe and she thinks it's a good thing. "You like it? I did it for you" Her bottom lip juts out as she looks into your eyes.

"What..What are you doing here?" You begin to stammer as you ignored her question, having to remind yourself to breathe. She's just a girl.

"Are you saying I need a reason to visit my boyfriend?" She crosses her arms and you almost scoff, having half a mind to shut the door in her face. But you don't.

Instead, you make a face and shake your head "We're not together anymore Sana" She steps forwards and touches your hand and you almost immediately recoil and step back into your apartment "Don't touch me, I don't know where you've been." Sure it's a bit immature of you to say but after what she did to you, even feeling her hands on your body made you hostile. You want her nowhere near you.

"Seriously? It's been three months Y/n, get over it." She begins to get upset as if she had any right to. "I made one mistake and now you want to punish me for it forever! Listen he came on to me and-"

"You let him" You finish her sentence off coldly, your jaw clenching as the pain comes flooding back. That distinct ache in your chest, the turning in your stomach, she brought it all back and all she had to do was show up at your door. Your words stop her from talking and she gets this annoyed look on her face but before she can say anything else you actually gain a bit of strength and move to shut the door in her face. Sana puts her foot in the door before you do and stops you from closing it. "Listen, Sana I have a lot going on right now and the last thing I want to do right now is talk to you, just go"

You can't bring yourself to make eye contact and Sana sees it, she sees right through you. She's smart like that, she knows you like that. So she pushes herself through the door to enter your apartment because you'll let her. "Oh please, what else would you have going on besides jerking off?" She says it in that arrogant, sarcastic tone of hers. You open your mouth to protest as she walks in but then you close it and instead you exhale a frustrated huff.

"Why's that the first thing that comes to your mind?" You ask, moving to shut the door as you figured you could maybe say some hurtful things to her—get in her head and make her hurt like she made you. So you stand in the middle of your living room, keeping a good distance as you waited for her response.

"Well, you're a man and you haven't fucked in three months. You must be so pent up, baby" She uses that sweet, sultry tone to finish off her sentence, purposely pouting with those perfect lips right when you manage to take a glance at her face.

Fuck

If there was one thing about Sana? She was fucking sexy. The sexiest girl you've been with in your entire life. Now she has bleach blonde hair and you hate to admit it, as a matter of fact you wouldn't ever admit it, but she looked even hotter. It was such a shame, such a waste that her personality was awful. That she couldn't be trusted.

A little after you ended things you wondered what went wrong and you even tried to make sense of why she would do such a thing because you thought everything was going well. The intimacy was there, you saw each other all the time, there was never a day that went by where you didn't tell her you loved her and more importantly, the sex was hot.

You were ultimately perplexed until you had a good friend sit you down, slap you in the face and then explain to you that cheaters will cheat no matter what and that's probably when the hatred started.

If only he could see you now

A chuckle escapes your lips as you take a few steps forwards, tucking your hands in your pockets "What makes you think I haven't fucked in three months?" You give her a look, one thats calm and collected as if you had no care in the world, as if your heart wasn't beating out of your chest right now and this time, you get yourself to look at her. You watch as her cocky relaxed demeanor turned damn near rigid upon registering what you just said.

"But you haven't" Sana says the words in this matter-of-fact tone like she's expecting you to nod your head and confirm, but you don't. You almost laugh out loud, watching a vein nearly pop out of her neck at the mere thought of you with someone else.

Ironic isn't it?

You stay silent to build the tension, feeling a small boost in your confidence now that hers was noticeably shrinking. Now you can tell that her minds working and that's when you know you've struck a nerve. You try not to smile cause she's staring, watching every one of your moves like a hawk as you take a few steps closer to where she's sitting, right up until you're facing her. You manage to ignore her death stare and you only shrug "And if I have?"

That's when you actually get to appreciate her eyes. They're blue--or at least the color of her contacts are--and she's just staring. "Why the fuck are you playing with me?" She asks blatantly, the curse word leaving her mouth so aggressively, so seriously. Then you begin to lose your cool a bit, having a sort of flashback when you first found out about everything and that distinct feeling of betrayal came back.

The fucking entitlement was getting to you.

"You can't seriously be mad right now" You scoff bitterly and you cross your arms.

Sana stands up and you step back "Who?" Is the only word she utters and she's seething, visibly getting angrier the longer you make her wait.

"Sana, I want you out of my apartment. Now, or else I'm calling the cops" That's all you say before you turn around and walk off in the direction of your room, hoping she'd find her own way out.

You think that'll do it, you think that acting like you don't care and alluding to the possibility that you've fucked someone else would've did it for her.

You're wrong, because instead of leaving like you expect her to, Sana follows behind you closely "You mother-fucker, answer my question" You feel her small fingers wrapping around your arm and you wince when her nails nearly pierce the flesh.

You turn around to face her, yanking your arm out of her grip roughly. Then the annoyance on your face goes away and you freeze. Everything goes away because she's so close and her hand has found it's way on your arm again. She's mad at you, that's very obvious but she looks incredible and you notice how soft her hand is. "Who did you fuck? Tell me" She asks it again, more specifically this time.

"Sana-" You try to step back and the moment you do, your back hits the wall--because of course it does--and Sana doesn't miss her chance to corner you.

"Who?"

At this point you're looking into her eyes and you hate how pretty they are—how pretty she is. Then there's that familiar feeling in your belly. It's back, she still gives you butterflies. "I.." You start, and your words fall short almost immediately and just like that the power dynamic has shifted. All she had to do was get close. "No one" You relax your body, not noticing how tense you were until your shoulders dropped.

It's the truth, you haven't been able to do anything with anyone else since the breakup. It wasn't like you couldn't get laid, you had options but the attraction just wasn't there. Not for any other girl.

Her hand loosens on your arm, but she still keeps it there and her eyes sort of soften. "You're such an asshole, fuck" She hits your arm then huffs like she'd been holding a breath forever, stepping back from you to run her hand through her blonde locks.

"Oh really? Now imagine if I actually did fuck someone else? It would've felt really shitty wouldn't it?" You ask, that bitterness still so prominent in your tone. You couldn't help it, the irony of the situation is just too perfect.

Sana just glares at you and crosses her arms. For some reason you still can't bring yourself to move. You're still stuck there. "Will you ever be able to forgive me for that?" She asks and her demeanor stays the same. But you look into her eyes and you can see that she's genuinely asking like she wants you to forgive her, like she recognizes the pain she's put you through and she wants to fix it.

I don't know

"Sana...you fucking cheated on me, I've only been good to you... I just can't... why would you do that to me? How could you do that to me?" You ask the question that's been in the back of your mind for the longest time.

She comes closer and you allow it. You allow her to take your hand in hers as you stare into her eyes, waiting for an explanation, a reason. You need to know if it was your fault, if you could've changed anything, if you could've done something. "I was dumb and I wasn't thinking, baby" Her hand roams, reaching your face and she cups your cheek in her hand.

Shamelessly, you lean into it and it feels so warm, so soft. You hate it, you fucking hate her for doing this to you. The way she calls you baby makes those butterflies come back and you don't know how to feel. "Sana" You sigh and before you're able to say any words she's dropping to her knees in front of you. "What are you..." You start, but the words get caught in your throat when you realize what she's trying to do.

"I should show you how sorry I am" Her fingers hook over the waistband of your sweatpants and you let it happen.

Sana pulls them down, then your boxers go with it and you're soft. "I know you've missed me" She looks up at you as she takes your shaft into her hand. You exhale and look into her eyes but you don't respond to her. It's like you're outside of your own body, watching yourself in third person and you just can't bring yourself to do anything but watch.

Her soft hands are stroking you and it doesn't take long for you to get hard--less than a minute actually. "Sana" you whisper as she holds her fist at your base, then she opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out. When the warm, wet muscle comes into contact with your tip the pleasure overcomes you. "Fuck" your eyes are hooded and your mind's going blank.

You can't think of anything else, not even what she's done to you, nothing but her tongue lapping at your precum. She swirls it around then it's eventually in her mouth and her lips are so soft, pressed up against your shaft. You close your eyes and allow yourself to feel every filthy suck, slurp and lick. The sounds begin to echo in your hallway as everything gets sloppier.

Sana begins twisting her hand around the shaft jerking you at the base while she handles your sensitive head with her mouth. It feels amazing. She wasn't wrong, you missed this so fucking much. Off of pure instinct your hand is in Sana's hair and you're threading your fingers through the silky blonde strands. "That feels so fucking.. good" You bite your lip then take a sharp breath through your nose.

There's an eager humming sound that Sana makes but it's muffled as she continues to stuff you deeper into her mouth. She's going faster now, bobbing her head like she's hungry for you, like she's missed this too.

She moves her hand just so she can have your entire shaft inside and it slides down her throat so easily, no resistance as her lips touch your base. Sana holds it there and her eyes begin to water as she looks at you through her eyelashes then she fucking swallows. Your vision goes blurry for a moment and a guttural moan forces it's way out from your throat.

Then Sana drags back and it slips out of her mouth. She takes a breather, wrapping two hands around your shaft one after the other and she begins to stroke up and down. "I want you to fuck my mouth with this big, thick cock" She leans forward and flicks her tongue on the tip, catching more precum. she takes one hand and massages your balls throughly "Use me, and don't you dare fucking stop until you dump this load down my throat." She squeezes your balls for emphasis.

Your jaw almost drops "Sana" then she prepares herself. She opens wide and tilts her head back slightly. So inviting. Then she allows you to take your cock into your hand and out of hers. You guide the tip into her mouth and push your hips forwards using both of your hands to hold her head in place. It's probably not the best thing to do but you can't control yourself, not when she looks like this. Especially because she's asking for it, offering you her mouth to show you just how sorry she is.

You have to admit, it's one hell of an apology.

"Your mouth is fucking... insane" You grunt as the tight warmth of her throat squeezes your cock. She gags and you let it stay there for a bit, she's struggling now that you're in control but she won't tap out. Not like this. It takes a moment until she's breathing through her nose smoothly and that's when you begin to move your hips.

You pull out, then right back in, almost losing it at the wet sound it makes. You lick your lips then you actually start fucking her mouth, using it just like she told you to.

It feels so incredible that you don't miss a thing. Especially her occasional gag when you accidentally lodge yourself too deep. The sight is one for the books too, she keeps her big eyes open as you use her. What Sana can't say, her eyes will. They're so inviting, telling you to keep going, keep using, keep fucking—everything.

It's so subtle that you barely notice it, but Sana begins to undo the button on her jeans. Then she pulls the zipper down and she circles her clit slowly. She moans softly, eyes squinting as she touches herself while you use her throat. You expected it sooner or later because it's what she usually did when she sucked you off.

"Ah" You moan, feeling the heat build up in the pit of your belly "You have no clue... how ready I am to dump this fucking load in your throat. She only looks at you because she can't even nod her head, your hold is too tight. She moans a little and you try to control your breathing. It's getting erratic and every muscle in your body is burning up. "Yeah, just keep letting me use this... fuck i'm cumming" You give her a warning right before it happens.

You hold her head extra firm as you slide your member all the way in, her nose touching your base as your cock pulses and throbs. You're completely filling her mouth with it, painting the inside white with your hot seed while you grunt through your teeth. The feeling is only extraordinary and pleasureful and when you finally come down, you slide your cock out.

She loses her balance, leaning over as she gasps and chokes and holds herself up with her hand. You allow her to take a second to breath and when she's okay, you watch as she slides the other hand out of her pants and sucks on her fingers. Then Sana gets up on her two feet and pushes you against the wall again, she kisses you harshly then uses her hand to stoke your hard cock "Sir" She uses the term that never fails to drive you crazy, it's the implied authority that gets you "I want you to take this cock and fucking use me until you're done. It's my apology to you"

If you weren't completely blinded by lust, you'd push her off of you and tell her to leave because what she did is unforgivable and she can't just fuck for forgiveness. But her gaze is way to powerful and you're not strong enough to push her away. So instead you nearly growl and grab her wrist to pull her into your bedroom. You fling her forwards and she catches herself on the bed, climbing onto it as you pull your shirt off.

You walk towards the bed and yank her jeans off, then her panties and you motion for her to take her top off as you get into the bed and in between her legs. She's looking at you like she fucking needs it, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth in the sexiest way. As you go to line yourself up, you stop when you remember something. You may have lost your mind but you still have enough sense to reach into your nightstand and grab a condom.

"What's that for?" She gives you a look as she watches you tear the package open with your teeth. You don't answer her, you just continue on to put it on. Once it is, you prod her entrance but Sana pushes on your lower abdomen to stop you. "Y/n" The look in her eye is serious, like it's unfathomable that you're trying to use protection right now.

"Sana"

"Take it off, I don't have anything" She blinks "and you should know that" You can tell she wants to hit you right now, but she refrains from doing so.

"It's not cause of that, I just don't want to make any mistakes" You shrug when you know that there's no true reason other than to punish her. "Now it's either you move your hand or you get the fuck out and you never see me again."

Just like you expect, she moves her hand. "but I can't - it'll be harder for me to.. you know"

"You told me to use you and that's what i'm going to do. I don't give a fuck if you cum or not"

The words sound so coarse leaving your lips and it causes Sana to shut her mouth. Her lips quiver a bit and her eyes start to well up but she holds her glare. You never liked being mean to Sana and quite frankly if you're being real with yourself it's a blatant lie. No matter what you want to have her cumming, creaming and squirting on your cock until she can no longer think.

But you won't let her know that

You slide in and the first thing you feel is this unfamiliar pressure that squeezes around you tightly. It's something you're definitely not used to but you'd bare with it because you have to. Then maybe you'll think about it.

Sana exhales a pleasureful sigh before grabbing you by your arms to pull you in and you lean over her and begin to move your hips. She's so wet and warm, so slippery that you can just glide your cock in and out of her cunt without any resistance. Almost perfect.

There's also this noise that you can hear, it's the obscene sound of her slick coating the latex each time you bottom out in her weeping pussy. You can feel it just enough that it has you biting your lip to stifle your own noises.

She's moaning heavily under you, although she said it'll be harder for her cum you know that she's still feeling the wide stretch that your thick cock faces her with. She's got her eyes closed and her hands clutching onto your arms as she wishes she could feel you bare with each vein scraping against her insides. It's something she's missed, but still something she'd have to earn back.

"Fuck - your cock.. it's so fucking -" A long whine follows and it's like she's completely forgotten whatever she was going to say in an attempt to tell you how good you're fucking her. She clenches and you feel it, almost shuddering when you do. Sana pulls your body down, slowing your movements as she gets her lips on your neck.

She sucks hard and you know she's leaving marks where she shouldn't be, you shouldn't let her but her lips feel too perfect on your body. It's all fucked up and you hate the fact that she's leaving deep red or purple marks on your skin. It tells you many things, one of them being that she still thinks you're hers and that you'll be hers forever.

The thing is, she might be right to think that way because you don't move or flinch. You can't tell if you hate her or love her. "Sana" You murmur, feeling her cunt begin to squeeze you wildly, like it's trying to suck you in deeper. She's stopped the assault on your neck by now and your mouth is right by her ear so she can hear every grunt and moan you let slip. "This pussy feels so fucking perfect wrapping around me" You kiss her cheek and let your jaw hang open, your teeth scrape against the soft skin and you get a taste of the sweat that's built up on her cheek"

"T-The best you've ever had... right?"

You almost lose yourself and say 'yes' but you stop right before. She gets off on that, she always has. So you keep quiet and you quicken your pace. The moment she begins to react to the change in speed is absolutely priceless. Her high pitched moan, her mouth hanging open, the look of pure devastation in her eyes, everything. "Shit - please, please, please"

You hum and she wraps her legs around your waist, ankles pressing into you lower back. "Aw look at you. You're getting so close, Sana" You say it in a smug tone, hot against her ear. "What happened to having a hard time cumming?"

"I'm - I'm - I'm - I - Fuck" She sputters "Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop" A crackled whisper escapes her lips and you have to bite back a smirk. Does she seriously think she has any power right now? Is what you ask yourself before doing something so villainous, you think she might actually cry or curse you out.

You slip your cock out of her wet heat and the guttural sob that escapes her throat is nothing short of perfection. The raw emotional grief in her voice makes you feel all too powerful and it might make you even more fucked up than she is. "Fuck you!" Her legs loosen around your waist and she kicks her legs at you and you stop her by grabbing her legs, laughing a bit in response. "I fucking hate you" She huffs.

With a smirk on your face, you grab her by the hips and in a swift motion you flip her over. You straddle the backs of her thighs, remembering just how much she loved to be pinned and fucked like this. With her face buried in the sheets and her body being forced through the bed. So you slide your cock past her warm ass cheeks and back into that sopping cunt. "Fuck" She drags out as you push yourself to the hilt, knowing that this angle never failed to fuck her up. "You better fuck me hard, fuck me and make me fucking cum on your cock. I fucking need it"

"Not even a please?" You snicker while you prepare to actually wreck her. Despite her crude language you can tell she's so fucking horny and needy for you. Ready to cum all over your fucking cock and be used until you release your load anywhere you want.

Definitely not inside

"Fuck y-" She can't even curse you right because you've decided to shut her up by completely bottoming out in her cunt. What cuts her insult short is nearly a scream that could probably be heard by everyone on your floor.

You lean over and plant your fists in the mattress for better leverage. It allows you to plow into the soft cushion of her ass so easy, your cock angled perfectly to jab into that spot that can turn her dumb in no time. Her moans go into that higher pitch and you watch as her hands search recklessly for something to grab. The sheets do just the right job.

"Sana..." You grunt "This cunt is fucking creaming for me" You look down, just to see how the condoms been completely painted white with her sticky substance.

Her walls start to convulse and clench erratically and she's right there, just so close to letting herself go. You keep your pace, deciding that you'll be nice and let her cum because this'll be a day she'll remember for years no matter where she ends up, or rather who she'll end up with.

Cause it can't be you, right?

You don't think about it too much, you're focused on the mindless murmuring that you can't even begin to make out because she's doing it with her face pressed into the bed. Her back arches and her ass raises into your thrusts and that's when you know it's happening. "Already sweetheart? we've just switched positions" You snicker and she doesn't even have the brain power to curse at you because she's right fucking there.

Sana gasps and her upper body presses deeper into the mattress while her ass just chases your cock, like she needs it deep forever. "Cumming - I'm fucking - God" She groans and shudders through the remainder of the orgasm. Her entire body is feeling the waves, the shocks, everything as she cums and that's how you just know it was good.

She stops and her body lays flat on the bed again so you begin to move your hips. "Now it's my turn" You grunt as the heat builds up in the pit of your stomach "Where do you want it Sana?" There's nothing she says, she just moans weakly into the sheets "Want my load on your back?" No response "Want it in your mouth?" Nothing "Want it all over that pretty face of yours?" You continue and it's almost as if she doesn't really care where you cum.

Or thats what you think until "Or... do you want me to pull this condom off and fuck my cum deep into this raw cunt" She clenches tight, and you almost lose it right then and there.

"Where... ever - fuck - you want" She does her best to turn her head and look up at you, those eyes telling you that she wants to be bred and claimed by you. But she doesn't say it, it's like she can't bring herself to. Or she just won't.

Either way, you're not giving her what she wants.

It takes you a few more strokes and just a bit of concentration because of the condom but you're just about ready to burst. You think about it for a moment, getting careless and fucking a baby into her. Maybe you'll raise it together, maybe it'll mend your broken relationship. You seriously think about it, knowing that she probably isn't on any birth control and you could actually breed her, right here, right now. This pretty thing thats under you, writhing and moaning would be tied to you forever if you had a kid together.

"Fuck" You gasp as you pull out with swiftness, peeling the condom off before struggling to get to where her face is. Sana opens her mouth weakly and you get your cock into your fist the moment it all happens. You're cumming, almost keeling over when the ectasy hits you like a brick. You look down and it's absolutely covering her, some getting in her mouth. You make sure to pull the rest of it out, smearing the last bit of white on Sana's face.

She swallows what she caught in her mouth and gives you a smile "I hope you take it into consideration, what with my apology and all"

"Take what into consideration"

"Taking me back"

Yeah right, Hell no

Maybe you aren't to be taken serious, maybe no one should ever take you serious because you obviously can't even take yourself serious. It's only been a month since that day with Sana. How the fuck does she keep ending up in your bed, every. fucking. night.

She's like a fucking disease, you can't get rid of her.

You tell her you hate her, she giggles and says she hates you more. You tell her to get out, she stays and you end up fucking. You tell her you don't love her, she kisses you. It's like she knows you're full of shit, like she knows you.

Each day she shows up at your door she proves that theory right.

It's no surprise that you're in love with her, you've come to terms with that recently. But somehow, this new look of hers has really been wrecking you. It's the way she rocks the bleach blonde hair with such confidence. Like she knows whenever she walks into a room, all eyes are on her and they don't stop staring until she isn't present anymore.

She loves the attention and it kills you. You first witnessed it when she convinced you to take her out a week ago. The waiter couldn't keep his eyes off of her and it didn't help that she wore a dress that had her tits practically spilling out. Instead of telling her to cover up, you ended up punching the guy right in his face.

Then you took Sana home and fucked her on your couch cause you were too impatient to make it to the bed. You needed her to know she was yours in that immediate moment.

It wasn't always like that before. When you could actually trust her you couldn't give a fuck about what she wore or how she wore it, cause you knew that nobody else could have her.

Now that that's not so clear anymore, you need to make her aware of it every time.

It's maybe one in the morning and you're fucking her again. You've got her bent over, on her hands and knees in your hallway. Again, you couldn't make it to the bedroom because when you got here you pushed her against the wall and began kissing her. Then you had her pinned as you fucked her into the wall and somehow you both sunk to the floor.

"You've been such a good fucking girl for me lately" You mutter as you bring her to the brink of her next orgasm "Keeping yourself all nice and untouched for me"

"All for you sir.. I'm yours I'm fucking.. yours" There's a shudder in her voice and in no time "I'm gonna fucking - fuck!" She warns, her needy body meeting each one of your thrusts. It's like you've got her addicted to you and she can't help but need your cock deeper inside.

A harsh slap lands on her ass and she yelps "Do it Sana, cum for me" You grunt and it takes a moment for her to get through this one because it hits her like an 18-wheeler. The way she freezes like a deer in headlights then falls apart like she's having a seizure. She's cumming so hard that you think of asking her if she's alright. But she's more than alright as she continues to fuck her cunt on your cock.

You're not wearing a condom and you know it's stupid and reckless but you went through all of them and when you reached for one, there weren't any left. Sana looked all pouty, telling you that you could always just pull out while also reminding you that she's been good and that she's just so fucking horny and needy for you that nothing else could satisfy her that wasn't your cock going so deep down her cunt that you hit her cervix. Maybe not literally, but you catch the drift.

Anyways the idea of pulling out starts to seem more and more impossible as you allow yourself to enjoy the feel of her velvety walls. The way they squeezed onto you all slick and wet and warm. It felt almost too good. You have to slow down, cause if you keep going at this rate you might...

That's not good

"Gonna cum soon" You announce and you don't even know where. There's only one thought in your mind. Fill her, fill her, fill her. It tells you and your entire body begins to tremble. "Sana, be a good girl and tell me what you want" You hunch your body over hers because if you're going to do this, you need to hear it from her. She presses chest into the floor, now she's face down ass up. She doesn't say anything and you're only getting closer so you fist a handful of those blonde locks. She moans loudly but that's not enough "Say it Sana, or else you're not getting fucked for a month"

You know that'll be just as much torture for you as it is for her but you're hoping to God that of all things she knows about you, she doesn't pick up on that. "Fuck okay! I want you to fucking breed me... need your cum deep in my fucking cunt" She finally breaks and just like that your cock begins pulsing. You loosen your grip on her hair as you use her cunt and fuck your load deeper.

She clenches like she's trying to milk you for absolutely everything you've got "Thank you" She whispers.

"So.. you came in me"

"Yep"

"And all of a sudden you actually want us to try again? No bullshit"

You nod your head, trying to make sense of it all in your own head. You don't know why exactly you're taking her back, nor do you know why you're climbing into bed with her. "All I know is that... despite what you did to me, I still love you. I love fucking you, I love cuddling you and I love waking up next to you" You sigh cause you know it's pathetic and she doesn't deserve it but the way she holds you and runs her fingers through her hair has those butterflies coming back.

Maybe you do know how you allowed Minatozaki Sana to ruin your life

#kpop gg #kpop smut #twice #sana twice #girl group smut #twice sana #minatozaki sana #smut #sana smut #kpop idol #kpop fanfic #fanfic #sana minatozaki

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slut4hee · 3 days ago

Text

Red Lights

{Paring: Rockstar Sim Jaeyun x Groupie Fem! Reader

{Genre: smut, electric guitarist jake, 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: Nightclubs, rock bands, and crowds of people has never been your thing, but it’s something about the Australian electric guitarist that keeps you running back for more. Finally after stepping out of your shell, you find yourself doing anything in your will to be noticed by Jake Sim, aka the lead guitarist of the band Red Lights.

{Warnings: explicit themes, hard dom jake, sub reader, reader has a thing for Jake’s aussie accent, jake has tattoos, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, ass spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, oral (m&f receiving), anal play , squirting, ass eating, nipple play, usage of handcuffs, fucking in a motel, lmk if I missed anything.

“Oh come on Y/n, please come. Just tonight please make an exception for your two best friends”. Nina and Bri, shouted at you through the phone, and begged you to go out with them tonight. You honestly didn’t feel like going out at all, you had just finished your finals, and all you wanted to do is eat a bunch of junk food and binge watch criminal minds.

“Guys I don’t know, I don’t think I’m really up for going out tonight, besides finals week has killed me I just rather stay inside tonight” Your best friends groaned over the phone, whining that you always come up with the same excuse every weekend, just for a reason to not leave the house. You would admit, you did feel a little guilty for always turning down your girls, but you vs big crowds of people just made the hairs on your neck stand up.

“But Y/n, this is one night you absolutely cannot miss, the 𝙍𝙚𝙙 𝙇𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 are in town for two days and this is our only chance to see them live!!” Nina squealed in excitement over the phone, you let a confused hum at the mention of the band Red Lights, you had no idea who they were.

“Who are the Red Lights?” You inquired.

“No! Y/n please tell you’re fucking joking right now” Nina gasped dramatically, at your oblivious of not knowing who the Red Lights are. You hear Bri burst into laughter over the phone, yelling at Nina saying “I told you she wouldn’t know who they were haha, drinks on you tonight sucka” Nina let out a fake cry before cursing under her breath

“Guys seriously who are the Red Lights?” You couldn’t help but be a little curious about who these people were, and how are they so popular, since they have your best friends begging on their knees for you to come to their show tonight.

“The Red Lights, are like THE rock band of all time. They sell out so many shows every year and they’re like hot asf you should definitely reconsider your decision Y/n” Bri said, the sound of her lips smacking coming through the line, indicating that she’s applying lip gloss to her lips.

“Here I’ll send you the poster, and the link to the show where you buy your tickets. If you’re still not up for it, then it’s all good, Me and Bri will just go and have the best times of our lives. Nina said, trying her hardest to persuade you, but not make it seem she was trying to persuade you at the same time.

Your phone dinged with the message from Nina, you clicked on it, opening the message. You gasped inaudible, as you took a good look at the poster, and holy shit your friends weren’t lying they are hot. The group consisted of 4 handsome men, Lee Heeseung the lead singer, Park Jongseong bass guitarist, Park Sunghoon drummer, and last but not least Sim Jaeyun electric lead guitarist.

You would admit, all of them were fine as hell, but there was one of the members that stood out to you the most. Sim Jaeyun, the lead guitarist, it was just something about his piercing gaze, and his striking facial features that intrigued you wildly. You could feel his intense aura radiating from the picture, and that’s how you found yourself agreeing to go out with your friends tonight all bc of Sim Jaeyun.

“Actually, you guys are right, i never get out of the house except for school and work so I think it’s time I do have some fun” you cringed at your own words, you couldn’t believe you were agreeing to going to a rock concert, at an underground club somewhere totally out of your comfort zone. You giggled at your friends cheering, and squealing in excitement, that you finally decided to go party with them.

“That’s my girl!! Don’t worry we going to have so much fun, plus you’re gonna love the Red Lights, their concerts are always a night to remember” Bri quoted, you honestly were a little excited, it was definitely something new and risky, and honestly you’ve been wanting to get out there a little bit more anyways but the fear of being judged raided your head like crazy.

“Great! Then it’s settled ladies, Y/n we’ll be there in 15, so don’t take forever and please for fuck sakes wear something that fits the occasion, not any of those Church girl dresses you wear all the time” Nina snorted, you rolled your eyes and sucked your teeth at the girl, it’s not your fault you weren’t too keen on showing off any skin and your curves.

You hung up the phone, and started to get ready. You searched through your closet, looking for something not too casual but something you would be comfortable with. You pondered and pondered, on what you should wear, and then it hit you, Bri had bought you a black mini dress for your birthday last year. You swiped through your hangers until you spotted the black piece, it was a little short but not too short, with a slit on the side and the top of it revealed a little bit of your cleavage.

You bit down on your bottom lip nervously, as you checked yourself out in the mirror. The dress hugged your curves tight, and your boobs sat up nicely. Before you could get any deeper into your thoughts, you heard a loud beeping of a car horn, indicating that Nina and Bri had arrived. You took one last look in the mirror, and took a deep breath, before grabbing your purse and walking out the door.

The wind of the cool night breeze, hit you instantly as you stepped outside, reminding you of the little amount of clothing you have on. You shivered a little, tugging the dress down, before walking over to Nina’s red Honda Accord. Your best friends gasped at the sight of you, it was such a rare occasion to see you dressed like this, and they were living for it.

“Holy fuck Y/n, you look hot as hell!” Bri and Nina screamed a little too loud for your liking, you gave them a playful glare and shushed them, reminding them you have neighbors and the least you want right now is a noise complaint.

“Sorry sorry, you just look so good girl! I knew you were hiding all that ass under those long granny skirts you wear all the time” Bri said, you rolled your eyes playfully at her before getting in the back seat.

“Buckle up ladies! It’s going to be a hell of a ride” Nina smirked, and giggled mischievously, before speeding off into the night. It was indeed going to be a hell of a ride….

꩜ .ᐟ

Finally you guys made it to the club, and the parking lot was full of cars, and the line was outrageous. You understand now why your friends made it very clear to get a vip ticket, for early entry and line cutting because if not you would’ve been standing out here like the rest of these people. The city was bustling, and the lights from the venue lit up the streets.

You could already feel yourself getting nervous and anxious, but you quickly reminded yourself you’re here to have fun, and not overthink and let your social anxiety get the best of you. All you needed, is a little alcohol in your system and you’ll be good to go, because there’s nothing like some good ole liquor courage. The bouncer scanned in you and your friends tickets, handing you guys your vip lanyards, as you guys made your way in skipping the long line.

As you stepped foot inside the club, you are immediately hit with a wave of heat, bodies packed together, the bass of the music blasting travels throughout the whole club, and the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke invades your nostrils. You made sure to stay very close to your friends, not wanting to take the risk of getting split up, that’s the least of your problems you need right now.

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get us some drinks, you two find a good spot by the stage, as close as possible please” Nina shouted over the loud music, as she made her way over to the bar to grab the drinks. Bri pulled you by the arm, as you guys made your way through the crowd of bodies. You honestly don’t know, how you two managed to get pretty close to the stage, but here you guys were literally two rows away from being barricade.

Not long after Nina came back with the drinks, you immediately took your drink out of her hand, and downed most of it. If you were going to survive tonight, you needed to not be all the way there and just let loose.

Suddenly the whole club went dark, and the crowd erupted into screams. You could feel your heart racing, and your palms growing sweaty, as the lights flickered back but this time they were a dark red color.

The stage started to light up as well, and you could see the members coming up from under the stage. Bri screams in excitement, pulling on your arm hysterically. You giggled at her reaction, and you even let out a little scream yourself.

Finally, the sound of an electric guitar echoed throughout the crowd, and you felt the adrenaline rush coursing through your body. The spotlight came on, and there they were, you stared at them in awe and you wondered if this was all some fever dream.

They looked so unreal, visuals out of this world, and the intense energy they let off was like no other. Your eyes landed on Jaeyun, and boy oh boy did your heart skip a beat, he was far more handsome in person and just how you imagined him to be. On top of that, his confident and dark aura was so intimidating and all too addicting.

“What’s up everyone, We are Red Lights!” The lead singer Heeseung spoke, you couldn’t help but check him out, his facial features and orange hair standing out. But that was quickly interrupted, when the man you’ve been anticipating seeing all night, spoke as well.

“Are you guys ready to go fucking crazy!” He growled, you felt a shiver run down your spine, and a throbbing ache starting to form in your core. A fucking Australian accent?! You thought to yourself, as you craved for him to speak more, you were a sucker for accents and Jake’s happen to be your new favorite.

As the show went on, you found yourself really enjoying their music, but you were enjoying Jaeyun way more. It was the way he played his electric guitar so passionately, and his stage performance was amazing, it was like he was born for this. There were times, you and him would lock eyes in the crowd, and it never failed to get your heart beating fast and your panties getting wetter by the minute.

Sadly the show had came to an end, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. You see why Bri said their concerts are a night to remember, and you would definitely remember this night. You genuinely had a great time, the Red Lights really know how to put on a show, and you already made up your mind that you will definitely be coming to tomorrow night’s show.

“Wow that was amazing wasn’t it” Nina shouted, slurring her words just a little, she was always kind of a light weight when it came to drinking, not taking much for her to feel the buzz of the alcohol.

“Sooo… How’d you like show, and what do you think of the Red Lights Y/nnie?” Bri inquired, holding up Nina by her arm, as the drunk girl wobbled and said incoherent words only she could understand.

“Honestly… I really enjoyed it, I mean their music is actually really good. You know, I was expecting it to be like the type of rock music, where all they do is scream” Bri chucked at your words, playfully pushing your shoulder.

“So, does that mean you’re on for tomorrow night’s show?” Bri winked at you. Of course you were going, and hopefully this time you could catch a certain someone’s eye, that certain someone being Mr sexy electric guitarist.

“Actually yeah, I do think I would like to come again” you nodded, Bri clapped her hands in excitement, and Nina jumped up and down, cheering in her drunk state. You couldn’t wait for tomorrow night!!

꩜ .ᐟ

“But Sir, you clearly stated you wanted a white chocolate mocha latte, with a double shot of expresso when you ordered” You said in your most friendliest tone, trying to keep your composure. These were the days, you really hated your job, and wanted nothing more than to throw in the towel but unfortunately you aren’t rich so you have to work for your money.

“No Miss! I clearly said I wanted a white chocolate mocha latte, and a double shot of an expresso on the side. Is this like your first day or something. The older guy raised his voice, and laughed sarcastically at you. You gripped the edges of the counter, taking a deep breath, before putting on a fake smile.

“Well my apologies sir, but you weren’t very specific with your order” You replied, you honestly wanted to scream and pull your hair out, why did you always get the grumpy old people who haven’t had their AM coffee yet.

“Are you calling me a dummy! Wow that’s so unprofessional on your behalf, young lady I demand to speak to your manager right this instant” The older gentleman complained, pointing his finger at you. At this point you were fuming with frustration, as you took a step back, to regain control over your emotions.

Luckily your manager came quickly, and took over the situation, and of course the guy changed his attitude quickly when a male was now present, fucking misogynist you thought to yourself. The doors to the coffee shop swung opened and two tall gentleman walked through them. Both had on mask covering their faces, and dressed in all black attire.

You don’t know why, you suddenly got the feeling that you knew them from somewhere, but you quickly shook that feeling off, greeting them and taking their order.

“Hello! What can I get started for you two” You said politely, while typing in your employee number on the register.

“What do you recommend, it’s my first time coming here” the gentleman with the black fluffy hair spoke up, your hands froze mid typing, and you looked up at him real fast. Why did his voice sound so familiar to you, almost identical to the male’s voice you’ve been daydreaming about at work all day.

“Umm w-well, we’re well known for our cappuccinos and lattes, but we also have really good teas” you stuttered, your heart starting to beat fast out your chest. The two guys looked at each other and you could tell from their eyes, that they were smirking.

“Well how about you, what’s your favorite?” the other guy replied, he was clad in a black hoodie, with red flames on it, but what you also noticed about him was his eyes. They resembled Heeseung’s eyes from Red Lights. You told yourself to snap out of it, and get a grip. There’s absolutely no way THE Lee Heeseung, and THE Sim Jaeyun, were standing right in front of you right now, asking about your go to coffee drink.

But they were….

“Umm well I’m pretty basic, I just usually get a latte or an Iced americano” You nodded, and they both nodded their head in agreement, chuckling softly before the one with the leather jacket pulled out his credit card.

“Alright, we’ll take two Americanos please” the one with the leather jacket said, handing you his card. When you went to grab it, you suddenly stopped, and looked at the rings on his finger. At this point, you knew for sure you weren’t imagining things, the rings he had on his fingers were the exact same ones Jake had on last night at the show

Yes, you were staring that hard….

“Something wrong princess?” He chucked softly, you couldn’t find your words, they were stuck in your throat, as you struggled to speak. That’s when the other gentleman leaned in, and whispered something into his ear. His eyes widened a little, but quickly turned relaxed and was replaced with a more playful expression.

“Ahhh I see, you know who we are don’t you?” He leaned against the counter. Your breath hitched at the semi close proximity, swallowing hard before replying.

“Y-yes, but I won’t make a scene I promise, I really like you guys music a lot” You were a nervous wreck, tripping over your words, and fiddling with your fingers. They both kept giggling and looking at each other.

“Haha thanks, did you come to our show last night?” Heeseung asked, you shook your head yes eagerly, then cringing at yourself for coming off so desperate. Jake finally pulled down his mask some, showing you half of his face. You melted on the spot, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“May I ask who’s your favorite, and will you be coming to our show tonight pretty” Jake said, smirking and biting his lips. You felt your knees go weak, and suddenly the air became hot, and you struggled to breathe correctly

Did he really just call you pretty?!

“W-well, I uh- well um, I really like you Jaeyun, you’re like so amazing” You slapped your hands over your mouth and widened your eyes, you didn’t mean to sound like a desperate fangirl, but him staring deep into your eyes had your brain malfunctioning.

“Oh really, is that so? Very cute” He smirked, before putting his card back in his wallet. You quickly made their drinks, almost fucking up in the process, because you could feel them staring a hole into you. You finished making their drinks and handed it to them.

“Here you are, please enjoy” You tried your best to sound confident. They both thanked you, but suddenly Jake grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles and you looked at him in shocked, as they grabbed their drinks.

“See you at the show tonight Y/n” Jake spoke one last time, before they walked out the doors of the coffee shop. You stood there, still in shock, as you stared at spot on your hand where Jake kissed. You couldn’t wait to tell Nina and Bri.

꩜ .ᐟ

The night came fast, and you were currently standing in front of Bri’s bathroom mirror, applying your makeup. You’ve decided, you really want to go all out, in hopes of gaining Jake’s attention. You went to the mall when you got off work, and picked out a black corset top, and a black mini skirt to go with it.

“I can’t believe you met them like face to face, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK” Nina’s said, her loud obnoxious voice making you laugh. You honestly still couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Yeah seriously Y/n, you don’t know how many girls will kill to be you right now!!” Bri singed, touching up her curls. You honestly did feel a little on top of the world right about now.

“Not only that, Jake fucking kissed your hand, he’s definitely into you girl” Nina wigged her brows, nudging you in the shoulder.

“Oh come on, a guy like him into me? He probably just enjoys seeing girls losing their shit over him” You didn’t wanna gas yourself up, only to get disappointed in the end. Jake was so out of your league, and had plenty of girls in line waiting to have a piece of him. There’s no way he would waste his time on a girl like you.

Little did you know….

Jake’s Pov

Jake knew when he first spotted you in the audience, he had to have you. You were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and not only that he could tell you weren’t used to coming to concerts or let alone clubs, just by the way you looked around like a lost puppy. He could feel, the innocence and curiosity, radiating from your body all the way in the crowd and he never felt so addicted in his life.

He wanted to swallow you whole, drain you of your innocence, and show you a whole new world out there. He couldn’t lie and say, he wasn’t taken aback, when he walked into the coffee shop and you were right there in all your glory looking gorgeous as ever. It took every thing in him, not to sweep you off your feet right then and there, and have his way with you.

But nah, he couldn’t make it that easy, he wanted to play with you first, get you all desperate for him which was never a challenge for him when it came to women. Jake knew he was good looking, and how easy it was to have any girl he wanted, so he used it to his advantage. But what Jake couldn’t quite grasp, is why did it feel different this time? Why does it feel like he’s genuinely into you.

Jake was always excited when it came time to perform, I mean why wouldn’t he? He loves what he does, and music is his passion. But in the back of his head, he’s a little extra giddy knowing that you’re going to be somewhere in the audience watching him, he hopes you keep your word and show up tonight. I mean, how else is gonna make his move on you, and get you in the bed tonight.

Jake was determined to have you screaming out his name tonight, and little did he know you were feeling the same way….

꩜ .ᐟ

When you and your girls pulled up to the venue, you instantly felt Deja vu, just this time you weren’t as nervous like before and you felt lighter, and more confident. You stepped out of the car, the cool night breeze welcoming you, as you guys made your way through the line of people. Just like yesterday night, it was packed like crazy, but vip ticket again hello.

You guys rushed in, not even bothering to get drinks, as the plan was to get barricade tonight and to your surprise the goal was achieved. You and your friends couldn’t help but feel giddy, boasting over being front row.

Not long after, the lights turned off and came back on, to the signature dark red lights. The crowd roars, and the energy is up instantly. The adrenaline rush, courses through your body, a lot more stronger since you’re in front of the stage. The members came up from under the stage, and you immediately start looking for Jaeyun.

You finally spot him, and what are the odds, he just happens to be on your side. Just like before, you stare at him awe, so fascinated by his godly presence. You locked eyes with him, and this time he winked at you and smirked, Nina also saw the interaction turning around and hyping you up.

As the show went on, you noticed that you had Jake’s attention, when you would look at him, he was already staring at you. And even this time, they went out into the crowd, and he made sure he passed by your section to hold your hand. When the show was coming to an end, and they were saying their goodbyes, Jake’s eyes remained on you, and you felt so small and imitated under his gaze.

The show ended, and you and your friends were getting ready to head out, but suddenly a gentleman with a mask and tattoos on his arms stopped you guys. Bri being the brave one in the friend group, she immediately was ready to tell the guy off, until the guy quickly spoke up introducing himself.

“My apologies for startling you ladies, but could you spare some of your time?” The guy asked, you all looked at each skeptically, before shrugging your shoulders.

“Sure what’s this concerning, you wanna buy us a drink or something?” Nina said confidently, never missing the chance to flirt with a hot guy. You and Bri looked at each other, and shook your heads.

“Haha I mean, I wouldn’t mind buying a pretty girl like you a drink at all. But actually I’m the manger of Red Lights, and I actually got word from the boys that they would like to meet you ladies backstage” Your eyes widened at his words, and you turned around and looked at your friends in shocked. You guys couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Like to meet them backstage?” You inquired, the guy nodded his head and said to follow him. You guys followed him to a back room, where it was labeled staff only and he opened the door and the members were all hanging out in there. You and your friends walked in, the atmosphere feeling heavy and awkward.

“Look who made it! Welcome beautiful ladies, come have a seat” Jongseong said, pointing at the space left on the couches. Nina sat by Sunghoon, Bri sat in between Jay and Heeseung, and then of course you had no other choice but to sit by Jaeyun. He patted the space next to him and you hesitantly took a seat.

“We meet again princess, see you couldn’t stay away” Jake said, looking at you with that look, that makes you wanna serve him like he’s your master. You swallowed down your nerves, before replying.

“Why would i, I mean you really know how to make a good impression Jake” You said confidently, flirtatious in your tone. Jake bit his lip, a habit you noticed he does a lot. He leaned in closer to you, stretching his arm around your shoulder, and whispered in your ear “Call me Jaeyun pretty girl” you almost moaned out loud.

His accent was the sexiest thing you ever heard in your life, voice smooth like honey, and the scent of his cologne invaded your nostrils. You wanted him so bad, never mind, you needed him so bad.

And that’s exactly how you ended up, messily kissing Jake, as the elevator moves up the floors. It dinged on the floor Jake’s room was on, and you both stumbled out the elevator, giggling and kissing each other like crazy.

Jake fumbled with the card, as he tried to put it into the slot, he was so fucking horny he could hardly think straight. You decided to help him out, giggling and inserting the card into the slot, and finally the light turned green and the door was unlocked.

Before you guys could get fully into the room, you were pulling Jake back into a heated kiss, pulling on the collar of shirt and rubbing your hands down his abs.

“Someone’s eager aren’t we?” He smirked, grabbing a handful of your ass, then landing a harsh smack to it. You moaned shamelessly, pussy soaking your panties already. You had been wet since the concert, and you really needed him to do something about it.

“Please, i need you Jaeyun I can’t take it anymore” You begged, grinding your pussy onto the fabric of his jeans. Jake groaned, his cock now throbbing in his jeans, fuck you were so perfect, he loved when a woman is desperate for him.

“Fuck baby, shit take off your clothes, i wanna see that sexy body of yours. But do it nice and slowly for me, i wanna appreciate every inch of you” He bit his lip, taking a seat on the bed.

You didn’t even have to be told twice, you started to slowly strip out of your clothes, swaying your hips slowly as you eased out of your thong and unhooked your bra.

Jake could’ve cummed in his pants at the sinful sight of you, you were truly a masterpiece, a body of a goddess.

“I want you to crawl to me slut, show me how bad you want this” You obeyed his command, dropping down to your knees, as you crawled to him, slowly and seductively. His gaze was intense, lust and desire, written all over his face. Your pussy is dripping wet, and your arousal is leaking down your thighs.

“Gonna show me what that pretty little mouth does huh? Be a good little girl and let Jaeyun fuck your mouth” You looked up at him with your big doe eyes, and nodded eagerly, you didn’t even care how shameless you looked anymore you wanted his cock.

He spread his legs open for you, as you started to unbuckle his belt, and he lifted his bottom up so you could take off his jeans and boxers. His cock sprang free, hard as a rock, and the tip red and leaking with precum. Your mouth watered at the sight of his big cock, it was long and thick, with veins running down the sides of it

“Fuck your cock is so huge, I don’t think it will fit all in my mouth” you moaned, pumping his cock, and smearing the precum off the head of his cock.

“That’s okay sweetheart, just take as much as you can, come on make me feel good” he grunted, hips bucking up desperately. You licked on his wet tip a little, teasing him before taking him into your mouth, sucking slowly. He threw his head back, exposing his perfectly sculpted jawline and neck.

“Fuuuk yeah, just let that, eat my cock baby” you moaned around his length at his vulgar remarks, the vibration of it, causing him to let out a loud moan. The taste of his salty precum on your tongue, was immaculate and you could feel his dick twitching inside your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, taking more of his cock in your mouth, as his tip reaches the back of your throat causing you to gag a little.

O-oh Shit yeah, deep throat my cock baby fuuuck yes” He groaned, pushing your head a little, as you sucked him off. Your pussy was throbbing, so you reached your hand down between your legs, rubbing your aching clit as you sucked Jake’s huge cock. He noticed, and pushed your head further down, cock going deeper into your throat.

“Who said you could touch yourself without my permission greedy little slut” he spat out, taking this opportunity, to grip your hair and fuck your mouth. You gagged, spit and his precum dripping on the sides of your mouth. You could tell he was getting close to cumming, his dick twitching uncontrollably inside your mouth.

He pulled his dick out, tapping your tongue with his length, before pulling his shirt off showing off his tattoos. Just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter. He came up and started kissing you again, tasting himself on your mouth and groaning at the taste.

Get on all fours baby, I wanna eat that pretty pussy from the back” He sighed out, lazy stroking his cock. You got up on the bed, arching your back, as you looked back at him wiggling your plump ass. Jake cursed under his breath, before making his way over to you, and rubbing his hands all over your ass.

“Fuck look at this beautiful ass, fuck just wanna take a bite out of it sweetheart” You whimpered, when he started to circle your clit with his thumb.

“Oh fuck please, please give it to me Jaeyun” You cried out, you were so turned on, it hurts. Jake smacked your asscheek, before putting his face in between your cheeks, licking and sucking on your pussy.

You let out a loud moan, his tongue felt incredible, knowing exactly where to lick, you could tell he was really experienced.

“God yes Jake, that feels so good please” You whimpered, back arching at the overwhelming feeling of his tongue, working wonders on your wet pussy. He was genuinely eating you out like a starved man, and you could tell he eats pussy for his own pleasure.

“Fuck this pussy is so good, sweet little cunt so tasty” He said muffled, as he started to lick your puckered hole. He could tell you never had your ass eaten, by the way you flinched at the contact. He couldn’t believe, nobody has ever tasted your sweet little ass before, but he’s honored to be the first one to get a taste.

“Does my naughty little bitch, like getting her ass and pussy eaten from the back” He smirked, licking a big stripe of your pussy, sucking on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You clenched around nothing, pussy fluttering, as he started to tongue fuck your hole.

“Fuck fuck fuck, right there Jake, please don’t stop I’m gonna cum” You whined, legs shaking and the band in your stomach, threatening to snap any minute. He landed a slap to your pussy, causing you to let it a pained moan, jolting forward.

“Call me Jaeyun baby, now be a good little whore and cum on my tongue” He spat, slipping a finger inside your tight pussy, fingering your gummy walls as he devoured your pussy. You screamed his name out loud, as your body felt like it was on fire, and the knock in your stomach unraveled.

“Jaeyun! Oh my god I’m cumming” You whined, coming undone in his mouth, squirting your essence everywhere. Jake continued to lap at your pussy, overstimulating you, before you pushed at his head because you couldn’t take anymore.

“God, I need to be inside you right fucking now” He growled, ridding himself of the rest of his clothes, you looked back at him, staring at his abs, and how his muscles flexed when he bent down.

“Face down baby” He said, before running off to grab something. He came back with handcuffs, twirling the black puffy object around his finger. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and you could feel yourself getting wetter, at the thought of your hands being restrained, as he fucked the living daylights out of you.

He pulled your body to the edge of the bed, spreading your asscheeks , as he rubbed the tip of his cock between your slippery folds teasing your throbbing cunt. You felt like you were going to die, if you didn’t have his cock buried deep inside you, pushing your ass against his pelvis.

He chuckled at your eagerness, before aligning his tip up with your hole, his cock slipping inside your tight pussy easily from how wet you are. He was big! You could feel him splitting you in half, his hard cock pulsating, as he started to rock his hips and forth.

“Oh Shit, yeah tight little pussy, squeezing me so good, he groaned, his pace speeding up, as he finds the perfect rhythm to fuck you deep. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he was able to find your g-spot immediately, gripping your waist tightly as he pounded you into the mattress.

“Jaeyun! Oh Jae, fuck me just like that. I love your cock so much baby fuck!” You cried out, throwing your ass back at him, as you desperately chased after his strokes. The sound of skin slapping, and the headboard slamming against the wall, echoed throughout the motel room, turning to on to the max.

“How does it feel, to be getting fucked stupid by a rockstar darling, feeling me deep in your guts” He pulled your body up from the bed, pulling your body flushed to his, as he pounded into you like mad man pinching and rubbing your nipples through his fingertips.

“F-feels so good, love being your little fucktoy so much” You whimpered, biting down on my lip harshly, as you took his brutal thrusts. He arched your back again, pushing your face into the mattress, as he let a glob of spit fall between your asscheeks. He smeared the saliva around your rim, then starting to slowly push his thumb inside your tight asshole.

“OH MY GOD JAE, I’m gonna cum, please let me cum on your cock I been so good for you” You slurred your words, your body trembling, and you could feel the band in your stomach tightening as you neared your high. You could tell Jake was close as well, his deep grunts, turning into whiny moans and whimpers.

“Fuck can I cum inside you baby, stuff you full of my cum, just to fuck back into your tight cunt” He growled, plowing into you, as his strokes started to grow erratic, fucking you into a oblivion. That sent you over the edge, the band in your stomach finally snapping, as you came hard for the 2nd time tonight.

Your orgasm triggered his, the tight clenching of your cunt, milking his cock for what’s its worth, as he shoots thick white ropes of cum inside you. His hips stuttered, completely emptying his balls inside you, and he collapsed on top of you, chest heaving up and down.

You laid there spent, body limp and weak, your hair is a mess and you looked so fucked out. So did he, sweat dripping down his forehead, as he tried to calm his breathing. The room was completely silent now, only the sound of you and Jake’s breathes could be heard.

This was the moment you dreaded the most, the awkward silence was so loud, and you didn’t know if you should get your shit and go. Or wake up to an empty bed, with no sigh of Jake.

“That was the best sex, I ever had in my life” You spoke up, breaking the silence, and trying to lighten up the mood. Jake hummed, staring up at the ceiling. You stared at him, admiring his side profile, he was so bad for you heart. Finally Jake got up from the bed, grabbing his jeans, and throwing them on.

You sit up in the bed, covering yourself with the covers, as if he wasn’t just balls deep inside you. You knew this was gonna happen, but some parts of you hoped would be different, but who were you kidding Jake’s a rockstar he has no time for dating.

“Are you leaving?” You asked him, even though you knew the answer to that, but still you were hoping he could prove your assumption wrong.

“Yeah I should head out, the band’s probably wondering where I am” He said nonchalantly, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Oh” Is all you said, a lump growing in your throat, as reality hit you hard that you were nothing but just another hookup for him.

“You should probably leave as well love, it’s not safe for a women to stay at these places by herself. He smiled at you, that damn smile you thought to yourself. Tears started to gather in your waterline, but you quickly wiped them away, and got up from the bed and threw on your clothes.

꩜ .ᐟ

You stood there awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers, as Jake checked out the motel, and tuned in the card. He turned, and looked at you, before giving you a faint smile and nodded his head towards the exit. You both walked out, side to side, the cold air hitting your legs.

Jake put his jacket over your shoulder, and kissed you on your forehead, and not long after a taxi cab was pulling up. Jake opened the door of cab for you, and you gave him a faint smile, before getting into the backseat of the cab.

“I had amazing time tonight princess, here’s my number, if I’m ever in town again we should meet up sometimes” he nodded, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad, you didn’t want this night to end, you just wished it could be different.

“Yeah I’d like that, be careful on the road Jake” Your voice cracked a little, trying to ignore the ache in your chest. He smiled at you one last time, before walking away and disappearing into the night. You finally let the tears fall, sobbing into your hands, you really fooled yourself this time

You don’t know if you will ever see Jake again, but until then, you can only cherish the memories of tonight….

A year later.

Your phone dinged with a notification, waking you out of your slumber. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, before clicking on the notification. Your heart stopped, when you opened the message, from someone you didn’t expect to hear from ever again.

Jaeyun: Hey love, I’m in town wanna meet up?🥴

The End.

A/n: The way I enjoyed writing for Rockstar Jake, I literally sobbed writing the end tho😭 but I really hope you guys like this fic, reblogs are greatly appreciated🫶🏽🩷 lmk if you guys want more fics like this in the future! Not proofread 🥲

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Taglist: @i03jae @ataver @ancnymcnzjy @slutforjaeyun @heebear @heeaxvhhoon @jaklvbub @jakeswifez @strxwbloody @meetletsinmontauk @eroqore if I didn’t tag you, it’s because it wasn’t working😭

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