#they take everything he's loved and cared for

[canideformed]

This is me at my parents who were all, “oh well! Sucks lol” when Trump got elected and did NOT take me seriously when I started getting nervous. Doubly so because I ended up sending in my passport for name and gender marker change a few days AFTER he was inaugurated because I am disabled and needed their help to do it but they kept pushing it off or (for my dad) complaining that I needed help.

… And now he’s actually doing the things he said he would and they’re all shocked. I told my mum I was worried because of the first executive order and she said, “oh, I’m sure he hasn’t said anything that would make it harder for you.”

Well I sent her the order as well as various other shit he’s done and now she’s all like, “oh this is bad, maybe we should actually apply you for Canadian permanent residence…” (I’m here for uni). Like. Yeah. He’s doing everything he said he would. Of course it’s bad.

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 teach me daddy (s & f)

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boyfriend!jungkook x virgin!reader

content: daddy kink, ddlg themes, Jungkook teaching his innocent, virgin gf how to..; touch him (blowjob) and how he touches her (fingering, lil tit play) !! hickies, sweet talk, lowkey dumbification, praise, cumming on stomach, guided, petite oc!!! Size.kink. so much dirty talk. so many pet names, FILTH.

note from cherry: put my whole sopping pussy in this. im a whore. My fav trope pls i hope i did it justice

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Jungkook's lovely, borderline magical finger tips create his usual pieces of invisible art upon your skin, right underneath the frilly fabric of your pink skirt, that top of your soft thigh squished against him, because his lap- specifically the bulge inside of his grey stüssy sweats- has become your favorite spot to sit on. Somewhere in between lush kisses and feathery moans elicited by the fluttered bruises he lays down the lane of your neck, you've understood one thing;

It feels so warm- so good to sit on that tent that forms in your older boyfriends pants, visible every time you bite your lip and stare at him with huge round, pleading eyes- every passing, electrifying fraction of a moment you spend threading through his deliciously laid, tussled mullet, or tracing the colorful lines etched into his hardened muscles, almost like you're coloring the small pictures in with your glittery gel nails.

Feels so good to hear low groans from your boyfriend's throat, experiencing your clit pulsing inside those little lacy panties, while consciously avoiding the sensation of a large wet patch making them cling to your untouched folds, it felt tingly, you had just told him.

"Tingly?" he asks, plucking back a delicate strand of your hair,

"Mhm.. like it wants attention. s'how i feel when i hump my stuffies" another small- fleeting detail you deemed insignificant, however it continues to feed into the hunger growling primally in jungkook's chest, wanting to expand outward, tear out of his gentle strokes that accidentally find your nipples, on occasions where he should be content with your petite frame inside the solid embrace of his own- oh so hungry body.

But he isn't content, not now that you've revealed you're pussy has kissed the very stuffies he's bought for you, seen you go starry eyed at.

His mind races with images of you- you in your bare glory, one he hasn't seen but there is no doubt in his mind you're an angel, sat on top of that plush hello kitty, dragging your wet, overstimulated clit over it's button nose- over and over, until there's drool running down the corners of your pout- until your eyebrows crunch together in pure delight. He wonders if you're the type to beg, ramble out your needs like a lost little deer.

His cock throbbs in anticipation, his primal instincts scream for him to take care of you whole, explore every inch of your sweet, sweet vessle. Jungkook has to know more- has to know everything.

"And how does my pretty girl hump her stuffies?" he innocently questions, hiking his hands up further on your small legs, crawling to your inner thighs, the digits raise goosebumps on your skin and a pink hue on your cheeks, it complements you- he thinks, harmonizing with your glossy pink lips.

"Hmph.. jus'.. sit on them.. r-rub back.. n' forth" your whispered reply has him drop into a lower, deeper tone, assessing how your body subconsciously responds to his teasing, bucks forward the smallest, almost unnoticeable bit.

"And what happens when babygirl does that?" you whine- leaning your lips to ghost against his own, the tingly feel rises again, floods your panties in an instant because his sudden dominance drowns you in its strangling hold,

"I feel good"

Jungkook creeps his large palm up, cupping your pussy boldy through the thin girlish fabric,

"Haa-ah" moaning, you give way into his palm, playing into his hands because you belong no where else, in response, his thumb extends, rubbing over where your clit sits puffily,

"Yeah..? right here is where it feels good, doesn't it princess?" liquid smooth as he talks, applying pressure to your needy bud,

"Mhm" you nod- whimpering against his pierced lip. In the flashes of his tight circles, you cannot bring yourself to keep your mouths attached- to focus on maintaining a healthy breath when your flower is being treated with the most careful sexuality "This feels better daddy" you say airyly, lips barely touching.

His breath stalls before it hitches once again- the title found him so righteously, so naturally succumbing to his deserved role- your daddy.

"Fuck sugar, it does hm? Let daddy take care of you, make you feel all warm and tingly"

After all, you're his special little princess,

The one with a cute pout that he wishes to see wrapped around his angry cock, he had envisioned this moment countless of times, fisting himself late at night- the soft snores come from your end of the phone, purely, innocently sleeping in the white glow of your screen, big, soft facial features lay peacefully against your pillow.

Even though the sins run carelessly on his end- he never bothered to mute himself, you kept sleeping, dreaming away,

Somtimes, he desired for you to wake up; he'd groan a bit louder, more vulgar with his endless cussing, thought about how your pupils grow wide, how your lips would part into a gasp- wish that you'd timidly run your thumb over your clit at the unfamiliar warmth spreading through your little purity, ruined, emerged in his perversion.

You nod, already going droopy eyed at the simple action of his thumb thrumming your pearl,

The cold air hits your sopping cunt as he peels your delicate panties to the side, giving him a full view of your flower, skin slick with desire

"You have the prettiest little pussy, so cute, does she want to be played with?" his tone is so- so gentle, yet, its dripping with power, entranced with the view of his- yes his very own digits that faintly glide between your folds,

"Yes- nghh shit- koo" your manicured nails dig into his meaty thighs, grounding yourself in a failed attempt to hold your head up, the foreign urgency consumes your entire being with it's intensity,

"Look at me sugar" he commands, growling lowly, his eyes squint to the ones of a predator, you- his prey, look at him like he has always known you would- wide eyed, doe eyed, awaiting his instructions

"Good girl. Now tell me again, do you want daddy to show you how to feel really good hm? How to play with your tiny cunt?"

You nod dumbly, letting out the smallest sounding yes that had ever grazed his ears, he purrs, taking in the effort with an open heart,

"Suck on them, need them nice and wet, can you do that for me princess?" his fingers intrude your bitten lips, forcing his digits to collide with your tongue, eagerly- messily and uncoordinated, you swirl your tongue around them, humming as he withdraws- letting out a satisfied groan

You wince a bit upon the proding of his fingertips against your entrance, unexpectedly, you look at him- begging for him to take you with him, guide you by the hand along everything he does, take your hand like a good daddy should.

The substantial need to make you feel safe takes over again, courses throughout his entire being because you look so vulnerable like this, so barely laid out for him to consume.

"it's okay babygirl, it's gonna feel so good. Daddy's gonna put a finger inside this pussy, you'll feel a bit full, but my precious little girl's so good, she can take it all" he can feel your body relax on top of his lap, as if your muscles let go of all tension with his reassurances- he's on the edge of feeling bad for wanting to ruin your purity.

But he does it regardless.

Wet, sloppy sounds fill your ears as he pumps his finger inside of you. The rhythm starts slowly, one push- one long drag between your folds before returning to pulling out, pushing back in carefully. He studies the subtle change in your expression, diligently grasping at the strings of your arousal- his own eyes can't choose between the look of lust on your face and his hand colliding with your sweetness, feeling how you suck his finger in with every fiber of your being, so untouched, so pure- so, so needy.

You squirm, wrap your hand around his bulging bicep- "Daddy- that feels so good, feels so so good" you continue mumbling, singing the cutest moans to numb his thoughts, feed his hunger, he turns greedy- allowing himself to drown in you entirely, granting himself premission to increass his speed, push in deeper- you gratify him, become louder, whiner, give yourself over because truthfully- you didn't know anything outside of how good it feels to be fingered like this.

"Yeahhh, feels so good to have daddy's fingers? think you can take another one?" Patiently he waits for your allowance- and once he heared that needy voice of yours, calling out for him to push another finger in, he snaps,

"Fuck sugar, look at you, such good girl f'me, feel so full don't you?" His lips latch back on to your neck as he pumps into you faster, curling his fingers into you like he's crawling into your body, establishing his ability to make you squirm- make you whimper and lose that pretty head of yours in his sinful lure.

So you do lose yourself- start whining for him to keep hitting that spot- right there daddy- you beg,

"Yeah? My babygirl loves this- loves my fingers making your cunt feel good. All mine, my little pussy, no one can have you like this"

"Right there ohh? Can you say that again sugar?" Thoughtlessly, obediently ylu start repeating, rehearsing the words like you're summoning him- your legs jerk, contract the muscle with a moan so pronounced jungkook could cum all over himself at the pure nuance of it.

"mmhm! s'too much- feels like i- like i'm gonna-" Your eyes roll far into your skull at the lingering of his teeth on your jaw, his tongue that shamelessly licks a strip up to your ear so he can coax you into intoxicating pleasure.

"Like what little girl? Gonna make a mess?"

At that- at the last syllable of his sentence, you release your arousal over the whole long inches of his fingers that are still relentlessly pushing into your hole, plucking out roughly- shoved back in, "Goood girl" he rasps, slapping his soaked fingertips over your overstimulated cunt. You did not know better than to leave gasps into his now bitten, ridiculously broad shoulder, shudder in overstimulation, tug at the roots of his chocolate mullet,

Your bedroom grows quiet, pleasure rings in your ears, wrecks you from the top of your head to your toes, colorful sparks fly behind your eyelids as it keeps going, keeps flooding out of your body like it had never done before.

Your boyfriends entire demeanor changes once his ragged breathing returns to soft hums, his healing hands cover more than half of your back and he just lets you bathe in the aftershocks, "Did so well for daddy, my good girl" The whispers find your hair, his pecks follow, decorating your journey back to a grounded reality with beautiful stars, safety,

As he´s rubbing up and down your back under the fabric of your cami, your skin erupts into familiar goosebumps, only this time, he feels your stiff nipples rub against his own, sweaty chest, the friction makes you hiss involuntairly,

"How do i feel good here ?" The muttered curiosity behind your words makes Jungkook moan audibly- reaches his hands to slide around your torso, your rips flutter in response, "Let me show you"

Your cami shrivles up over the swell of your small chest, cupped snuggly in your white sparkly bra, his hands cover your entire breasts easily, the twinkle in his vision is unmistakable,

lust, utter need

"Gon´ pull these down baby, show your pretty body to me" vision going white, he rushes to wrap his lips around the stiff bud, encircling it with his tongue, "All mine, my tits, my little girl, these belong to me" He takes his time- devours you, flicking the tip of his tongue over and over, you recoil forward, moan helplessly under how good he´s making you feel,

Jungkook returns the favour, moans into your skin that arches closer into his mouth,

"Want me to give you some attention too? Gonna rub it like this baby, roll it in between your fingers" The instructions help to remember what is happening between the chasm of gasps and whimpers, the throbbing between your aching legs returns in unbearable force- rises with every collision of his rough palms rounding your soft skin, he nibbles, sucks, bites gracefully into the sensitive flesh.

"Daddy- daddy stop please" the wet sensation leaves in the blink of an eye, his gaze glistens over with worry- hands immediately running to your comfort, soothing your arms, "M´sorry my love, too much? Wanna stop here?"

You shake your head violently, wanting to sob at the thought of stopping, you´ve never felt need like this, urges like this- borderline possessed as you tug at his waistband, his eyes widen, holding both your wrists in his calloused hand "Woah babygirl, slow down, what is it that daddy´s princess wants?" He asks genuinely, running his lips over your jaw but his cock betrays him, throbs painfully as you whimper for him, mutter for him to show you how to make him feel good too. He didn't want to pretend to be innocent anymore- your boyfriend had been praying to have you like this, why would he deny you if you so desperately wish to pleasure him anyways?

Feverishly, your small hands expose his member, appreciating the hard outline in his calvins before reaching in- finding the warm length that can, in no way, fit even in the grasp of both your fidgety hands,

"It´s so pretty, so big" You praise, staring in awe at the sight in front of you, a pearl of his arousal runs down alongside the vein of his shaft, Jungkook growls, scratching your scalp with his tattooed hand,

"All yours. come on sugar, little kisses, lick it a bit, i´ll be loud for you"

It´s not like it was his choice regardless, not when you lay your tongue flat against his tip, tracing every inch of him. You lick up and down his pulsating cock, look up at him through your feminine, innocently batted eyelashes as if to ask if he feels good- he groans, tightens his hand with each torturous slow lick to him, how could he not feel good?

"Good little girl, taking daddy so well, need you to take it in your mouth now okay? Can you be good and try to swallow daddy´s cock?"

You nod- god you´d do anything he asks, hesistantly, your lips coat his fat tip, opening your throat as he feeds you his girth, hitting the back of your throat in an instant- you try your best to ignore the gag, focus on the wetness of your cunt and his breathless curses.

It´s even more erotic than he had imagined, you do pout; your lips barely fit in his cock, not able to get half of it into the confined space of your jaw- his stomach flips at your hand that wraps around the rest of him- while the other one clenches his inner thigh for support, marks his skin in reminders. The look in your willing eyes, the struggle to take his inches as your own spit escapes your mouth- it´s becoming something he will get addicted to in no time,

"Ssh i know daddy´s big babygirl, but you´re made for me, breathe through your nose, goood job baby" its fuel, fuel to your insatiable greed for him, you follow instinct, bob up and down with the help of his hand on the back of your head, throat contracting around him and shit- Jungkook is sure if your throat is this tight sucking him off, your virgin pussy must feel like heaven too.

"Just like thaaat, yeah sugar, makin´ me feel so fucking good" He continues, thighs flexing with the constricting feeling in his balls, release bubbles up fast, rapidly banging his system- your boyfriend grips you by the jaw, to have you make eye contact with his half lidded brown stars, "Lay down f´me"

Sprawled out, tummy laid open, your hair flows over your tits, eyes watch him stroking his cock in heavy, aggressive movements, rubbing his thumb over the pink swollen tip- he pants, groans so fucking loud you instinctively spread your thighs for him- clenching around nothing- begging silently for him to give you everything.

At the sight of your cunt covered in your own, copious amount of slick and previous orgasm, he´s struck down mercilessly, it rides him over the edge and soon enough, he splurts his milky cum all over your lower stomach, he shakes- calls out for you.

"My little princess, look so beautiful like this, god i fucking love you"

You giggle girlishly- a sound from the deep chambers of your now, perverted heart as he engulfs you in his hold, "Baby you´re-" his mouth finds yours again, not letting you protest but he's soft, grateful "I don´t care, you´re mine, my baby, all mine" Another kiss, another smile, "Thank you, thank you sugar" he mumbles, holding your flushed out cheeks in his big hands, searching for familiar innocents within your face and unsurprisingly so, he still discovers it.

[xinganhao]

not for sale 💳 mingyu x reader. (3)

celebrity!mingyu and small business owner!reader. check out 🛒 not for sale's masterlist.

You can’t bring yourself to end the call. 

Your phone is overheating. You’re below the acceptable battery threshold of twenty percent. And the dark-haired boy on the other end of the screen looks more asleep than awake. 

You should end this call, but you can’t. 

Mingyu doesn’t seem keen on ending it either. His eyes are drooping and his head has begun to loll every so often. He’d spent the first couple minutes of the call talking about his day— the seemingly endless rotation of engagements that came with being a celebrity. 

Sometimes, it still strikes you as odd that this is the life you now lead. Being on FaceTime with somebody that hundreds, maybe thousands of people fawned over. 

But you were friends… right? And friends called each other. Friends texted. 

This is friendly, a small voice in the back of your head tries to convince you. So very, very friendly. 

The conversation has since mellowed out. Mingyu makes good on his word; he falls quiet, observing your work like it’s some form of entertainment for him. At one point, you even forget he’s watching. 

It’s why you’re a bit jolted when he absentmindedly mumbles, “You have nice hands.” 

You pause in the middle of bubble wrapping an order. One cursory glance at your screen, and you see that Mingyu is absolutely fighting for his life to stay awake. The sight almost makes you smile. 

“You should head to bed soon,” you say instead of addressing his compliment. “We’ve been on call for— what? Two hours, I think.” 

Mingyu says something too low for you to catch. You give a noncommittal hum of ‘hmm?’, prompting him to repeat what he’d said. 

And maybe he’s just tired enough to decide fuck it. Maybe it’s past midnight and that makes everything fair game. 

Because Mingyu breathes out a quiet “not enough,” and you swear something screeches to a halt in your brain. Two hours. Not enough. 

You swallow. He’s out of it, you think to yourself, your fingers quivering a bit as you cut, tape, seal. He’s sleep-deprived and talking out of his ass. 

That’s what gives you the audacity to ask what’s been on your mind for days now. 

“Mingyu,” you ask, “why do you want to be an ambassador for Bittersweet?” 

A beat. One that stretches long enough for you to wonder if Mingyu had finally succumbed to his exhaustion. 

But then, his voice— quiet, but not any less sincere— rings over the line. “Because I like your jewelry.” 

Plain and simple. You’re not sure why you expected more. 

He goes on, his tone a little softer, slower. “I like what you’ve done with the business. I like… how hard you work. Your passion. All that.”

Mingyu pauses to yawn. You glance over to see him smiling into his phone, his half-lidded gaze trained on your hands moving over your workbench. It makes his next words a one-two punch on your poor heart. 

“Your brand may be called ‘Bittersweet’,” he says, “but you’re as sweet as they come.” 

EXCERPTS FROM "MINGYU opens up on being named Rising Star of the Year"

Q: Earlier this year, the Internet fell in love with you for being an ‘advocate for small businesses.’ You’ve seemed to take it a step further, though. 

MINGYU: [laughs] Is that what they’ve been saying? I had no idea. But, yes— the pieces I have on right now are from a small business. It’s called Bittersweet Jewelry, and it’s something I found one day while scrolling through SNS. 

Q: You didn’t know the seller prior to purchasing? 

MINGYU: No, not at all. They didn’t even know it was me. I used an alias for a while. 

Q: I see. A lot of people believe your support has been reflective of your personality. Being caring, considerate. 

MINGYU: That’s very nice. I appreciate that. Although, if I’m being honest, I’m just a guy who likes good jewelry. I admire consistency, quality. [holds up his rings] These have it in spades. 

Q: That’s why you keep coming back to brands like Bittersweet. 

MINGYU: Sure. We could say that.  

[...]

THE TOP FIVE SONGS MINGYU HAS BEEN PLAYING ON REPEAT LATELY

Love Me Like That by Sam Kim

Linger by The Cranberries

Tadhana by Up Dharma Down

If You Do by GOT7

LMLY by Jackson Wang

[...]

Q: What do you look for in a partner? 

MINGYU: Now, Minghao… [laughs] 

Q: Sorry. The readers want to know. 

MINGYU: I’m never going to escape this question, am I? Give me a minute to think about it. 

Q: Sure. 

MINGYU: [after a moment] I’d like somebody dedicated and passionate. Someone sweet. And… 

Q: And? 

MINGYU: Someone with nice hands, I guess. [smiles] 

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[readwritealldayallnight]

Comatose Confessions

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 4k words

warnings/tags: fluff

Part two to this

He’s barely moved a single inch in the last hour

Though he blinks every so often, his eyes never once stray from where he’s held his gaze so steadily this entire time, as focused as any trained sniper could ever hope to be

Sat on his bed, back against the wall and stiff as a statue, he watches as the faint light creeping in under the crack of his door shifts every so often, the shadows outside refusing to stand still

He knows it’s you

As perfectly silent as you are, he can still see the shadow of your boots pacing back and forth, back and forth, again and again, just outside his room

You know he’s inside

And he knows that’s why you refuse to leave, annoyingly stubborn in your pursuit, determined in your efforts to get the man inside to put an end to his charades

He knows you won’t leave until you get what you want

And what you want, is for Ghost to stop avoiding you

He’s been very carefully, very intentionally avoiding having to speak to you

He can’t bring himself to do it

He just can’t

Not since he’s woken up

Not since his head felt worse than it had in a very long time, mind swimming through a heavy fog in an attempt to fight his way back to consciousness, his entire being had felt shaken to its core and thrown off its axis, his blood running cold with the unmistakable chill of pure, unadulterated fear, not too far off to how he’d once felt waking up with the taste of dirt in his mouth, buried six feet under ground

Only to be jolted into a startlingly opposite reality when he suddenly was able to smell that achingly familiar, enrapturing fragrance he’d come to associate with a certain someone, could somehow feel miraculously soft, gentle fingertips smoothing along his neck into his goddamn hair, an affectionate touch he’d only felt fleetingly as a young boy, and when he’d opened his eyes, he was certain he’d somehow snuck his way past the gates and into heaven

Because above him had been you, and though the light glowing around you burned his tired eyes, you remained a vision so beautiful to behold he could never dream of shutting his eyes ever again, could not help but to instinctually reach out to grasp you, should you vanish before him and he lose the chance to ever hold you, at least once

His brain was still pounding, insistently throbbing as it shocked itself back awake, fighting to take control back as his lips suddenly said the only thing that both his mind and heart could agree upon at this moment, looking up at you:

“Love.”

It was nearly an entire day later, following a flurry of you being whisked out of his room, doctors and nurses fussing over him, his mind and body slowly beginning to feel more like his own again, when Soap came to visit him and all too happily recounted to his Lieutenant what he’d supposedly said upon waking up from his days long coma

After the doctors released him from the med bay or rather accepted that the Lieutenant was going to leave when he wanted to whether they liked it or not, they’d given strict instructions for at least a fortnights rest, wanting to allow his brain enough time to truly recover, concerned that though everything else was checking out fine, that short bout of confusion upon waking could not be looked over when it came to head injuries

Confusion

Is that what they all thought it had been?

He couldn’t exactly blame them, he felt he’d done a more than phenomenal job of hiding the true nature of his feelings for you from anyone and everyone, making it appear as though he was nothing more than indifferent to your existence, far from someone he’d be relieved to see waking up in a hospital bed

No, he’d been far from confused when he’d insisted to anyone who would listen, not caring that anyone’s ears but your own would hear his words spoken with the utmost sincerity, when he called you his girl, his love

No, if anything that was the most honest Ghost had been in a long time

At least since you’d worked your way into his life and apparently his heart along the way

But now, nearly two weeks passed since he’d woken up and admitted to you in his vulnerable state of mind his true feelings for you, after months of carefully avoiding ever letting you know how he felt, months of keeping his distance in hopes of diminishing the gravitation pull he felt whenever you were near, and he couldn’t bring himself to face you

He can’t decide whether it’s a small mercy or not that in the fog of waking up and all the chaos that ensued, that he can’t recall seeing your reaction to his words, can’t remember seeing the look on your face when he admitted the words he would have preferred to have been buried with than to profess out loud to you

A blessing, in that he doesn’t know whether your face twisted up into a look of horror or disgust at his revelation, and a curse, in that he’s had days upon days holed up in his room, imagining every other possible reaction you might have had

Since his release from the med bay, you’ve come knocking at his door, he knows you’ve been asking around base for him, have tried to run into him during those few fleeting moments he trudges to the mess hall and back

Why you’re so determined to confront him, he can’t be sure

To laugh at him? Rub it in his face?

He doesn’t think so, it’s not something he believes you’d so, but then again he’s never had his entire heart held in a pretty birds hands before, especially when he’d never intended to hand the bloodied, somehow still beating thing over in the first place

Maybe you feel sorry for him, hope to let him down easy, or even pretend as though you never heard him in the first place, he’s not sure which would hurt him most if he’s honest-

None of those excuses feel right however, with the way you’ve been seeking him out so persistently, opposite to the neutrality the two of you had less than half a month ago, and so always more at ease in the certainty of his own misery, rather than the misery of uncertainty, he remains hidden from you

Fuck, he hopes you haven’t been speaking to Johnny too much

When he notices your steady back and forth pacing suddenly come to a halt with the shadows indicating you’re stood directly in front of his door, the only movement Ghost allows is the slightest quirk of his scarred eyebrow, gaze intent on where he imagines your form stands just beyond the thick plank of wood separating you

He’s holding his breath, wondering what your next move will be in this childish game of cat and mouse he’s roped you into, when he hears the slightest shuffling from outside, a crinkling sound accompanied by shadows moving about under the door, followed by the sound of your boots echoing away from him and down the hall

It takes him nearly another ten minutes before he dares to move again, already beginning to berate himself for the way he’s behaving like a frightened child, when his eyes lock in on the anomaly on his floor

The sun was just beginning to set when he’d dared to venture out to the mess hall and back to his room quickly, hoping it was the best time to avoid most everyone including you before they ran out of decently edible grub, only just slipping into his room and shutting the door behind him when he’d glanced down the hall and locked eyes with you turning the corner

Now more than an hour passed, the sun long gone and his food cold and untouched, he notices something that wasn’t there before

Slowly, Ghost approaches his door, bending down to a crouch to examine what’s been slipped so carefully underneath the thin seam of his door

A single cigarette

He huffs a silent approving hum, bringing the death stick up to his mask covered nose to smell the bad habit he hasn’t touched in a few days

In all his efforts to avoid running into you, he’d quickly gone through the packs he kept in his room, only daring to smoke them out of his own ajar window like a goddamn teenager hiding the smoke from their parents

He’d smoked his last one a handful of days ago, and had yet to pick up a new pack, his years long addiction to nicotine apparently coming second to his need to continue avoiding you, no matter the cravings he felt

Now however, holding the smoke between his calloused fingers, he finds himself too relieved to begin the logical train of thought that should accompany such a gift from you being slid under his door

Fetching his lighter out of his desk drawer, Ghost steps towards his window and cracks it ajar enough that he can lean his upper half out, prepared to enjoy his cig in peace

What he isn’t prepared for however, as he inches his balaclava up above his crooked nose and begins trying to spark the lighter to life, is for the flames to be reflected back at him through your very own eyes staring up at him, stood directly below his window

“Hi Ghost.” You whisper up to him with amusement, the faint quiver of your lip giving away the mischievous smirk threatening to push through the darkness of the late night hour

You’re quicker than he expects you to be, almost as though you anticipated what his next move would be, when you reach out to squeeze your hand between the window and the pane, just as Ghost hurries to shut it

“What the fuck do ye think you’re doin’?” The Lieutenant growls out, hoping to stall for time as he recomposes himself, internally shaking his head at himself for falling for your trick. Leaving him a damn cigarette like a taunt and waiting beneath his window for him to smoke it was purely childish on your part, but then again, he hasn’t exactly been the most level headed soldier on base recently either he supposes

“Apparently what I have to do to get you to acknowledge me.” You reply casually, refusing to budge your hand away from where it prevents the window from shutting you out. “How long are you planning on avoiding me? Hm?”

“You’re bloody mental if ye think tha’ I-” He cuts himself off with the sharp glance you throw his way, a look that easily reads ‘are you fucking kidding me’ even in the low light illuminated across your features. “Alrigh’, fine. You’ve got me. Your grand plan was to hide ou’ here, like some bloody lunatic, wait for me… and then what? You plannin’ on climbin’ in through the fuckin’ window next?”

Fighting for the upper hand in this situation, Ghost watches as you take a deep breath, eyes quickly scanning the length between the ground and the windowsill, where you’re struggling to keep your hold while stood on tip toes

“Well I was hoping you’d invite me in by now. But I’ll do what I have to.” You decide confidently, raising your chin up high as you hold his gaze, refusing to back down now that you’ve got him in front of you. You must see something in him that puts a slight dent in your resolve however, as he watches your eyes soften ever so slightly, and you begin to shift on your feet. “I just want to talk to you, Ghost. Can’t we at least just do that?”

He fights the urge to grind his teeth as he clenches his jaw, shifting his eyes away from you as he struggles to maintain his composure seeing you standing there bathed in moonlight, a look of genuine sincerity on your face as you plead with him to be reasonable

“Fucking fine. But you’re using the bloody door. Don’t need you causing a scene out ‘ere.” He relents, pulling his hand back from the window pane.

“You promise to let me in?” You ask, hesitating before you release your grip on the glass. He peers back down at you, taking his own steadying breath before he offers a curt but steady nod in your direction. “Good, because my next move was going to be to pull the fire alarm, and that would’ve just been so much more of a mess.”

With that little revelation, he watches your hand slip away from the glass as you tip toe along the edge of the barracks, finding your way back inside. He scoffs to himself as he shuts the windows firmly, shaking his head at your antics as he stares solemnly at the unlit cigarette still pinched between his fingers

What the fuck has he gotten himself into?

Your fist has barely finished its first knock on his door before he’s swinging it open, reaching a large hand out to grip you by the waist and pull you inside before he has the chance to change his mind about this whole thing. He peers his head quickly around the corridor to make sure no one caught sight of anything before shutting the door behind you both, sealing him in with the last person he thought he’d find himself with tonight

He releases his hold on you as quick as he can, taking a large step backwards to put space between you both, eyes raking in the sight of you pressed up against the back of his door, an image he’s pictured many times before in his head but never believed he’d truly ever lay his eyes upon

He watches your own gaze hesitantly sweep around the space quickly, taking in the sparseness of the room. What he wouldn’t do to be able to take a peek into your mind, especially right now

“How’s your head feel?” You ask quietly, eyes shifting back towards the masked man’s visage as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his side. The only answer you get from him is a grunt you’ve heard from him often enough to know translates to ‘fine’. “Soap was telling me that if the docs clear you this weekend you’ll be able to start easing back into work.”

Ghost simply watches as you watch him, slowly lifting one foot before another, cautiously making your way over to his small desk and easing yourself down into the chair, all the while keeping him in your sight, as though he were a wild animal you might spook with one wrong move

“I’m sure they’ll pass you, but between you and me,” you add, leaning back slightly in the chair as a shadow of a smile crinkles in the corner of your lips. “I’d help you forge the docs signature if we had to. I’ve had my fair share of Soap, I’m ready to pass custody back over to you.”

At this, Ghost can’t help the soft chuckle that slips out, watching as the hesitant smile on your face forms into a full fledge smirk at the sound of his approval. With the tension in the room slowly beginning to dissipate already, he dares to allow himself to take his own atop his bed, opposite to you. Still though, he can’t completely let go of the nerves running through him, knowing you’re likely moments away from confronting him.

“You wanted to talk, let’s talk.” His deep voice rings out in the small space, hoping to cut straight to the chase, get this over with

“Right,” he watches you fidget in your seat, eyes leaving his for a moment as you begin to fiddle with your jacket pockets. “Listen Ghost, I- I realize that I might have heard something you didn’t necessarily want me to know.”

‘Yeah, that’s putting it fucking lightly’ he thinks to himself, but allows you to go on with whatever speech you’ve obviously prepare, hoping you’ll at least be quick in your rejection of him, and that this can soon all be a thing of the past

“And I figured if we were going to talk, it would really only be fair to level the playing field, so to speak.” He watches with veiled curiosity as you fish something out of your jacket. In your hands you hold a small, but clearly well loved notebook

“How’s that?” He questions, nodding towards the item in your grasp

“I don’t think I have to swear you to secrecy here but, I used to write in journals a lot, when I was little. Don’t really keep up with it as much anymore, you know how busy we are.” You mention, pulling the strap down from across the front cover and opening the book, fingers sifting through the pages covered in handwritten words of ink and lead. “Every once in a while I’ll write something down, if it’s memorable. But mostly I jot down my uh, well my more embarrassing stories.”

“Why would ye do tha’?” Ghost questions, eyebrows furrowing as he tries not to decipher any of the words he sees on in your book, unsure where this is all going

“Honestly,” you say with a small, airy chuckle. The Lieutenant ignores the sudden feeling in his chest cavity as he comes to the conclusion he’s never seen you smile so often, at least not so up close and personal. “Reading them back makes me feel better. They make me laugh. Especially after a long day or hard missions. Nice to come back to and remind myself not everything in life has to be so… serious, I guess.”

You offer a casual shrug, still thumbing between pages as Ghost takes in your words.

“Anyways, I just thought that, maybe you’d want to hear something I would usually never tell anyone. Make us a little more even?”

He narrows his eyes at you slightly, understanding now what it is you’re trying to do.

He slipped up that day when he woke up from the coma, accidentally made himself vulnerable in front of you and said something he wish he hadn’t, something he’s embarrassed about

And so here you are now, offering to be vulnerable in front of him instead, to grant him access to some of your embarrassing moments and thoughts, level the playing field as you had put it

Yeah, he’ll bite

Again, he offers you no more than a subtle nod in your direction to communicate his agreement, but the way your eyes lights up at this response, you’d think he would’ve just agreed to make you Captain for a day

“Thought maybe we’d start easy. How about the time I accidentally spit my gum out on my CO’s boots? Or when I peed myself during basic-”

Ghost isn’t sure how you’ve done it, whether you knew this was how your cunning plan would work out all along, or if you’ve just gotten incredibly lucky tonight, but as one embarrassing story on your part turns into two, and then three, and suddenly hours have gone by, the stoic Lieutenant finds himself smiling with you, laughing with you, fuck he even starts offering up his own carefully curated stories when you pull an almost full carton of cigs out of your other pocket and toss them to him, the two of you sharing remarks over a shared smoke, hunched over the same window he nearly slammed in your face earlier

“Oh man,” you choke out in small fit of giggles, your hand holding your sides as you pass the cigarette back to him. “We oughta put all your dad jokes down on paper one day, you know why? Because they’re tear-able.”

He rolls his eyes as he takes a deep inhale off the cig, pretending the corners of his mouth haven’t been lifted nearly all night.

“Tha’ was awful.” He mutters, sparing you a side glance before he adds, “A real pun-ishable offence you jus’ committed there.” He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk anymore when your giggles grow louder at that.

“Alright, alright. I suppose my pun-ishment then,” you say between breaths, casting him a glance to see if he approves of yet another one of your corny puns tonight. “Would be to read these last few pages.”

He watches as your fingers dance across the handful of pages making up the end of the journal, yet to be read aloud tonight, your movements appearing hesitant for the first time this entire interaction.

Part of him feels the urge to tell you whatever it is, it’s not necessary, that you don’t have to read anymore about yourself that you don’t want to

Another part however, is far too curious, far too intrigued to know more about you, having learned more tonight from your own lips than he has in all the months he’s known you

“Actually, maybe I’ll just have you read it this time.” You say, reaching the journal out towards him, allowing him that one final glimpse into your personal thoughts. With a calloused palm, he takes the book from your hand, careful not to linger too long on the soft touch of your digits against his rougher ones. Glancing down at the words written haphazardly across the lined paper, he reads:

‘First week with the 141 went by in a blur, don’t think I’ve ever sweat so much on a base before, those men sure know how to train’

‘Captain is nicer than any other CO I’ve had before, and the Sergeants are funny, very welcoming’

‘The Lieutenant is… different’

‘Not bad different (though he might not say the same for me), just different. Hoping to learn more about him soon’

‘One month on the team has flown by, almost can’t remember life before the 141’

‘The lads are great, but the Lieutenant still doesn’t seem keen on me being here. Which is a shame, his teammates speak so highly of him, and his work speaks for itself. Just wish he’d speak to me sometimes’

‘Almost half a year already, if you can believe it’

‘These men feel like family, all apart from the one who still won’t acknowledge me’

‘The lads say not to worry about it, that Ghost will come around eventually… I just hope they’re right. There’s something about him I can’t shake. I find myself thinking about him more than I should’

‘Mission went bad. Lieutenant got hurt and has yet to wake up from his coma’

‘For the lads sake, I hope he wakes up soon’

‘Ghost opened his eyes yesterday…’

‘I don’t know if he meant what he said, or if he even remembers it, but I know I’ll never be able to forget it’

‘This entire time I’ve just wanted him and I to be cordial, to work together, hell maybe even become friends… but ever since he’s said those words… I can’t shake the feeling … maybe friends isn’t quite the right word for us’

Ghost isn’t sure how many times his eyes scan that last entry over and over and over, willing his eyes to believe what he’s seeing right in front of him, not until your hand slowly slips over his own, still holding the journal open, does his gaze flicker up to meet your own vulnerable stare

“I’ll be honest I’m not sure how to- do this.” You say with a slightly awkward chuckle, the vulnerability of the situation clearly starting to get to you as your Lieutenant stares you down wordlessly. “But I wanted to be honest with you. Couldn’t have you wallowing away in here any longer without knowing - well I guess without knowing how I felt too. I don’t know you as well as I’d like to Ghost, we haven’t exactly given each other many chances to do so. But I’d really like to be your… friend.”

His eyes narrow in on the sweet but anxious smile you try to put on through your nerves, your earlier confidence diminishing now that you’ve truly laid your cards out and made yourself as vulnerable as you can before the man who still has yet to say anything.

Ghost takes a steadying breath, eyes never leaving yours as he tosses your journal onto his bed where it lands with a soft bounce.

Vulnerability like this, feelings like this… it’s a grey area Ghost usually tries to avoid at all costs, a field of land mines he’d rather not cross, knowing no one makes it out on the other side unscathed

But with everything you’ve done for him, everything you’ve revealed to him, in combination with the throbbing organ behind his ribs fighting to beat its way back to life since the moment he met you and decided he couldn’t fall for you, Ghost finally relents and says fuck it. You’ve shown more bravery tonight than he has in the last two weeks, avoiding you like you were the plague, and it’s about time he put on his big boy trousers and show some bravery of his own now

“Don’ know it the lads told ya, but I don’ really do friends.” He says, slowly lifting a single boot and cautiously stepping in your direction

“I- I’ve heard.” You mutter, trying not to show the defeat that threatens to come across your features at his words, fearing he’s about to let you down.

The large man takes another step, and another, until there’s suddenly less than an inch of space left between both your heaving chests, and you have to crane your neck upwards while his is tilted down to keep his eyes on yours. Your eyes widen as you watch one of Ghost’s large hands come up into view, sneaking towards the bottom of his balaclava, which has been rolled up with entire time as you both shared some smokes

His fingers pinch the fabric, pulling it up further above his mouth to rest on the crooked bridge of his nose, revealing more of his scarred lips to you just as they whisper:

“But you and I, my love, aren’t quite friends.”

With the way Ghost’s lips come crashing onto your own waiting mouth, you’re inclined to agree with him

Tag list:

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[amfstargirl]

Yandere batfam x neglected reader

Standing in the yard, dressed like a kid, the house is white and the lawn is dead ⋆·˚ ༘ *

You stood firm on the ground, eyes stern and unwavering. In front of you was a place all too familiar—the "shelter" where you grew up, the house that had been your home for five years of your childhood. As you stood there, memories flooded your mind, both the happy ones and the melancholy ones. Your eyes roamed around the place, taking in every detail before you finally decided to enter, lest anyone mistake you for some kind of lunatic loitering outside someone's house.

As your feet mindlessly carried you into the room, a heavy, shaky sigh escaped your quivering lips. It hadn't even been five seconds since you entered, yet you already felt the urge to cry. Oh well, that's what memories do to you. You gently caressed the dirty white wall adorned with your old, fading doodles. Most of them were pink—your favorite color then and even now as an adult. You smiled sadly as the memories of your time in the house flooded back, making you nostalgic. You scoffed sarcastically at the irony that you missed this place more than the manor where you'd spent a longer time.

Perhaps it was because the old you—the innocent, sweet, and pure one—was still within these thin walls that had sheltered them through all the bad times. You could feel their giggles and laughter lingering in the air. Tears streamed down your face as you stared at every sticker, doodle, and writing spread across the walls. Somehow, you cried out of joy, relishing the fact that the child you left behind in this house was still here in some way. Still innocent, still unaware of the harm the world could do.

In the manor, all the love you ever knew came from the man who introduced himself as the family butler but whom you soon came to know as your father. He was the love you craved and begged for at Bruce's feet. He fed you, took care of you, and taught you the things you needed to know. He attended family days, PTA meetings, and other events that your biological father should have been at. Under Alfred's shelter, you did everything you could to try to level with your siblings' talents—learning acrobatics, martial arts, drawing, baking, and more.

Yet it was Alfred who, in the dead of night, under the whispers of the cold wind whipping past your teary face, assured you that you would never need any of those skills to truly earn your family's love. All you needed was to be yourself. You allowed yourself to believe his words and lived them as your truth for a short time, but soon gave up on the idea, accepting that they wouldn't truly see you.

Now, dwelling on your lingering past and memories outside the manor, you remembered those you knew before coming to live with them. You reminisced on the thought of your mother. You remembered her.

You remembered how poverty ate your mother away and that she couldn't provide necessary needs for you but you, sweet, beautiful, angel you never complained.

You remembered how much you loved those barbie shows and movies but couldn't afford the dvds and even a proper functioning television so you sometimes watched it from your window across your neighbors, and while watching you saw a glimpse of their life. Their happy, perfect family life. How they cuddled their daughter and watched those silly barbie movies together. Your eyes softened as you thought "I wanted that" the little you hoped that maybe one day momma will get better and finally love me. Your tears poured from your eyes at the thought.

You remembered while you were doing your homework alone, you heard a whimper outside your window near the alley. As you peeked your tiny head outside, your braids flowing with the cold, harsh wind, your eyes searching for the source of noise. As you let your gaze travel through every corner of the alley, you saw a dirty, poor puppy whimpering, alone, calling out for its mother, its father, anyone. You ran hastily outside and collected its tiny and fragile form gently in your arms. "I'm here, I'm okay, you're safe," you whispered softly to the creature. And from. That very day you fed it and kept it sheltered secretly from your mother. You named her Amara. It suited her. You didn't have much play mates so you sometimes play with her by the yard where you and her would either run together or lay down. You never really got to say goodbye to her. From "that" moment on, you never got to go back to your house. You wondered how she was. Was she well fed? Did she think you abandoned her? Does she miss you? The guilt of living her ate you up the longer you dwelt on the past. You shook your head and sighed, trying to forget about all of it. You mourned every version of you. And this was your most treasured one. Thinking back on all the memories you had of the old you, of her. You thanked them for being so forgiving, for being so brave, for being so content with what she had, and for never trading anything for it.

They Were such a kind soul. And you're glad that they gets to stay where they were the happiest despite the nightmare they endured those days. You will always look up to them. They were and will always be a part of you. You took one last look at the house, the drawings, the dirty corners of the room, and released a breath as you closed your eyes. This was it. You'll finally get to say goodbye-

Whimper

You froze as you heard a familiar whimper. You turned around and slowly walked towards the opened door, and you saw her. Amara, your friend. You can't help but let the tears fall as her once brown fluffy appearance is now old and grey. You wondered how even in the light of old age she somehow still seems so youthful. She was still your baby. With a shaky voice, you tested the name. "Amara...?" she wags her tail in delight as a response to the familiar name she's been waiting to be called for so many years. You kneeled down and gently caressed her. "Oh, baby. You've been waiting for me, haven't you?" she whimpered as if answering you. You noticed her trying to catch her breath and her body growing weaker. You glance at her tail and see its wagging has become more frail and slow. You glance at your eyes, and you know. You smiled at her and whispered, "It's okay, baby. You can rest now." Her face weakly lit up, and she slowly closed her eyes, calm and loved, finally in your embrace.

After some time, you tenderly wrapped her body in a blanket. You carried her to the yard where you both used to play together as kids, a place where you ran freely without a care in the world. Borrowing a shovel from a tenant in the apartment, you buried her there, in the spot where you both were the happiest.

You whispered silent prayers for your companion and left with the memories. This was it. You've made your peace with the old you. Almost. There was one more thing you have to do.

You used believed that your mother could have been so much more. She was a beautiful woman. Smart, even if other would beg to disagree. But, you knew that she knew how to play her cards right to get what she desired for. She would have been so powerful if she used her sharp mind to something much more.. Productive. Yet she chose to sleep with men, abandon her daughter, and let herself be eaten by poverty and lust. Well, you didn't really mind if she abandoned you. You've always felt like you were the burden, the barrier to her way of succeeding and the chain locked onto her feet, keeping her from truly running away to what she has become. You've seen it in her eyes, the thought of running away and living a new life, but when she looks at you.. She saw a mistake she could never be freed of. A mistake. If only you weren't born, she would have been so happy.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink. "Ma'am?" the nurse asked. Suddenly, you were back to reality. You blinked again, processing her words. You glanced at her expectant expression and blurted out, "Y-yes, yes, uhm. Yeah. I'm ready." She smiled and said, "Great. Let's go this way, ma'am." You followed her hurriedly, not wanting to test her patience. As you walked, dissociating and thinking of all the possible outcomes, the nurse suddenly stopped in front of a room and said, "We're here. You can enter now." You nodded and thanked her silently.

Facing the door, you chanted in your mind, "You can do this," with a mix of determination and uncertainty. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled and opened the door. There she was—your mother, in all her glory. Bare-faced and vulnerable in her comfy hospital gown. You almost choked on your saliva, seeing her this... bare. You had always seen her so filtered, her face adorned with colors, her clothes tight and bright. Awkwardly, you shifted in your place and slowly sat beside her bed as her gaze followed your every move. You cleared your throat, preparing to speak, but she beat you to it.

“I know you.” you widen your eyes at her as she continues “you're my child.” you weren't shocked at the fact that she acknowledged you but the fact that she called you Her child, and the softness in her eyes. You were starting to think that maybe this isn't your mother, because she never looked at you like that. Never in years of living together has she even glance at you.

She chuckled at the sight of your confused and shocked state, bringing you out of your thoughts. "What? Shocked? Of course, I still remember you, Y/n," she weakly said, her voice small and quite different from the harsh tone she used to yell at you with. You inhaled sharply, trying to stop your tears from falling. What the heck? Were you about to cry again?

"I thought with how much resentment you harbor for me, you would have forgotten about me by now," you smiled sadly at her, watching her face drop slightly but still smiling weakly.

"Oh, Y/n," you almost crumbled right then and there. Oh, how much you had longed to be called so sweetly by your mother's voice. "I never hated you... that much," she said bitterly, and you stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue. "I just wasn't born to be a mother, no—at least not in this life. I'm a mess and I always will be. And I'm sorry I couldn't change for you because nothing can and nothing will change me anymore."

Your lips frowned at her words. "I always thought that maybe you could have been better without me," you said. You miss her, and you will always miss her. She was your whole world, but now seeing her and talking to her made you realize her world was clearly much different from yours. Her world was something one could not escape. You knew you couldn't live like that, and it seems that she cannot live any other way. They said that a mother and children exist as wretched mirrors of each other. You were all she could have been and she was all you might have been.

She closed the distance between you and embraced you for the first time. "You never were. It was me. I was the problem. You were just a child. In another life, I would've been able to care for you." You didn't question her on why she couldn't do it in this life because you knew. You knew she didn't have the capability to be a good mother and a morally good person now, and that was okay. You couldn't live with The fact that she will never truly care for you and will always hold secret animosity towards you if you force her to be a mother to you. You closed your eyes for a minute and silently took in the feeling of a mother's embrace for the first and last time.

"This is the last time you're ever gonna see me again," you said. Your mother chuckled bitterly and replied, "I know. Good for you, kid. Leave everything behind and start anew. You deserve it."

You soon moved out of her arms and held her hands tightly, looking into her eyes. With a deep exhale, you walked out of the hospital. This was it—you were finally free from your past. You had made your peace with it, and now it was time for you to move forward. You knew that if you didn't confront the horrors of your past, they would haunt you for the rest of your life. You had made a good choice.

As you stepped outside, the cool breeze greeted you, and you felt a sense of liberation wash over you. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. It was as if the universe itself was acknowledging your newfound freedom. You took a moment to breathe in the fresh air, savoring the feeling of lightness that now enveloped you. Walking down the street, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. The city seemed different somehow—brighter, more alive. You noticed the little things that you had overlooked before: the vibrant colors of the flowers in the park, the laughter of children playing, the distant hum of traffic. It was as if you were seeing the world with fresh eyes, unburdened by the weight of your past.

For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace. The past no longer held you captive. You were free to live your life, to pursue your passions, and to surround yourself with people who truly cared for you. It was the beginning of a new chapter. You get home to your apartment and sit at your couch grabbing some blankets and making hot cocoa. You thought to yourself that this is what you exactly needed. Watching barbie movies in your new cozy apartment without any burden past onto your shoulders, the little you would have been so proud, making you smile at the thought. This was it. Nothing was going to stop you now.

That's what you thought.

It has been 2 weeks since you've moved in your apartment and you're getting ready for your ballet rehearsal. You were especially excited about this as you were going to perform swan lake when you got to enact one of the most important and famous characters, how cool was that? As you were about to grab your pink bowed pointe shoes a sudden “ping!” notification was heard from your phone. You turned your head and went to grab it expecting a message from one of your close friends or even your ballet mates but all you were met with was a message from a person you least wanted a one from.

Dick. Your supposed older brother is asking you to hang out with him. At this very moment. You dropped your phone and stared at nothing while breathing heavily. You feel your heartbeat rapidly breathing, the knot in your stomach growing more tighter and tighter each minute you let the thought sink into your brain. You almost tripped at your foot as a result of your vision disfigured, as if you were looking through a fish-eye lens. This wasn't right, this wasn't supposed to happen. When-how?-why?! Why was this happening now? You were only starting to feel like everything in your life was finally starting to go your way. Why did this have to happen? It was as if the universe was mocking you. You bit your lips until it bled but you couldn't care less. You were numb. You hadn't even realized that you were nowate for today's rehearsals. With trembling hands you reached for your phone and shakily pressed the button “block” as you silently prayed that he-they would never come in contact with you ever again.

Of Course that wouldn't happen though. The universe was never really on your side.

Dick? What's happening here?

A sudden deep voice spoke, bringing Dick out of his deep trance. He turned around and saw his father standing outside the door, looking suspiciously at him. He stared at his father and saw the look on his face—full of confusion and unfamiliarity, not towards him but the room he was in. "I-it's Y/n," he stuttered, the name tasting so sweet on his tongue. He wanted to roll around in the scent of you. Was that weird? No—he just missed you, that's all.

"What about them?" Bruce's voice carried a nonchalance that almost made Dick angry. How could he be so indifferent about his precious sibling? With a hard voice, Dick replied, "They're gone." Bruce's eyes widened slightly at the response. What did he mean you were gone? You were just here when... Wait, when? He worriedly glanced at Dick, and as if understanding, Dick answered, "I know."

Bruce inhaled sharply and stepped inside the room, your lingering scent greeting him. Your trophies adorned the walls. This was your room? No, it couldn't be. This was too little. This was just... not it. The difference between his other childrens bedrooms and yours was so noticeable. You didn't have any fancy chandelier decorating yours. You didn't have your own bathroom.

Bruce's eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail. The neatly arranged trophies, the faded posters on the walls, and the small bed that seemed too empty now. He walked over to the desk and picked up a framed photo of you, when was this? You look so.. Grown? How old were you? Were you old enough to live alone? How come he didn't know? Did you have a job-were you even allowed to have one? he clenches his fist as he stares at the sight of your image and sees your bright smile. His heart ached at the sight. How had he missed this? How had he not noticed the signs?

Dick watched his father, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He wanted to scream, to demand why Bruce hadn't paid more attention, why he hadn't been there for you. But he knew he wasn't any better than his adoptive father was. Besides, it wouldn't change anything. The damage was done.

Bruce set the photo back down and turned to Dick, his expression a mix of regret and determination. He saw the tiny diary and other papers scattered across the floor and picked them up, reading them one by one as he slowly spiraled into regret and guilt. Dick watched as he knew this was going to make him understand. Today made it all clear to him. Why there was a nagging feeling inside of him saying that there was something missing in the manor. It was why the sweet muffled music of the orchestra haunted the manor, the same kind of music haunting their bedroom. Like it was a reminder, a warning. That something special was lost. The soothing sound of humming, light footsteps around the manor now gone. The pink bows tied around the handles of the stairs, the love that the plants receive now nowhere to be found. It was because you took that love with you.

"We need to find them," Bruce spoke, his voice steady but filled with urgency. His knees bounce as his Jaws tighten anxiously.

Dick nodded, his resolve matching his father's. "We'll find them," he replied, his voice firm. "And we'll make things right."

As they left the room, Bruce carrying the framed image of you tightly, almost as if he was paranoid that something would take it from him, and dick gently running his thumb through the texture of your pink, bowed, bright diary, the weight of their mission settled on their shoulders. They knew it wouldn't be easy, but they were determined to bring you back. The silence of the manor was a stark reminder of what they had lost, and they were ready to do whatever it took to make amends.

Bruce was anxious. He didn't have a plan. Ironic, because Batman always had a plan. It was an unspoken rule—Batman was always prepared. But now, he found himself at a loss, his mind racing with uncertainty. Perhaps it was because he knew every single person in Gotham. As the guardian of Lady Gotham, he prided himself on understanding the intricate web of connections and motives that defined the city's inhabitants. He calculated every person's actions, paid attention to every detail, and watched from the heart of Gotham.

He paid extensive attention to everyone... except you.

It wasn't intentional. He had always been consumed by the weight of his responsibilities, the never-ending battle against crime, and the need to protect the city. But now, standing in your room, surrounded by the remnants of your presence, he realized his failure. The irony of it all struck him—Batman, the meticulous planner, had overlooked the most important person in his life.

Now he was desperate, he may not have a plan but he was desperate. He'll do anything to get you back. Any possible way to get back all the times he failed you, when he failed to be a father to you. He swore to protect you and never let you out of his sight ever again.

Dick wasn't any better. As he walked, his thoughts played tricks on him, but in a way he almost relished. His mind insisted that you must be so scared without him, without your older brother to protect you. He didn't even consider the possibility that you could be an independent, fully functioning individual on your own, or the fact that you had grown and most likely abandoned the thought of "bonding" with him. In this moment, his mind was consumed by the image of you and the curiosity of what more you had within yourself that he had neglected. His anxiousness grew, causing him to bite his nails and run his hands through his hair in frustration. His breathing became ragged, and his heart pounded in his chest. It was as if he had turned feral, his bloodshot blue eyes itching to be blessed with a vision of your face.

The more he thought about it, the more his mind played tricks on him. He imagined you scared and alone, wondering why your older brother wasn't there to protect you. He couldn't bear the thought of you suffering because of his neglect. His thoughts raced, each one more frantic than the last. What if you were hurt? What if you were in danger? What if you had given up on ever reconnecting with him?

The guilt gnawed at him, making it hard to focus on anything else. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed you, that he had missed so many opportunities to be there for you. His heart ached at the thought of all the moments you had spent alone, craving the attention and love that he hadn't given.

As he continued to walk, his thoughts became more erratic. He imagined you thriving without him, having found your own path and your own sense of independence. The possibility that you no longer needed him stung, but it also filled him with a strange sense of pride. You had grown, despite everything, and that was something to be admired.

Still, his mind couldn't rest. He needed to see you, to know that you were okay. The uncertainty was driving him to the brink of madness. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, determined to find you and make amends.

he wouldn't rest until he saw you again.

Both Bruce and Dick disregarded everything around them, unaware of the curious look Tim gave them. He followed quietly behind their backs, raising an eyebrow as he wondered why they hadn't noticed his presence yet. Normally, these two were incredibly guarded, so Tim was shocked by their lack of awareness. What could have made them so unfocused?

Bruce—the Batman—and Dick—the first Robin and now Nightwing—were both engrossed in a particular object. They seemed to be completely absorbed, their usual vigilance overshadowed by their intense fixation. Tim watched as Bruce's eyes remained glued to a framed photo on the desk, his expression a mix of regret and determination. Meanwhile, Dick's gaze was fixed on the pink notebook in his hands, his fingers gently tracing the glittery cover.

Tim couldn't help but wonder what was so important about these items that it made two of the most vigilant people he knew drop their guard. The framed photo of you, smiling brightly, seemed to hold Bruce in a trance, while the pink notebook, adorned with bows and glitters, seemed to capture all of Dick's attention. They were so consumed by these objects that they had let down the walls they had built through years of vigilantism.

It had to be something incredibly significant—something better yet, special.

“What are you two doing?” asked Tim, suddenly breaking the silence between the three of them as he watched the father and son duo flinch, obviously flabbergasted at his sudden interruption at their deep trance. He observed as their face turned from shock to going back to their frowning faces making him mirror the same expression. Dick clenches his jaw and exhales sharply preparing himself to speak when he is suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice he would always recognize.

"What is going on here?" a figure with deep forest-green eyes asked, standing tall in the shadows, his cold demeanor unwavering. Dick's eyes met his, and he said his name. "Damian. Wha—"

"You have deliberately abandoned your promise to train with me today. Why?" Damian's voice was sharp, full of accusation. Shoot. That was right. Dick had forgotten to train with his younger brother today. But it didn't matter now; his other sibling needed him, and it was about time they knew about them too. He glanced at Bruce's unfocused state, feral and restless.

"It's about Y/n," Dick said firmly.

Tim stood still for a moment, trying to figure out who "Y/n" was, while Damian immediately sneered at the mention of his "rival." He couldn't pinpoint why your presence angered him so much. Maybe it was because he had to share the title of being the Wayne heir with someone so... normal, someone so far below his level. You both were so different. Perhaps he was jealous of you for being so normal, for not having to worry about tainting your hands with blood and painting others black and blue. What did you even do? He didn't know, but he bet it was something a normal civilian would.

Meanwhile, his peripheral vision caught Tim standing still, deep in thought. Damian saw him processing quickly, his mind running fast as he tried to figure out who you were and why you were so relevant at the moment. Then suddenly—aha! Tim remembered now! You were the kid who had pestered him non-stop about some game.

Tim's eyes widened as he recalled the memory. The realization hit him like a wave. He had been so dismissive back then, but now he understood the significance. Guilt washed over him, mixing with curiosity and concern. What had happened to you? Why were you so important now?

Damian's sneer softened slightly, replaced with a look of contemplation. “What about them?” asked damian. While Tim wondered the same. Suddenly Bruce's cold and deep voice said “they're gone.” Damian raising an eyebrow of his response, and Tim answering “gone? Gone how?” switching his gaze from dick and Bruce's form awaiting for one of them to answer his question as the tension in the room thickens. “I mean that they're gone. All their things not found in their room, no trace of them not in the mansion, and not even a goodbye.” Tim and Damian frowned at the same time. Damian scoffed and thought you were probably just making a big scene so the attention would be on you. Bruce said “we need to find them. Now.” his voice left no choice for them to abide by his command.

Now alone in the CCTV room, Tim let his bored gaze wander over the footage from a long time ago, his palm supporting his head. Suddenly, something caught his attention. He watched as you sat, his fingers tapping the keyboard to increase the volume. You hummed lightly at the footage, a simple gesture but not to him. Your voice was so familiar to him. His eyes dilated as you continued humming, your voice sweet as honey, as light as a mother's touch trying to lull her baby to sleep.

He zoomed the footage closer and closer, almost as if he wanted to go through the screen just to hear your sweet, angelic, melancholic voice. Your voice was like a soft fur blanket to him. He didn't know if he was hallucinating from sleep deprivation, but he swore you were covered by a soft light, hugging your form and kissing your skin gently.

Tim sat in your "presence" for a bit, soaking in your voice. As he listened, memories flooded back. He recalled distant muffled sounds within the thin walls, lulling him to sleep, chasing away the demons that kept him awake at night. He had so desperately wanted to close his eyes and rest, and he remembered thinking maybe it was just a voice in his head, or maybe a real-life angel offering him salvation from suffering and the sweet pleasure of sleep. Now he knew, the angel was called "Y/n."

His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk as he leaned in closer, his breathing steadying as he watched the footage. The realization hit him hard. How had he missed this before? How had he not recognized that comforting voice? The gentle humming, the presence that had brought him solace on sleepless nights—it was all you.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued to watch, his heart aching with a mix of regret and longing. He remembered the nights he had spent tormented by nightmares, the countless times he had struggled to find peace. Your voice had been his lifeline, a beacon of hope in the darkness.

He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. How had he been so blind? How had he not seen the importance of your presence in the manor? Tim's thoughts spiraled as he recalled the moments he had dismissed you, the times he had been too wrapped up in his own world to notice you reaching out. He needed to see you. To hear your voice, to take you back, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness as his forehead kisses the cold, dirty floor, or to maybe steal you back without a word. He didn't know, he just had to see you.

The footage continued to play, your voice a soothing balm to his troubled mind. He sat there, never unwavering, always in awe of your voice and never taking his attention off you. He sat there,Unaware that he had been playing the same footage for hours and hours. His dilated eyes worshipping you as if you were a god.

He felt a deep sense of loss, realizing that you were gone, and he hadn't even had the chance to thank you for all the nights you had unknowingly saved him. Determined, he knew he had to find you. He had to make things right.

After some time, finally. Tim's resolve hardened as he stood up, his eyes never leaving the screen. He would find you, and he would make sure you knew how much you meant to him. With renewed purpose, he left the CCTV room, ready to join Bruce and Dick in their search. Together, they would bring you back and rebuild the bond that had been neglected for far too long.

With much focus on the object of his obsession attention, he failed to notice a tall figure in the shadows, watchin. Thinking after all these years they have finally come to their senses, realizing the greatest gift of all was right under their noses.

Damian was a dangerous person. To be fair, he was raised to be an assassin and an heir to the throne from the moment he was born. Not even a moment out of the womb did he catch a glimpse of the normal life he so desperately wanted. He trained day and night, month after month, year after year, to become the perfect product of the world's greatest detective and the daughter of the king of assassins. Imagine the inner turmoil within him when he didn't meet the expectations set upon his shoulders. All his life, all he knew was to fight. In any situation, his first instinct was to fight and guard himself for his life.

Sometimes, he wondered how they expected a child to lead thousands of assassins to create a bloodbath. Behind his pride and arrogance was a deep-seated anger towards those in charge of his fate. He was furious that his innocence had been stripped away, clawing its way back to him, but ultimately, they succeeded in giving him a future burdened with the weight of guilt for painting the young and innocent red.

Damian's upbringing left him with a constant battle within himself. The expectations placed upon him were immense, and he often felt like he was suffocating under the pressure. The relentless training, the unyielding discipline, and the need to prove himself consumed his every waking moment. The anger he felt was not just directed at those who shaped his fate but also at himself for not being able to escape it. Many didn't know of it but he found it hard to be Robin. The conflict between leaning to your instincts or “your- now- morals” was hard. To kill and to save was wrong and somehow to save and to forgive was right.

Despite his impressive skills and abilities, there was a part of him that longed for something more—something normal. He envied those who lived ordinary lives, free from the burden of bloodshed and violence. He wondered what it would have been like to have a childhood filled with laughter and innocence rather than combat and survival. As to why he wonders what more could you possibly want? He was so sure that you had so much wonderful time living such a luxurious life in the manor and never having to prove yourself to be worthy of something in being able to get the object of your desire. How could you run away from this life? From your life? You were so unfair, so selfish.

As he continued to grapple with these conflicting emotions, Damian's exterior remained cold and guarded. He rarely allowed anyone to see the vulnerable side of him, the side that yearned for a different life. But deep down, the scars of his past lingered, a constant reminder of the life he was forced into and the innocence that was stolen from him.

He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and released a heavy sigh. What a bother. Making his way to every corner of the manor to "inspect" and see if you had left any trace of yourself there. As he walked down the path, letting his bored state guide him, he glanced at the thick walls and noticed some unfamiliar works of art. His gaze roamed around the room, settling on various paintings he had never noticed before. It was as if the paintings spoke for themselves, screaming out for anyone to notice and appreciate them. The different textures, colors, shapes, and stories behind the art captivated him.

Damian liked to think that he noticed everything and had the ability to be highly aware of his surroundings, whether he was familiar with them or not. But at this moment, he paused, questioning himself. If he was truly aware, how had he managed to overlook these breathtaking canvases filled with bright colors that made him... feel things? He took a step forward and saw a tiny signature on the left side of one of the canvases. He brought his hand up to softly caress the painting, gently and carefully, as if he were afraid that a mere touch could destroy it.

Engrossed in admiring the paintings, he failed to notice the tall figure beside him. It was only when the man spoke, "Master Damian," addressing him, that he flinched slightly.

"Ah, Alfred. My apologies, I was a bit distracted by the art adorning the walls, which seems to be... unfamiliar to me. Would you mind telling me where my father keeps buying these paintings? I must say I'm quite... impressed."

Alfred frowned and smiled sadly at the youngest Wayne. "Well, Master Damian, these paintings are actually not your father's doing. Rather, they are Master Y/n's work of art."

Damian's eyes widened in surprise. He turned back to the paintings and said "Y/n did these?" he asked, almost incredulous. The realization that you had created such beautiful and meaningful art struck him deeply. He didn't even know that you could draw much less create such.. Beautiful art. While he was thinking about it he realize that he had complimented you, you!

"Indeed, Master Damian," Alfred confirmed. "Y/n spent countless hours creating these pieces. Each one holds a story, a piece of their heart."

Damian felt a pang of emotion through his chest, he couldn't pinpoint what it was but it was somehow nagging him about something, or rather someone. His fingers traced the brushstrokes with a newfound reverence, as if trying to understand the emotions you had captured on canvas.

"I never knew..." Damian whispered, more to himself than to Alfred. The layers of vibrant colors, the delicate details, and the raw emotions conveyed through your art were all a testament to the depth of your soul. He felt a connection to you that he hadn't realized before, a sense of camaraderie and understanding. And he was totally not dissing you just minutes ago.

Alfred placed a comforting hand on Damian's shoulder. "Art has a way of speaking to us, Master Damian. It reveals truths that words often cannot. Y/n's art is a reflection of their experiences, their joys, and their sorrows. It is a part of them that they have shared with the world."

Damian nodded, taking a step back to fully appreciate the entirety of your work. Your art had opened a door to a deeper connection, and he was willing to walk through it. He didn't know why but in a way this was proof that you had always had some kind of connection to him.

As Damian and Alfred stood there, surrounded by the masterpieces you had created, a sense of resolve settled over Damian. He frowns and takes a look around all the work of your art. His style doesn't differ much from yours. the caress of brush ever so slightly seen, and the emotions behind the soul of your paintings, like his. What made you so similar to him? And that, he will not know until he finds you.

He knew that finding you and bringing you back was not just about making amends—it was about recognizing and celebrating the unique and irreplaceable person you were.

Y/n considered themselves a keen observer, attuned to the delicate nuances of the world around them. They noticed the gentle yet sometimes harsh swaying of the wind as it danced with the leaves, creating a symphony of nature's whispers. They noticed the lady sitting on the park bench, quietly absorbing the view of the home she once grew up in, her memories interwoven with the present. They noticed the ducks by the pond, gracefully gliding through the water alongside their mother, a portrait of serene tranquility.

Y/n noticed everything, yet no one noticed them. And it was fine. They had long accepted this reality, enduring the loneliness of being invisible in a world where they saw so much. The weight of being unnoticed had become a familiar companion, a constant presence that shaped their existence. In the silent spaces between moments, Y/n found solace in their observations, finding beauty in the overlooked and meaning in the mundane.

So why were they just noticing you just now? Why? When you have just started to accept and move on. Why must they bring the horrors of the past when your current life is filled with hope arraying a new journey, now destroyed.

Why couldn’t Dick just let you be, drifting away in the silence you’d crafted? Why couldn’t he leave you to fade quietly, just as you had promised yourself you would, a ghost of your former self, untouched and unbothered? Yet there he was, an ever-present weight, his hands—rough, calloused, scarred by years of untold burdens—forcing your face into the past, as if his touch could rewrite history. His fingers dug into your skin, twisted into the soft contours of your face, tearing through the years of numbness, of denial, dragging you back to a place you had sworn you’d never return.

And then, Tim. Oh, Tim. The boy who once didn’t even see you, who barely even remembered your name when it lingered in the air of the manor. Now, he’s relentless, his fingers tapping into your phone with the same quiet insistence that his presence once had in the dark halls of that place you used to call home. You want to scream, to rip the silence apart, to do anything but feel what you’re feeling now—this suffocating pull to return to them, to face them, even when you know you never should have to again.

The ache swells, the lump in your throat is a tangible thing now, a choking presence you can’t swallow down. It’s the same searing pain that’s lingered, festering, hidden beneath layers of what you pretended was healing. How cruel it is, to have spent so much time trying to break free, only to find that some things, some people, are never quite done with you.

The ghost of them lingers, burrows deeper, with every unanswered message. They still haunt you, even from afar. You hate them for it, for still holding the power to break you open, to make you bleed from places you thought had long scarred over. It feels like a thousand wounds opening up again—slow, deliberate, bleeding you dry in a way you don’t know how to stop.

You stared blankly into the emptiness, feeling numb, when suddenly a hand rested on your shoulder. You flinched instinctively and turned to see who it was. Your eyes widened as you recognized your ballet teacher standing behind you. "Miss Kavinsky! I-I... Hi! I’m—" you stammered, but she quickly cut you off with a smile.

"Y/N L/N-Wayne, I know," she said with a warm tone. "It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you."

You winced slightly, the sound barely audible, but Miss Kavinsky didn’t seem to notice. "Come on, let’s meet the other dancers. I’m sure they’re eager to meet you."

The surprise hit you hard, and you stuttered, "M-me?" You couldn’t help but feel like an idiot.

She grinned, a playful mix of amusement and mild disbelief on her face. "Yes, you. You're kind of a celebrity here, Wayne. Not surprised with a talent like yours."

Her words lingered in the air, but you went quiet, caught off guard by the compliment. You couldn’t fully process it, the idea of anyone looking up to you seemed so foreign, so distant. And somewhere in the haze, you barely registered the way she had called you "Wayne.”

As you and the other dancers gathered at the stage, a wave of anxiety washed over you. The weight of thoughts about Tim and Dick pressed heavily on your mind, and the pressure of the moment only made it worse. Just as your mind started to spiral, a voice cut through the chaos.

"Hey! You're Y/N, right? I'm Desiree, but you can just call me Des."

You forced a smile, barely hearing Miss Kavinsky as her voice faded into the background, announcing something about attendance. Your attention was now solely focused on Des, who had just broken the ice. You shook her hand and smiled more genuinely, the tension in your body loosening up a bit.

"Hi, Des. Yeah, you already know who I am. Nice to meet you."

You both exchanged a quiet laugh, and the chatter around you faded as you continued talking. For a moment, you felt like you could breathe again. You asked the usual questions: "How old are you?" "What's your favorite ballet?" The conversation flowed easily, but when your name was suddenly called for attendance, you were snapped back to reality.

"Here!" you called out, your voice getting lost in the sea of dancers.

But then Des said something that made you freeze.

"So, are you excited that both of you are here?" she asked with a playful giggle, her smile sweet and innocent.

You blinked, confused, but smiled through it. "Both of us...?" you repeated, trying to follow along.

Des chuckled softly at your puzzled expression. "You and your sister, silly! It must be so nice to perform together. My brother wouldn't even try to get into ballet, you know?"

Her words, lighthearted as they were, suddenly made your world feel like it was crashing down around you. You felt a cold panic begin to rise. Your fingers instinctively dug into your palms, almost drawing blood. Your smile wavered, barely holding on, while your eyes fluttered, teetering on the edge of tears. Des’s voice became distant, her words fading into a muffled blur as your thoughts spiraled out of control, bloodshot eyes starting to sting with unshed tears. Your heart raced, and the chaos inside you was too much to contain.

In that very moment, her name echoed through the air, sharp and clear. Without thinking, your gaze shifted, and you locked eyes with her. Her wide, unblinking stare pierced through the noise, anchoring you in place. For a fleeting second, you wondered if she had been watching you all along—since the instant your name was called, or perhaps even before. You couldn't be sure.

What you did know, however, was that the weight of her gaze felt like a force, pulling you into a quiet abyss. It made you feel small, fragile—as if you were prey beneath the steady, unyielding gaze of a predator. A shiver ran through you, and suddenly, all you wanted was to escape, to flee from the suffocating intensity of her eyes, which seemed to strip away every layer of protection you had left.

The fates were clearly playing with you now.

Cassandra was an exceptionally gifted individual, much like her siblings, each of whom possessed their own unique abilities. From the moment she first pursued ballet, her family showered her with unwavering love and support. She had access to training that most could only dream of—privileges afforded to her not because of her wealth, but because she was no ordinary person. She was Batgirl, the daughter of Batman by choice, a mantle she wore with pride. So, when an invitation arrived for her to join the prestigious Swan Lake performance alongside other top-tier dancers, it hardly came as a surprise. After all, excellence was something she had always embraced, both on the stage and off.

As she gets ready for her first rehearsal she can't help but notice that some of her siblings are missing. She shook it off and ate her food but also not abandoning the thought of asking about the absence of her siblings and father, to a familiar companion of their family:Alfred. As where Alfred only replies with them being busy about.. Something, yet said to her to fret not and just worry her mind about her ballet play, quickly chasing away her concerns for her family with a smile that made her feel lighthearted. With a chuckle she got up and made her way to the location of where the dancers were told to meet.

Cass had always believed she was the only one in her family who truly appreciated the delicate artistry of ballet. Her passion for the graceful movements, the precision of each step, and the beauty of the performances had always felt like a private world to her, a world she inhabited alone. She couldn’t recall a single moment where anyone in her family shared even the slightest interest in it. So, when she entered the crowded theater that evening, expecting to be surrounded only by fellow ballet enthusiasts, she was taken aback by something unexpected.

Amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, she spotted you. For a fleeting moment, her heart skipped a beat, not from the rush of seeing someone in the crowd, but from an overwhelming sense of familiarity that washed over her. There you were, standing like a ghost from a forgotten past, an unexplainable connection sparking between you both. Cass couldn’t place it, but it was as though she had known you forever, even though your paths had never crossed before.

Her mind wandered, replaying the memories that had been buried deep within her. A distant image flashed across her thoughts: she was standing in a room filled with soft, pastel-colored fabrics, the scent of leather and polish hanging in the air. Two pairs of pointe shoes rested beside one another on the floor—one was familiar, worn and well-loved, the other brand new, the laces still fresh and untangled. The second pair, the one that felt entirely foreign, immediately piqued her curiosity. She was certain it wasn’t hers, yet the connection to it lingered, something so subtle but undeniable.

The realization hit her like a wave. She didn’t know you, not consciously, but somehow she felt bound to you, as if fate had woven your lives together in some strange, invisible thread long before either of you had even been aware of it.

The entire day she watched and observed you. She paid extra attention to every detail of your expressions, body language, and posture. She didn't know why but you seemed to be very clear��in her case, in distress, like you were panicking over something. And she didn't know why she somehow hated seeing you that way. As the minutes passed, she found herself simply just staring at you. Not even for a fleeting moment had she taken her gaze of you. She watched and observed tensely at every person who looks at you, who talks to you, who breathes near you. Almost as if she was guarding you. As they were told to gather she followed silently after the crowd and placed herself purposely in front of the other side from you. She scoffs in amusement as you barely notice her, too focused on your own little world. As minutes continued to pass, suddenly a girl broke you out of her thoughts with her voice making you flinch. Her breath hitched as irritation started to crawl their way through her chest. Why couldn't the girl be more gentle with you? Can't she see that you were clearly stressed? She frowns slightly at the girl, surprising herself by the sudden change of mood. She holds her breath and watches you like a hawk would at its prey. Her vision was filled with your now loosen frame, giggling with the girl who approached you earlier. A new feeling started to claw its way through her chest, now bigger and stronger. The green monster eating her up when suddenly the call of her voice brought her out of her thoughts as she, for a moment took her eyes off of you to answer quietly to her name and as she bring back her gaze to you, quickly to not miss anything she might take the pleasure in seeing, suddenly your eyes are on her too. Her eyes couldn't leave the sight of your gaze who held such horror in them, as if seeing her was too much for you. As she was your living nightmare sitting right in front of you.

The remaining time the dancers practiced, you avoided her gaze and her presence. The more you avoided her, the more she itched to be in your presence alone, to be near you. The whole time at the practice she was, for the first time, distracted. Her thoughts are consumed by you. Her thoughts came up with every question she could ask about her and your current situation. What were you doing here? Why didn't she know? Were you at the manor? No, if you were she would've known.. Right? Okay if you weren't, then why weren't you? Those questions alone made her uneasy and frustrated. As it was time to go home, she watched as you hurriedly got out and quickly went home to wherever your home was. The nagging feeling screamed at her to follow you but decided against it and thought that going home and bringing the news to her family might help more. After all, they were stronger together.

She stormed into the manor, urgency in her every step, and sought out Alfred with a single, breathless demand: "Boys. Where?" Without hesitation, he led her to them. Her gaze fell upon them, intense and unyielding, her pupils trembling with an unspoken storm. She whispered a single name, a breathless, haunting utterance: "Y/N." The boys, in unison, responded, "We know."

A deep breath escaped her, the weight of their actions—venturing after you without so much as a word—forgotten for the moment. She snatched a laptop, her fingers flying over the keys in a frantic dance of their own. The screen flickered to life, revealing a video that stole the breath from the room. There you were, dancing—each movement a testament to grace, each step more captivating than the last.

The world had already fallen under your spell. The internet buzzed with adoration, praising the way your every turn, every leap, every pause held the audience in thrall. Under the stage lights, you seemed more than human—a celestial being, your form bathed in soft light, glowing like an ethereal angel, kissed by the very air around you. The boys stood frozen, their gaze fixed upon you, entranced.

Your presence was no illusion. You were a goddess of their own making, and in that moment, they knew: they were already devoted, bound by the silent understanding that they would worship you, body and soul.

As the video played, the room fell into a hushed reverence. The boys, once brimming with urgency and tension, now stood motionless, their eyes locked onto the screen, as if spellbound. Every fluid movement you made seemed to breathe life into the very air around them. They couldn’t look away; they didn’t want to. Your every step, every pirouette, was poetry in motion, a delicate balance of strength and grace that made their hearts race.

The way you arched your back mid-spin, the soft brush of your fingertips against your skin, the quiet breath you took before every leap—it all drew them in, slowly, methodically, as though they were witnessing something far beyond the ordinary. Each turn of your body mirrored the very rhythm of their own hearts, synchronized with the ethereal pulse of the music, and they couldn’t help but feel as if the entire world had narrowed down to this one sacred moment.

Your eyes, though focused on the stage, seemed to flicker with a spark of something far deeper, something they couldn't quite place but could almost taste. It was like watching a dream unfold, where every movement became a metaphor—each glide across the stage spoke to something eternal, something untouchable. They found themselves lost in the elegance of your form, the way your body seemed to move with a natural fluidity that defied the laws of physics.

The lights above you softened, caressing your silhouette, painting you in a divine glow. And in that moment, they felt small, insignificant even, as if you had been carved out of stardust itself, too perfect to comprehend, yet impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just the skill of your dance—it was your presence, your essence that held them captive.

They felt an almost primal pull, as though your every movement was speaking directly to their souls. The way your body spoke without words—your elegance and power blending seamlessly—rendered them speechless. They were entranced by the aura you carried, intoxicated by your beauty and the mystery you exuded, a beauty that wasn’t merely skin-deep but radiated from within, a force of nature.

For a fleeting moment, they could almost believe that you were more than human, that you were something higher, something divine. They stood there, wide-eyed and breathless, as if they had been granted a glimpse of something sacred—something that no one else could understand. And in that moment, they knew that they would follow you, worship you, in a devotion that transcended mere admiration. You weren’t just captivating; you were everything. They couldn't believe that someone like you had been overlooked by then.

Bruce now understands that with no plan in mind he would still follow you till the end of the earth. Oh his little baby. He would do anything to earn your love and affection for him. To see you and to bask under the ray of sunshine your smile brings. To feel your presence alone.

Dick now understands that he owes you more than a few dinners or dates as siblings. No. He owes you the world. As guilt eats his flesh up one by one, mourning all the versions of you that he could have witnessed right before his eyes are now long gone. But that's okay, he'll make it up to you.

Tim now understands that you were surely his angel. His savior. His form of salvation. He could watch you all day and never get bored. He could listen to you all day until his ears bled but never say a word.

Damian now understands that the disbelief he felt when looking at your paintings full of emotions overflowing with a sense of overwhelming feel, was now long gone because he knew that only such being like you, almost like a supernatural being, could be the only one who has the ability to capture such deep emotions in one painting, to be able to create such beautiful, breathtaking object.

Cassandra now understands why she felt like she somehow had a connection to you and that was because she was your sister. And as she was a daughter to batman by choice, that she will also be a sister by choice to you. She was an observer, someone who guards-and she will guard you with her life for all eternity.

As the overwhelming tension fills the room Alfred stands at the corner with a small smile. “apologies master y/n had I done this sooner, you would have not slipped through my grasp dear child. Do not fret for your family is coming to get you.”

Ah, Alfred, the mastermind. He knew this would happen. He just needed to intertwine a little. He did not worry because he knew. He knew that leaving your bedroom door open the moment he knew Dick was coming over to the manor while the others were busy, and knowing Dick's tendency to wander off in the vast expanse of Wayne Manor, the chances of him finding your room were high. He knew that rearranging your trophies inside your room (which you had told him to get rid of) would pique the interest of your family even more. He knew that decorating your hidden paintings around the minimalist and empty walls of the house would catch the attention of the youngest Wayne. He knew that playing those soft melodies of your voice through the small TV in the kitchen would enchant a certain sleep-deprived boy, making him miss the sweet sound of your voice.

Alfred knew that when Cassandra was called for the big ballet play, you would be at the same play too, as you had told him over the phone, giggling and excited with a high-pitched voice. He didn't bother to tell you about your sister's similar invitation, nor did he inform your sister about yours. He knew every single detail, every thread that needed to be woven together to create this intricate tapestry of reconnection.

Alfred's wisdom was like a silent symphony, orchestrating events with a delicate touch. He understood the nuances of each family member, their strengths, their weaknesses, and their desires. He knew that Dick's curiosity would lead him to your room, where the trophies would spark memories and questions. He knew that Damian's keen eye for detail would be drawn to the vibrant paintings, each brushstroke a testament to your hidden talents. He knew that Tim, in his sleep-deprived state, would be captivated by the melodies of your voice, a soothing balm to his restless mind.

Alfred's heart ached with the knowledge of your absence, but he also held hope. Hope that these carefully placed breadcrumbs would lead your family back to you, to the realization of what they had lost and the determination to make amends. He knew that the path to reconciliation was not an easy one, but it was a journey worth taking.

As the days passed, Alfred watched with a knowing smile as the pieces began to fall into place. He saw the flicker of recognition in Dick's eyes, the softening of Damian's demeanor, and the spark of determination in Tim's gaze. He knew that the seeds he had planted were beginning to grow, and soon, the family would be whole again.

Alfred was getting old and he couldn't bare the vision of his children Bruce and you, drifting away from each other, and you from him. Maybe it was his own selfish reason but he couldn't help it. He raised you from the moment you got to the manor. Teached you everything he knew and gave you all the love he could. He watched you grew up and maybe it was a moment of rush that he allowed himself to be selfish and turn the tables around.

In the quiet moments, Alfred allowed himself a moment of reflection. He thought of you, the child who had brought so much light into his life. He knew that you deserved to be seen, to be cherished, and to be loved. And he would do everything in his power to ensure that you found your way back to the family that needed you just as much as you needed them.

Authors note: I'm sorry I took so long in writing this! I hope yall enjoy the 10k+ words I wrote. One tip tho is to read and observe the details very carefully! Dw I'm gonna explain it soon tho. Hope yall enjoy this cuz imma take a break after this.

[simpjaes]

✧ Coming soon! ✧

PERVERT. ― P.JS 

Requested by anonymous via tumblr: dilf jay and his daughter’s best friend. Or the one where Jay is slightly obsessed with his daughter’s best friend.

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 2.8k

PAIRING ― dad/weirdo ! jay x afab reader

CONTENT―  jay is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s

WARNINGS ― age gap, somnophilia, dubious consent (due to somno), unprotected sex, dom jay, pocket pussies and masturbation

✧ Now available on Patreon!

✧ Tumblr release date: Feb 15, 2025.

DON'T CARE, DIDN'T ASK. ― P.JS 

Requested by anonymous via tumblr: How would Jay!non con boyfriend behave? I believe he would be toxic enough to do everything it takes to fuck you all day Jay has always been the most loving, most kind, most warm hearted person you’d ever met. Dating him was a no brainer.  Or the one where you literally have no brains and didn’t see the bright red flags he gave off before you effectively let him get you under lock and key. He’s possessive, jealous, and over all not at all what he pretends to be when he’s out in public.

minors do not interact!

WORDCOUNT― 1.6k

PAIRING― jay x afab reader

✧ MIND THE WARNINGS ✧ ―  non con. dub con. Jay is suppper manipulative and also REALLY WHINY. Angst. This mini fic delves into the issue of boyfriends who manipulate their girlfriends into sex even when they don’t want it. It’s still non consensual, and it’s not okay. Keep in mind that while reader wants it by the end of the fic, she is being heavily manipulated.

At the end of the day, it’s still abusive for Jay to do what he does here and I do not condone it. 

✧ Now available on Patreon!

✧ Release Date: Feb 15, 2025. This mini-fic will not be posted on tumblr, but you will be able to find it on ao3 and wattpad when it is made available for all.

[hannieehaee]

CREEP

18+ / mdi

summary: jungkook's in love. finally, after years of waiting for that perfect romance, he finds himself utterly infatuated with the perfect girl. too bad she has no idea who he is. but it's okay, he knows enough about you for the two of you, and he'll make sure to work his way into your life.

content: stalker!jungkook, clueless!reader, lowkey inspired by you from netflix, stalking, reader is surveilled by jk without her permission, smut, afab reader, masturbation (both m and f receiving), jk watches her have sex and masturbating, penetrative sex, creampie, finger sucking, etc.

wc: 10.2k

a/n: my first sort of dark toxic fanfic everyone say yay!!! also please do not read if these themes offend you thank youuuu

masterlist

You'd gone on another date tonight.

This was the fifth one this month.

Always a different guy. Jungkook had been keeping count.

It was hard to not let it get to him. Sure, he was aware that you didn't owe him anything, and much less did he feel as if he held any sort of ownership over you, bu the more men he beheld in your presence, the less patience he had.

Jungkook knew you to be a smart girl. You were a well put-together adult, an incredibly confident and intelligent woman who needed no protection from anyone. It was one of the many things that made him fall for you. It was just the decisions you took in regard to your love life that left Jungkook bothered.

He tried not to judge you, truly he did, but seeing you go from one idiot to another pained him. Intimately so. While aware that you needed to get all these idiots out of your system, Jungkook just wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back as he watched you with this week's respective idiotic bachelor.

This time around, it was some idiot named Liam.

To the naked eye, he might've been a good pick — which is why you'd even given him the time of day, Jungkook assumed. He was tall, — but Jungkook was taller — he was fit, — but Jungkiok fitter — he had okay money — except it was none compared to Jungkook — he had everything the average woman would look for in a man. Truly, Jungkook could not blame you for thinking this might be the right guy.

But, at the same time, you sometimes had the tendency to rush things. Or at least that was what Jungkook had noticed after the past few months of watching you.

The same had happened with Liam.

After messaging for about a week, you'd found yourself at a late night date.

It was the usual. Dinner, walk around a nearby park, and finalizing with a solicitous invitation to your apartment. That much was fine with Jungkook. He didn't care (well, he very much did). A man vying for your affections was not shocking to him. You were perfect. Jungkook was certain of it.

It was what happened behind closed doors that churned his insides out.

Maybe it had been a bad idea when Jungkook decided to install a camera in your apartment, but he couldn't help himself. It had seemed inviting at the time. You had been gone on a family vacation for a week, leaving your place completely vacant, too inviting for him to not take the chance to look around.

And look around, he did.

Out of all the time in which he'd known you, that had been the best day of all. Getting to be in an environment tailored to you and by you had been heaven.

He laid on your bed, letting himself be engulfed by the scent of your shampoo on your pillow. He'd chuckled at all the adorable plushies scattered throughout your place. He'd installed his cameras, ensuring the ability to supervise in case the occasion were to come up.

But his most favorite had been the souvenirs he'd taken with him. The pretty lace set he'd taken as a memento to ensure he had a little piece of you with him at all times.

Currently, as he went over today's events whilst in bed, that pretty set sat on his pillow — on the side of the bed he decided would be yours as soon as he made you his ...

Going back to more pressing matters. That idiot, Liam.

God, even thinking about how the night had ended made him angry. How did you pick these guys? Well, Jungkook knew the how (usually some shitty dating app), but he just couldn't understand the why.

Your dinner had been subpar at best. Liam had picked the shittiest 'fancy' restaurant available. He had ordered for you (whilst picking the cheapest options available), hadn't even bothered to buy you quality wine, and took a ten-minute bathroom break halfway through dinner — which he had spent on some stupid phone call to a buddy of his. Talk about priorities.

Going back home, he parked too far from your apartment for some stupid reason or other, choosing to walk you under a thinly-veiled pretense to make sure you arrived home safely. Instead, he went home with you despite not deserving such privilege.

This time around, Jungkook could tell that you weren't too enthusiastic to allow him in, but it seemed ritualistic to you by now. He argued that maybe you wanted at least one thing to come out of the date, even if that was just some meaningless sex.

Except that the sex had been even worse than anything that came prior.

At first, Jungkook felt morally ambiguous as he watched the live feed of the camera he'd installed in your apartment, but considering that he had already followed you to your date (under disguise, of course), this wasn't all that bad.

The foreplay had been nonexistent (his first mistake, Jungkook was very well aware), leaving you dissatisfied before it all even began. Barely wet and not stimulated at all, you laid there, letting that undeserving idiot do a novice's job at fingering you. Jungkook caught onto the winces on your face as the dumbass worked you with zero finesse. It was a complete disaster that left you just as dry as you'd been since walking through the door.

The worst part of all had been the actual sex itself. Jungkook was genuinely appalled at Liam's ability to get gradually worse as the night progressed.

For starters, you didn't cum. Jungkook would've been able to spot a fake orgasm from you from miles away. You gave a great performance, he had to admit. Had he been any other idiot (re: Liam), he might've believed you. But he knew all your tells. Despite how pretty you looked, how ruinous you sounded, he knew that you'd fabricated that scene to get Liam to stop trying to make you cum to no avail.

Liam, though, had the night of his life. Of this, Jungkook was sure. He needed no confirmation for it, but he received it in the form of many incoming messages you got the following morning. After kicking Liam out the previous night, — under the premise that you had work early the next morning (because you were far too nice to tell him to get fucked) — you awoke to messages from the idiot wondering when part two would come.

Jungkook scoffed at the messages, itching to respond but knowing that if he did, he'd give away that he'd hacked into your accounts. However, he was happy to see that you'd let him down, using one excuse or another as to why you shouldn't go on a second date.

This was the usual routine you followed.

Or at least in the past three months in which Jungkook had been watching you. But now things would be different.

Because Jungkook had finally had enough.

It was time for you to meet the love of your life.

Jungkook's decision to finally make his way into your life was inspired by a message exchange you'd had with your friend slightly prior to your escapade with that idiot.

You'd been frustrated, unwilling to continue with this stupid back and forth with guys who did not deserve you (your words, though Jungkook fully agreed). This was your last attempt, you'd sworn. You'd give up on dating sites from then on, thus giving up on dating in general, because, according to you, the current state of dating did not exist in real life. Romance was dead, you'd claimed, disheartened by how many failed talking stages you'd been through and by the amount of men disinterested in more than simple one-night stands.

So, Jungkook swore something to himself.

He swore that he'd be the man to change your mind. He'd let you exhaust yourself with worthless men and come swoop you off your feet.

For months, he'd prepared for this. Everything about you, he knew. If there was any man perfect for you, it was him.

He liked to think that he was your type already — tall, handsome, smart, financially intelligent, romantic. He had everything you wanted in a man. All he had to do now was swoop into your life and make his interest be known.

But there was a problem.

As much as Jungkook liked you, — and as much as he believed you'd like him back — he was scared. Among all his attributes was a shyness that appeared to only show up when it concerned you. There'd been various instances in which he'd been itching to meet you, to cut his research short and kneel before you, begging you to give him a chance. But this had proved impossible to him. It was one of the reasons as to why he hadn't just grown the balls to speak to you in the first place.

Under his logic, it was better to study you from afar. To learn everything about who he was sure would become the love of his life. Everything about you was perfect to him from the moment he saw you. He could not risk letting you get away; disappointing you by not being the man you needed.

So he watched you from afar. He learned what to do, what not to do.

By now, he knew everything he needed to know. He knew in which ways to impress you, in which ways to ensure he wouldn't drive you away. It was just his constant anxieties about meeting you that prevented him from approaching you sooner.

Though, technically, you'd already met.

It had been brief. He was sure you didn't even remember it. Yet it was a life-changing moment for him.

It had been his turn to do a coffee run at the firm he worked at. Despite holding an important position within the company, his department had been looking for a replacement assistant for a while, leaving the more menial tasks up to the higher ups (re: Jungkook and a few others).

Upon arriving at the nearest coffee shop, there you were.

Jungkook remembered every detail about you on that day. Your hair had been done the way you usually did it, but your lipstick had been a particular shade of red he'd been itching to see you wear again.

Speaking to you had been a feat. His eyes remained on the counter the whole time, stumbling over his words a bit when you'd cracked some joke that you'd likely practiced for new customers. Jungkook wasn't usually like this. Your beauty had just caught him completely off-guard, leaving him looking like a gaping idiot.

You were beautiful, charming, and overall just a goddess in Jungkook's eyes.

It had been on that day that he'd decided that his life would now revolve around getting you to be his.

Jungkook had a tendency to get everything he wanted anyways. Wealth just happened to do that to a person.

~

The day that he'd meticulously planned for months had arrived.

Jungkook had practically jumped out of his seat when Jimin stepped out of his office to inquire as to who would be getting their usual drinks this time around. He tried not to be obvious about it, but he couldn't let this day go to waste. He'd even done his hair in a way he knew you liked (at least based on your prior dating history), donning a suit that perfectly showed off his body line, accentuating his muscles while also letting the dip of his waist show.

He felt frivolous, but the mere thought of you enjoying his appearance made him appreciate himself all the better.

Stepping out, there was a pep in his step. The knowledge that he'd finally — officially — meet the girl of his dreams had him over the moon. Taehyung had even eyed him weirdly when he noticed his uncharacteristic enthusiasm on a random Tuesday morning. Jungkook simply brushed him off. Nothing was going to derail him today.

Today would be the start of the rest of his life. Nothing had mattered as much as this moment.

As he stood in front of your place of work, he hesitated a bit.

The glass doors gave him a perfect view of you working behind the coffee bar. He stayed there, watching you from afar, for a few moments. Not minding the buzzling in and out of the coffee shop, he remained there, attempting to psych himself up to finally make a move.

Would you remember him?

No, of course not. Why would you?

Your one and only meeting had been three months ago. It had been such a fleeting moment, yet it had left such a long-standing effect on him. Jungkook hoped maybe that had been mutual, but according to your messaging history, that was not the case.

Shaking his head of any irrelevant thoughts, he finally stepped forward, hand landing on the door to push it open. And then, there you were.

You weren't paying attention to him as he stepped towards the counter. No, you were wiping the table — always doing something, always working. Jungkook knew this about you. You had a habit to keep yourself busy at all times. You liked feeling useful. He really liked this about you.

When he finally settled his feet right across from you, you looked up with a slight jump. Jungkook even noticed you do a quick double-take at his appearance.

"Oh, uh hi! Welcome. What can I get for you today?", you cleared your throat with a smile.

"Morning," he smiled back, sheepish, "Sorry, it's a bit of a big order. I'm on coffee run duty today," he said as he handed you the slip of paper containing his floor's orders of choice.

"Oh, yeah for sure," you grabbed the note, incidentally brushing your fingers.

Jungkook had to do a double take himself when he noticed a slight blush on your cheeks at the contact. He couldn't let his confidence falter, but the internal satisfaction at even the slightest reciprocation already had him beaming.

Was it really working? He hadn't even done anything yet. Maybe catering his looks to your liking really did have its intended effect.

You excused yourself from the counter and walked over to the side to begin preparing the drinks. Jungkook, being as determined as he was, trailed along, not minding the glass above the counter separating customers from baristas. Dumbly, he watched as you made the drinks, occasionally catching your eye and chuckling when you'd giggle.

"Is coffee making that interesting to you?", you chuckled, head tilting in curiosity but not once stopping your work.

"The sight is fascinating for sure," he hummed.

You faltered a bit after that, grip on the cup needing readjustment due to his unexpected flirting. Jungkook, on the contrary, maintained his posture. His eyes remained on yours and a small smile graced his lips.

"Okay, damn," you murmured under your breath. You tried to suppress a flustered smile, but Jungkook still caught it.

"Too forward? I thought maybe it was too subtle," he chuckled.

You set aside one of the drinks, moving onto the next one. If Jungkook didn't know any better, he might've thought you were taking your time.

"Do you do this to all service workers or am I just special?"

"Maybe you're just special," he began, "I can't lie, you might've caught my eye last time I was here," he admitted.

Half-truths were okay.

"Oh? I don't remember you. Remind me?"

Your tone had turned higher, maybe even flirtatious. Luck was on Jungkook's side today.

He'd known you to like guys who were a little forward — or at least that's what you'd texted your best friend after another failed date with a guy who couldn't mumble his way out of a single compliment. Apart from attempting to physically embody your type, he'd also decided to act in every way he knew you'd be extra responsive to.

Luckily for Jungkook, it appeared as if your type was pretty much just him.

"Hmm," he pretended to ponder over it, "Too little time. Maybe I could stop by after your shift and remind you then. It was a life-changing experience, I have lots to say."

A truth hidden behind a joke. He was doing good at this.

Another giggle left your lips, almost dropping the pen you were currently using to write the names of each recipient of the drinks.

"Your suit looks more expensive than my monthly wages. Are you sure you wanna spend your time waiting for a lowly barista, Mr. CEO?"

If only you knew just how much time he was willing to invest in you. How much he'd already invested.

"Not a CEO. And I'd be willing to stand here for hours if that's what it takes."

"Okay, damn. You're serious, huh?", you laughed, "I'm off in three hours. But I'll look a mess by then. If you really want to tell me how I changed your life, here's my number," your hand crossed the threshold of the small divide between the counter and the bar, grabbing onto his own and scribbling your number on the back of his hand.

"I hope you know I'll be making liberal use of this," he warned lightheartedly.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you grinned one last time before handing him a cup holder with all his drinks.

Jungkook had to force himself and be cool as he exited out of the establishment, attempting to conceal the huge smile on his lips at his success.

Things had gone way smoother than he'd ever fantasized. The nerves he was sure would surge as soon as he saw you simply never made an appearance. He'd been able to wow you, to make you laugh. Fuck, your shy giggle at his dumb flirting would likely replay in his brain for the rest of the day.

There was a brand new pep in his step as he made his way back. It had taken herculean self-control to not look back and check if you were looking back at him as he left. He needed to play it cool. You liked guys who were down, horribly bad for you, but that would come later. For now, he needed to preserve an image of coolness.

Jungkook made his way back to his building, multiple cups in hand aided by the cup holder. He'd made sure his hand remained untouched, unwilling to risk losing your number (despite the fact he already had it — and way more than just your number).

It was the cutest thing to him, seeing you scribble your number on his hand as your hand held his firm for the pressure of the pen. The shadow of your touch remained on him, something which he would preserve in his mind until the moment he got to feel your touch again.

Jungkook's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden voice. Though not too sudden, as he was now surrounded by people, not having realized he'd arrived as he was deep in his thoughts.

"You look very happy."

Turning to his side, he found Taehyung standing there, hands on hips before he walked over to Jungkook and took his coffee from the beverage holder he had at hand. He had that same look on his face he always had when he was teasing him. Jungkook felt slightly embarrassed at how obvious his feelings showed through his face.

The smile on his lips simply couldn't be helped.

"Oh, I-"

"You have that dopey smile on your face. I haven't seen that in a while," Tae noted, "Who is she?"

Jungkook did a combination of a choked breath and a scoff, resulting in a very unpleasant sound. Clearing his throat to properly respond, he took a sip from his own coffee, setting down the rest on a table nearby so they could be up for grabs.

"What makes you think it's a girl?", he attempted to evade.

"C'mon, man. Humor me," Tae nudged.

Jungkook sighed, knowing that Tae would probably not let this go. Jungkook was known as a man adverse to the dating scene, constantly pushed and pulled in every direction possible to get him to give dating a chance. What no one had known was that his heart was waiting for the perfect girl, which he'd been lucky to have found a few months back and had locked his mind and heart on.

Since things with you were pretty much settled now, Jungkook supposed that mentioning his upcoming date (the one he'd ensure to schedule with you as soon as humanly possible) wasn't too out of the question. He was too giddy to keep it in.

"Uhm, I might've asked a girl for her number."

And it was like those words sounded an alarm at the office.

Suddenly Jimin was standing next to Taehyung, with Hobi stopping on his tracks to join in on the conversation, all with their ears practically perked up in Jungkook's direction.

"You what?!"

"A girl? Since when? Who?"

"Fucking finally. I ran out of girls to set you up with."

All congratulatory and accusatory messages were delivered all at once, making Jungkook roll his eyes at the collective.

He was known as a hopeless romantic, which was known to make him incredibly picky — or anal, as Taehyung could say — about who he dated. So, yeah, maybe the fact that he'd asked a girl for her number was a big deal. But Jungkook didn't want his friends meddling with it or asking too many questions before things even started.

Especially when Jungkook couldn't really let anyone in on how he'd met you or how he'd ended up in this situation in the first place. Not even his friends could become privy to the liberal freedoms he'd taken to get to know you and ensure he'd get a chance at being with you.

His master plan was a secret he'd take to the grave.

"Just a girl. It's not a for sure thing yet. Don't wanna jinx it," is what he settled with to avoid any specifics.

"C'mon. Nothing else? It's been years, man. Give us something more," Hobi goaded.

Jungkook couldn't help the slight smile that threatened to break through at the thought of you. At the thought of what was to come.

"I'll keep you guys updated after I actually ask her out."

He received some 'boo's for that, but the shrugged them off with a lighthearted eye-roll, taking his coffee and walking over to his office after a few more minutes of teasing from his friends. They'd pointed out the phone number on his hand, awing and cooing at him in jest before he took his leave. His friends left his mind as soon as he stepped into his office, uncharacteristically putting work aside so he could put his mind on more important things — you.

Pulling out his phone, well, his burner, he decided to course through your social medias just out of sheer curiosity. Had you said anything about him? Maybe texted a friend? It'd only been a few minutes, but he knew you were usually due for a break soon and the curiosity was killing him. He needed to know what your first impression of him.

He checked your twitter, your private twitter account, even your instagram, and nothing. Which was to be expected. You weren't really the type to post your every move. But still, Jungkook was hopeful that maybe he'd invaded your mind in the same way you did his.

And then he suddenly got a notification. It was a text message from your friend, instigating him into opening your messaging app.

Upon opening it, he found an ongoing conversation, leading him to scroll up a bit to see how it'd started.

you - omfg i met the cutest guy just now you - he asked for my number im going insane you - he smelled so fucking good fuckjhdgfhskd

bestie - wait bestie - what ??? bestie - WHO bestie - PICS

you - i dont have pics u freak you - we barely just met. he's hot as fuck though !!!! you - im in over my head he's perfect

bestie - so whats the plan !!!! bestie - are yall meeting or what ?? bestie - r u fucking him bestie - i thought u were over dating bc of last time ...

you - dont bring that demon up !!! you - we didnt make plans. i just gave him my number but he kept flirting so im hoping for a call soon you - (or else ill go looking for him hes too fine to let go) you - ill make an exception for him he's just my type

Jungkook was practically kicking his feet like a teenage girl in love at every single message.

It was odd watching the conversation play out in real time, but he couldn't be too bothered about that. Not when he was so enamored with the way you spoke about him.

You wanted him!!! You wanted to fuck him!!! — a thought that made him both blush and his skin heat up. You were interested and willing to give dating a chance just to get to know him.

He was beyond fucked. But in a good way.

The excitement brought goosebumps to his skin and the itch to contact you immediately and confess his addiction to you grew more by the second.

But he had to play it cool.

He exited out of the conversation after that, wanting to give you some privacy to gush over him with your friend (it was really the least he could do).

However, the itch to message you persisted, which is exactly what he did next.

He went through many reiterations of what to send, thinking back to prior conversations you'd had with previous partners and the subsequent conversations you'd had with your friends about said partners. If Jungkook was anything, he was an expert on you. If he had to take on another PhD, his thesis would undoubtedly be about you.

In the end, he decided on being true to himself while also following the self-given advice he'd gathered through the months of knowing you.

Jungkook - let me take you out. Jungkook - this is jungkook btw Jungkook - (the love of ur life in case that wasnt clear)

Okay, sure, he wasn't as suave as the average person would expect. However, he was very well aware of what your type was. You liked to be chased, to have a guy on his knees begging for a chance — but not in a creepy way. Those had been your exact words the multiple times in which you'd vented to your friends both via text and facetime.

To your luck, Jungkook was exactly that. He had already gone way more out of his way than the average person did (or should) just to get one chance to get you to consider him as a suitor. Being down bad, or perhaps even a loser, was not a feat for him.

Your response came after a few minutes, with an excited acceptance to his offer (thank god) and a plan ultimately set up for the upcoming weekend. Jungkook could barely continue his work day after such news, too giddy to concentrate and wanting to huddle under a blanket and kick at his feet like a teenage girl.

The rest of the day was spent with thoughts of you, pushing his work aside while he mentally prepared yet another gameplan for what was to come. He needed to think of a date, arrange it, maybe even plan for what would come after it — because there would be another. He'd ensure it.

It was a few days away, yet Jungkook continued to think about it up until that very day, thankful he no longer had to wait and watch back as you dated dumbass after dumbass. Jungkook had already forgotten about every undeserving idiot he had witnessed come before him, knowing himself to be on a whole entire level to them.

As the days towards the date passed, Jungkook continued casually texting you, making good on his promise to make liberal use of your phone number (despite having already made good use of all your other information without your knowledge). He shared reels with you, tiktoks, messaged you jokes, 'good mornings,' flirtatious back and forths, anything that could get the two of you talking in the meantime. Jungkook wanted to share his genuine personality with you, hopeful that you'd like him as he was and that your personalities were as compatible as he'd predicted.

And he'd been correct. Your conversations never halted abruptly, flowing through the days and never having awkward lulls in between. It felt like talking to an old friend, except that this time around it was who he believed would become his soulmate.

Despite wanting to give you more privacy now that he had actually met you formally, Jungkook still occasionally fell for the temptation of checking your messages through his burner phone. He'd made a deal with himself that he'd stop, that he'd do things right and not mar things between you by reading your private conversations or spying on you as he did before. But sometimes it was hard. Especially when he needed to ensure things went well enough for him to be able to ask you to be official.

And so he checked, and was very pleased by what he found.

Your words about him towards your friends were blush-worthy, to say the least. You'd shower him with compliments, with some being PG while others leaning towards more R rated territory. He'd blush and flush and go crazy at those comments, itching to get you alone and show you even more things to gush about to your friends.

But for now, he prepared for your date. He'd have time to rock your world later, all in due time. His cards needed to be played right, and he was more than prepared to win this game.

Unsurprisingly to Jungkook, the date went amazing.

From the moment he picked you up, to the moment he offered to walk you from his car to your door, everything went better than he'd fantasized night after night.

He'd picked an expensive restaurant, offering to take up the entire bill (as any gentleman should, but he knew you weren't used to such treatment) and even brought you what he knew to be your favorite flowers. He picked you up, of course, earning the reward of seeing you walk out of your apartment with the most life-ruining dress he'd ever seen. A few stammered compliments were given, leading to the price that were your shy giggles in return.

At the actual date, everything ran smoothly. Jungkook's knowledge of you proved useful to wow you, but truly, he didn't need to pretend or lie to you at any moment in order to impress you. He was himself, and that was something you seemed to adore (but not as much as he already adored you). Every joke was met with a giggle, and every train of thought was reciprocated and entertained by you. You'd even played footsie with him at some point, sharing the teasing physical contact with him in return to his occasional flirtation.

When it came time to leave, he drove you back home, parking a little further away under some lame pretense just so he could spend a little extra time with you to walk you home. You caught on to this, but to Jungkook's joy, you entertained his idea, not wanting the night to end just yet either.

Once at your door, Jungkook felt conflicted.

Preferably, this would be the moment in which he finally shared his first kiss with you, a moment he'd imagined too many times to be able to admit. Yet, he found himself hesitating.

As far as he'd known you, you'd disapproved of moving too fast in relationships. It just wasn't you, you'd say. The only occasions in which you allowed for things to move forward within short periods of time were for one-night stands or when you already knew there would be no further dates.

Jungkook, however, wished to not be lumped into neither one of those categories.

So he stood there, smiling at you, holding onto your hand and unwilling to let go as his thumb graced your knuckles in a soft manner. It was silent, but it wasn't awkward. The best way to describe it was enamored — and to Jungkook's delight, it seemed to be a mutual sentiment!

But then you threw him off completely.

Not bothering to warn him, you stepped forward, putting your hands on his jaw and pulling him in as you stood on your tippy toes to reach him.

He had no time to react, eyes widening and mouth opening as you connected your lips to his. It took him a second to respond, with his arms still limp and awkward between you before he stepped into action. If you wanted a kiss, he'd deliver the best one of your life.

Taking control of the situation was easy. The shock of his long-time wish finally coming true only had him in dreamland for a few seconds before he finally snapped and reciprocated. He began to lead you, lips overpowering yours and tongue slipping out of his mouth and into your own.

He couldn't let himself think about the kiss too deeply. It was already torturous, hearing your sighs muffled by his lips and swallowing every tiny sound you made at the aggressive way in which he'd begun to kiss you. He had all the power, and much to his mental dismay, you seemed to really enjoy it.

But he needed to control himself. He couldn't let this move too fast. Couldn't let himself give in to desire and have his long-awaited day with you. Even if his body was itching for him to get on his knees and beg for a chance between them, he had to hold himself back.

However, this did not prevent him from indulging in your touch at least a little.

Pushing you up against your front door, his lips trailed down your neck and into the expanse of your chest that was bared (courtesy of the cleavage you'd decided to bless Jungkook with). His lips were indecisive, going from your sternum and up to your neck, nipping lightly at times and easing the sting with flicks of his tongue. The pretty sounds you let out were more than reward enough for his efforts.

His knee ended up between your legs, itching closer and closer to your middle and digging itself there with a practiced precision that had you keening under his hold.

"Please," you sighed after some time, begging for something your dazed state likely didn't even know.

"Please what, baby?"

Your head turned, catching his lips again, but not in a kiss. It was too messy to be deemed a kiss, consisting of open mouths and too much spit to be considered sanitary.

"Come in? I wanna- Please come in," you pleaded, effectively killing Jungkook.

It took herculean effort for Jungkook to stay put. It was the hardest thing in the world to reject you when you were so desperate, when your voice was a mere breath of desire landing right against his lips before dipping into yet another kiss.

He couldn't help the groan that left him, but he replaced it with a chuckle when you whined at the separation of lips.

"You know I can't do that, baby."

"But I want you to!" you pouted, petulant and way too convincing.

His hand went up to your chin, turning your head towards him. It could've been considered a cute gesture, but his knee remained digging into your cunt (which was pulsing against him, driving him further into insanity) and your bodies were still too pressed up to be considered proper.

Looking up at him, you pouted, eyebrows hunched together in a way that let him know you were left wanting more. He thumbed at your chin in a soft manner, cooing at the adorable sight before him.

But you just had to pay him back for his teasing — though it was fair, considering his knee continued to dig into your cunt, earning tiny gasps from you and an eye-roll of pleasure.

You tilted your chin back, landing his thumb on your bottom lip and subsequently pulling it into your mouth (not that Jungkook put too much of a fight). Still staring into his eyes, you suckled at his thumb, wide, empty eyes making him lose himself.

He stood there, dumb and gone as he watched your cheeks sink in as you licked and sucked at his thumb, moaning when he pressed at your tongue. It was filthy and depraved and he loved it.

"Are you sure you won't come in?" you tried one last time, seduction in your voice.

It took everything in him. Every last ounce of self-control and survival skills in him to be able to deny you after you'd put on that little show for him.

But he'd worked too hard to fuck you within one day of having you. He needed to take his time and romance you as you'd always wanted. Sometimes he just knew you better than you knew yourself.

"I'm sorry, angel. I need to kiss you goodnight, okay?", he pouted back at you, chuckling when you mirrored his pout.

But then you smiled at him. Warm, accepting and especially enamored.

He had done good.

"I'll be waiting for a goodnight text from you," you said after he'd pecked your lips a few times, finally giving you enough space away from the door.

"I'll even text you good morning first thing tomorrow, beautiful," he smiled at you.

When you left (after even more chaste pecks), a smile overtook him. The half-forming boner was the last of his worries when he felt so happy at the outcome of tonight's events. He might've even skipped on his way to his car.

~

What happened next was slightly predictable to Jungkook.

He had sworn to himself he wouldn't. Had sword he'd give you privacy from now on. That he'd let things play out naturally now that he had you to himself, ready to fall in love with him.

Yet curiosity got the best of him once again.

He'd rushed his way home, even driving through a few red lights on his way. It was a life-or-death matter to him (or at least to his boner).

As soon as he was home, he ran to his macbook, opening up the tab that would display the only sight that would leave him satisfied when he was so pent up and needy for you.

And when he caught sight of what he'd been looking for, a groan couldn't help itself but to escape his lips.

There you were, busy with your hand between your legs as you sighed out Jungkook's name in between flicks of your clit. The sight was sinful, leaving Jungkook a lifeless version of himself as he groaned and cried out at the view.

Joining you in your touches was a given. He wished he could be there right now, working you to his desires, but he was still content with the current state of affairs. His hands undid his pants faster than they'd ever before, freeing himself from any clothing concealing him before losing himself in you.

He'd seen you touch yourself countless times, already well aware of what you'd do, how you'd play with yourself. But this time was different. This time it was rushed, desperate. It was a desperation he easily mirrored, completely empathetic to the feeling.

It didn't take him much to make himself cum, having already been on the brink whilst driving himself home. The effect some mere kissing and fondling had had on him was somewhat embarrassing, but he couldn't blame himself. Not when you'd been the cause.

Watching you cum, back arching and breath hitching at the overwhelming feeling. Even as he watched you, he felt pained. It was a depraved feeling he'd never experienced before, with the incessant need to be the one experiencing these feelings with you, cursing at himself for depriving himself from the experience.

Once the sensations seized, Jungkook closed his computer, setting it aside so he could ruminate on that day's occurrences.

Before going to sleep, he made sure to give you that 'goodnight' text he'd promised, smiling at himself when you replied, even adding a few heart emojis in tandem.

The development of your newfound relationship continued just as Jungkook had hoped.

More dates went by, with frequent stops at your cafe any time he had a short break during work (meaning, often). It was easy to tell that you were as enamored with Jungkook as he was with you. The many flirty texts and delivered flowers paid off, and it all felt very natural to him. Treating you the way you deserved, the way he'd been itching to treat you, it was like a gift to Jungkook.

It'd only been a month, yet it felt like an eternity to him.

He'd stopped keeping tabs on you by then.

Well, for the most part.

The curiosity after every date remained in him. Every time he held back and dropped you off without anything further than some kisses, he itched to know how you felt afterwards, instantly checking on his camera and even looking for any feedback you may have given your friends.

It was safe to say that you wanted him just as much as he did you.

Which made it all the more difficult to hold back from letting you pull him into your apartment and finally having his way with you.

But after this month of pure bliss, Jungkook finally decided.

He'd finally let himself have you in the way he'd been thirsting after.

Tonight, he'd planned yet another date. After that first one, it was virtually impossible for the two of you to stay away from each other. Not only did Jungkook want to spend every available second with you, but you were very responsive to that fact, always accepting and even suggesting dates.

But tonight was different. When you'd suggested some ice cream and a walk in the park, Jungkook took a risk and asked you if you'd rather come over, maybe watch a movie and eat some pre-bought ice cream (of your choosing, of course). It was a thinly-veiled excuse to get you in his apartment (and completely alone) for the first time.

And unsurprisingly to Jungkook, you accepted. There was a suggestive smile in your lips when you did so, leading Jungkook to believe that you were aware of his desires and even shared some of your own.

He couldn't help the anxious feelings overtaking him as he waited for you to arrive. He knew what was coming, knew that tonight would be the culmination of all he'd ever wanted since laying eyes on you. His skin burned at the thought of what was to come and his body shook in anticipation, goosebumps forming as the minutes passed.

When you knocked on his door, he couldn't help but run to it like a dog awaiting its owner's return. He didn't want to appear too giddy, like some freak only wanting to jump into your pants, but that fact was half reality. He was depraved for you. He was desperate, only having held back for so long because he had wanted to do things right, to win your heart before getting access to your body.

And finally he'd have both.

"Hey," you smiled up at him at his doorstep, front teeth digging into the plush of your bottom lip. You leant against his door frame, casual yet slightly nervous.

Looking down at you, he noted your cutesy pajamas. A matching set of tiny shorts and a tank top currently covered by an oversized hoodie, unzipped and letting him in on your outfit.

"Ready for our sleepover?", you giggled.

It was impossible not to be enamored by you.

When he'd suggested a movie and some ice cream at his place, you'd adorably suggested a sleepover, insisting on some movie marathon of his choice and all the snacks you could wish for. You'd said that it was an excuse to 'be domestic and shit,' as you'd put it. You also adamantly claimed you needed to check whether or not he snored in order to continue the relationship (all whilst blushing at the 'r' word, not having labeled things yet and unknowing that Jungkook would do so tonight).

He smiled back at you, doing his best to hold back from aggressively attacking you with the affection overflowing him. His mind battled between finding you adorable and wanting to lock you down and keep you in his bed for weeks to come.

"Come in, pretty. I got all your favorite snacks," he welcomed you in with a bear hug, humming loudly as he nuzzled into your neck.

"Hmm, you give the best hugs, I hate you," you grumbled when he let go.

Then you walked in as if you owned the place, practically skipping over to the couch nearby and eyeing all the snacks Jungkook had grown to recognize as your favorites — though he had known this from the months of watching you.

"Come on! Sit. I demand my sleepover," you whined, getting up from the couch and pulling him to sit right next to you.

He chuckled, finding you adorable yet again.

~

Only one movie was watched before things began leaving the PG-13 realm Jungkook had invertedly found himself in.

After a bit, you'd cuddled into him, with his arm enveloping you and accepting you into his chest as you continued to watch the movie. But the movie was the last thing in his mind. What he wanted was to see in person that body which he'd so often watched through a screen without your knowledge.

He had theories of what you'd feel like under his touch, of how you'd react to his. But ultimately, he knew that imagination would never compare to reality.

By now, neither of you were paying attention to the movie. Jungkook had been unfocused since the moment you walked in. However, you'd kept up the pretense of an innocent sleepover for a little longer than he did. While he'd been ready to jump you since the date began, you'd played dumb and cuddled up to him as you watched the movie, though not once rejecting his attempts to get closer and closer.

And now, after the first movie of the night was finally over, his hands became braver. Sensing your equal desire for him, he let his hands find your bare thighs, knuckles running up and down their expanse as he subtly looked to his side, watching you squirm at the touch.

You pushed yourself closer, legs pressing together a bit when his hand began to dip into the middle of your legs. With a giggle, you turned your body to face this, a failed attempt at concealing a smile showing on your face.

"Slick," you chuckled. You might've meant it to mock him, but you still began giving in, putting your own hands on him.

Naturally, he took advantage of this, grabbing onto your hips and pulling you to straddle his lap. Your hands found their place on his shoulders, sliding from his shoulders to his jaw while his did the same on your waist and hips.

Kissing you came just as naturally, pulling you in and trapping your bottom lip between his own two, making the kiss deeper than you'd ever kissed each other before. You instantly hummed into his mouth, hands reaching to his head and pulling him closer. His own remained on your hips, having fun squeezing at the plush skin there, bare due to your shorts having ridden up while straddling him.

With a self-prescribed oral fixation, Jungkook would've had fun kissing you for hours on end. He had already fostered a tendency to bite at his own lip ring, but the satisfaction he got from it only intensified when you did it — which was exactly what you were doing at that moment.

As you nibbled and sucked at his bottom lip, occasionally pulling at the silver ring with your teeth, Jungkook's hands began feeling you up, slowly losing their hesitation in grabbing at any curve he could reach. Your hands eventually came to do the same, finding his arms and sighing into his lips when you felt the stiff muscle under your hands.

When Jungkook got tired of feeling you up through your clothes, his hands reached the hem of your top, slowly reaching underneath it to ensure he gave you time to pull him away if you didn't want him to do so (which he was very certain was not the case, at least going off your own hands doing the same to him). Pulling off your top, he disconnected your lips, moving onto your neck and letting his thumbs feel at your bare nipples, chuckling at the low whine you let out at the action.

"You're so pretty, baby," he murmured.

His eyes were closed and his face nuzzled into your neck, kisses being left in his wake. But despite having not seen the expanse of your torso yet, he knew you were the prettiest thing he would've ever laid his eyes on. He'd seen you countless times. Maybe through a screen and maybe without your knowledge, but he'd seen you enough to have every inch memorized. Now was time to memorize it all to the touch.

"Yeah?", you sighed, numb, thoughtless, just like he wanted you.

"Mhm," he hummed in affirmation, "Already so needy, huh?"

His lips went lower, hand flat on the middle of your back to hold your body up and finding his way to your breasts, covering in licks and kisses as you sighed along to every single one. He was in cloud 9, finally able to touch you as he'd always wanted. In every way he saw useless men attempt to.

You became antsy quickly after that. He was sure you could feel his hardness under you, especially when you'd readjust yourself on his lap, huffing when his hold on you gave you no freedom to move and find some friction against him. It was unspoken, but he was in charge here. Your pleasure was entirely his responsibility, and he'd choose exactly how he'd give it to you.

After all, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

"Take me to your room," you mumbled in between heavy breaths, already exhausted with lust.

Without a second to hesitate, Jungkook's hands went under your thighs, standing up as he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. The trip was a short one, ending with you sitting at the edge of his bed while he stood before you, hand on your chin to ensure you'd look up at him.

And the sight made him crazy.

There was not a single thought behind those eyes, only unadulterated lust staring up at him.

He mindlessly thumbed his way up to your lower lip, clawing at it softly in a silent command for your mouth to open and allow him in. And to no one's surprise, you took him in, suckling lightly at the digit as you continued looking up at him, faux innocent look in your eyes.

A silent groan left him at the act, knowing that this would be what you looked like if you were to be good for him and get some other part for him in your mouth. But even the mere finger sucking had him fighting for his life. He pressed his thumb into your tongue, pushing back a little and getting a slight gag out of you before you continued in your adamant sucking.

"Fuck," he muttered.

Then he used that same hand to pull your face towards his own, leaning down a bit to meet you in the middle.

While the kiss in the living room had already been nasty enough for his liking, this one was nothing if not depraved. Your tongues met in the middle, before any lip action could actually happen. It involved a lot of teeth knocking and needy sounds released against each other, but Jungkook thrived off this neediness. Knowing you wanted him so badly that you lost all inhibitions, all sense of self — it made him dizzy with desire.

Mid kiss, he began lowering himself on the floor, pulling your neck down with him so you'd angle down, keeping your lips connected despite the newfound discrepancy in height. When the kiss finally had to be broken, he immediately latched onto the bare skin of your legs, hands itching to pull off your shorts and panties down (thankfully, you were still lucid enough to lift your hips and aid him in this). And then he was finally met with the sight he'd been craving to bury himself in for months.

It was plush, slightly swollen with desire and dripping with arousal, staring back at him as he attempted to hold back.

He dove in without a single second-thought, hands opening your legs far enough to find himself his rightful spot between them.

This. This was all he'd think about as he'd watch you date dumbass after dumbass, left displeased by every single one no matter how hard you tried to find at least a single competent one.

He gave you everything he had in him, licking at the expanse of your cunt before stopping at your clit and giving it special attention. His hands gripped at your thighs, angling you so you'd lay back on the bed as he had some alone time with your pussy. Your hands pulled at his hair, maybe too harshly, but he couldn't feel anything but bliss at that moment.

Your taste, your smell, your touch, it was all taking over his mind. This had been all he thought about night after night, watching your failed dates and hoping he'd be the next one on the list. He knew exactly how to please you, both from innate knowledge and from how much he'd studied you these past months.

"F-fuck, you nose ..." you cried out when it accidentally rubbed at your clit, intensifying its movements after your reaction.

"Taste so good, baby," he mumbled.

It was impossible to ignore his own arousal now, allowing himself to rub against the side of the mattress while he continued to lick and suck at you. His mind was fuzzy, completely overtaken by the pleasure your touch, your taste, your smell, your sounds, you were giving him.

When you came, he still couldn't stop himself. He continued lapping at you, drunk in the taste and far too blissed out to process that the current pulling of his hair meant you were too sensitive to receive more.

When your whines got louder, he finally let you go, sitting back on the floor as he caught his breath.

Worth it.

"You're insane," you gasped between heavy breaths.

But he was too busy licking at any leftover essence dripping on his chin, smirking when you gaped at him.

"You did this to me," he rebutted, "Maybe don't seduce me next time," and then he climbed back on the bed, taking his rightful place above you as he kissed you once more, tongue in first to ensure you got a taste of yourself.

Immediately, your legs wrapped around him, forcing him down onto your bare center and encouraging to bump his hips against yours. His hands intervened, working at his sweats as fast as he could so he could finally get that skin-to-skin contact he'd been craving. With your feet, you haphazardly tried to aid him in pushing them off, with them ending up at his ankles and ultimately pushed off by his own feet. Separation seemed to be offensive to him, refusing to disconnect his lips from some part of your body at any time.

"'m gonna fuck you now, okay, baby?", he muttered, landing one last kiss on your lips.

"Like this? Or do you wanna-"

"Mm, like this. Wanna see you," he said as if it was the most obvious thing ever (which, fairly, to him it was).

He didn't bother with a condom, knowing you were on birth control after one of the many flirty late-night conversations you'd had leading up to this night (though he already had this knowledge through his secretive means).

Entering you could not be measured nor compared to any other experience. He'd known the event would be ruinous, but his mind could not have ever come close to reality.

Your eyes practically rolled back when he bottomed out, giving him a sight that he could never forget. Part of him wanted to reach down to his sweats and pull out his phone from his pocket, maybe take a picture, set it as his lockscreen and utilize it any time you weren't around.

But the thought left him when you whined at him to move, claiming you needed him.

Your nails dragged down his back as he began hammering in, making him wince at the painful pleasure. Burying his head in your neck, he kissed at the skin there, groaning when you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling yourself as close as possible whilst attempting to move against him.

"Feel so fucking good," he grunted, "Made for me, huh? You were just waiting for me to fuck you, huh, baby? Needed someone who knew how to make you feel good."

He was telling on himself a bit, but he didn't care. He needed to assert his place over every man that'd ever touched you before. Needed to confirm it for both you and him.

"Yes!," you cried out, "So good, fuck."

Your words were mostly nonsensical babbles after that, with the occasional curse or sigh of his name mixed in.

Jungkook was in paradise. This was all he'd wanted ever since his eyes landed on you. The feeling of your pulse surrounding his cock made his eyes roll back, making him struggle to keep up with the euphoric sensations you were giving him. He now understood why every man that landed on your bed was unable to please you. You simply rendered them boneless vessels of bliss.

"God, never letting you go after this. You know that, right? All mine," he rambled, truth spilling from his lips.

But you liked it. Your nails dug into his back, head nodding feverishly in agreement at his words.

"Mhm. Yours, fuck. Please don't stop ..."

He groaned, further burying his head in your neck and pressing himself up as close as humanly possible. Any distance between you felt like a burn to him.

His orgasm approached, but he knew the telltale signs of your own by memory. You were right there with him.

"Feels so fucking good, gorgeous. She's gripping me so hard, fuck. She's gonna cum for me, hmm? Wanna see you cum, pretty," he panted out.

You wailed when his thumb made its way between you, nudging at you lightly and teasingly enough to have you seeing stars. The movements of his hips never seized, barely able to move with how tight you were but still working you to completion.

When you came, you dragged him down with you, sighing out words that made him lose his mind.

"Cum inside ... Please. Wanna feel it," and just like that, Jungkook lost himself in you, filling you to the brim with no shame.

His hips kept slapping against the back of your thighs, chaffing skin forming due to the friction. But the feeling took the backseat in the midst of bliss.

Jungkook allowed himself to lay his body next to yours afterwards, giving you the role of little spoon as he pulled you as close as possible, with your head lying happily on his bicep.

Multiple pecks landed on your lips, chuckling when you groaned at him pulling out.

"You're crazy," you giggled, kissing his nose and simultaneously melting his heart in the process.

He shrugged, playing it off, "Had to make my girl feel good."

"Oh? Your girl?", you teased.

He engulfed you in his arms, flipping you so you'd lay under him, both arms caging you beneath him, "You're kind of mine now, in case that wasn't clear."

It was voiced as a joke, but he meant it.

"No complaints here," you giggled, kissing him as confirmation.

Pleased, he sat the two of you up, patting your hip in a comforting manner.

"C'mon, baby, go pee. I'll be waiting here with a clean change of sheets, okay?"

And with that, you practically skipped away, giving him a few kisses in that post-coital bliss before losing him to the other side of the bathroom connected to his bedroom.

Before bothering to throw off the sheets, Jungkook looked over his shoulder, making sure you were out of sight. He reached under his mattress, collecting the old phone and tablet through which he'd grown accustomed to surveilling you with, chuckling to himself as he turned them off, giving them a silent goodbye before throwing them into the trash.

He wouldn't be needing them anymore.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, stalker!jungkook, afab reader, jk watches reader masturbate without her knowledge, masturbation (both f and m receiving), oral (f receiving), cumming in pants, etc.

wc: 297 (teaser); 1869 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

Jungkook had planned to stick to his word.

When he swore to himself that he'd give you privacy, trust you and let you exist without his constant supervision, he had truly meant it. However, as it usually happened, he was able to create nonsensical logistics in order to go back on his word.

It's not like he watched over you as he did before meeting you, though! He truly did give you your privacy — well, to some extent.

Any time you left his apartment, landing a sweet kiss on his cheek and informing him you'd be out with some friends, he restrained (despite the tiny dress you'd be wearing, letting him know you'd be garnering far too much attention from onlookers), wanting you to have fun with your friends without his watchful eyes (even if you wouldn't realize he had the ability to track you anyway). But he held back, trusting you to go and head back to your own bed afterwards, sending him a text goodnight with a cute kissy emoji attached.

When you'd be too preoccupied with your phone, rather than checking your texts through his burner phone, he'd nuzzle into your shoulder, happy at your indifference of him eyeing your screen (where he'd usually just find you playing some silly phone game or texting your friends).

However, it was under the dumbest circumstances possible that Jungkook just couldn't help himself in invading your privacy.

And this was any time you spent the night alone in your apartment rather than in his.

Any time you slept away from each other, he just needed to take a peak, to access that hidden camera he just refused to get rid of and get a look at the little show you'd put for him (all without your knowledge).

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[kisssukuna33]

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always have you over at his house the night before an important match. It helps with the stress he says.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always put on a TV show before you two settle into the couch for cuddles. Usually the cuddling session is a mix of him relaxing against you as you ask him questions about the match tomorrow.

"You packed an extra pair of shorts this time right? Remember what happened last time"

"yeah I did"

"Did you iron the clothes?"

"Uraume took care of it"

"That new protein shake your nutritionist recommend, Did you take it?"

"Already did"

"What about the snacks during the game tomorrow? did Uraume-

"oh my god baby relax, it's all taken care of"

He says in somewhat of an annoyed tone as he pulls you even closer to his chest, tightening his grip around you. But deep down he loves it when you are concerned about him like this.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who insists that having a good time before the match tomorrow isn't a problem to him but you reject the offer firmly because you know how Sukuna gets whenever you two started something.

It always ends up dragging for hours so no, your bf needs his beauty sleep for tomorrow.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who pouts slightly when you say no to him but decides to settle with the short make out session instead, better than nothing he thinks.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who teasingly steals few touches from your sensitive areas, clearly trying to rile you up but stops after seeing the glare you gave him.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who never seems to be the type to get much nervous before matches. Because of his Overconfidence? His never ending Ego? maybe. But his ability to stand strong in situations like this always makes your heart flutter.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always makes sure you get the best VIP seat to his match, You always need to be in the front lines where he can see you from clearly when he beat up his opponent back to his ancestors.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always find a way to bring you up in the Media press. Sukuna is widely known by the audience for being a down bad "simp" for his girlfriend as well as a complete disaster for his opponents.

"Mr Ryomen, Do you know there's a whole talk in the internet about you being a simp for your girlfriend? What do you have to say to people who spread things like that?"

"Keep spreading the truth I guess. The internet definitely needs it more"

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who hurries back to his changing room and jumps straight into your arms. Despite your constant nagging for him to get patched up first.

"Baby did you saw the jab-cross I threw before he hit the ground?"

"Yeah it was Amazing Ryo!"

"I did good than the last match, didn't I?"

"Yeah you always do"

"Then I deserve way more than that cheap kiss you gave me earlier don't I?"

"Get patched up first you freak, Uraume's waiting"

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who lets you both into his house as he holds your waist with one arm. He let go of your waist as he makes his way for the bathroom while murmuring something about showering first.

As he started to shower you turn on the tv with the intention of seeing the live match you saw today in the digital screen. And it immediately cuts to a interview Sukuna did just right after winning.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who seems enthusiastic as ever talking to the reporters about the match he did and the opponent he beat. Not long after he adds a little appreciation from his part.

"My manager Uraume helped me with a lot of stuff so I truly appreciate them. Also my girlfriend stayed up beside me every night when I practiced and supported me in everything, this win is hers as much as it is mine."

"if you're watching this I love you baby"

A warm feeling start to take over your chest as you hear his words. The man who's appreciated and idolized by millions saying these things so casually to you, you still can't get your mind around it.

Then the reporter use his luck to ask a risky question one more time.

"it's look like you two have a great relationship together, what do you think about marriage Mr Ryomen?"

To that question Sukuna doesn't respond but instead returns a well knowing little grin as he waves off the interview.

"Tch why did they ruin the moment by asking that, now it looks like he doesn't want to marry me" you said to yourself.

Just as you were about to leave to the kitchen to grab a snack, something shining inside the closet that Sukuna forgot to shut earlier catches your eyes.

Hidden by the cloth piles it was a little jewelry box that had familiar initials on top of it.

It was none other than yours and Sukuna's.

Wait..

No that can't be, Yeah maybe this is the earrings he wanted to give you before.

But much to your surprise the box opened up to reveal a gorgeous wedding ring. A big diamond you sure costed atleast 5 six figures alone sitting on top of it. Inside the ring you and Sukuna's initials were carved into it making it seem even more special to your eyes.

Your heart is jumping from excitement and happiness, everything about your life is starting to get better and better and you can't help but thank Sukuna for it.

You don't want to ruin the surprise he planned for you of course. So you put the box back to it's place and sit on the bed till he's done showering patiently but the stupid smile you had since earlier didn't left your face for once.

"Alright I'm done showering let's slee- what's with you?"

"What's with me? nothing Ryo"

"You're are smiling very creepily woman"

"Ryo that's mean! My smile is not creepy!"

"Yeah whatever come here, freak"

Sukuna says as he drags you closer to his side of the bed while turning off the bedside lamp at the same time. Your bodies intertwine with each other like it was always meant to be. Sukuna's hands wrapping around you as he buries his face into your neck.

"Ryo?"

"hmm"

"I love you"

You can feel a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I love you too princess, more than anything"

Boxing Kuna is my favorite <33

No grammar checks though sorry :/

[harrysfolklore]

yes do the lewis fic pleaseee

short and sweet bc i promised anon i would do ittt i hope you like it

You're fidgeting with your rings - his rings, actually, that you stole months ago - when Lewis notices your knee bouncing for the hundredth time. The arena feels too warm despite your backless Valentino.

"You're going to drill a hole through the floor, love," he murmurs, leaning close enough that his lips brush your ear. His hand finds yours, warm and steady.

"Easy for you to be calm," you whisper back. "You've won eight world championships."

"Seven," he corrects automatically, making you roll your eyes.

"The eighth was robbed and we all know it." It's an old argument, one that makes him smile every time. "Besides, this is different. This is-"

"This is you about to win Song of the Year," he finishes, so confident it makes your heart ache.

You turn to face him properly, taking in how unfairly good he looks in his suit. "How are you so sure?"

"Because," he says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "I was there when you wrote it at 3 AM on my kitchen floor. When you called me crying because the bridge wasn't right."

"You're biased," you argue, but you're smiling now. "You have to say that. It's in the boyfriend contract."

"Ah yes, the famous 'support your controversially young girlfriend' clause," he teases, and you can't help but laugh. It's become a running joke between you, how the media can't seem to get over your age gap.

"Speaking of which, did you see that headline yesterday? 'Grammy Nominee Spotted Looking Cozy with Elder Statesman of F1'?"

Lewis groans. "Elder statesman? I'm forty, not dead."

"Ancient," you declare solemnly. "Practically fossilized."

He's about to retort when Taylor Swift takes the stage, and suddenly you can't breathe again. Lewis must feel you tense because his hand tightens around yours.

"Hey," he says softly. "Whatever happens, you've already won. Seven nominations in your first year? That's unheard of."

"I just want-" you start, but then Taylor's speaking.

"Music tells our stories," she's saying. "And sometimes, a song comes along that captures something so real, so raw, that it changes how we see love itself..."

You feel Lewis shift beside you, and when you glance over, he's already watching you with that look - the one he gave you the first time you played him this song, the one that makes you feel invincible.

"And the Grammy goes to..." Taylor's smiling now, like she knows something. "'Birds of a feather!"

The world stops. Starts. Explodes.

Lewis is up first, pulling you into his arms before you can even process what's happening. "That's my girl," he whispers fiercely against your hair. "I told you, didn't I? I told you."

You're crying already, you can feel it, but you don't care. His hands cup your face and he's beaming at you with more pride than you've ever seen - more than after any pole position or race win.

"Go get your Grammy, superstar," he says, and then he's gently pushing you toward the aisle.

The walk to the stage feels infinite. You're aware of everything - the weight of your dress, the cameras following you, the deafening applause. But mostly, you're aware of Lewis in the front row, standing and clapping like he's watching the love of his life win Song of the Year at the Grammys (which, you suppose, he is).

"Oh god," you start, gripping the golden gramophone like a lifeline. "I wrote this song about falling in love. About meeting someone who changes everything when you least expect it."

You find his eyes in the crowd, and suddenly it's just the two of you.

"I should probably thank Formula 1 for canceling that race in Singapore, or I never would've been in that hotel bar, jetlagged and grumpy, when this absolutely ridiculous man in the most expensive hoodie I'd ever seen asked if he could buy me a drink."

The audience laughs, and Lewis is shaking his head, grinning that grin that still makes your knees weak.

"To Lewis - thank you for being the most unexpected plot twist of my life. For showing me that timing is everything, even when Twitter thinks our timing is inappropriate." More laughter. "For listening to every demo at 3 AM, for believing in me when I was just another girl with a piano and a dream..."

You're fully crying now, but so is he, so it's okay.

"For never once making me feel too young or too inexperienced, for teaching me that love doesn't follow anyone's timeline but its own. And yes, I know this speech is probably going viral for all the wrong reasons, but you taught me that sometimes the best stories are the ones nobody sees coming. I love you."

The camera cuts to Lewis, who's not even trying to hide his tears. But neither of you seem to care at the moment.

Later, after winning four out of your seven nominations, you're in the back of the car heading home. Your head's on his shoulder, Grammy in your lap, when he speaks.

"You know what this means, right?"

"Hmm?"

"Now I have to win the championship this year. Can't have you showing me up with all these trophies."

You laugh, snuggling closer. "Better get practicing then, old man."

"Menace," he mutters fondly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

[vanitythevantropist]

OOOOO I like this one :DDD

Imma go with this one👇 (His name is Quill btw)

1. Chris McLain (or howver tf you spell it) from Total Drama the original series :3

2. Canonically, he’s best friends with an alien cat named Spine who is a fire dancer! Working out the kinks on how they met so👉👈

3. Ermmmmmm… Immortals by Fall Out Boy

4. He does not have a love interest, he’s too swag for that

5. See above

6. He is a gunsmith canonically so prolly that👀

7. If he was in a fantasy setting, he’d be some guy who is WAAYY too confident in the world full of giants and dwarves n shit

8. His main hobbies - besides making guns cuz it’s his job - would be dress making, actually :3 He’s very into cross dressing and likes tailoring his own stuff, along with doing traditional at for the funsies and going scrapping (looking for scraps in the junk yard)

9. He takes very good care of himself as he wants to look pretty 24/7 and succeeds better than most people

10. He’s very very bad at it :) Just pretends everything’s fine and covers it all with humour because he has issues

11. He was originally a side character in a Mandelorian ripoff story I made when I was 14 but he overshadowed the mc of that story cuz he’s just like that lmao (Idk what directly inspired him tho)

12. Yesh, I have done sum roleplays with a friend! Their OC is named Junko and they get along well cuz they’re so similar

13. To be determined

14. See above (there are so few characters in this story cuz Quill is my world and my soul)

15. He’ll die before he ever retires (he refuses)

16. He was created in a test tube so that may be a little complicated :)

17. He would not have children as he ain’t that kinda guy but I imagine he would be the fun but kinda forgetful parents who lets their children wield guns (one’s average american, basically)

18. He goes by he/him :3

19. He is aro/ace! His main love language is physical touch (friendly hugs n kisses for the homies)

20. GUNS GUNS GUNS

21. To be determined (it might be Anything You Can Do with basically anyone tho)

22. In rough situations, FIGHT. Lover or a fighter? Imma go with ‘it’s conplicated’

23. Abso-fuckin-lutely! Feeling sad? This man will be there in under five minutes with snacks and a nice warm blankey for you in case you’re sad, as well as all the necessary tools to fix your tire!

24. He isn’t a musical guy

25. Yes absolutely he does it most of the time👀 Walkin down the street, running sum errands, in the middle of a battle, whatever, it’s singin time

26. Errmmmm… I have no idea, what do you think?

27. In spirit, a fox. In appearance, ehhh-

28. Oh my god I need to ask you if I should tag you in this cuz this is such a good idea (high school clique? He’d be the guy whose strangely popular with everyone despite hanging with the weird kids)

29. GUG, see question above !!

30. Quill is very glad that someone wants to be his friend :3 Most people do not

Anyways, ty forthis, it was fun <3 Now y’all have sum lore✨ Have fun~

Fuck it, OC brain rot won. Get ready for the Secret Ask List

1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who?

2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

3) What song describes your OC?

4) What song describes your OC and their partner/love interest?

5) Do you ship your OC with a Canon character? If so who?

6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

7) Vice-Versa! If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be? Would they be a different race?

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

15) Will your OC ever retire? Do you see them making it?

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

17) If your OC has kids, are they a good parent? Do they ever feel guilty if they have to leave them?

18) What are their pronouns? What would they like to be called?

19) What's their sexuality? What's their love language both giving and receiving?

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

21) What song best describes their relationship with their enemy?

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

29) Imagine a mood board for your OC! What's on it? (Make it if you want!)

30) My OC and your OC are friends. This isn't a question. I'm not asking. (How do they respond?)

[kashverse]

us and geto having a selfcare day together? haircare, skincare, masks, nails all that good sh★t

wishing all the gays and girls and everyone in between to find a man like this 🙉💗🕺💐 happy birthday getooo <3

self-care sundays with your fiancé suguru are an event. they require extensive planning, a dedicated budget (suguru’s black card), and, most importantly, the unwavering commitment to looking unreasonably good while doing absolutely nothing.

the setup is pristine: warm candlelight flickering on the dresser, a bluetooth speaker playing kali uchis like it’s a sacred ritual, and your bed covered in self-care products. you’re both dressed in matching cow-print pajamas, a last-minute online impulse buy that suguru pretended to be unimpressed with but now wears with a very unserious level of smugness.

“ready?” you ask, holding up a jar of an expensive face mask. suguru tilts his head, arms crossed. “depends. is this the one that tingles and makes me question my choices, or the one that smells like an overpriced smoothie?”

“the latter,” you assure him, unscrewing the lid. “but we’re double-masking today, so you’ll get to experience both.” his dramatic sigh is muffled when you smear the cold mask over his face. suguru, being the effortlessly attractive menace that he is, somehow still looks good—even with streaks of green goop on his cheeks. he doesn’t even flinch. a seasoned veteran.

“i see you got everything from the list,” you say, reaching for the body butter. “of course. do you think i’d let you down?” he grins, stretching out his legs as he watches you. “i was a man on a mission at sephora. dodged at least five aggressive salespeople, flashed my wedding band to scare off a few flirts, and even walked out with my dignity intact.”

“that’s debatable,” you mutter, scooping out a generous amount of cream and rubbing it into your arms. he narrows his eyes. “i’ll have you know i was very graceful.”

“you spent thirty minutes contemplating which cuticle oil was ‘more luxurious.’”

“and look at us now. thriving,” he retorts, wiggling his fingers at you. “unbothered. moisturized. focused. flourishing.” you snort and reach for his hands, rubbing the excess body butter into his palms. he watches you closely, eyes half-lidded, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. suguru loves this part—where you take his hands and carefully massage each finger like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“i still can’t believe you dropped two hundred dollars on a serum,” you tease, reaching for the bottle in question. “oh, we’re still on that?” he chuckles. “you act like i don’t drop that on lunch.”

“lunch feeds you. this makes you glow.”

“and isn’t my glow worth every penny?” he flutters his lashes dramatically. you roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile creeping onto your face. “yeah, yeah. close your eyes.”

he obeys without question as you pat the serum into his skin, gentle and precise. suguru has the nerve to sigh like you’ve just lifted all his worries off his shoulders. “you are so spoiled,” you murmur, rubbing the product into his temples. he hums, eyes still closed. “and whose fault is that?” you smack his arm lightly, and he chuckles, leaning in to press a lazy kiss to your jaw.

once your faces are sufficiently pampered, suguru lounges against the pillows, eyes tracking your movements as you grab the nail polish. “so, what’s the color of the week?” he asks.

“baby pink,” you reply, shaking the bottle. his brows lift. “not my usual black?”

“nope. we’re doing soft aesthetic suguru this week.”

he doesn’t argue. he never does. instead, he stretches his hand toward you with all the regality of a man who has fully accepted his fate. “paint away, my love.” you start with his pinky, carefully brushing on the color, while suguru watches you like you’re the most interesting thing in the world.

“i love you, you know,” he says suddenly, voice soft.

your brush pauses for half a second before you resume, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “i know,” you say. “you show me all the time.”

his thumb traces lazy circles on your knee. “i’m gonna keep showing you. every day.”

your chest feels full. warm. like this moment—cow pajamas, kali uchis playing, suguru’s gentle affection—is something sacred.

“good,” you murmur. “now hold still, i’m not redoing these nails if you smudge them.”

he grins. “you're the boss.”

[that-dumb-moth]

Okay, so, fucking PSA. Please read if you're interested in helping either Robert Kurvitz, the Disco Elysium team, or the Internet Archive:

DO NOT CLAIM THAT KURVITZ UPLOADED A COPY OF DISCO ELISYUM ON THE INTERNET ARCHIVE, REPORT THE UPLOAD, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Internet Archive:

I'm a person that enjoys community projects like the Internet Archive. They hold crucial positions in public knowledge and do not deserve to be labeled "piracy dens" and do not deserve the legal difficulties associated. By sharing copies of software whose copyright holders still actually care instead of reporting them, you are putting the Internet Archive at risk. Once the Internet Archive gets sued into oblivion, you will no longer have the wayback machine, thousands of copies of scans of rare books and boxes will be lost, and endless piles of abandonware trapped in long outdated storage mediums and standards will no longer be used again. And even worse, once corporations learn that legal pressure is enough to take out public knowledge, they will press down hard on services like the ones Wikimedia offers (that includes wikipedia if you're unaware). Say goodbye to the crowdsourced knowledge of old, and hello to corporate refined knowledge, likely alot of which is AI generated.

Robert Kurvitz

Robert Kurvitz has a very poor relationship with ZA/UM and thus, it doesn't take long to tie a motive to him publishing pirated copies of DE. And as he's the one with the motive and not Internet Archive, it's entirely possible legal action could be pointed at Kurvitz instead or worse, also. And that's where the problem occurs... people keep claiming the file was uploaded by Kurvitz himself. But that's a claim made by the uninformed. The way the Internet Archive works is that each file uploaded is primarily credited to their original authors with credit to the uploader placed to the side. However, people sharing the file are claiming that, due to a misunderstanding, Kurvitz is the one who uploaded the file. When in reality, it was a person using a pseudonym. This simple mistake can undoubtedly prove disastrous.

The DE Team

There's no doubt that the team behind DE were immensely fucked over. And we truly need to fight against that scumbaggery. So, how do you support the DE team? First off, don't pay for DE. And if you're not willing to go to the greynet, just don't fucking play the game. I'm sorry, but hosting pirated games on honest sites like the IA just causes more trouble than needed. Also, please, do not share links to pirated copies and more importantly, don't try claiming the devs endorse piracy. Even if they do. Corporations are little shits that like to sue you over everything.

I don't know if any of that makes any sense. But thank you anyways for reading this.

[spamblog-w]

tbh I can XD

I adore sleeping in but we do have a garden and when I have to - I can wake up earlier

not that I dream about it, I hate this work, it's hard and in most cases useless, you do a lot and have basically nothing out of that, this is my family's garden and I wish I didn't have it - we always have too many apples and they rot before we pick them up then rot because we don't have ideas what to do with them anymore, we eat squash/cucurbit or however it's called all summer long as well as string beans until we can't anymore, carrots and tomatoes are so tiny and I hate that they smell and taste like the literal ground - they sometimes have to lay at home to get red because they fall as green often, snails eat everything (so no lettuce for example), it's always too dry or too wet for veggies - we water them few times a day when it's a hot summer, my neighbor tries to poison us and I have to check whatever he's doing at the time and his rotten plums fall onto my stuff grrr, potatoes will be eaten by beetles probably, I enjoy my chives though, pears are hard to bite and our cherries tree broke during thunderstorm, we used to have raspberries but blackberries are always attacked by ants, tree diseases are a pain in the ass, then there are cats (not mine) who will ruin everything because why not :)

obviously you need compost, you need to dig through the ground before you plant anything, you need to remember when to plant something, you need to cover it all before birds will eat it out, you need to sign where something grows, you need to pull weeds that grow faster/easier/better than anything else

everyone romanticises those stuff but when your back hurts in the evening, you have dirt under your nails, you find larvae/dead bugs and spiders crawling around constantly, you burn in the sun, mosquitos eat you alive, you have to kneel for hours, you ruin your clothes and then you go back the next morning and everything is fucked then you'll see how fun it is...

sorry - you can have a different opinion, some love gardening, some are more lucky at this probably too but I just can't stand it as I lived like this over 30 years but if you someone would have to survive then I guess I would be a bit helpful haha

*I know farming is about animals and I only had chickens but they're amazing and pretty easy to take care of compared, I adored it and recommend but you have to watch out for rats, foxes, martens and birds that hunt in the area, no idea about cows and wouldn't raise a pig nor bunnies to kill 'em later but if I had to choose then I would totally choose bunnies over pigs

[strwbrychffoncke]

"tell me why would we be here if this ain't meant to be?,, <1k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: your souls tethered together in an invisible bond ,words aren't always needed to spell out your shared feelings for one another contains: fluff! lnds sylus x mc!reader ,established relationship ,soft!sylus ,minimal dialogue ,cozy atmosphere ,kissing ,making out ,napping together ,v vague reference to sylus myth ,i think thats it note: (mostly edited!) something short and simple since i spoiled sylus the other day....

-

you liked it like this.

the base was quiet this time around. the twins handled some small errands today while mephisto was sent out to gather any notable intel in preparation for an upcoming auction. sylus had his work cut out for him to check over before the day in several weeks to come.

despite this, you found yourself in the warm embrace of none other than the onychinus leader himself— sleeved arms wrapped snuggly around your center, holding you close to his slowly rising and falling chest, nose nestled above your head, breathing in the sweet scent of your hair care products. he sighs in contentment.

you liked it like this.

you were curled up close against him, his warmth seeping through his loungewear into your fingertips and further down your body, calm breaths mingling together in the quiet of the room— save for one of sylus' many, many records spinning on the nearby record player, needle dragging across the thin indented lines of the large flat disk, the slight skip it makes going unnoticed by you, but sylus makes a mental note to clean it thoroughly later.

you liked it like this.

no words needed to be exchanged in this moment between the two of you. the momentary solace of being with each other like this, consumed within each others space, safe within the others' arms— even if you wanted to chastise sylus for putting off his work, you couldn't bring yourself to chase him away from the comfort he held you in right now. you tighten your hold on him, nuzzling your face deeper into his chest.

you liked it like this.

you feel the rumble of his laughter through his chest, his body shaking slightly with the action as his hands begin to caress your head in a steady pattern, one after the other, further coaxing you closer to him if that were even possible.

"holding me hostage here? how will i ever get back to work?"

his tone is a mix of teasing and amused, affectionately petting your hair as one would the soft head of an affectionate cat.

"you can't, you're not allowed to," you declare, peeking up at him, eyes creased in amusement and promise.

"i'd never even consider it, sweetie," he muses, eyes meeting yours before leaning down to plant a sweet kiss onto your head.

you like it like this.

you could feel his heartbeat at this proximity, rhythm quick yet steady— a measure of his feelings for you, his contentedness in having you with him here, just like this, together in his dim bedroom, the moon casting its glow on the two entangled lovers in their moment of respite. you can't help but to tug on the fabric of his soft sleep shirt suddenly, pulling back slightly only to lean up when he peers down at you and capturing his lips with yours.

you like it like this.

your lips mesh and meld together easily, instinctually, slow and loving, in no rush for anything in this sacred space for two where the concept of time itself ceases to exist, leaning closer into each other, your hands gripping the shirt covering his chest and one of sylus' hands coming up to cup your cheek, tilting your head while coaxing you flat onto your back as he deepens the affection, swallowing your breaths and pouring everything he has to offer right into you.

you like it like this.

after who knows how long, he finally pulls back, hands planted on each side of your head, watching you from his angle above as you pant out into the air, catching your breath and peering back into his shimmering gaze, nothing but adoration glowing within his irises taking in your messy hair, bare face, loose clothes splayed across your figure, eyes reflecting the same shine back into his. he lifts a hand to hold your cheek, watching you nuzzle into it as his thumb caresses the soft flesh.

you like it like this.

in no time at all, you're both laying back on your sides, facing each other as his large arms encircle you, pulling you flush against him once more. your legs entangle together as he pecks your cheek and feels your smile against him, arms hugging his waist, head resting against his beating heart once again. with the lull of the music seeping back into the space, you feel the grips of sleeping tugging at your consciousness, eyes fluttering shut and breaths evening out.

you like it like this.

and sylus keeps you there, close to him, in this loving space for two, caressing your hair until he feels the even inhale and exhale, peeking down at your sleeping face and planting one more kiss onto it before he allows his own eyes slip shut. he can adapt to any place so long as he was willing, but the unspoken truth beneath that certainty was that was only so long as it was with you. and he's satisfied having you here, just like this, secured against him.

he likes it like this.

he allows himself this moment of respite with you, in his bedroom, slowly slipping into slumber himself to indulge in this nap with you, not a care in the world for the work he has to deal with— when he has you in his arms like this, he thinks that can wait for later. the last of his consciousness leaves him and a small smile graces his lips as he enters a beautiful dream.

from back in his sacred cave to now, he wouldn't want it any other way.

-

a/n: another experimental(?) writing style; the vibes of the song helped me paint this picture thank u kali uchis

-

[voxslays]

WOULD THEY DEGRADE YOU? — SQUID GAMES

GI-HUN

𑁍༘ Absolutely not. He loves you way too much. However, I don’t think Gi-hun would praise you, per se, during sex. I think he’d be too busy grunting and groaning, or making no sounds at all—except for his strong, heavy breathing..

NAM-GYU

𑁍༘ Hell yes he would. This man is rude and abrasive just for the hell of it. Nam-gyu is a true sadist at heart. He doesn’t care for your pleasure, in fact, he likes brining you pain. That also translates over to his words. He will call you things like ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ regularly.

DAE-HO

𑁍༘ Like Gi-hun, he would never dream of degrading you. This man does not have a single mean bone in his body. He is constantly telling you how good you’re doing and checking he’s not pushing to deep or hurting you every five seconds. A true sweetheart.

IN-HO

𑁍༘ Yes and no. I’d imagine that after years of isolation and loneliness after the death of his late wife, In-ho somewhat struggles expressing his emotions. I don’t think he’d straight up call you whore, but he might say something like ‘you can take it’ even if you think you can’t.

THE SALESMAN

𑁍༘ Yes, but in a classy way. To him, you’re like one of his playthings in a way. He might call you his toy, or say ‘you’re such a good little toy f’me.’ If you catch my drift. Like Nam-gyu he is an obvious sadist. However, I do think he would praise you every once in a while.

THANOS

𑁍༘ This man is a mix of everything, thanks to the drugs in his system. This 100% transfers over to your sex lives. When under the influence, Thanos is a lot more likely to be rough and mean. But when he’s sober? Depending on his mood, he can be one of the softest men ever.

[seitmai]

“What did she say?” Steve whispered to break the silence. “You heard what she said. Everyone heard it,” Sam whispered back, giving you a quizzical stare. “How many drinks have you had?” You held up a finger followed by another couple. “Like this many. And water. Hydration is so important.”

Hahah this just cracked me up 😂

“Yeah, I know. He’s hot. We all know he’s hot,” you shrugged. “And I said what I said.”

Period

You were careful not to be cruel if you disagreed with anyone, but you still led with honesty. Alcohol didn’t change that. So, if you said you thought Bucky was hot and you wanted him to fuck you raw, you meant it.

Honesty to a fault 🤷🏻‍♀️😅

“And you know he’s sitting next to you, right?” she asked. You downed the rest of your drink and shrugged again. “Yeah, I know. And I’d let him fuck me raw. Every day. Twice on Sundays,” you said unapologetically as Steve coughed. You swung your head toward Bucky with a sultry smile and leaned in a little closer. He smelled your perfume before you sat down tonight, but now the sweet smell combined with your natural scent was making him dizzy. “You’d fuck me raw, right? Maybe fuck me from behind so you can get nice and deep.”

No holding back hahah

Bucky heard Thor’s footsteps, but didn’t take his eyes off you as the God of Thunder took a seat. “Clearly, I’ve missed something.” “I said I want Bucky to fuck me raw,” you said without missing a beat. And your bluntness didn’t seem to bother the blonde. “I thought you two were already having relations. With how close you two-”

I love how unbothered and 0% of shocked Thor is 😂

“Is that not what they’re discussing?” Thor asked, taking a sip from his flask. “Though if there is no protection there is the risk of procreating, but they would have beautiful offspring.”

I can't 😂😂😂

“And if a breeding kink is what you’re into, actually breeding me or not, I’m all for it. I’m wet just thinking about it.” Thor laughed and held up his flask. “That’s the spirit.”

Thor is killing me 😂

Bucky’s cock twitched in his pants. “I know you’re wet. I can smell it,” he all but growled. He inhaled so deeply he could actually taste it, and he wanted more. And if he could smell it, Steve could smell it. "Okay then.” Clint removed his hearing aid. “I think I’m done.”

No Clint removing his hearing aid 😂

“Breed her well, Barnes. Make us proud!” Thor shouted. Steve hauled him from the room, too, with Clint hot on their tail.

I'm so sad, I loved Thor’s commentary 😅

“I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable or weird. I’d never want that.” “That’s the last thing I feel,” he exhaled, still gripping your arms when you finally moved into his lap and straddled him. “Good,” you smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

Perfect 😌

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life,” he admitted, brushing a tear away that fell. “But you’ve been drinking, and that means you can’t fully consent, and I will not take advantage of you, no matter how you say you want me or this. I respect and care for you too much for that.” HYDRA took consent away from Bucky for a long time, and it was one of the worst feelings in the world. He’d hate himself for doing anything with you without your full consent. He wouldn’t be the kind of man who did that. The man you deserved would be the one who properly took care of you in and out of bed.

He is just the best 🥰🥹

However you wanted your first time to be, he'd make it happen. He'd make love to you or fuck you or both. As long as there was clear consent and communication, he’d give you everything you needed and more, and he knew you'd do the same for him.

🥰🥰🥰

The smile you gave him repaired the cracks in his heart. “You’re a good guy, Bucky,” you said, snuggling against him. “And it isn’t just sex I want, but, well, I do want to have sex with you.” “You’re adorable,” he chuckled and rested his chin on your head. “And I know. It isn't just sex I want either.”

Ahh this was just the perfect mix of spicy, cute and hilarious 👏🏻

Love drunk Bucky! What about a drunk reader?

Yes, we've seen drunk!Bucky in Pretty Girl. A drunk reader could be fun.

Your Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You're very vocal about wanting Bucky Barnes.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Drunk reader with no filter, drunk confession, dirty talk, humor, slight feels, talk of consent and communication, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Raw. Next question.”

You sipped your drink, the room going eerily silent. It was the quietest it had been since everyone gathered in the lounge for some drinks hours ago. Pairs of eyes stared at you with a mix of fascination and shock as your words hung in the air.

Just moments ago, Clint had been going through his phone and showing everyone candid photos he managed to snap of everyone. Most of them were hilarious, but the most recent one wasn't hilarious at all. It was clearly hot based on your reaction.

“What did she say?” Steve whispered to break the silence.

“You heard what she said. Everyone heard it,” Sam whispered back, giving you a quizzical stare. “How many drinks have you had?”

You held up a finger followed by another couple. “Like this many. And water. Hydration is so important.”

“Hold on. Back to what you said a second ago.” Clint turned the phone toward him with a raised brow and slowly turned it back toward you so you could see it again. “You know that’s a picture of Barnes, right? Not some model or actor?” he asked.

Bucky Barnes, the beefy super soldier who was trying not to shatter the bottle in his metal hand as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes. Clint managed to snap a photo of him when he removed his shirt after a recent workout, which begged the question of why he was taking the photo to begin with. Bucky wasn’t looking at the camera since his eyes were shut, but his parted mouth, slightly messy hair, and sweat shining off his torso made him look like a thirst trap. The sweatpants only made the picture that much hotter.

“Yeah, I know. He’s hot. We all know he’s hot,” you shrugged. “And I said what I said.”

Bucky audibly exhaled. You had a penchant for being very honest with the team which they appreciated. If someone asked for your opinion or thoughts on something you didn’t hide how you felt. You were careful not to be cruel if you disagreed with anyone, but you still led with honesty. Alcohol didn’t change that.

So, if you said you thought Bucky was hot and you wanted him to fuck you raw, you meant it.

Clint exchanged a quick glance with Natasha before the redhead nodded to the spot beside you. The spy looked like she was having a hard time not smiling. “And you know he’s sitting next to you, right?” she asked.

You downed the rest of your drink and shrugged again. “Yeah, I know. And I’d let him fuck me raw. Every day. Twice on Sundays,” you said unapologetically as Steve coughed. You swung your head toward Bucky with a sultry smile and leaned in a little closer. He smelled your perfume before you sat down tonight, but now the sweet smell combined with your natural scent was making him dizzy. “You’d fuck me raw, right? Maybe fuck me from behind so you can get nice and deep.”

The bottle shattered which only made you smile more. Bucky’s nostrils flared and everyone backed up a few inches, except for you, the newest member of the team. The person who loved to leave little treats and snacks for him to make sure he ate throughout the day. The same person who made a show of bending over and stretching in front of him whenever you two worked out together. The only one who seemed to get a real smile out of him since you showed up like a shining beacon of happiness and sass.

And now you were telling him you want him to fuck you. Raw. He thought about it, of course- how wet and snug you’d feel around his bare cock, how you’d take him like a good girl. He pictured you sobbing his name and squirming as he pinned you down and brought you over the edge again and again. Licking his lips, he imagined the taste of your arousal on his tongue and wondered if he could make you squirt. He sure as hell wanted to try.

Bucky heard Thor’s footsteps, but didn’t take his eyes off you as the God of Thunder took a seat. “Clearly, I’ve missed something.”

“I said I want Bucky to fuck me raw,” you said without missing a beat.

Bucky bit back a groan. He was two seconds away from throwing you over his shoulder like a caveman and taking you away from everyone. There were so many filthy things he wanted to say and do to you…

And your bluntness didn’t seem to bother the blonde. “I thought you two were already having relations. With how close you two-”

“I’m sorry. Did you just say ‘relations’?” Clint asked. “Relations.”

“Is that not what they’re discussing?” Thor asked, taking a sip from his flask. “Though if there is no protection there is the risk of procreating, but they would have beautiful offspring.”

You leaned in a bit closer, but Bucky gripped your arms to move you away from his spot. “I don't want the glass to cut you.”

“You're so thoughtful. And amazing,” you smiled. He adored your smile. “And if a breeding kink is what you’re into, actually breeding me or not, I’m all for it. I’m wet just thinking about it.”

Thor laughed and held up his flask. “That’s the spirit.”

Bucky’s cock twitched in his pants. “I know you’re wet. I can smell it,” he all but growled. He inhaled so deeply he could actually taste it, and he wanted more. And if he could smell it, Steve could smell it.

“Okay then.” Clint removed his hearing aid. “I think I’m done.”

Steve jumped up when his best friend glared at him. “I think I’m done, too,” he said, not wanting to face Bucky’s wrath even though it wasn’t his fault he also had heightened senses.

“Let’s go, boys. I think these two should talk without us,” Natasha suggested, hauling Sam up by the arm and giving both of you a wink. “Be good, okay?”

“No promises,” you replied in a sing-song voice.

“Shouldn’t they get a room? I’m just saying,” Sam said as Natasha dragged him away.

“Breed her well, Barnes. Make us proud!” Thor shouted. Steve hauled him from the room, too, with Clint hot on their tail.

“Alone at last,” you giggled. If you were at all embarrassed, it didn’t show. And now that the two of you were alone, the tension skyrocketed. “You know, this isn't how I pictured saying any of this, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” he said. He couldn't believe you wanted him, but you did.

“I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable or weird. I’d never want that.”

“That’s the last thing I feel,” he exhaled, still gripping your arms when you finally moved into his lap and straddled him.

“Good,” you smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

As much as he wanted to feel your lips against his, he stopped you. And as much as he wanted to tear your leggings away and have you then and there, but he couldn’t. “I’m not fucking you. Not tonight.”

The playfulness slipped from your eyes. So did the smile from your face. “Oh. I thought…” you breathed, looking away and quickly blinking. God, he hoped there weren’t tears in your eyes. “You don’t actually want me, do you?”

Bucky hadn’t meant for his words or stopping the kiss to come across as rejection, but that was exactly what happened. “That’s not–”

“Oh, my God. I ruined everything, didn't I? Why did I open my mouth?” You sniffled and tried to move away, but he wouldn't let you. “Six months of friendship and crushing on you and I-”

“Hey. You didn't ruin a thing.” Bucky gripped your chin with tenderness he didn’t think he was capable of anymore, and his heart broke when he saw the tears swimming in your beautiful eyes. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life,” he admitted, brushing a tear away that fell. “But you’ve been drinking, and that means you can’t fully consent, and I will not take advantage of you, no matter how you say you want me or this. I respect and care for you too much for that.”

HYDRA took consent away from Bucky for a long time, and it was one of the worst feelings in the world. He’d hate himself for doing anything with you without your full consent. He wouldn’t be the kind of man who did that. The man you deserved would be the one who properly took care of you in and out of bed.

And he’d be the best man for you if you let him.

“So, you do want me?” you asked, your voice uncertain.

“I did say more than anyone else, and I meant it,” he replied. You had to believe him. “But our first time should happen when you're sober.”

However you wanted your first time to be, he'd make it happen. He'd make love to you or fuck you or both. As long as there was clear consent and communication, he’d give you everything you needed and more, and he knew you'd do the same for him.

The smile you gave him repaired the cracks in his heart. “You’re a good guy, Bucky,” you said, snuggling against him. “And it isn’t just sex I want, but, well, I do want to have sex with you.”

“You’re adorable,” he chuckled and rested his chin on your head. “And I know. It isn't just sex I want either.”

Bucky wanted to take you to bed, but he also wanted to take you out on dates. He wanted to make you laugh and smile, wipe your tears and comfort you when you cried, and be the one you confided in. He wanted to be your man, and he wanted you to be his best girl.

“I wanna be yours,” you sighed as if you read his mind, his heart skipping a beat. “Can I be your girl?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes when he kissed the top of your head. “You can be my girl.”

And tomorrow once you were sober, he’d officially ask you to be his girl.

Happy Moanday, lovelies! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

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