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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 5 days ago

Text

"Real Man"

Older Au Chapter 3.

THIS IS A MATURE STORY. IT HAS SOME SEXUAL SENCES, IF YOU DONT LIKE DON'T READ. Ok yall ik i said i was gonna post this last night but i hated it so i rewrote it! if it sucks don't say anything pls. sorry if it's repetitive, lmk whose team ur on!!! And what you want to happen next. comments, reblogs, likes and kind asks are always appreciated. If this one random anon keeps sending theses crazy things, i'll have to remove anon asks, which I dont want to do. I love my anons, so pls be nice. Send in asks, I miss yall, I've been sooooo busy with school lately and I havent had time to get on here. THIS IS MY 1ST TIME WRITNG ANYTHING LIKE THIS SO LMK HOW IT ISSSSS

WHY AM I GETTING THE FEWLINF EVERYONE HATES THIS??? IM ABT TO DELEYEB TS NGL 😭

Six months had passed since that night—the night you let Slade’s words sink into your skin like venom and made the choice that changed everything. For better and worse.

You hadn't accepted his offer easily. Not after what happened with Two-Face. That betrayal still sat in your chest like a dull ache, a constant reminder of how easily people could take what they wanted and leave you with nothing. You had sworn not to trust so easily again, not to let yourself fall into another cycle of being used and discarded. So when Slade made his offer, you hesitated.

"You're smarter than this," you had told yourself that night. "You know what happens when you trust the wrong person. You know what men like him want."

And yet, here you were. Living in his world.

Not as a prisoner, not as a puppet, but as something more. The lines were blurred, shifting with every glance, every order he gave that you didn’t question, every moment that stretched too long in the dim glow of your shared space. Because that’s what it was now, shared.

The apartment Slade had set up was far from a safe house. It was huge and spacious, Slade wasn't a cheap man. It felt lived in. Your things mingled with his, your scent lingering in the air. You bought vases and filled them with flowers, you organized the kitchen and bought him real groceries, not just canned food. You hung pictures you developed of you and him. Ones he didn't know you took. You roped him into painting your room a baby blue, a color he swore he hated, yet he still slept in your room every night. It was comical to see such a large man laying in a pastel colored room on your floral bedsheets, the last man you let into your bed was equally large. But we don't talk about him.

Slade cared for you deeply, or at least tolerated you. At first you were always at each others throats, each person throwing a more cutting remark than the other. When your arguements got so bad that you began to ignore him, he brought home women, made sure he heard them moaning through the walls till you snapped and began screaming.

You hated Slade Wilson

But after the first month things began to change, Slade never said anything about it, but you caught the way his eyes would darken when he returned from a mission, his gaze sweeping over you like he needed to confirm you were still here. Like he expected you to disappear.

You leaned against the counter, watching him from the corner of your eye as he cleaned his weapons. The rhythmic motion of his hands, the way he handled each blade with the kind of care most reserved for something fragile, it was almost mesmerizing. Everything he does is.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up. God, he's so smug.

You scoffed. "No, you are. I don't stare at creepy old men. In fact, it's usually the opposite."

His lips curled into that knowing smirk, the one that made something tighten in your chest. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

The nickname used to irritate you. Now, you weren’t sure what it did. All you knew was that it made your heart race the way only one person had before. He used to call you sweetheart too.

Slade’s presence in your life was suffocating, an unshakable force that wrapped itself around you, squeezing tighter with every passing day. He was cruel in the way he trained you, brutal in his expectations. If you failed, he had no patience for it. Slade trained you for greatness and he wouldn't tolerate anything less.

“You call that a punch?” he sneered one evening in your early days of training, after you had barely managed to land a hit on him. “Pathetic. I’ve seen senior citizens put up more of a fight,"

Gritting your teeth, you launched at him again, only for him to sidestep effortlessly. A sharp pain bloomed across your ribs as he shoved you down, hard. The thing that you loved and hated most about Slade was that he treated you like an equal. He didn't see you as his younger, fragile, kind-of girlfriend; he saw you as an equal opponent.

“You hesitated,” he said, standing over you. “That hesitation will get you killed.”

You spat blood onto the mat and glared up at him. “Or maybe I just don’t care if I live or die. Nothing is ever really this serious.”

Something flickered in his eye, dark and unreadable, before he crouched beside you. His fingers dug into your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He didn't understand your humor sometimes, considering he's old enough to be your father.

“Oh, but you do, you want to survive. To be great, ” he murmured, voice dangerously soft. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

He let go of you with a sharp shove and stood. “Get up. We’re not done.”

The tension between you both had only grown over the months. Slade had a way of pressing in, invading your space without ever needing to touch you. Sure you guys fucked almost twice, sometimes three times a week, but there was that small sliver of confusion and hesitation.

Sure, he slept in your bed ever night now, called it "our room," and sure you stayed up waiting when his missions would take too long. Yeah, you would run and jump into his open arms, feeling nothing but content as he kissed your forehead and took you to the bed, it's normal that ya'll didn't even have sex some nights, that you just cuddled.

Sometimes, you swore he was waiting, waiting for you to be the one to close that final inch between you. But you never did. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you fell into a rhythm. Training. Fighting. Learning with him and laughing with him. He pushed you harder than anyone ever had, demanding perfection, never letting you slip back into old habits. He didn’t coddle you like they did. He didn’t pretend you were something delicate. He made you strong.

Most nights, after an exhausting day of training, you would sit on the brown leather couch cuddled up to him with your head on his chest and his arms around you, the dim glow of the television flickering between you. Slade wasn’t much for small talk, you talked enough for the both of you, but the silence between you felt... comfortable, almost warm

“Why did you take me in?” you had asked once, voice barely above a whisper.

He had taken a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. “Because I saw something in you,” he finally answered. “Potential. Something you’re too afraid to admit to yourself.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, you wondered if there was truth in his words. You liked that he believed in you, no one had done that before.

Then there were the other moments. The ones that made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge. The way he stood too close when showing you how to hold a blade properly, his breath warm against your skin. The way his hands lingered too long when correcting your stance. The way his gaze dropped to your lips before he forced himself to look away.

Neither of you ever acknowledged it. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. It's completely normal for your teacher/mentor/enemy to sleep in the same bed as you every night. It'd be weird if you didn't make breakfast and dinner for the two of you. It'd be weird if you didn't know his favorite foods and if he didn't know how to braid your hair. It'd be even weirder if he didn't make you coffee exactly how you like it and help you put away the dishes.

Slade had become an inescapable presence, his control over you extending far beyond training. He knew where you were at all times, had a way of appearing when you least expected it, his eyes always sharp, always knowing. Some nights, when you tried to slip out for air, you’d find him already outside, leaning against a wall as if he’d been waiting for you. He let you do what you wanted, think you were free, but he was always watching you.

If you were singing at a bar, you could count on him to be in the crowd. If you met with Selina at a restaurant you could count on him to drive you home. Slade was always there. Selina thought it was strange, you took comfort in it.

“You really think you can go anywhere without me knowing?” he had mused once, a shadow of amusement in his voice.

It should have bothered you. Maybe it did. But part of you had started to crave it, the way he made you feel like you belonged to him, even if neither of you would ever admit it.

Slade had been… watchful lately. More than usual. He came back late from missions, missions he didn't let you come to, sometimes with a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before. He was hesitant to let you go and preform at bars, sometimes convincing you to just play the songs on your guitar in the living room and run your fingers through his hair as you both laid on the couch.

There were the calls—brief, coded. You were offended, Slade told you almost everything these days but somehow no amount of sweet talk and bedroom eyes could get him to budge this time. And then there were the other things. The subtle shifts in the city’s underworld. More movement in Gotham than usual. The quiet whispers of old ghosts stirring, names you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

Dick. Jason. Tim. Damian. Bruce.

You saw it in the way certain streets had too many eyes. As if waiting. As if listening.

And then there was the whisper of something else. Something darker, something clawing at the edge of your awareness. A name that had once sent a thrill through you, now only bringing unease and resentment.

Harvey Dent.

A name you hadn’t spoken in months, yet it clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake. A man you couldn't bare to even think of. A drink left for you at a bar you hadn't performed at in weeks, a coat draped over the back of a chair that looked too familiar.

Slade noticed before you did. “You’ve got a ghost,” he murmured one evening, the flicker of a knife between his fingers. “One that doesn’t know how to stay buried.”

You didn’t ask him what he meant. You didn’t have to. You already knew. You just didn't know why. Had he finally seen through Tiffany, now that it was too late?

At first, you didn’t question it. Slade had always been territorial—watchful, overbearing when he wanted to be. He had a way of controlling things without seeming like he was. That was how he worked.

So when you first noticed the shifts, you didn’t react. Your schedule changed, but not because you changed it.

You used to go out when you wanted. Walk the streets when they were quiet, feel the Gotham night press against your skin, the air cold and sharp. Not anymore.

Things began to change this week. Now, every time you thought about leaving, something stopped you.

The fridge was always stocked, eliminating any reason to step outside. Your favorite food. Your favorite drinks. Little things appeared when you needed them; new clothes, supplies, anything that might have made you leave for even a moment. Things you mentioned only in passing, like the new lipstick you wanted or a pair of vintage heels or a new bag.

If you reached for your coat, Slade would speak before you even touched the door. Asking where you were going, trying to be casual.

It was never a command. Never outright control. But the implication was there. And every time you hesitated, he won. If you needed to leave or just wanted to go out, he would come with; a silent yet protective figure always in the shadows.

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that should have been peaceful but wasn’t. The apartment smelled like old wood and gun oil, the faintest trace of smoke lingering from Slade’s cigar earlier. You had just stepped out of the shower, skin still warm from the heat, hair damp as you walked barefoot across the floor in your towel.

Your hand brushed against the pretty golden door knob absentmindedly.

And then you froze. Something was different.

Your fingers curled around the lock, tracing over the new ridges, the reinforced structure. The weight of it felt wrong.

It wasn’t your lock. Not the cute one you insisted on buying at the antique shop that Slade hated. It didn't match the walls.

Your stomach twisted. You turned slowly, your damp hair clinging to your skin as your mind raced. This wasn’t an accident. You hadn’t imagined it. Slade had changed the locks. The thought sent something icy down your spine. Alarm bells blared in your mind.

You tried to shake it off, tried to tell yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was security. Maybe he just wanted better protection.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. Because he didn’t tell you. Because Slade never did anything without a purpose. Because Slade Wilson didn't need a lock to keep people out. And because you hadn’t noticed until now. You took a slow, steady breath and turned toward the living room.

Slade was there, like always, seated in his usual chair by the window, sharpening a knife. The sound of steel against whetstone was rhythmic, deliberate. His posture was relaxed, but you weren’t fooled. His fingers were too steady, his shoulders just a little too still.

He was waiting. Watching. Like he had already predicted this moment, like he was ready for an argeument. You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, heart pounding too fast, not caring if you were in a towel.

"Planning on keeping me in a cage?" you muttered.

Slade didn’t pause. Didn’t even look up. “Planning on keeping you alive.” The words were so smooth, so easy, that your stomach turned.

Your breath caught. Because he wasn’t hiding it. He wasn't denying it. Not anymore. This wasn’t a mistake. This was intentional.

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow in your throat. “Right. Because I’m just so incapable of keeping myself safe. Even after all the training we've done. Even with my literal super-human abilities.”

Slade finally looked up. His eye locked onto yours.

There was no humor in his gaze. No smirk, like he usually had on while teasing. Just that slow, assessing stare that made your pulse stutter.

"If I thought you were capable of that," he murmured, voice quiet, too quiet, "we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Your chest tightened. Because the way he said it sent something sinking into the pit of your stomach. This wasn’t just about protecting you. This was about making sure you never left.

Two days later, you decided to test it. Just to see what would happen. Slade had stepped out—or so he wanted you to believe. The moment you heard the door shut behind him, you moved.

Your fingers curled around the knob.

Turned it— but a large, scared hand beat you two it

"Going somewhere?"

Your entire body locked up. You gulped and licked your suddenly dry lips, he had you cornered with one hand on the knob and the other caging you in as he towered over you. His voice was smooth, calm—too calm. You turned slowly, pulse thrumming in your throat. Slade stood right behind you.

The door was still closed.

Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard him come back. Hadn’t even realized he was there. So much for super hearing. Nothing worked on Slade Wilson. You kept your expression neutral. Didn’t let him see the panic creeping up your throat.

"Didn’t realize I had a curfew," you muttered with an uneasy grin, trying to start your usual banter. Slade didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. Just watched you.

“You don’t.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But he didn’t move. Didn’t step aside. Didn’t let you leave. The silence stretched too long.

Finally, you forced a smile, tilting your head. “Then I’ll be back in an hour.” Nothing changed in his expression. But you could feel the weight of his stare. Then he tilted his head, eye dark and calculating.

“It's not safe out there anymore. Not for you.”

You blinked. Something in his tone shifted.Not amusement. Not control. Something else. Something darker. Like he was waiting for you to figure it out.

Your stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?” He didn’t answer. Didn’t even move.

Just let the question hang in the air, stretching the silence tight between you. And that’s when it hit you.

He wasn’t stopping you because he was afraid you’d leave.

He was stopping you because something else was waiting outside.

Something he wasn’t telling you about.

Your mouth went dry. Slade finally let out a slow, amused breath, pushing off the wall.

And then—

He stepped aside. A challenge. Daring you to open the door. You hesitated. And that was all it took.

The moment you hesitated, you lost. Slade smirked, shaking his head like he had already predicted every move you would make. "Let's get to bed." He rasped out, looking at you with dark, seductive eyes.

And then he turned, walking past you like the conversation was over. Because it was. Because he knew you wouldn’t leave now.

The next morning, the locks changed again. The windows were reinforced. Your pretty pink curtains replaced with black shutters. Your phone stopped working. You couldn't call Selina. Every excuse to leave was removed before you could even think about it. You tried not to panic. Tried not to question it.

But Slade was closing the walls in. And you weren’t sure if it was to keep someone out—

Or to keep you in.

The first time, you thought it was a coincidence.

You had slipped into a bar down the street, needing to breathe, needing something normal.

The moment you stepped in, your stomach turned. Something familiar. Cologne. Not just any cologne. Expensive. Sharply tailored. The scent of whiskey and authority.

You froze.

Your mind screamed at you. It’s just someone else wearing it. It’s just your imagination. And then you saw it. A glass at the bar. Untouched. Neat. No ice. A double pour. your breath hitched.

Harvey’s drink.

It wasn’t until you came home that you truly realized. Because that’s when you saw the rose.

A single red rose on the kitchen counter.

Waiting for you. Your entire body went cold. It wasn’t from Slade. It couldn’t be from Slade. Slade would never bring you roses, he wasn't a gentleman. And he knew you liked hydrangeas and peonies now.

You turned slowly and nearly threw up.

Slade was already standing there. Watching. Waiting. His jaw was tight. His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t say anything. And that’s when you knew,

He had seen this coming.

“Where did that come from?” you asked, voice thin. Why was he doing this? Was shattering your heart not enough? Did he want to ruin things with you and Slade?

Slade didn’t answer. Instead, he walked forward, plucked the rose from the counter, and rolled it between his fingers. Slowly. Deliberately. Then, he crushed it.

Your stomach dropped. The petals crumbled to the floor. His voice was dangerously calm. "You tell me, sweetheart."

For the rest of the night, he didn’t let you out of his sight. Not directly holding you hostage, but you felt it. The way he lingered in doorways. The way his hand ghosted too close when you passed him.

Like he was waiting. Waiting for you to ask. Waiting for you to figure it out. Waiting for Harvey to stop playing games and make a real move.

You weren’t sure when it had happened; when you had stopped keeping track of time, stopped caring about the difference between one night and the next. Slade made sure you had no reason to count the days. He made sure you had no reason to want anything. You woke up every morning in his arms and went to bed satisfied and well loved. It wasn’t a prison but it wasn’t freedom either. It was something in between. A limbo of his design. A small slice of heaven in hell.

You were happy. But something was off, Slade was being more paranoid and he got less subtle about it each day.

You weren’t trapped, not physically. Slade let you leave the apartment. You weren’t chained to the walls, weren’t locked in a room. He took you out on missions, let you get your hands dirty alongside him, let you breathe in the crisp Gotham air under the cover of night. In some ways, those nights were the only times you felt alive, other than when you were with Slade. The weight of a blade in your hand, the burn in your muscles from the chase, the sharp adrenaline rush of the fight, of using your powers on someone they affected; it reminded you that you still existed outside of this quiet game he played with you. Because that’s what it was. A game.

Slade never said it outright, never told you he was keeping you on a leash, but you could feel it tightening with every passing week. At first, it was small things. The way he subtly redirected missions away from Gotham’s city center, keeping you to the outskirts, where the shadows were deeper and the chances of running into familiar faces were slimmer. The way he always made sure you stayed close during a job, always just within arm’s reach. It wasn’t just protection. You knew better than that. It was control. He was testing you, waiting to see if you would try to slip away, if you would give him a reason to remind you just how easily he could pull you back.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the real test wasn’t in the field. It was what happened after.

After the job was done, after the adrenaline had settled into exhaustion, after the long, banter filled walk back to wherever Slade had decided to keep you that night. It was in the way he never let you wander too far. The way his hand would hover at the small of your back without quite touching, guiding you down the streets like he was the one who decided where you went. It was in the way he never left you alone for too long.

At first, you told yourself it was coincidence. Slade was always working, always had something that needed his attention. But then you started to notice the patterns. You ate together, you slept together, trained together, hell; you even showered together. You were never alone for more than a few hours. If he had business elsewhere, you were given something to occupy your time—training, surveillance, a task that kept you exactly where he wanted you.

You tested it once again, just to see what would happen. After he had left for what you thought was a routine meeting, you had grabbed your coat and made your way to the door. You weren’t even thinking about leaving him, not really. You just wanted to see if you could. If there was still a part of you that could step outside without feeling the weight of his presence pressing against you.

Your fingers had just curled around the doorknob when you heard his voice. Low. Even. Inevitable.

“Going somewhere?”

You were getting de ja vu. This happened last time too. You had swallowed hard, pulse spiking in your throat as you turned. He was standing right behind you.

You hadn’t heard the door open. Hadn’t heard his footsteps. He was just there, watching, waiting. The worst part was that he wasn’t even angry. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, wasn’t raising his voice or blocking your way. He didn’t have to.

Slade had simply leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eye scanning you with that sharp, unreadable expression that made your stomach twist. “Didn’t realize I needed permission,” you had said, forcing your voice to stay steady. You wouldn't let him control everything, not another man would be in charge of your life.

“You don’t.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle he had already solved. “Just wondering if you really think it’s safe out there.”

Not this odd shit again.

That made you pause. The way he said it. Not like a threat. Not like he was trying to scare you into staying. He said it the same way as last time. Like he already knew something you didn’t.

Your grip on the doorknob tightened. “What are you talking about? You said this last time.”

Slade didn’t answer right away. He just let the silence stretch, let you feel the weight of your own hesitation. Then, slowly, he took a step back. Another challenge.

“If you want to go,” he said, gesturing toward the door, “go.”

Your breath caught. You should have. You should have walked out.

But you didn’t.

Because you knew that if you did, if you stepped outside now, you wouldn’t just be walking into Gotham. You would be walking into something else. Something waiting.

Slade knew it. And now, so did you.

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the door. Slade huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like you had just proven his point. Then, without another word, he walked past you and disappeared into the other room. That was the moment you knew, whatever was waiting for you out there was worse than what was waiting inside. You just didn’t know what it was yet.

You found out a week later. A part of it, at least.

The envelope was waiting for you when you returned from a job with Slade, slipped under the apartment door like a whisper of something you had tried to forget. You had bent down, fingers hesitating just for a second before picking it up. The paper was thick, expensive. No return address. No markings. But you didn’t have to open it to know who it was from. The sharp smell of cologne gave it away.

Your stomach twisted, nausea rising in the back of your throat as you tore it open, your hands gripping the edges a little too tightly. The letter inside was simple. Only four words.

You won't forget me.

Your breath hitched. Your hands trembled. Because the worst part was, he was right. No matter how much Slade consumed you, or your occasional fantasy about Clark; he also stayed on your mind

You barely had time to process it before you heard the apartment door shut behind you. Your fingers snapped the letter closed, chest tightening, but it was too late.

Slade had already seen.

His expression didn’t change, but you could feel it. The shift in the air. The way his shoulders set just a little too still, the way his single eye flickered from your face to the envelope with something dark and unreadable. He stepped forward, not rushing, just closing the distance between you with the kind of inevitability that made your breath come short.

You turned, but before you could move, his hand shot out. Not rough, not gentle like usual, just firm. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, halting you in place.

“Let go,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t.

Instead, he reached for the letter.

You pulled back.

Slade’s grip tightened. “Let me see,” he said, his voice low, controlled. He wasn't used to you denying him these days, not when you loved him.

Your stomach clenched. You didn’t let go, but it didn’t matter. Because Slade never asked twice.

With one sharp tug, he tore the letter from your grasp, unfolding it with a lazy flick of his wrist. You watched as his eye scanned the words, his jaw tensing, his fingers tightening around the paper just slightly.

Then, finally, a quiet chuckle. A dark, amused sound. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Your breath hitched. Slade looked at you now. Expression unreadable.

“Do you miss him?” Your heart stopped. You denied it, but you could see in Slade's eyes that he didn't believe you. In the way he turned away from you that night. You didn't blame him, you didn't even believe yourself.

Harvey always knew how to play the long game.

Small things began to shift in your life and you knew who was behind it. The song on the radio. A scarf. A photo photo. They were never coincidences, he didn’t believe in coincidence. The man was calculated, meticulous in his pursuits. When he wanted something, he played patient, steady, unyielding, watching from the shadows, striking when you least expected it.

Slade was the same way, but Slade never needed patience. Slade took what he wanted. Harvey waited for it to come back to him.

The jazz playing in the bar was nothing, just white noise in the background while you sat beside Slade, nursing your drink, your head still fogged from the last mission. You weren’t thinking of anything other than how good it felt to finally sit still.

Then, days later, the scarf appeared. Neatly folded on the couch, like a gift wrapped in silence, waiting for you to pick it up. You hadn’t touched it at first, just stood there, staring at it, fingers twitching at your sides. It was a trick of the mind, an old memory manifesting in a way that didn’t make sense.

Except it wasn’t.

He had been here. Or close enough to touch. You should have told Slade. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. And then, the photo. A photo Selina took of you and him dancing at the Pink Pony Club. It smelled like him too.

That was what shattered the illusion of security, the idea that you had control over this. The moment you saw it, you knew.

Harvey had always been a sentimentalist, clinging to memories long past, treasuring things most people would discard.

You, once upon a time, had been one of those things. And now? You weren’t sure. You weren't sure what he wanted, especially since he had Tiffany. You had placed the photo down carefully, afraid to crumple it, afraid to acknowledge what it meant.

You had kept your movements neutral, your breath steady, but Slade had been watching. His presence in the other room was a solid weight pressing into your chest. The shuffle of files, the slow deliberate sound of metal being set down, he was waiting.

He had noticed. Of course, he had. Slade noticed everything. And yet, he didn’t say a word.

You lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling Slade’s presence next to you like a silent storm waiting to break. He wasn’t asking. He was waiting for you to give yourself away. To tell him the truth, to trust him like he trusted you.

Slade had been watching you too closely, keeping his invisible leash tight without ever pulling. That was the way he worked, he let you think you had freedom while keeping you within his reach. If you had tried to leave through the door, he would have known.

So, you didn’t.

You waited, feigned sleep, forced your breathing into something slow, even, something convincing. You heard him move in the other room, heard the creak of his chair, the slow inhale of a cigar.

You moved the moment he shifted. Window, not the door. Silent steps. A fire escape that groaned beneath your weight. By the time Slade glanced back toward the couch, you were already gone.

Harvey knew you would come.

You knew that from the moment you stepped onto the rooftop, the Gotham skyline stretched out behind him like a kingdom.

He turned before you could say anything, a slow, easy movement, his face shadowed beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. And then, he smiled. Not a smirk. Not the sharp, dangerous grin you had been expecting. It was something softer. Something more desperate. Like a man in the desert coming across a well.

“Took you long enough, didn't think you got my message. I started thinking that maybe the note didn't reach you.” he murmured. The message he left in the women's bathroom at a bar you and Slade frequented.

Your throat felt tight. You felt hurt all over again. Like someone reopened the wound of his betrayal. Like the same broken girl Slade took in six months ago. You came here for closure. So that it wouldn't hurt when you said his name or sang the songs you wrote for him. “How did you find me?”

What did he want? To torture you? Rub salt in your wounds?

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I never lost you.”

Only Slade called you that now. The words made your stomach twist, a cold knot settling in your chest. You should have walked away then. But you didn’t. Because you had to know.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you haunting me? Not letting me move on?” Your voice shook as you said it. This conversation was long overdue.

Harvey’s fingers gripped the railing, his knuckles white. “Because I need you to listen to me. Just once. Just this once. Hear me out.”

Your heart hammered. Hear him out? He could've started with an apology.

“You think I’ll forgive you?” you spat. You would, because when you looked at him, you still felt the same warmth you did all those months ago; only this time it was mixed with resentment and longing.

He flinched. And for the first time, you saw it—the raw, desperate emotion that he had always hidden behind sharp words and confident grins. The mask cracked, just for a second.

His voice turned rough, unsteady. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know that. But I need you to hear me out.”

You shook your head, stepping back, but he reached out—not touching, not yet, but close.

“You don’t know what’s happening,” he continued, his voice dropping into something urgent, pleading. “Your family—Tim, Dick, all of them—they’re figuring it out. They’re finding out the truth about Tiffany. They'll realize what she's doing, like I did.They'll know soon, maybe not today or tomorrow; but soon. They'll realize she's been using her powers on them like she did to me.”

Your breath came too short. No. This was not happening. Not when you were finally happy again. Not when you think you've fallen in love with Slade.

“No,” you whispered.

Your vision blurred. It was happening. Everything you had tried to scream about for years, everything they had ignored, it was going to come to light. Harvey’s fingers brushed your wrist.

Soft. Careful. Like he was trying not to scare you away.

“And when they realize what they did to you,” he murmured, “they’re going to come running. Crawling back like I am.”

Your stomach twisted.

“They’re going to act like they care,” he continued, voice soft, insidious. “Like they’re sorry. But they’re not. Not like I am. You know that, don’t you?”

Your lips parted. You hated how much sense it made. Hated how deep the doubt had already burrowed into your skin. Hated how genuine and honest he was being, you could sense it. Harvey tilted his head.

And then, voice lower, almost fragile he said, “You don’t have to go back to them.”

Your stomach dropped. You stepped back. “I’m not going back,” you said, voice shaking. Never.

Harvey swallowed hard. And for a moment, you thought he might break, that the weight of what he had done, what he had lost, might finally crush him. But then, he looked at you.

And you saw it, the shift. The danger. Not Two-Face. Not the cold, calculated criminal.

Just Harvey Dent. The man who never let go. “You think you’re free?” he murmured.

The words sent a chill down your spine. Harvey smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “You think he just let you leave?”

Your chest tightened. You tried not to show the flicker of doubt, the small crack in your resolve. But Harvey saw it.

And then, voice so soft, so dangerous—“He’s not going to let you go either. He'll keep you locked up. I won't.”

You should have never gone to him.

You had known it was a mistake the second you saw him standing there, leaning against the rooftop railing, the glow of Gotham’s skyline making him look almost human.

But you had gone anyway. Because Harvey had always been a mistake you kept making.

You clenched your fists, how dare he talk about Slade? What right did he have to tell you who to trust. "Yeah and I'm gonna take advice from you. That's rich."

He softened immediately, his regret and remorse so obvious; yet he refused to apologize. You wanted to hit him, hurt him like he hurt you; yet when he stood in front of you in the moonlight, your treacherous heart still beat for him. Your heart didn't want to hurt the man who showed you what love is. The man who picked up the shattered pieces your family and Clark left and rearranged them beautifully. It didn't care that he broke them again; he could fix it.

“I made a mistake. I paid for it, I know the truth now.” He said steadily stepping closer, sensing your reluctance.

Your pulse pounded. “What do you want from me?” You were here for answers, not to rekindle an old flame. Not when you were starting one.

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Nothing from you. ”

The words hit you too hard. You understood what he was implying, what he wanted. You knew he would come crawling back someday, you just didn't expect it so soon

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “Why?”

His smile faltered. His hands curled around the railing, gripping it like he needed something solid to hold on to.

"You know why. But that's not what i called you for. I called you to warn you about your family and Tiffany,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. More desperate. “I can throw them off for a little while, lead them off track and make sure they don't know the truth. If that's what you want. But once they know the truth, they won't leave you alone. Certainly not with him.”

You hated the way your chest tightened with affection at his consideration. You hated that you were here. You hated that he still had a hold on you. You hated how he talked about Slade. You hated hearing him say Tiffany's name, it brought back so much hurt and hatred.

“I don't care about them Keep them away for as long as you want. You know I'm not here to hear about them or your whore.” you said viciously, your eyes shining and your teeth sharpening.

Slade would be proud.

Harvey didn't react to your fangs, he wasn't afraid of you. He came closer and grasped your hand, his eyes so heartbroken that it gave you satisfaction, only for a minute.

His voice cracked slightly. “Nothing I do or say can make up for what I did.” His jaw tightened. “I know that.”

You should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because Harvey’s voice dropped lower, his words curling around you like a trap you should have seen coming. “But I need you to know something,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, watching your reaction. “She wanted to be you, she tried so hard.”

Your breath hitched. You knew this. But hearing Harvey say it made you feel so much better.

Harvey’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “But she never could.”

Your stomach dropped. Why did this have to happen now? Why now when you finally forgot about him?

“She dressed like you,” he continued. “Talked like you. Watched the way you moved. The way you laughed.” His voice hardened. “The way you loved.”

You shook your head, backing away. You couldn't take this anymore. You wanted to run back into Slade's arms, where nothing could touch you. “Shut up.”

Harvey didn’t.

“She wanted to take everything from you.” His expression twisted. “And maybe, if I had been a different man, I would have let her.”

Your skin crawled at the thought. Harvey let out a breathless laugh, bitter and sharp. “But I couldn’t. I had to go digging, looking for clues.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “Because she wasn’t you. No matter how hard she tried to be. No matter how much she played with my mind, she could never replace you.”

You hated him.

You hated that you believed him.

You hated how you still loved him.

Harvey exhaled sharply, tilting his head, watching you with something frighteningly raw. “Every time she touched me, every time she tried to take something that wasn’t hers—” his voice dropped into something dangerous, low and dark and broken— “I was thinking of you.”

Your breathing came too fast.

Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her,” he whispered, “I wanted it to be you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Stop. I don't care.” Lies.

“She wasn’t you,” he repeated, voice almost pleading. “She never could be.”

Your throat closed. Your eyes watered and your teeth burned with unshed venom just thinking of his betrayal. Why was this happening.

Harvey’s fingers ghosted over your wrist. Not touching, not quite.

“I never wanted her, not really” he murmured. “Not once.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. This was all you wanted to hear, all you wished for for so long. So why did you feel trapped. Harvey’s voice dropped even lower. He moved even closer

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

You forced yourself to look at him.

“If you don’t care,” he whispered, eyes burning, “why are you still here? Why do you want answers so bad? Why do you still look at me like that?”

You shouldn’t have come.

But you hadn’t been able to help yourself.

Because Harvey always knew what to say, how to linger in your mind like an open wound that refused to heal.

And now here you were, standing under the dim glow of the rooftop’s city lights, your eyes watering, the weight of his gaze pressing into you, sinking into your bones like something familiar, something dangerous.

You forced yourself to keep your stance steady, your pulse even. “You don’t get to ask me those questions.”

Harvey let out a breath, almost a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His hands curled around the railing as he moved away from you again, gripping the cold metal like it was the only thing keeping him from reaching for you.

“Do you know how many times I told myself you were gone? That I lost you, ” His voice was steady now, but there was an edge to it—something dangerous. “How many times I tried to let you go, to let you move on?”

Your chest tightened. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something else, something more dangerous. “I didn’t ask you to wait for me. I didn't want you to regret your choice. I didn't want anything but happiness for you. No matter how much you hurt me.”

Harvey’s fingers twitched.

“No.” His lips pressed together in a thin line, he knew the truth, that you always wished the best for him. “No, you didn’t.”

The wind curled between you, cold and sharp, carrying the weight of everything unsaid. You should have turned away. Should have walked back the way you came.

But then Harvey laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

“She used her little snake charm but somehow,” he continued, “after a week I was thinking of you. I never loved her. Couldn't even bring myself to like her, honestly.”

Your stomach dropped. It was a gut punch, sharp and unforgiving. He saw it—the flicker of emotion in your face, the tightening of your jaw, the way your breathing caught for just a second too long.

And Harvey, Two-Face, the man who never let go, moved forward, voice soft, eyes burning.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I never stopped loving you”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. “Shut up.”

He ignored you. Again.

“I love you so much,” he said, voice low. “You love me too or you wouldn't be here.”

“I said shut up.” He was right, he always is.

Harvey smirked, but there was nothing victorious in it. It was almost self-loathing.

“I never loved her,” he whispered again. He was making sure you knew.

“She wanted me to,” he continued. “She wanted to take everything from you.” His jaw tightened. “And maybe, if you had been a different woman, I would have let her.”

The thought of it made your skin crawl.

Harvey, Tiffany. Together. The ultimate betrayal.

“But I couldn’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “Because she wasn’t you.”

He kept repeating it, trying to speak his remorse into your heart directly. You hated how much it affected you. Hated how your chest ached, how your mind burned with the thought of what could have been. You shouldn’t care. But you did. And Harvey knew it.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, forcing steel into your voice. “You used her, just like she used you. You wanted to spy on Bruce and I wouldn't do it.”

Harvey let out a sharp breath. “Yeah.” His eyes met yours. Unflinching. “I did.”

There was no shame in his voice. Just cold, simple truth. No regret anymore. He didn't regret using her, he regretted hurting you.

“But it wasn’t revenge, sweetheart,” he murmured, his Gotham accent slipping in the angrier he got. “It was survival. She had me under her little spell at first; when that stopped working, her little dream team made sure I never stepped outta line. Never came crawling back to you, never told anyone the truth. But I'm done with them now.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her, every time I played along, I was thinking of you.” His voice dipped, lower, darker. More desperate. “Every time I called her by her name, I wanted to say yours.”

Your breathing came too fast. This wasn’t fair. Harvey was not supposed to be able to do this to you. Not anymore. He was supposed to be dead to you. He had killed himself in your mind the day he let himself be used, the day he betrayed you.

And yet—

Yet.

You couldn’t move.

Because deep down, a part of you knew—you had thought of him, too. When you weren't with Slade, Harvey consumed your thoughts.

Your stomach twisted as he stepped closer again. “You’re smart, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You always were. Choose carefully.”

You swallowed hard. This wasn't about your family anymore. This was about him and Slade.

“You don’t have to go back to them.” He repeated himself again trying to convince you. His words settled in your bones, heavy, unshakable.

You clenched your jaw again. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Harvey’s eyes flickered, something dark and pleased curling at the edges. And then, voice low, almost dangerous, “Then why are you still with him?”

Your breath hitched. Slade. Your body went rigid.

Harvey took another step closer. Your noses almost touched and you nearly threw yourself into his arms.

“You think he's better than me?”

Your chest tightened. Doubt crept in. You had been so careful. So quiet. Hadn’t you? Harvey saw it. And he smiled.

A slow, knowing smirk. “He’s not going to let you go, he won't give you a choice. I don't blame the man, if I hadn't fucked everything up; I wouldn't let you go either.”

Your stomach dropped. The realization hit you all at once, suffocating, crushing. You hadn’t been careful. You had been playing into Slade’s hands all along.

Because Slade always knew. And if he hadn’t stopped you?

That meant he was letting you dig your own grave. A shiver ran through you.

The moment Harvey’s voice dipped, the second his fingers ghosted over your wrist like a lover’s touch—you should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because part of you needed to hear him say it. Needed to hear him tell you what you already knew.

That he still wanted you. That he never stopped. That you were never meant to be replaced. And it felt amazing to hear the regret in his voice and see the pure longing in his eyes.

The wind curled between you, cold and biting, but Harvey’s presence was stiflingly warm. He was watching you the way he always had; like you belonged to him, like the months between you hadn’t changed a thing. And for the first time all night, you let yourself look at him.

Really look at him.

The scars on the left side of his face had deepened, his two-toned gaze more piercing than before. The weight he carried in his shoulders was heavier, more defined. He was still Harvey, but he wasn’t just Harvey anymore. He had become something darker, something rough around the edges, something broken in a way that made you feel like a piece of you had broken along with him.

You swallowed. “I have to go.” Before you did something you couldn't take back.

Harvey exhaled, slow and deliberate. He nodded, but he didn’t move. He didn’t stop you. But he wasn’t letting you go, either.

“You’re going back to him.” It wasn’t a question. A statement, like he knew it was coming

Your pulse stuttered. “It’s not like that and you know it.” You still felt the need to defend yourself, even though you knew you didn't owe him an explanation.

You still loved him, that much was clear.

Harvey let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Sure it isn’t.”

You took a step back. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t say anything to stop you, but his presence curled around you like a shadow, wrapping itself around your spine, keeping you anchored in place. And then his voice dropped. Low. Certain.

“I’m letting you walk away. But I'm not letting you go. Not when we still love each other.”

Your throat tightened. He wasn’t chasing you. Not yet. But you felt it. The promise in his voice. The inevitability. You didn’t respond.

You didn't deny that you still loved him, it was like a child insisting they didn't eat cookies when they have crumbs all over them.

You just turned and forced yourself to walk away.

The apartment was silent when you returned. Slade was waiting, seated in his chair, drink in hand, legs spread, glaring at the walls. He didn’t turn when you entered. Didn’t move when you stepped further inside, carefully shutting the door behind you. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You slipped off your shoes, moving slowly, watching him, waiting. Nothing. No reaction. Just that unshakable stillness. The kind that had always been more dangerous than his anger.

You took a steadying breath. If you didn't speak first, he wouldn't speak at all. “Slade—”

“I knew you’d come back.”

His voice cut through the room, sharp and even. Your fingers curled at your sides. “Of course I came back.”

Now, he looked at you. Finally. And when he did, it felt like a blow. That single eye, cold and assessing, swept over you, taking in every detail, every movement, every breath you tried to keep steady. Then, his lips curved. Slow. Controlled.

“Did he tell you what you wanted to hear? Make you want to run into his loving arms again?”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t let it show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Slade exhaled through his nose, the faintest huff of amusement. “Don’t insult me.”

Your jaw tightened. Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. You weren’t sure if you were waiting for him to snap, or if he was waiting for you to confess. Then, finally—Slade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, voice lowering into something dangerous.

“Tell me something,” he said lowly.

You didn’t move. “What?”

Slade tilted his head, watching you like he was already playing out the end of this game. “Did you hesitate?”

The words hit harder than they should have. You swallowed. You could lie. You could tell him what he wanted to hear. But it wouldn’t matter. Slade always knew. And that was the worst part.

Slade was quiet for too long. Then—he sighed. Tired. Expectant. And that was worse than anger. You hated when he treated you like this, so indifferent. You liked his anger better, at least then you could get a reaction out of him.

“Take off your coat,” he said. You hesitated. Slade’s expression didn’t shift. “Now.”

Slowly, carefully, you did as he asked, slipping the fabric from your shoulders, letting it drop onto the chair beside you. Slade’s eye flickered toward it. Then, back to you.

You weren’t sure what he was looking for. Maybe he was looking for something Harvey left behind. Something you didn’t even realize you had carried home with you.

Then, after a long pause—Slade smirked. And it wasn’t kind like the ones you've grown accustomed to.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You stiffened. “Realize what?”

Slade leaned back again, completely relaxed. Like he had already won. “You'll know soon.”

Your breath caught. Where was he going with this? You hated when he spoke like some ancient being and he knew that. He was gonna be insufferable these next few days; he always is when you do something he doesn't like.

“Doesn’t matter where you go,” he continued, his voice so damn certain. His smirk widened, mocking. “You’ll always come back to me.”

Your chest tightened. You hated him. Because he was right. He knew you hated it, too.

You lay awake that night. Not because you couldn’t sleep. Not because Slade was in the other room, making you sleep alone for the first time in months, still awake, waiting, watching, knowing.

But because you couldn’t shake the way Harvey had looked at you before you left. Not angry. Not resentful. Just patient and remorseful. Like he already knew something you didn't.

Slade never brought it up again. Not directly. You weren’t sure if that was worse. You weren't sure if you wanted him to scream at you and demand you never see Harvey Dent again. You would rather anger than the silent treatment.

He didn’t demand answers. He didn’t press the issue. He simply carried on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t watched you walk through the door smelling like another man’s presence.

That should have been a relief. But it wasn’t. Because Slade didn’t let things go. He let them fester.

It was in the way he touched you now, more deliberate, more possessive. The way his hands lingered a little too long on your waist when he passed you in the kitchen, the way his fingers grazed your wrist, as if reminding you that you were still there, still his.

It was in the way he watched you. He had always been observant, but now it was different. Sharper. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was reading you.

Every twitch of your fingers. Every slight shift in your breathing. Every time you looked over your shoulder without realizing it. You had brought something back from that rooftop, and Slade knew it.

And still, he said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold.

It was late. The apartment was quiet, but neither of you were asleep. Your back pressed into the cool sheets, heartbeat steady but too aware of the man beside you. It'd been three days since Harvey and Slade was finally sleeping next to you again, but you knew he wasn't truly letting things go.

Slade’s fingers traced slow circles against your wrist, his grip loose but present. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he murmured.

You exhaled, shifting slightly beneath his hold. “And you have?”

A quiet chuckle. “I sleep when I need to.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze in the dim light of the bedroom. “And when do you need to?” You missed teasing him.

Slade’s smirk was lazy, knowing. “Whenever you’re not around to keep me entertained.”

You rolled your eyes, but he didn’t let you pull away. His grip tightened, just enough to remind you he was there.

“You think too much,” he murmured, voice lower now. “Keeps you restless.”

“Maybe I like thinking,” you shot back booping his nose. You lived to annoy him, to push his buttons in a way only you could get away with.

Slade hummed, shifting to prop himself up on his elbow, still watching you. His fingers trailed down your arm, you would've though he was trying to start something if his movements weren't so slow and calculated.

“What are you thinking about now?” He said reeling you into his trap, his eyes hard. You hated when he tried to trap you. Your pulse skipped. Nothing you said would be the right answer.

Slade’s lips quirked up slightly, but there was something in his expression—something darker, something expectant.

“You can say it,” he mused. “Say his name.”

You were tempted to do it, moan Harvey's name just to piss him off, but that was a line even you knew not to cross. You rolled your eyes, "God, just let it go Slade. It wasn't important."

Why couldn't he just let this go? Slade smirked, mocking. “That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t break his gaze. Didn’t look away. Because he knew. He always knew. Nothing goes over Slade Wilson's head.

The next morning, you woke up to a message. Not a text. Not a voicemail. A gift.

The small wooden box sat on the kitchen counter, neat, precise. Like it had been waiting for you. Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t heard anyone come in. You hadn’t even felt him. But Harvey had been here. You swallowed, fingers brushing over the lid before carefully lifting it open.

Inside was a single playing card.

The Two of Hearts.

And beneath it—folded carefully, as if it was meant to be unwrapped like some kind of sentimental treasure—was the same scarf he had left before.

Except this time, there was something else. Perfume. Your perfume. It smelled like you and him. Like Harvey had held onto it. Like he had kept it close. Your stomach twisted.

Harvey had been here. And you hadn’t even noticed.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the box, breath coming a little too sharp, too shallow. The walls of the apartment felt smaller. You didn’t hear Slade approach, but you felt him before he spoke.

His voice was smooth, dangerous. “Something I should know about?”

You forced yourself to breathe. “No.”

Slade leaned against the counter, eyeing the box like he already knew exactly who it was from. And then—he laughed. A quiet, amused sound, as if this was a game he had already won. “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” he said, in the same tone some used when regretting not buying a book before it sold out.

Your stomach dropped. Slade tilted his head, eye still locked on you. “But you wouldn’t have liked that, would you?”

You said nothing.

Slade smirked, shaking his head. “Soft spot for old flames.” He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist. “That’s your problem.”

You clenched your jaw, jerking your arm away. “And what’s yours?”

Slade’s gaze darkened. “I don’t have problems.”

You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. Always with the tough guy persona, honestly it must be tiring always acting untouchable. “Right. Sorry, I forgot. Because you don’t feel anything.”

Slade didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you, unreadable. His hand reached for your jaw, firm, demanding. His thumb traced your cheek, slow, deliberate. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“I feel plenty.” You swallowed. Slade smirked. “You just don’t like what I feel.”

You stepped back before you could do something stupid. Something that would make you forget about the box on the counter, the scent of Harvey still lingering in the air. Something that would make you forget that you weren’t sure who you were more afraid of losing.

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Harvey was right. They were going to find out the full truth soon. And when they did, they would come for you.

Now, a week after your meeting with him, your phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Message after message, call after call, each one from Tim Drake-Wayne. All asking you questions about Tiffany, about yourself. About where you were.

Your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled through the texts, hands shaking, stomach twisting itself into knots so tight you thought you might be sick. Of course Tim was the first to figure out something was wrong. He was about five years too late though.

Tim: We need to talk. Please answer. I have questions. About Tiffany..

You could barely breathe. He wanted to investigate, to look deep into Tiffany. Now?

Now, after years of pushing you aside, after ignoring every cry for help, now he wanted to take your warnings seriously.

Your eyes burned, fingers tightening around the phone, your mind screaming at you to respond, to finally say all the things you’d held in your chest for too long.

But you didn’t. Instead, you turned the phone off. You shoved it under the pillow, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to push away the tears, trying to ignore the way your chest ached with something ugly and desperate.

The moment you walked out of the bedroom, you knew he had seen.

Slade was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, gaze heavy with something unreadable. The phone was still buzzing beneath the pillow in the other room, and somehow, you knew he had heard it.

He had been waiting for this. You swallowed, standing stiffly near the doorway, trying to pretend like everything was fine. Slade didn’t say anything at first. He just watched.

“Took him long enough,” he mused, his voice casual, controlled.

You rolled your eyes. He's been bitchy ever since the whole Harvey thing.

Slade’s eye flickered to your hands, still clenched at your sides. “And let me guess—you ignored him.”

You hated how easily he could see through you. You glared at him, jaw tight. “None of your business.”

Slade chuckled, shaking his head, pushing off the counter and closing the distance between you in slow, measured steps.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was lower now, smoother, curling around your spine like a threat disguised as affection. “Everything about you is my business.”

You tensed. Slade reached up, tracing a gloved finger along your cheek, tilting your chin up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“He’ll keep calling,” he murmured. “He’ll keep begging. He'll figure it out and tell the rest of the little squad and they'll all come running back. Just like your dear old Dent. ” His lips curled into something mocking. “That’s what they do, isn’t it? Make mistakes because they know you'll forgive them?"

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. Not to hurt you, just enough to remind you who was in control.

His thumb brushed over your lips, slow, deliberate. “What are you gonna do?”

Your breath hitched. Slade leaned in slightly, voice dropping even lower. Dangerous. “Do you want Tim to tell the others? Want your family back? Want him back? Even after he fucked your sister while you were lying sick in your bed?”

Your throat tightened. He was toying with you. Mocking you, trying to hurt you. Making you say it. And you didn’t want to say it. Because you didn’t know. Your family had been your world.For so long, all you wanted was to be seen.

To be loved.

To be something more than just a ghost standing in the background, watching them fawn over someone who had stolen everything from you. And Harvey gave that to you, before he betrayed you.

And now, he was sorry. Soon, they would all know the truth and be sorry.

The emotions clawed at your throat.

You wanted to scream at Tim. Tell him it was too late. Tell them that he could never fix this. No amount of investigating and apologies could make up for years of neglect.

But another part of you, the part that still ached for their love, the part that still wanted them to prove you wrong,

That part whispered, “What if?” What if when they found out the truth, they would love you? What if this time, they actually stayed?

What if this was your chance to finally have the family you always wanted?

The war inside your head made you dizzy. And Slade knew it. He was still holding you, still keeping you rooted to him, while your world spun out of control. After a long, suffocating silence, Slade finally sighed. “You’re a mess.”

You glared at him, pushing away from his grip. “Fuck you.”

Slade chuckled, unfazed. “You do it almost every night.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You're a child, you know that?"

You turned away, grabbing a glass from the counter, hands still shaking slightly as you filled it with water. You weren’t thirsty, but you needed something—anything—to keep yourself grounded.

Slade leaned against the counter again, watching you with amusement, but something deeper lurked beneath it. Then, in a voice so casual it almost didn’t register, “I’ll make him stop. I'll make them both stop.”

The glass almost slipped from your fingers. You turned sharply, eyes wide. “What?”

Slade shrugged, like it was nothing. “You don’t want to deal with them. You don’t want to make a decision. So I’ll make it for you.”

Your breath caught. Slade never dealt with things peacefully, he got rid of problems permanately. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” His smirk deepened. “And I will.”

Your stomach twisted. Because the worst part was; you weren’t sure if you were relieved or horrified. Because Slade was right. You didn’t want to make a choice. You wanted someone to do it for you.

And Slade was more than happy to take that burden.

The first thing you noticed the next morning was the silence. No more buzzing. No more messages lighting up your screen. Slade had done it.

He hadn’t waited for you to argue. Hadn’t given you the choice. By the time you checked your phone, every number had been blocked. Every contact erased like they had never existed at all.

And maybe that’s what Slade wanted.

For them to be nothing but ghosts in your past. A clean break. A fresh start. So why did it feel like your chest was splitting open?

You had spent years craving their attention. Years begging for even a scrap of love. And now? Now you had the chance to get it. And you ignored it. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need them. That you had spent too long chasing something that was never meant to be yours.

And yet, as you stood in the quiet of the apartment, phone gripped too tight in your hands, you ached. Because you had wanted them to fight for you.

Slade had left that morning, his usual teasing smirk in place, but there had been something off.

Maybe it was the fact that his mission was dragging out longer than expected.

Maybe it was the way his fingers had lingered under your chin before he left, thumb brushing over your jaw like he was making sure you were still his.

Or maybe it was the way he had muttered, “Be good while I’m gone, sweetheart.” as you kissed him goodbye.

Like he already knew you wouldn’t be. Like he already knew something was coming. The apartment felt too big without him. His absence wasn’t something you should have noticed.

But you did.

It was in the empty space beside you when you sat on the couch. The extra portion of dinner you made out of habit. The lack of footsteps behind you. The missing weight of his presence pressing against your world, keeping you safe.

It was the first time in months you had been truly alone. So you did the only thing you could think of.

You took a nice, long, hot, shower, trying to dull the ache below your hips. You and Slade had sex last night, but somehow you were already wanting more. It was like your body could sense his absense.

You stood under the hot water, letting the steam curl around your skin, letting the heat scald away the thoughts clawing at your mind.

Maybe Slade was right. Maybe it was easier to just let go.

There was a sound. Soft. Distant. A creak where there shouldn’t be one. You wouldn't have heard it, wouldn't have sensed the body heat if you didn't have your powers. Your heart stopped. You turned off the water immediately, listening.

Nothing.

Maybe it was just—

Another creak. Closer this time. You swallowed, pulse hammering, every nerve in your body screaming at you that something was wrong. Slade was gone.

No one should be here. But you weren’t alone.

The second you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your damp skin, fangs reader and a knife in your hand, you felt him.

The shift in the air. The weight of someone watching. And then, his voice.

“Gotta admit,” Harvey mused, voice smooth, mocking, as if he had any right to be angry “didn’t think you’d be the type to shack up with a guy like him.”

Your stomach dropped. You turned sharply, eyes darting across the room, breath catching in your throat when you saw him.

Sitting on your bed. On Slade’s bed.

Harvey was leaning back against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other, looking far too comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t the intruder in this equation.

Harvey sat there like he hadn’t broken in, hadn’t shattered what little peace you had left. The moment you stepped out of the shower, still dripping, wrapped only in a towel, you knew, he was waiting for you.

Your fingers clenched around the towel’s edge, jaw tight, pulse pounding.

"You’ve got some fucking nerve," you muttered, stepping further into the room, closing the distance between you and him.

Harvey leaned back against the pillows, one arm draped lazily over the headboard, watching you with something smug, something knowing.

"Had to see you," he said simply. Like it was normal. Like it was nothing.

Your stomach twisted. It was never nothing with Harvey.

"And let me guess," you bit back. "You just let yourself in."

His smirk widened. "Door was unlocked, it’s not breaking and entering if you used to live together."

You let out a sharp laugh. "Bullshit. That’s exactly what it is, Dent. We don't like together anymore. Never did officially either."

Harvey didn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze slid lower. Over the damp strands of your hair. Over your throat. Your collarbone. Your bare legs.

You knew that look. It made something ugly stir inside you.

He looked at you, gaze slow, deliberate, taking in every inch of you. The damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. The way the towel barely covered enough to keep you decent.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Don’t stop on my account. Nothing I haven't seen before.”

Your fingers clenched around the towel, pulse thundering. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Harvey let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Relax, sweetheart. Just thought I’d drop by. Say hello. You wouldn’t answer your phone, so I figured—” he spread his arms in mock innocence, “—why not pay a visit?”

You hated how calm he was. How easy he made it look. Like he hadn’t just broken into your home. Like he hadn't broken your heart. Your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, heart hammering against your ribs. Slade was gone. Gone.

No one was coming. But you could handle yourself. And Harvey knew it. His eyes flickered down your body again, this time slow, calculating. Looking at all the marks and love bites Slade had left the night before. “You always did have a thing for older men,” he mused.

Your jaw clenched. Low blow.

Harvey smirked. “What’s the matter? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Thought you could just run off and play house with Gotham’s favorite mercenary and I’d let it slide?” He tsked, almost disappointed. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

You glared at him. Where did he get the audacity? “You don’t own me. Especially not now. Especially not after what you did. Your apology didn't change anything. You've got no right to be here.”

Harvey’s expression darkened, but only for a second. Then he grinned. “Funny. That’s exactly what I was thinking about him.”

Your stomach twisted. Because you knew what he was doing. He wanted you off balance. He wanted you to doubt. It was working. Because a part of you—a part you hated—was already wondering what Slade would do when he found out. Because he would find out. How jealous would he be? Would he finally drop the whole nonchalant act, ask you to be official?

Harvey’s smirk widened. “You think he’s coming back soon? You waiting for him? That's real cute princess.”

Your throat tightened. “He'll be back tomorrow.”

Harvey shrugged, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How missions can just drag out longer than expected?” His grin turned sharp. Cruel. “Would be a real shame if something happened to keep him… occupied.”

Your blood froze. Harvey watched you, waiting for the realization to sink in. He knew. He knew Slade wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

Your fingers curled into fists and suddenly you were on top of him, fangs bared, “What did you do?”

Harvey simply leaned back, enjoying himself and the view of your almost naked body on top of him. He turned his neck, as if trying to give you more access to him.

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Now, now. Don’t go blaming me. I didn’t lift a finger.” His grin widened. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know who did.”

Your breath was coming too fast, too shallow, panic creeping up your spine. Slade was gone. Harvey was here. You were trapped. And Harvey knew it. Your pulse pounded. Slade was gone. Harvey was here.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pinning him down harder against the mattress, your fangs bared, breath coming in sharp, furious exhales.

"What did you do?" you hissed again, voice low, dangerous, shaking with barely contained rage.

Harvey smirked up at you, completely unbothered. His eyes gleamed with that same smug amusement, like he was playing with his food.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmured, voice infuriatingly smooth, teasing. "No need to get all worked up."

You pressed your thighs against his sides, pinning him harder. "Answer me, Harvey."

He let out a slow breath, his smirk twitching, dark amusement flickering across his features. "You always were so determined. I love that about you."

Your fingers tightened, nearly scratching his back, sharp acrylics pressing into his skin through the fabric of his white button down. You didn't want to hurt him, not badly at least.

"Tell me why Slade’s mission is taking so long," you demanded, your weight pressing down on him, your legs gripping him tighter.

Harvey’s hands moved then; sliding slowly up your thighs, gripping just hard enough to make your breath catch.

"You really think I’m gonna make this easy for you?" he murmured, voice dropping to something lower, something thicker with something he wasn’t bothering to hide.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping down your spine, twisting through your limbs. He knew. He felt it.

His smirk widened, his hips shifting beneath you just slightly.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard. Throbbing. Pressing against the thin fabric of his slacks, against the barely-there barrier of your towel. You nearly moaned, stop being a slut, you tried to tell yourself.

You froze, just for a second. And Harvey noticed.

You were straddling him, baring your venomous fangs. You could kill him. And he was hard. You could feel it, it was impossible not to, thick, twitching against your inner thigh, pressed right against you.

Your powers didn’t help. They never fucking did. The second you got close enough to feel body heat, it was over. It was a constant hum under your skin, that ache, that need, clawing at your sanity. Your towel barely clinging to your damp skin, the heat of his body seeping into yours, you didn't know how much longer you could hold on.

He let out a low, pleased chuckle, his good hand settling on your waist, just barely gripping. "Didn’t know you missed me this much, sweetheart. Thought you were over me?"

Your nails dug into his chest even harder, but he didn’t flinch. He never fucking did. "Tell me where Slade is," you demanded.

Harvey hummed, mocking. "You sure you wanna talk about him right now?" His fingers flexed against your skin, his smirk widening as he shifted slightly beneath you again. "Because from where I’m sitting, you got bigger problems."

Your breath hitched, and you hated it. Hated the way your traitorous body reacted to him. Hated the way he felt so familiar.

His gaze flickered, taking in the flush on your skin, the way your thighs squeezed involuntarily around him. He felt it too. The heat. The tension. The pull that never really disappeared, no matter how many times you had tried to convince yourself that you were done with him.

"You always were greedy," Harvey murmured, tilting his head, eyes dark with something wicked. He was loving this. "You just can’t get enough, can you?"

Suddenly, you were angry at him again. You remembered Tiffany. Your grip tightened around his wrists, holding him down, pressing harder into him, and his smirk twitched, just slightly.

Good. Let him fucking squirm. "You still think you have control here?" you whispered, lowering your head, your breath grazing the sharp line of his jaw.

His breathing faltered. Just for a second. Just enough.

Then, just as quickly, his lips curled again, sharp and taunting.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice deep, smug, full of sin. "As long as youre on top of me or under me, I don't give a shit who's in control."

Your entire body tensed. Your nails dragged down his chest, slow, teasing, right over his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips, fast, erratic, out of sync with the smug bastard act he was putting on.

He was burning for you. Just as much as you were for him. But you weren’t going to give in.

"You still think you can do whatever you want to me?" you whispered, leaning in, letting your lips hover just over his.

Harvey’s eyes flickered. A muscle in his jaw ticked. And for the first time since he had shown up, his smirk finally fucking dropped.

You grinned. Then you moved your hips and ran your fingers up and down his chest.

Harvey cursed sharply through his teeth, his grip on your waist tightening instantly, fingers digging into your skin like a vice. His dick twitched against you through his slacks, so fucking hard and aching that you could almost feel the pulse of it.

You let out a slow, breathy chuckle. "Guess you do still want me, huh?"

Harvey’s breathing was uneven. "Careful," he rasped, voice lower, darker, more dangerous now. "You’re playing a real stupid game, princess."

"Why?" you taunted, grinded your hips again, watching the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to snap. "Because you can’t handle it? Because you can’t handle me?"

It was fun being in control. Slade never let you do whatever you wanted to him, barely ever in the bedroom. You loved control, especially when it meant having a man at your mercy beneath you.

Harvey’s eyes flashed. Then, he flipped you. Fast. Brutal.

You barely had time to react before you were the one beneath him , your towel barely hanging onto your body, his hand locked around your wrist, pinning you down, his body hovering over yours, pressing you into the mattress.

His breathing was hard, uneven, tense.

"You really think I don’t know what you’re doing?" he murmured, so close now.

Your chest heaved. You got too cocky, too confident, and now you were paying the price, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Harvey laughed softly, mocking, brushing his nose against yours. "Liar."

You swallowed, pulse hammering.

"You love this," he said, voice like gravel against your skin. "The attention. The desperation and groveling. You love seeing me beg. The way you talk like you want to kill me, and the next second," his lips ghosted your cheek, his cock pressing hard against your thigh, "you’re grinding against me like a fucking addict."

Your breath hitched. His grip tightened.

"He ever let you get on top?" he murmured, lips just barely grazing yours.

Your stomach twisted. "Don't."

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Did you think about me when he had you at first? Did you close your eyes and pretend it was my hands on you even after I broke your heart? Should I tell him that?"

Your nails dug into his shoulder, your body betraying you, the heat between your legs only getting worse, stronger, overwhelming, unbearable.

"You wish," you rasped, but it sounded too breathless, too shaky.

Harvey smirked. He knew. "Say you don’t miss me," he challenged.

You clenched your jaw, turning your head away, trying to ignore the way your body burned beneath his.

"Say it," he demanded.

You tried to, but the words wouldn't come out.

Harvey hummed. Then, his fingers slid lower, trailing along your bare thigh, teasing the hem of the towel.

"Yeah," he mused, smug and cruel. "That’s what I thought."

His fingers flexed against your thighs, his grip tightening.

"Little desperate, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with something smug, something rough.

You scoffed, but your heart was hammering, your body betraying you. "If I was desperate," you whispered, leaning forward until your lips were just barely brushing against his, taunting, teasing. "You’d already be inside me."

Harvey let out a low groan. He flipped you back around, giving you full control. Letting you be on top. You lost yourself for a moment, lost the plot. You melted into him and began kissing his neck slowly and unbuttoning his shirt as you slowly moved against him. But then, you saw the picture frame you hung of you and Slade, right behind Harvey.

Slade made you take down all the photos whenever he went away on a mission, in case someone broke in and saw them, and decided to hurt you to get back at him. It was the only one you refused to remove.

It was of you and him, two months ago. Slade had a mission in Paris and he let you tag along, after you were done, you made him go to an ice cream shop. Some sweet old man asked if you wanted a picture together, Slade wasn't smiling, barely even smirking, but you could see the happiness in his eyes as he had his arms around your waist, looking down at you.

You felt nauseous, all the arousal you felt was gone. You were a whore. How could you do this to Slade? You stopped moving as your eyes watered, what if Harvey had done something to him?

Harvey's hands snapped up, gripping your hips, grinding you down onto him. He wasn't gonna let you stop now.

"Fuck, baby, I forgot how good you are at this. Don't stop, please." he exhaled, almost begging, his jaw tightening, his cock pulsing against you.

You bit your lip, trying to fight the heat clawing through your body, the way your nerves lit up at the sheer pressure of him beneath you. It felt so good. You were horny again. But you could use this to your advantage, Harvey wanted you even more that you wanted him.

"Tell me," you whispered, rolling your hips just slightly, torturing him. "Tell me what you mean when you say Slade's occupied.."

Harvey’s smirk curled, his hands dragging you down harder, making you feel every inch of him. " What’s it worth to you?"

Your breath hitched. Harvey’s fingers trailed up your back, slow, possessive, teasing. "You wanna make sure your merc comes back in one piece?"

You swallowed hard, your body thrumming with frustration, anger, something else. All control you had was slipping, your powers were making you horny but they weren't working. Harvey wasn't listening to what you told him to do.

"Make me happy, sweetheart. If I’m happy," his smirk deepened, his voice dripping with dark amusement. " the bastard stays alive."

Your chest tightened, heat roaring up your spine, burning you from the inside out. You hated him. You wanted him. You needed to keep Slade alive. Harvey’s hands slid lower, his thumbs tracing slow, burning circles into your skin.

"Make a decision, pretty girl, his flight leaves soon." he murmured, his dick twitched against you, heavy with need. God, how could he be horny while threatening your teacher/ mentor /situationship's life?

You couldn’t lose Slade.

So you kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

Harvey groaned against your lips, his hands flying up to grip your waist, dragging you down harder against him, practically trying to merge your bodies together.

"That’s my girl," he muttered, his voice rough, victorious, possessive.

Your stomach burned with shame, with need, with something twisted and terrible. You hated him. You loved him.

You needed Slade to live.

But you couldn't do this to Slade, couldn't betray him on the bed you shared every night. He would be livid, what would he do in this situation? Probably kill Harvey. But you weren't Slade, you weren't as brave or as cruel as him.

So you did what you do best: You ran.

You jumped off of Harvey, punching him in the nose, still only in your towel that somehow stayed on, and shut the bedroom door in his face. You had powers, you were faster than Harvey, maybe even stronger than him. You made it to the front door in seconds, but your heart dropped as you saw the three new deadbolts.

Fucking Slade. You debated letting him die at that point.

Suddenly, you felt him behind you, grabbing you and pinning you against the door.

“Goddamn,” He laughed, amused, mocking, “you really thought that would work?”

You snarled, struggling harder, but he didn’t budge. His grip only tightened.

“Let me go, Harvey.”

His breath hitched at the way you said his name. Not Dent. Not Two-Face. Not some alias meant to keep distance. Just Harvey.

And it made something in his chest clench. His fingers flexed, his other hand dragging up your spine in a slow, deliberate motion, making you shudder.

“You always run, don’t you?” His voice was low, smooth—but there was something dangerous beneath it. “Always running from someone.”

His grip tightened on your wrists, pressing them into the wall, “From them. From me. From yourself.”

You hated how well he knew you. You hated that he was right. You hated how he got you into bed willingly even as the guilt ate you up. You hated how good he made you feel, how you couldn't bring yourself to say no. If you did, he would stop, and you didn't want that.

"Don't act like you don't want me now. You were all over me not even a minute ago." He sneered, as he ripped off your towel like it offended him.

You didn't know how many times you came, or how long you went for. You felt so good, but somehow you've never felt worse. Even as Harvey made you scream his name, you thought of how Slade would react.

You felt even worse as the night wore on, and instead of rough sex, you began to make love. Harvey buried his face in your neck as he muttered apologies, still buried inside you, and swore he would make it up to you.

You began to cry, it felt so good. But it was so wrong, so disgusting.

And you knew you never felt true regret until you woke up the next morning in Harvey Dent's arms, naked on the bed you slept on with Slade Wilson.

WHAT YALL THINK?? 1-10?? ALSO COMMENT DOWN BELOW TO BE ON THE TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY

#yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batman #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere bruce wayne #yandere x reader #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere dick grayson #yandere harvey dent #yandere slade wilson #platonic yandere batman #yandere jason todd x reader

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leth-writes · 6 months ago

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hotd x oblivious reader

I’m thinking about a reader who’s kinda oblivious. They aren’t super aware of everything going on around them, they’re just confused as to why no one is getting along.

You’re really close with both team black and green, to the point that they’re fighting over you, but you’re not even aware of the actual conflict; you just think it’s petty interpersonal drama.

They’re over in the corner threatening each other with dragons and swords and you’re just… hanging out with Helaena, looking at butterflies and asking to pet her dragon.

the second you express interest in the dragons, there’s practically a line; you’re the most nervous with Daemon and Aemond’s dragons, for obvious reasons given their reputation, but Luke has a pretty small dragon so you grow closer to him through that. Rather than the size of the castle, Arrax is about the size of a particularly large horse, or maybe a big bear. More manageable when you know they can’t swallow you in one bite.

This drives a wedge further between Aemond and Luke, with Aemond outright glaring every time he so much as catches a glimpse at Luke. Not only did he take his eye, now he’s taking a bonding opportunity out from under her?! He’s pissed and challenges him to a duel. You still think it’s all fun and games, and you’re cheering for both of them, and they’re both trying to fucking kill each other, it’s pretty intense.

no matter who wins, you’re ecstatic, and you hug them both and kiss them both on the cheek. The blush that blooms on their faces and the almost goofy smiles that stretch across their cheeks are perhaps the only thing they’ve had in common in years.

Aemond totally uses his injury to ingratiate himself with you. It makes you feel bad for him, and while he doesn’t normally want pity, he’s fine using it to his advantage. Once Luke is out of the way, he reckons, he’ll be able to reveal his true self slowly over time.

Daemon’s also pretty likely to get into physical fights, though he sues his silver tongue to make you blush just as often. He really is quite sly, and he’s the only one to outright proposition you. He’ll get Jace to take you out for a night in the town, slowly working their way to the brothels, trying to sully your reputation just far enough that you’ll have to marry him. It worked for Daemon, after all, and he just wants you connected to him. He’s fully aware that he’s not going to be able to live without you. Having you tied to Jace is just the perfect way to keep you close.

Rhaenyra is also taking advantage of your oblivious and gullible nature. She definitely tries to take advantage of the fact that you aren’t able to catch on to her true intentions. She’s convinced you to cuddle with her by telling you she’s too cold, and that Daemon’s too busy, and you felt so bad for her you were totally willing.

She’s more straightforward, pushing Jace to try to court you. He’s fighting off any of your various suitors, and anyone who is trying to take advantage of your obliviousness to secure a connection to the family.

You’re targeted by people from all over, mainly because of your close bonds to the various members of the nobility. Everyone has to work together to keep you safe when it’s announced you’re willing to court some random lord. You think you’re in love, they need to convince you otherwise.

Daemon immediately gets to work sullying the reputation of that lord. Then, he murders them. He’s not above paying a prostitute to seduce them in a place where you catch the two of them in the act, ravaging your heart.

Aemond and Jace both try to step into that void. Aemond, who takes a slightly more subtle approach, asking you to ride on Vhagar, fails; Jace, under the advice of Rhaenyra, takes a more direct approach and is able to begin dating you.

Alicent practically loses it, seeing her child so defiled by Rhaenyra’s child. She’s trying to convince you to marry Aemond or Aegon instead. Aegon shows up naked in your room; you can’t miss that clue, after all. It doesn’t work, you’re convinced he just mistook your room for his. Your rooms look nothing alike, but Aegon’s too charmed to even mention it.

Finally, Otto steps in to prevent Alicent from snapping and attacking someone. He’s not willing to let his precious grandchild fall into the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s bastards, after all.

Viserys is informed, even on his deathbed, that you should be married to Aemond. It’s to secure the familial line, after all, and your children will surely be strong and loved, the perfect combination.

So, he announces that you will be married to Aemond, breaking your relationship to Jace. Jace is heartbroken, Rhaenyra and Daemon are ready to burn the castle to the ground.

Thus begins the fight of the century.

#yandere hotd #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere jacaerys velaryon #yandere aegon x reader #yander daemon targaryen #lethwrites #yandere alicent hightower

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months ago

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Oral Festivities - John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: roommate au, flirting, gift giving, swearing, friends to lovers, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv, dirty talk

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: For Kinkmas 2024 (Face Sitting)

Stuck at home on Christmas Eve, your roommate, Johnny, surprises you with a gift he’s been wanting to give you.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinkmas 2024 masterlist

“All alone this year? Thought you were visiting family?”

You turn your attention away from the television and glance at your roommate, Johnny. It takes everything in you to keep your jaw in place.

There is no reason for a man to be this attractive. Johnny is freshly showered, his skin still speckled with a few spare drops of water. His dark hair is damp, the usual mohawk he sports combed to the side. The woodsy scent of his aftershave drifts around you, filling your lungs, and enveloping you in a tight hug.

Johnny grins, tipping his head to the side to rub his ear with the corner of the towel. "Did you hear me, love?"

Hells, why does he have to go and address you like that?

Every part of you tingles from the crown of your head to the space between your thighs. Your gaze roams downward, fueling the thought of licking up those droplets of water right off his pectorals.

"Plans were cancelled." Your voice cracks slightly and you cough to clear it. "Not going anywhere."

Johnny's face falls slightly. "Sorry to hear that." His handsome smile returns quickly. "Looks like it's just us."

Oh my God.

"Looks like it," you reply, heart thundering in your chest.

The snow outside is large and fluffy, blanketing everything it touches. There is little movement except for an occasional car braving the cold. It's unlikely that either of you are leaving this apartment anytime soon.

Johnny rubs at his other ear and plops down on the couch beside you, extending one arm across the back of the sofa. Other than the towel he’s holding, he's in plain black gym shorts. Every muscle is on display, and it has to be deliberate.

Johnny settles, the towel draped over one leg. "Is that friend of yours coming over?" he asks slowly.

You frown. "Which friend?"

Johnny side-eyes you. "The guy."

"Oh." You lick your lips. "No."

That guy. The casual hook-up. The guy that didn't "want to put a label" on the relationship. Really, he means nothing. The orgasms aren't even worth all the messages left on read.

Johnny grunts. "Did he get you anything?"

You laugh but it feels hollow. "I wouldn't exactly call us friends."

"Good."

"Good?"

"We're friends, no?" Johnny leans in, and you suddenly realize just how large and broad he is.

"Roommates," you reply softly.

"But friends?"

"Yes," you breathe.

Maybe more if you're open.

Johnny's grin is wide but not malicious. It's almost...flirty? No. That can't be. Sure, he moved in just six months ago, but that hardly accounts for anything. He's a responsible adult, and respectful of your space, but interested in you?

You think back, trying to rummage through every interaction. Old memories resurface, and you suddenly begin questioning every word and gesture. All those times he placed his hand on your lower back, of the pet names you originally dismissed as nothing, to the tight hugs when your jerk of situationship left you hanging.

How many times do you think about Johnny in a given day? About him being a possibility?

If you’re truly being honest, it’s far too many to count.

But that’s entirely one-sided. You don’t know his mind.

"I got you something," he says, voice a bit husky.

Johnny's timbre does something to you. Without thought, you scoot a fraction closer to him on the couch. Johnny matches the movement, his head dipping slightly. It's far too intimate.

"A present?" you ask, adding a bit of tease to your tone, your thighs rubbing against each other as your pussy clenches.

Johnny's cheeks darken slightly, a bit of pink kissing his skin. You're completely done for. There's nothing you won't give him.

Johnny cradles the side of your neck, thumb resting just shy of your lower lip. "One I've wanted to give for a while, love. If you want it."

If you want it.

"I'll take it."

Johnny's reply is a pleased sound that comes deep in his throat. Closing the distance, he presses his lips to yours. It's soft. Sweet. Not dominating or possessive, but a promise. If you let him in, if you keep going, maybe this might work out.

"Another?" he asks against your lips.

"Yes,” you sigh, wanting to breathe him in.

This time when Johnny kisses you, it isn't sweet. Each kiss is possessive, a needy thing that sends your insides twisting. His hand shifts position, moving to the back of your neck, grasping tightly. Reaching out, you place one hand against his firm chest, the hair there scratching your skin.

Fuck it. You need to assert some desire, to show Johnny that you'd enjoy more than just kisses.

Pushing on him, you shove Johnny back against the sofa, straddling his legs to settle in his lap. His smile is knowing—cocky. And then the two of you are right back to, all moving hands and desperate mouths.

Johnny lightly bites your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, pulling a little moan from you. The tip of his tongue briefly brushes against it, and then he's teasing, wanting entrance. His hands roam, dragging and digging at your clothes.

One of Johnny's hands returns to the back of your neck, the tips of his fingers holding tight, dragging you away from his mouth.

"I've been wanting to do that for months."

"Months?" you ask, a little dazed.

"Months," he growls, leaning in to run his lips over your neck. He breathes you in, savoring your scent. "And that wasn't the gift."

"It's not?" Your question is more a gasp of air.

"No." Johnny lifts his head.

"What is it?"

Johnny presses his lips to your ear as his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pajama bottoms. "To taste you."

He guides them past your hips and over your ass before pausing at your thighs. Just another pull and they'll be halfway to your knees.

"Johnny," you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Can I taste you, love?” Johnny’s lips brush against your cheek. “Will you spread those pretty thighs for me?" With a slight twist of his wrist, Johnny’s hand delves between your legs, the tips of his fingers brushing over your exposed clit. “Want to put my mouth here.”

His other arm hooks around your back. With a quick adjustment, Johnny goes onto his back with you straddling his lap.

“Right here, love.” Johnny gestures at his face. “Come sit on it.”

"But—but I'll—"

"You'll what? Crush me? Suffocate me?" He chuckles. "Promise you won't, love." Johnny leans back, head resting against the pillow. Lifting his hands, he gestures for you to get closer. "Come here to me."

As you go up onto your knees, Johnny helps you out of your pajama bottoms, leaving your lower-half completely bare. Just as you start to settle back into his lap, Johnny promptly grasps your thighs squeezing.

“Face. Now.”

With a strength that surprises you, Johnny drags you up the rest of his body, settling you down on his face without ceremony. Your hands go out to steady yourself. One lands on the arm of the sofa while the other finds Johnny’s firm chest.

His breath is hot against your sex, making you gasp at the contact. With a groan, Johnny's tongue teases your opening, not sliding in but just dancing around it. The tip of his nose presses against your clit. Each tiny movement causes it to rub against your clit, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“Oh—fuck. Johnny,” you groan, head falling back as his tongue marks a languid circle up and around your pussy.

His large hands are on your hips, keeping you in place. Each pass of his tongue is a delicious tease, but it’s not nearly enough. You need to feel him everywhere, to have him inside you, even if it’s just his tongue.

Another groan from Johnny, and this time, is vibrates against your sex. It’s followed by a gentle roll of his tongue. Your hand on his chest slips, sliding to his stomach. Johnny’s fingers flex and hold tight, bringing you closer until you swear you’ll suffocate him.

But it doesn’t seem to bother Johnny at all. His tongue delves inside, gently stroking as the tip of his nose continues to rub against your clit. It stirs the growing pleasure, pushing it to new heights. Your hips jerk, but Johnny holds form fucking your pussy with his tongue.

Johnny’s hands begin to move. One curves to the top of your hip, pressing down to keep you in place. The other ascends, slipping underneath your top to slide between your breasts. His heat is a brand. The sensation of his tongue inside you with the stimulation to your clit is quickly driving you toward the edge.

A guttural moan leaves your lips. You tip back further, hand sliding until you meet gym shorts, and a hardness that cannot be denied. You want to fuck this man, to rip off his shorts, and ride him until he’s shooting blanks.

Another dip of his tongue inside you. Another grinding against clit.

The orgasm bursts outward, pussy squeezing around Johnny’s tongue. He does not stop. Not until your thighs quiver and squeeze against the sides of his head.

Johnny’s hand disappears from your chest, and then he’s helping you off his face, bringing you to his stomach. The lust-drenched haze still clouds your vision. You’re not entirely aware of your surroundings until Johnny shifts up on his elbows.

You go for him just as he goes for you. He tastes of you, and that only spurs you on, to seek entrance with your tongue. Johnny obliges with a smile, even as he continues to come to a more seated position.

You’re both reaching for his shorts, shoving them down enough until you feel his hardness bounce against the curve of your ass.

“Get on my dick,” growls Johnny, as you shift backward, lightly nipping at your left nipple.

The head of his cock drags against your ass before coming to rest against your sex. It starts to press in. Johnny’s tongue brushes over the nipple he just teased with his teeth. Sliding down on him is both agony and bliss.

With a smirk, you pop your hips up before coming back down on him. Johnny’s eyelids flutter briefly in pleasure.

“And this is my gift to you, Johnny.”

taglist:

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@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

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moonchild9350 · 4 months ago

Text

The Manor

Summary: both you and your boyfriend Chan love haunted houses so you both decide to check out the one in town, but you both find out soon you may get more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Chan x fab!reader, OT8 x reader throughout

Genre: horror, mystery, smut- 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 10.7k

Warnings: presence of spirits/ghosts, attempted drowning, knife play, description of blood, use of blindfolds, violence, description of bruising/assault, poison use, unprotected sex (don’t), creampie, fingering, fear induced arousal, use of guns, attempted strangling, voyerism, mention of stabbing, element of dubcon (one scene), Chan's kind of a dick

Notes: This is it! The last fic for spooktober. I appreciated every kind comment, reblog, etc. throughout this month. Happy Halloween!

Let's see if you can decipher who is who as you read through! Let me know your guesses in the comments or my inbox!

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, reblog, comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

“Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, blood and revenge are hammering in my head.” -Willam Shakespeare

“The Edge Manor, established in 1876. Prime of its time. A well respected family in the community until tragedy struck in 1896 when Clara Edge was murdered by her lover, within the very rooms of the manor. It is rumored her ghost haunts the manor and has been spotted by many guests who come to seek out the horrors that lie within its walls.”

“Babe, this seems like an adventure! Can we go? Please? Please?” You begged your boyfriend Chan, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

You dragged your leg up his, teasing the hairs there as you looked up into his face. You and Chan were avid lovers of anything horror, and that included haunted houses. You both made it a point to visit and see for yourselves if these places were truly disturbed with the dead as reported.

You found out about Edge Manor through a website, others raving about the manor, claiming to have seen many ghosts within its walls. You were a little skeptical however, knowing that whenever people claimed multiple sightings within one house, there was bound to be a lie somewhere.

Nonetheless, you were more than ready to find out if there was truth in the rumors, leading you to the present, pleading with Chan to come with you.

“Of course baby, let’s go,” Chan said, a smirk on his face. “Maybe we’ll see all these ghosts they claim are there,” he said sarcastically, poking you in the side.

You chuckled, holding him close. You were ready for another adventure, the last one being a bust. You both decided to visit the next weekend, since you both were off from work, that way you could stay overnight and thoroughly explore the manor during the day and night.

You were excited, almost giddy, and hoped the weekend after next would come soon.

Your bags were packed and you were making your way down the winding roads, twists and turns at every corner. The lanes were empty, no one being out this far in the middle of practically nowhere.

It was a cloudy day, the sun deciding to hide within the clouds, the threat of a storm in the horizon. There was already a mist descending from the sky, the droplets covering your windshield. Trees littered both sides of the road, the leaves drifting downward and landing softly like a feather.

You were on your way to Edge Manor to meet Chan, as he had left earlier than you. You hummed the song on the radio, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to the beat, as you focused on the road. You were almost there according to your GPS, your excitement bubbling at the prospect of a thrill of a weekend.

It didn’t take long until the manor loomed in the distance, the large structure betraying its age. The gray stones did not seem welcoming, almost as if it were an omen to anyone that approached to stay away. The shutters covering the windows were falling apart, yet hanging on, adding to the charm of the menacing manor.

You pulled into the long, gravel drive, slowly making your way to the front of the house. Your mouth hung open in awe as you came to the front door, elegant as much as it was rickety.

You put your car in park and opened the door, your foot touching the gravel below with a crunch. You slowly walked up the steps and to the door, your hand grasping the centuries old knob. Opening the door, you were met with a grand foyer, dim lighting illuminating the room.

Your eyes wandered the room, until you noticed a desk in the center, a man standing behind it, his hands placed precariously on the wood. You walked towards him, a smile steadily growing on his face as you approached.

He had long blond hair that framed his almost angelic face. His large brown eyes gazed at you, radiating with a welcoming kindness. His face was littered with freckles, the spots moving as his smile grew bigger, meeting his eyes.

“Welcome to Edge Manor. My name is Felix, the caretaker of the grounds. Will you be staying with us?”

His voice was deep, with a hint of an accent, the syllables echoing off the ornate walls.

“Yes, I’m uhh...I’m meeting someone here, he’s already checked in. Chan is his name.”

“Ah yes, he checked in a little earlier.”

You watched as he rummaged under the desk, muttering under his breath as he searched for something. Finally, he straightened up with an old fashioned key in his hand, the red label reading 325. Felix smiled and handed you the key, his cold fingers softly brushing against yours before he quickly withdrew his hand once the key was safely in yours.

“I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay. If you are in need of any assistance, please do not hesitate to let me know. The stairs to my left will take you to your room.”

You thanked Felix and grabbed your bag, heading to the stairs he mentioned. You made your way up the plush stairs, your feet feeling almost buoyant on the carpeted stairs. Your eyes wandered, looking at the paintings that lined the wall. Each frame showed a different person, each in period clothing.

Stopping at a particular frame, you took note of a young girl in a beautiful lilac dress holding lily of the valley flowers in her arms. She was beautiful with a gentle face, her eyes an illustrious green. As beautiful as she was, there was a hint of melancholy etched into her eyes, her smile not quite reaching the green orbs.

‘This must be the famous Clara Edge,’ you thought.

With one last glance at the girl, you continued down the hall, looking for your room. It didn’t take long, the room being in the center of the hall. Inserting the key, you unlocked the door, and walked inside.

The room was charming yet simple, a little bit of old charm mixed with new. You placed your bag on the dresser, noticing Chan’s bag was there as well. So he was here. You pulled out your phone to contact him, but noticed there was no service.

“Shit,” you muttered, wondering how you were going to get in contact with him. Surely he wouldn’t have started to explore the manor without you.

You decided to freshen up, while waiting for him to return, as you were feeling a little sweaty after the journey. Unzipping your bag, you pulled out your shower supplies and made your way to the in-suite bathroom. Flicking on the light, you took in the room, a simple claw tub in the corner followed by a sink and a toilet.

The bare minimum, but it would do. You turned the water on, humming a song, waiting for the water to warm up. It surprisingly didn’t take long, so you were able to fill the tub, and quickly get in, as there was a slight chill in the air.

Sinking down in the warm water, you let out a sigh, the tension slowly leaving your body. You leaned back against the tub and closed your eyes, listening to the house settle around you, the creaks of the floor boards and groans of the pipes being your background noise. You hoped Chan would come back soon, wanting to be near him in this strange house.

You were thinking of Chan still when you felt odd, like someone was watching you. The room turned colder, the edge of the tub frosting over. You shivered at the sudden change, opening your eyes in confusion at the sudden change.

You tried to get out of the tub so you could get into some warm clothes. You had your hands on either side of the tub, grasping the icy rim when you felt a hand on both of your shoulders, the fingers colder than the air around you. With force, the hands pushed you back into the water, causing some water to spill up and over the edge of the tub.

You almost slipped on your way back down, stopping your head from going completely under the tepid water. Your heart was beating rapidly within your chest, as you almost had gone under.

“Chan? Very funny babe,” you nervously chuckled.

This would be a funny idea of a joke to Chan, trying to sneak up and scare you in a vulnerable moment.

However, when you turned around to look toward the bathroom door, there was no one there, just you alone within the tub. You were confused, more than sure that someone had touched you just now. You almost went under because of it. Shaking your head, thinking it was a fluke, you tried to get up once more.

Suddenly, you were pushed down again, this time your body slipping completely below the water, your head submerged, your hair floating gently in the water like Ophelia. You were shocked, your mouth agape, water flooding your mouth as you scrambled to get out of the water. However, the more you struggled, the harder you were pushed down by the mysterious hands, your head touching the bottom of the tub.

You kicked your feet, thrashed around, trying anything you could do to get your head above water, but to no avail. You screamed, bubbles floating around you as your voice pierced the water, the sound coming out muffled.

What you saw peering down at you from the surface caused you to scream even louder. The hands pushing you down were connected to a body, a man at that.

He had dark hair that layered his head haphazardly, his fox like brown eyes wide and bloodshot. His lips were pale and shriveled, as if he held them under water for a while. His mouth was twisted in anger, his focus trained on keeping you under.

You brought your hands to his, scratching the flesh, fighting to loosen his grip on you. It was becoming harder to breathe as you had swallowed quite a lot of water, the liquid rapidly filling your lungs while fighting off your assailant.

Your vision became fuzzy, the image of the man blurring around the edges. You were about to succumb to your fate, when strong, sturdy hands grabbed you pulling you out the water.

You gasped, taking a deep breath before coughing, spewing water that was trapped within your throat onto the bathroom floor. You looked up to see Chan, who was now cradling you to his side, brushing back your soaking hair from your face.

“What the hell, y/n! What happened?” He exclaimed, a mixture of confusion and fear mixed on his face.

“I...I’m not sure,” you stuttered. “I was taking a bath when I felt a pair of hands push me down under the water. I couldn’t get back up!” You cried, as you clutched onto Chan tighter.

“Sh, sh,” Chan said as he wrapped a towel around you tight. “Let's dry you off and get you into some warm clothes.”

You nodded your head in agreement and held on tight as Chan carried you to the bedroom. He set you down gently on the bed while he rummaged through your bag for some clothes.

He tossed you your panties, some leggings and a shirt, and helped you get dressed. Once done, you both reclined against the bed, sitting in silence.

What was that? What happened? Who was that? Your mind was all over the place, shock at your run in with...with what? Was that one of the famed ghosts of the manor? The man did seem to have a glow to his frame.

You broke the silence, explaining to Chan what you saw and then explaining your theory. He looked at you skeptically, not sure if he wanted to believe it was a ghost, but what other explanation was there?

You felt adrenaline running through your veins, the feeling of fear not quite dissipating yet. Instead, you felt aroused, the brush with death stirring up feelings deep in your core. You squeezed your thighs together, seeking friction to ease the ache. Chan noticed and smirked. “Are you turned on right now?” You smiled slyly as you looked into his eyes. You scooted closer, wrapping your arms around him before kissing him, your tongue forcing its way into his mouth. You were dripping, never having felt this type of arousal before, the balance between fear and adrenaline teetering like the scale of judgment.

You quickly pushed Chan down, his back hitting the pillows, a “mmhft” leaving his mouth at the impact. You shimmied out of your leggings, tossing them to the side and scrambled to reach into his sweats, your hands wrapping around his hardening cock.

Chan let out a groan as you stroked the tip, pushing your panties to the side, before lifting your hips and dragging his cock through your folds. You both let out a moan as you slid down onto his cock, taking him to the hilt.

There was no time for soft and sweet, but only passion, at the experience you both just went through. You braced yourself, placing your hands on his chest, as you began to bounce on his cock, the sound of skin hitting skin reverberating through the room, as you rode Chan hard and fast.

Strangled cries fell from Chan’s lips as he grabbed your hips, the pleasure quickly building within his belly. He was not going to last long. He quickly brought a finger to your clit, the digits rubbing the bud in gentle, but quick circles, bringing you closer to the edge as you fervently swiveled your hips.

You were close, Chan’s cock hitting your spot just right and his fingers toying with your clit. You braced yourself as you tipped over the edge, giving into the sweet pleasure spreading throughout your body, your release coating Chan’s cock. The spasming of your walls triggered his own release, as he loudly groaned, thrusting his hips into yours as spurts of cum coated your walls.

You sat there, your breath heavy as you came down, staring down at your boyfriend who was in no better shape.

“That was insane babe,” Chan said, a smile on his face.

You laughed agreeing and slipped off his cock, his cum dripping down your thighs as you laid down. Chan walked back to the bathroom, grabbing a towel to wipe you down with.

Once he was done, he slid next to you, cradling you to his body. You could feel the adrenaline finally subsiding, your mind returning back to normal. That was definitely a paranormal entity you had experienced, no doubt about it. But who was it?

Your mind couldn’t keep up with your constant thoughts as your eyes drifted close, sleep taking over your exhaustion body.

You awoke, your belly growling signaling to you that you were hungry. It was midday, the room dark as the sun did not shine on this side of the manor, the shadows dancing across the walls as the wind blew the trees outside.

You were still wrapped up in Chan, his arms around you, holding you close. Your mind went to what happened earlier, your body shivering at the memory of your head under water, the look of the unforgiving eyes of the man that held you under. But, your mind also wandered to after, the way Chan felt under you, the way your senses were heightened ten-fold as the adrenaline spread throughout your body. You had never felt that fear before, but then again, you had never been in this type of situation.

Your stomach growled once more, interrupting your thoughts. Carefully, you untangled your limbs from Chan and got up, deciding to find the kitchen to grab a snack.

You walked the halls, rubbing your eyes, making your way down the grand staircase. You passed by the front desk, Felix standing behind it waiting.

“How’s your stay?” Felix asked suddenly, the ever present smile on his face. “Ok,” you replied, stopping in your tracks. “That’s good to hear! If you are of need of anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” You didn’t notice this before, but now that you were settling in, you noticed how Felix spoke, as if he was programmed to say what he was saying. You decided not to think too much of it as your belly continued to growl, reminding you of your hunger.

“Felix, where is the kitchen? I’m a little hungry and would love a snack.”

Felix flashed his smile before saying, “Right down the hall here to my right. Fourth door. Take the stairs down into the kitchen.”

“Great, thank you,” you replied, making your way down the hall as directed.

The hall was dim, the flicker of light from the lamps on the walls not providing adequate lighting. There were more pictures on the wall, depicting the previous occupants of the house.

“One, two, three....and four,” you whispered, coming to the door Felix mentioned.

You opened the door to find a stone staircase, leading to beneath the house, the stairs lit with the soft glow of the lamps. There was a draft, the chilly air causing you to shiver where you stood.

Taking a breath, you began to make your descent, the promise of food spurring you on. Once at the bottom, you stepped into a simple kitchen. There was a wood stove next to the refrigerator, the wide sink basin not too far off. It seemed like the original appliances were still in use.

You padded over to a door, assuming the pantry would be located behind it. You were right as it was piled high with various types of chips, boxes of pasta, desserts, and other types of foods that must be used to cook for the guests.

You decided on a bag of chips, grabbing the bag and walking over to a stool. You opened the bag and dug in, the salty snack hitting the spot. It wasn’t very late, dinner time not yet approaching, so you didn’t have to worry about ruining your dinner.

After eating your fill, you got up to put the bag away and then made your way to the sink to wash your hands. While you ran your hands under the warm water, you heard a clink, the sound echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You quickly turned around, your soaped up hands held in front of you, looking for the source of the sound.

Seeing no one, you went back to washing the suds off. You were almost done when you felt something press at your throat, feeling cold and solid against your skin. You attempted to turn your head, but stopped in your tracks when the solid object dug deeper into your skin.

You could feel a trickle of blood seep from the area, causing you to gasp, realizing there was a knife at your throat. Your breath became shaky, trying not to make any sudden movements and injury yourself further.

“Who’s there?” You asked, your voice trembling with each word.

You could feel your heart beating rapidly, the sound echoing in your ears. No one responded to your question as there was only silence and the occasional ‘plink plink plink’ of the water dripping from the faucet.

You knew someone was behind you however, as you could feel their breath on your neck, not hot as you would expect, but cold. Whoever it was still had the knife pressed to your throat before you heard a haunting whisper. “Turn around slowly,” the voice said.

The knife was lowered and you let out a breath before slowly turning around. You noticed another man in front of you, this one different than the one you encounter during your bath.

He had black hair like the man before, however, his eyes were almost cat like, the orbs piercing into your skull. He gripped the knife in his hand, occasionally twirling the blade.

“Aren’t you a cutie, kitten,” the man said, his eyes roaming your figure before landing back on your eyes, holding your gaze.

You were trembling in your spot in fear, not sure who the man was. The adrenaline was coursing through your system once more, your body posed to flee once the timing seemed right. You kept eyeing the knife, making sure it stayed far away from you. You must have gazed at it too long, as the man noticed, a smirk forming on his face.

“Wanna see my little friend up close?” He questioned, walking closer to you.

He didn’t stop until he was right in front of your face. You continued to stare into his brown orbs as he lightly dragged the knife up your arms, the little hairs on your arms sticking up. He continued his assault across your chest, down the valley of your breasts before coming back up to your chest.

He eyed your throat, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, almost as if he was savoring you in his head. With a quick motion, the knife was back at your throat, the blade pressing in harder than before.

You were terrified, as you felt the metal dig deeper and deeper, a more steady flow of blood seeping from the wound. With each drop of blood, you couldn't help the arousal that seeped into your panties, the material feeling damp against your core.

With each press of the knife, your pussy clenched around nothing, your body desperately seeking for some type of relief. You shouldn’t be feeling this way, but here you were with a knife at your throat, ready to slice you open and you were turned on.

You needed to get away from this man, before anymore damage could be done. You decided to run across the room and up the stairs and into the hallway, locking the man in this infernal place.

Taking a breath, you counted to three before shoving the man hard, your hands meeting the hard surface of his chest. As he stumbled backwards, you made a run for it, making it to the steps in no time. You took them two at a time, not stopping until you were in the hallway, the door closed tightly behind you.

You quickly made your way back to the foyer, your neck still dripping blood from where the knife was held against your skin. Once in the grand hall, you turned to see Felix looking at you in concern.

“Why y/n, you are bleeding! What happened?” Felix exclaimed, walking over to you with a tissue.

You gratefully accepted the cloth, holding it against the wound on your neck. “Come, this way. Let’s go the sitting room.” Felix guided you toward a room to the left of his desk, swinging open the ornate doors. He waited until you stepped in, before following behind you. “Please sit,” Felix murmured. “I will get a first aid kit to clean up your wound. You can tell me what happened then too.” You watched as Felix scurried out the room, shutting the doors behind him. Now that he was gone, you took in your surroundings, not yet having come across this room. It was large, but cozy, various arm chairs and couches strategically placed throughout. You could hear the tick tock tick tock of a clock somewhere in the room, but other than that, it was silent.

There was a large bay window at the other end of the room. You got up and walked toward it, wanting to see where it overlooked. There was a massive yard, the grass green despite the time of year. It was neatly manicured, keeping up with the prestige of the house.

You were lost in thought, your mind not yet recovered from what just occurred. You weren’t sure what was happening in this house, but you wanted nothing more than to be with your boyfriend, his warm, muscular arms wrapped around you.

As you daydreamed, your head off in the clouds, you did not notice the shift in the air, how the temperature dropped a degree or two, or how there was a presence behind you, gazing at you.

You continued to stare out the window until you felt something cover your eyes, the material soft and delicate, obscuring your eye sight.

“Chan?” You asked, your voice quivering slightly.

“Shhh, behave,” the voice responded, deep and sultry just like Chan’s can be in the bedroom.

You giggled, slightly relaxing at the fact that your boyfriend found you, and not some other person. You started to turn around when a hand stopped you, before turning you back to face what you assumed was the window.

You felt hands glide from your shoulders down your arms, causing shivers to run down your spine. It occurred again and again and again before they made their way to your belly, the digits softly splaying across your soft flesh.

The hands reached lower, reaching your thighs, caressing the supple flesh, as you let out a low moan. Your panties became even more wet, your slick soaking the material as you felt the hands continue to touch you softly, gently, slowly, building anticipation as to what was to come.

You felt a body behind you, the muscular frame pressed against your back so similar to Chan’s, hands continuing to touch you, locking you in.

“Please,” you whimpered, more than ready for him to touch you where you needed it most, to relieve the ache that had never quite gone away, as it steadily built up through your encounter with the man with the knife and now with your boyfriend’s hands touching you, teasing you.

You let out a sigh as the hand finally slipped into your leggings, pass your panties to cup your core. You tried to hold back your moans as you felt a thick finger dip through your folds, teasing your entrance before traveling up to your clit.

The slightest pressure was applied to the nub, causing you to jerk your hips into his hands. You leaned back onto the muscular frame behind you, completely surrendering yourself to the pleasure, as gentle yet firm circles were applied to your clit, bringing you closer to that high you desperately needed.

You felt your knees begin to buckle, needing to move to brace yourself against your high that was ready to explode at any moment. However you couldn't move as his muscular arm was wrapped around you, holding you up, making sure your body was flush with his.

You teetered on the edge of ecstasy, your breath shaky, your toes curling in your shoes, as your hips rocking against the finger that was pressed to your bundle of nerves. Despite the blindfold, you saw colors, the spots swirling this way and that as you tipped over the edge, your hands coming up to grab the two that were wrapped around your body.

You dug your fingernails into the flesh, riding out your high before taking a shaky breath and slowly letting go. The hand move up and out of your leggings, the other arm dropping from your body. The presence of the body behind you was gone in an instant, leaving you alone and out of breath.

You removed your blindfold, ready to turn around and wrap your arms around your boyfriend. However, when you did turn around, there was no one there, only the lingering chill was present in the air. Your eyes scanned the room confused, knowing you would have heard or caught Chan before he left the room.

That was Chan right? It sounded like him, felt like him, but now you’re not so sure. He wouldn’t leave you like this. You looked down at the blindfold that was covering your eyes a moment ago and fingered the material, soft and silky against your touch.

It seemed to be a scarf, one that was not yours. Your started to panic, wondering who you just let touch you in such an intimate way. You didn’t have much longer to fret as the door opened, Felix entering the room with a bag in his hands.

He closed the door and walked towards you, his ever present smile on his face. “Found the first aid kit y/n. Please sit down and I can clean your wound.” You listened to what the blond said, sitting down on the closest couch, surprised that you forgot all about your wound. The blood seemed to have since stopped, the red caked onto your clammy skin.

You watched as Felix opened the kit, pulling out antiseptic, gauze, cream, and a bandage. It was almost calming watching him work, determination in his eyes as he began to clean your wound.

You couldn’t help but stare at his face, taking in his beautiful eyes, soft and gentle, focused on the task at hand. Your eyes wandered his face, taking in the hundreds of freckles that littered the area, enhancing his beauty.

You watched his lips open, as he asked, “So what happened?”

You blinked once, twice before answering, “I was attacked in the kitchens. I was cleaning up after my snack when a man with cat like eyes attacked me, holding a knife to my throat.”

Felix stopped what he was doing, taking a moment to look at you more closely.

“A man with cat eyes?” He asked skeptically.

You looked into Felix’s eyes, trying to read his expression, as it went from shock to almost a knowing look, and then back to shock as if he was trying to cover up something. You may be mistaken but it seemed as if he knew of the man that you described.

“Yes,” you responded. “Is this anyone else staying here besides Chan and I?”

“No, you two are the only ones here at the moment. No one else is supposed to be here until Monday.”

You pondered Felix’s answer as he continued to dress your wound. He was placing the bandage when the door opened again, this time Chan stepping through. When he spotted you sitting on the couch and Felix placing a bandage on, he rushed over, concern on his face.

“Baby, what happened?” He asked, sitting by your side.

You explained everything, as Felix cleaned up the wrappers and dirty linens, silently listening to your tale once more. Once you were done, you didn’t dare look at Chan. You left out what recently happened, your mind wanting to believe that it was indeed Chan who you let touch you.

“Are you sure that’s what happened?” Chan asked, uncertainty in his eyes. You nodded your head. “Yes, I am completely sure.” This was the second time he's questioned your story. Did it really sound that crazy? Who are you kidding, of course it does, you can't blame him really for not believing you. Chan looked at Felix who looked down at his hands, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of his pants. Chan didn’t know what to believe if he was being honest. First the drowning situation and now this? He didn’t want to say anything to upset you, especially in front of Felix.

“Maybe you need fresh air baby, may do you some good.”

You looked at your boyfriend, searching his face for what he was thinking. A walk to clear your head honestly sounded appealing. Maybe fresh air truly is what you needed as this manor was starting to get to you.

Felix cleared his throat, trying to get both of your attention. “There’s a garden out behind the manor. There’s a little flower garden, a mini maze, and some chaise to lounge in. You two go ahead, I’ll prepare snacks and some tea.”

You both nodded and stood up. Chan grabbed your hand, holding it tight in his. You felt comforted and reassured, squeezing his hand for good measure. Chan smiled at you before guiding you out of the sitting room, leaving Felix behind.

Felix watched both of you exit the room. He was at a loss, not sure what to do. The events were occurring again, as he thought they would with a perfectly happy couple staying at the manor. He just hoped things wouldn’t get out of hand the way they did last time.

The fresh air was exactly what you needed. It was nearing dusk, so the air was crisp, filling your lungs with each breath you took. You walked with Chan hand and hand, exploring the backyard, neither one of you in a hurry.

The birds were chittering, as they prepared for night, making last minute runs for food and flying to their homes. You both came across the garden first, taking in the hundreds of flowers resting peacefully in their home. The vibrant colors spilled over onto the walkway, their scent mixing with the cool air.

“They’re so beautiful!” You exclaimed, taking in each flower as you walked past.

Chan hummed agreeing with you, taking in the flowers as well. “This place is beautiful,” he said, “It’s old and filled with history. The manor itself feels...”

Chan paused for a moment, causing you to look up at him. “It feels alive almost,” he finished.

You couldn’t agree more. The manor did feel alive, unsettled almost. You were sure there were spirits present, given that you may have already encountered three of them. You pushed that thought from your mind however, and continued your walk.

You neared some green shrubbery, the neat hedges forming walls on either side of a dirt walkway. This must be the maze Felix mentioned.

“Wanna go in?” Chan asked, looking at you before looking back at the entrance.

“Sure,” you responded.

You thought for a moment, an idea coming to the forefront of your mind. It was probably not the best idea given everything that has occurred, but at least Chan would be in the same vicinity as you.

“Wanna split up and whoever makes it out first gets to buy ice cream when we get back home?”

Chan grinned at your suggestion, “You’re on baby.”

You smiled and then untangled your hand from his. You walked to another entrance that was a few feet away. Giving your boyfriend one last glance, you stepped into the maze, the green walls closing you in.

You walked down the path, carefully making decision after decision as to which direction you wanted to go. You thought you were doing pretty well and hopefully close to the end when you came across a small clearing in your path. In front of you was yet another man, sitting on a stool in front of a canvas, a paintbrush in his hands.

He was just staring at the canvas, the bristles not quite touching the white expanse before him. You tried to be quiet as you turned to go back the way you came, that is until your foot came down on a branch, the brown stick snapping in two.

The man looked up and turned your way, his mouth agape at the interruption. “Ah! A new muse!” He exclaimed, excitement in his eyes as he gazed at you. “Come, come! I must paint you.” He gestured for you to sit on another stool that was definitely not there a moment ago. You cautiously walked over, sitting on the stool, as you looked at the man anxiously.

He had long dark hair, the waves framing his face perfectly. His eyes seemed gentle enough as they darted from you to the canvas. He was wearing simple clothes, his shirt haphazardly hanging off of his shoulders, smattered with various colors.

You listened as he began to mutter, his plush lips opening and closing, forming syllables you couldn’t quite make out.

After mixing some colors he began to paint, the brush lightly dancing across the canvas. You sat in fear, your eyes widened, hands clasped tightly in your lap. You didn’t dare move, not sure what this man was capable of. Time passed, the sky getting darker, the stars starting to peak out in the night sky. You were growing stiff after sitting for so long. You really ought to find Chan, sure he would be worried about you.

“I’m going to...” But before you could finish your sentence, the man sprang from his seat, rushing over to you quickly.

“No, no! You must not leave. The painting is not yet finished my muse!”

You stared into the man’s eyes, now wide and crazed, a sort of desperation in them. You couldn’t help the tingling feeling that began to form in your core, the adrenaline once again coursing through you as you gazed upon his beautiful face. You should be terrified, as this man did not seem stable, however you found that the terror was mixed with desire and lust.

“Here my muse, hold these. They will complete the painting perfectly.” You opened your arms as the man produced a bouquet of flowers. They were dainty and delicate, the white petals enticing to the eye. You were not sure what type of flowers they were and as you opened your mouth to ask, you noticed the man had begun to wildly paint, the brush covering the canvas in more hurried strokes.

“What kind of flowers are these?” You asked, your eyes never leaving his back.

He smirked and continued to paint, his docile face turning over to a more crazed and sinister look. “Hemlock my muse, the perfect flower for the perfect girl on this perfect night. It will complete the painting perfectly.”

Hemlock...hemlock, you repeated in your mind. You had actually heard of the flowers, somewhere at some point in time. But...wait a minute...weren’t hemlocks poisonous, one of the deadliest flowers in the world? You quickly dropped the bouquet, fear etched on your face at what you just touched.

The man looked up, anger in his eyes. He rushed at you and gripped your shoulders, the crazed look in his eye intensified.

“Why did you drop them my muse? Why! Now the painting is ruined, ruined once more!” He screamed into your face.

He was shaking you roughly, your head bobbing back and forth like a rag doll. You had tears in your eyes, as you struggled to get away. However, every time you were able to get loose from his grip, he’d hold onto you tighter, shaking you harder. You were hysterical, clawing, thrashing, and even tried to bite the man, trying to get away so you could run.

The man suddenly stopped shaking you but still gripped your arms. He grinned, an evil look in his eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his plush lips.

“I know how I can finish my painting with my muse!”

In his hand, he produced a flower, the same ones that you were holding moments before. You shrieked as he began to try to shove the flower past your lips, trying to get you to ingest the poisonous beauty.

You kept your lips shut tight, twisting your head left and right, trying to avoid ingesting the flower. Each time you rejected his advances, the angrier and more forceful he became.

You feared for your life, worried this would be the end. Where was Chan? Can he hear your screams, your cries for help?

Just when you were about to give up, you heard a voice and multiple footsteps pound on the gravel, getting closer to you by the second.

As soon as the frenzy began, it stopped, the man and easel with the canvas gone. It was just you, standing in the middle of the path, tears streaming down your face, your hair a mess, and angry bruises beginning to form on your arms from where the man grabbed you.

“Y/n!” Chan yelled, relief in his voice as he made eye contact with you, running to your side and engulfing you with a hug.

Felix made an appearance a moment later, his eyes widened at the scene. You were shaking, hysterical as Chan tried to calm you down, holding you close as you clung onto him.

Night had now fallen, the moon shining bright in the sky, making the maze seem less friendly. You were not sure how long you had stayed on that pathway, being comforted by Chan.

Eventually, the tears stopped and you took a deep breath. You were ready to go back to the manor, the once cheery and harmless garden to you, now filled with darkness and evil lurking around every corner.

“Can we go back?” You hiccuped, looking from Chan to Felix.

Both men nodded and quickly led you away from the maze, the green shrubbery now appearing menacing in the darkness of the night. It didn’t take long for you to make it back to the manor, Felix ushering you both inside before closing the doors and locking them.

“You can both take dinner in the sitting room if you’d like.” Felix said.

Chan guided you to the large room, gently sitting you down on the couch. He sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms, cradling you. You felt much calmer, the threat of the maze gone. You were once more moments from death, which did not sit well with you.

Chan seemed none the wiser, seeming to enjoy his stay at the manor. No crazy events occurred to him. You were confused, wondering why everything was happening to you and not him. What did this place have against you?

Felix brought in dinner consisting of sandwiches and chips, topping it off with tea which you had no problems with and gratefully accepted. You nibbled on the meat and bread, your stomach still uneasy after what just occurred. Nonetheless, you finished your meal and afterwards, settled in next to Chan. “Ready for bed baby?” Chan asked with gentleness in his eyes. You nodded yes and got up, Chan grabbing your hand as you both walked back to your room. You thanked Felix for the food and his help, a smile gracing his face at the praise. He bid both of you goodnight as you started to ascend the staircase.

Once in the safety of your room, you quickly changed clothes and crawled into bed, as you were exhausted. Chan slid in next to you and pulled you close, his hand reaching up to brush your hair from your face.

“Wanna talk about what happened today? I’m worried baby,” Chan said, his eyes searching yours.

“No, I...I just want to sleep,” you whispered, lowering your eyes so he couldn’t see the pain there.

It didn’t take you long to drift off to sleep, the thoughts of men with knives pressed to your throat, unknown hands caressing you gently such as your boyfriend does, and crazed men in front of a canvas swirling around in your head. You were shocked you could sleep at all.

You hoped you could sleep through the night, hoping to maybe bring up with Chan that you both go home tomorrow, away from this place, from this cursed manor.

The next morning you arose, your eyes still heavy with sleep. You did not sleep as well as you wanted, cuddling up to Chan as close as possible each time you awoke. Chan was sitting up, on his phone, his arm draped around you as in to provide protection.

“Good morning baby,” Chan said a smile on his face.

“Morning,” you replied, your voice thick with sleep.

You sat up, stretching your arms before laying your head on Chan’s shoulders. You laid there, watching him read his book on his phone, feeling safe and warm within the comfort of his arms. You were so warm that you could drift off any moment, your eyes threatening to close.

“Wanna go downstairs to get something to eat and maybe explore a little more?” Chan eventually asked, exiting the book he was reading.

You wanted nothing more than to pack up and leave, but maybe you could bring that up after a belly full with food; therefore, you agreed, getting up to get ready. It didn’t take you long, as you threw on a t-shirt and leggings and put your hair up, not caring what you looked like.

You did take a look in the mirror, noticing the bruises on your arm, now a dark red with purple splotches littering your skin. You took in the bandage on your neck, a reminder that you were held at knife point. Your eyes looked tired, dark circles forming beneath them. You looked a wreck, like you had been through hell and back. Shaking your head, you made your way over to Chan, giving him a small smile letting him know you were ready.

Chan grabbed your hand and led you out of your room and down the stairs, making your way to the dining room. You noticed upon the table was a spread of pastries, fruit, bagels, carafes of coffee and jars of water. You picked out a pastry and poured you a cup of coffee before sitting down next to Chan who had chosen a bagel and was scarfing it down.

You ate in silence, slowly picking away at your food. You decided to bring up the topic of going home, as it was as good a time as ever.

“Chan?” You asked with uncertainty. Chan looked up at you expectedly giving you his full attention. “Can we uh...go home? I kinda have had enough of this manor,” you continued, your voice trailing off towards the end. Chan regarded you for a moment. You knew the wheels were turning in his head.

His eyes studied yours, then traveled to the bandage on your neck, to the bruises on your arm.

“We have one more night baby,” Chan replied. He didn’t really want to leave, not quite yet, as you both still had so much to explore.

You stared at Chan in disbelief, your fingers frozen as you were picking apart the last of your pastry. You really didn’t want to stay another night, not wanting to encounter anymore surprises. However, Chan looked hopeful, his eyes never wavering from yours. You’d have to suck it up and endure one more night...for him.

“Fine...” you said in disdain, quickly looking away. Chan reached out to grab your hand in his, his thumb gliding over your knuckles. “One more night baby and then we’ll be home.” One more night.

Sure, you can do this...right?

After breakfast, Chan explained he needed to run back to your room to grab his phone since he left it on the bedside table. He kissed the top of your hand, ensuring you he would be right back.

You watched as he ascended the stairs, taking two at a time. You turned away, seeing Felix standing behind the front desk.

He offered you a smile before going back to his book. You were going to wait for Chan, until you heard a soft melody playing off in one of the rooms. You looked to Felix to see if he heard the music, but he was engrossed in his book, not even looking up.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to investigate the music, following the melancholic notes to a door near the door that led to the kitchen. Twisting the knob, it silently opened, giving way to a beautiful, yet empty room. There were stained glassed windows, the beautiful depictions of cherubs, gods, and goddesses causing a glow in the room.

Your eyes wandered to the center of the room, where there was a white Baby Grande Piano, a man sitting on the bench. His fingers were dancing gracefully amongst the keys, the resulting music sounding hauntingly beautiful. You stood in the doorway as if in a trance, the notes flowing into one ear and out the other.

Whoever it was played beautifully, as they told a story through their fingertips. You carefully walked toward the man, putting one foot in front of the other. You were getting closer and closer, noticing that he had curly brown hair. You wanted to get a look at his face, so you continued to walk, as he continued to play.

You were almost upon him when he suddenly stopped playing and before you knew it, swiveled around on the bench, his arm outstretched with a pistol in his hand. You froze on the spot, your eyes wide, as your brain tried to register that a gun was pointed at you, straight at your heart.

The man didn’t speak but stared at you, his gaze never wavering. He didn’t even blink. He had on glasses, the sun’s rays radiating off the rims. His cheeks were round, with heart shaped lips in between.

Time passed, as you stayed frozen, not daring to move, the man staring you down, his arm never lowering. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, the sound so loud that surely it could be heard from where the man was standing. You needed to get out of here before something bad happens.

Trying to be careful, you took a step back, your toe touching the ground first followed by the ball of your foot and then your heel. Your eyes never left the mans, hoping he wouldn’t notice your movement.

However, you knew you had made a mistake when you heard him cock the pistol, the sound ringing out loudly in the near empty room, his arm steady throughout the whole process. Were you really going to die here? You had no way out, not knowing if you could make it out before he fired the gun.

“Please!” You pleaded, tears starting to form in your eyes, “Please let me go!”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears however, as the man simply smiled and pulled the trigger, a gunshot reverberating in the empty room. You stumbled backwards as you let out a scream. You looked up and saw smoke raising from the barrel, obscuring the sneer on the man’s face.

He was preparing to fire at you again, the ‘click’ echoing loud and clear in your ears. You took your chances and made a run for it, running as fast as you could to the door. It didn’t take long, but right as you exited the room, pulling the doors shut, another shot rang out, causing you to duck.

You whimpered as you saw a bullet size hole in the door, right where you were standing only moments before. Standing up, you made a run for it, running towards a door across the hall.

Once safely inside, you sank to the floor, hugging your knees as you tried to regulate your breathing. You almost died, the phrase repeating over and over in your brain. There was a gun pointed to your head, the trigger pulled.

But what’s new? Right? You were so busy in your thoughts, you didn’t notice you had taken refuge in a library. There were book shelves lining the walls, the shelves stacking all the way to the ceiling. Each shelf was filled with books, the smell only books can give off permeating the room.

You got up, and started to look around, your current predicament forgotten. It didn’t seem as if the man was going to follow you. You were safe. You browsed shelf after shelf, noticing various themes of books, the topics catching your interests.

However, the book that caught your interest the most was a large green book, laying on a large wooden desk in the center of the room. You gently brushed your fingers over the cover, taking in the delicate details that were drawn on. There was no title to the book.

You looked at the door to ensure no one was coming in and then opened the book to see what was inside.

Victims of Edge Manor

Read the title on the first page. You thought this strange, but continued to read on, noticing there was a list of names.

Lee Felix Yang Jeongin Lee Minho Seo Changbin Hwang Hyunjin Kim Seungmin Han Jisung

What did these names mean? What did it mean by victims? There was no other information besides the names, leaving you quite confused. You continued to flip through the book, searching for any other information that you may have missed.

“You won’t find anything in there,” a voice said, startling you.

You looked up to see yet another man, with a docile face, his hair short. He reminded you of a golden retriever, which was odd. Yet again, you did not hear him come in.

“What do you mean?” You asked, as you carefully closed the book.

You were on edge, not sure who this person was and why they decided to sneak up on you. You eyed him closely as he slowly walked toward you, his hands behind his back.

“There’s nothing in there but names,” the man calmly said. “But why? Who are they?” He didn’t answer but continued to walk towards you. “You’ll know soon enough,” he cooed, a smirk appearing on his face. He was close to you now, just on the other side of the desk. Your warning bells were going off, telling you to proceed with caution, especially since you didn’t know what was behind his back.

“It’ll soon be over y/n, don’t worry.”

How did he know your name? Did Felix tell him? Was he a new guest? You did not know and frankly you didn’t want to find out.

“Ok...” You said, making your way towards the door. “I’m going to leave now.”

The man eyed you, the smile still plastered on his face. You backed away, never turning your back towards him. You felt you were almost there until you bumped into something, the item brushing against your head.

With a moment’s notice, the man was next to you, grabbing the item that bumped against you. You barely had time to react while he attempted to force a rope around your neck. However, you made it just in time, keeping your hand up at the level of your eye.

The man struggled against you, as he sneered, attempting to lower your head so he could tighten the rope. You tried to scratch at his eyes, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your brain telling you to survive.

One of your swipes made contact, your nails digging into the skin of his face. He yelled in pain, his hands dropping the rope to instead protect his eyes. You used this opportunity to run the rest of the way to the door, flinging it open and running down the hall, away from the man, away from the library, away from the rope that would have made it’s home around your neck if you hadn’t gotten away.

You weren’t paying attention to where you were going bumping into something... or someone. You yelped and stopped in your tracks, looking up to see Chan, his hands holding you up. Felix looked on in shock, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Baby, what happened? Why are you running?” Chan exclaimed.

“There were two men! One in some sort of music room, the other in the library... they both tried to kill me!” You yelled.

You noticed Felix’s face blanche at your outburst, the color draining from his face. He knew something, you just knew it, and you were going to demand he tell you what he knew.

“You know something!” You said, pointing your finger at Felix accusingly.

Felix stuttered at your accusation, not knowing what to say. Eventually, he gave up and hung his head.

“Very well, I shall tell you everything I know.”

Felix walked around the desk and gestured towards the sitting room. “Let’s talk in here.”

You and Chan followed him, sitting down on a couch while Felix sat in a chair across from you. You looked expectedly at Felix, waiting for him to speak.

Felix cleared his throat before beginning.

“You all know that the Edge’s lived in this manor, the most prestigious family of its time. Clara Edge was the mistress of the house and the heir. She needed to marry quickly so the deed could go to her husband, as women were not able to own the manor back in that time period.”

Felix looked at you and Chan, making sure you were both still listening. You nodded at him, signaling he had both of your undivided attention. Felix nodded and continued.

“Clara did indeed find her true love, one she could marry and pass on the family’s good name. The date was set for them to marry, everything was in order. It was a happy time for the household. That is...until Clara found out her husband to be was being unfaithful, catching him with a girl from town.”

“She was heartbroken, her spirit crushed. The wedding was canceled, as she could not be with an adulterer. She was sad, but also angry, her fury getting the best of her whenever he appeared at the manor or when she saw him in town. She’d badger him, ask him again and again ‘why, why, why.’ He never did answer her, just brushed her away, taking the new girl’s hand in his.”

You listened intently. You could feel you were close to the answer, you just needed to listen a little more. You looked at Chan who squeezed your hand in response. You both turned to look at Felix once more, as he continued the tale.

“One day, Clara invited him to the manor, under the pretext that she wanted to make amends. He came right away, happy to put everything behind him so he could move on with his new lover. No one really knows what was said between the two, but before you know it, he walks out of her room, holding a bloody knife, his face grief-stricken. They found Clara on the floor, riddled with fifteen stab wounds. She died instantly, one of the wounds puncturing her lungs. As time went on, those who visited the house and stayed here, report spirits of men and sometimes Clara herself. It seems she goes after couples, her heart full of malice, still distraught that her relationship didn’t work out.”

“We speculate that if she couldn’t be happy, then why should other couples be happy. There have been other deaths within these walls since then, all at the hands of Clara’s ghost. It started with the women and then progressed to the men. Now she enlists the spirits of the men who passed within these walls to target the guests, having them kill in the manner in which they were murdered.”

Felix stopped, taking a breath and looking at both of you. You were in shock, your brain trying to catch up with this information.

“So, all of the men I’ve encountered...” you didn’t finish the sentence, willing to hear it confirmed by Felix. It all made sense…the violent mannerisms you’ve experienced at the hands of the men, all except for one; but, you willed yourself not to think of him, how you gave yourself up so willingly to a stranger.

“Yes, all are victims of Clara and the manor, enlisted to carry out her revenge.” Felix responded.

You watched as he fiddled his thumbs, not looking at you. Something seemed off with him, but you weren’t sure what.

“I saw names in a book, were those the name of those that died here?” You asked, scooting to the edge of your seat.

Felix meerly nodded, still not looking at you and Chan.

“Thank you Felix, I think we will take our leave now. I don’t think we’ll be staying the extra night after all,” you said.

Chan looked at you in shock, but said nothing. You pulled him along, past Felix, through the doors and up the stairs. Once behind the doors of your room, you began to pack, throwing everything in your bag, not caring about folding anything.

You were scurrying around the room when Chan stopped you, his hand on your wrist.

“Y/n, stop!” He said, pulling you to him. “Will you wait, let’s talk about this.”

“What is there to talk about?” You asked in a frenzy. “We’re being targeted, we need to leave. Now.”

Chan regarded you for a moment, his eyes looking deeply into yours. He rubbed soothing circles on your hips, attempting to calm you down. You hated when he did this, knowing the effect it has on you.

You were starting to calm down, your breathing slowing, your mind clearing of the horrors you just learned, but you also felt something else build within. You felt the heat within your core slowly spread throughout your body.

Chan pulled you closer until your lips met, the kiss gentle at first before turning more frenzied. You mewled as you felt Chan pull your leggings and panties down hurriedly, pushing you onto the bed. You watched in anticipation as he pulled his sweats down enough to free his cock.

You spread your legs, your slick leaking out, coating your folds causing them to glisten. You realized it never really stopped since you arrived at this retched place. He grinned at how wet you were, dragging his cock from your clit to your entrance, pushing his cock into your little hole, the slide easy with how wet you were, taking him to the hilt.

You both groaned in unison, as he began to pummel into you, as he dragged his lips along your neck, placing uncoordinated kisses on your skin. You gripped the edges of his hair, holding his head to you as he continued to thrust quickly, his cock brushing against your spongy spot, taking you higher and higher.

You were lost in Chan, your mind forgetting about what you just heard, everything you’ve learned. You were wrapped up in Chan, letting yourself go as Chan’s cock bullied itself within your walls. You felt close, and you knew Chan was too as his thrusts became more sporadic as he tried to get you both over the edge.

You were so close to your release until you opened your eyes and noticed a figure above you.

A beautiful woman in period clothing, the gown stained in a dark maroon, holes scattered throughout the fabric. Her brown hair hung down her face in ringlets, causing her face to appear pale in comparison. She had a glow around her frame, giving her a ghoulish appearance. There was malice in her eyes as she stared down at you, as Chan continued to pump his cock into you, none the wiser to who stood behind him.

You screamed and pushed Chan off of you, watching as he stumbled, his eyes in disbelief. You scrambled to get your clothes back on as Chan stuttered, wondeing what was wrong.

“Let’s go!” You said, rushing to grab your bag even though you weren’t done packing.

Chan couldn’t get a word in, but pulled his sweats up and followed after you, running to catch up with you. You both made it down the stairs, pass the desk, pass Felix who watched you both in shock. You flung open the front doors and continued to run, not stopping until you got to your car.

“I guess I’ll follow you home,” Chan said, confusion still on his face.

You nodded as you got into your car, throwing your bag into the back seat. You started your car and pulled away, exhaling with relief as the manor grew smaller behind you.

As you got closer to the entrance, you gasped as you looked through the rearview mirror at the manor. What you saw made the color drain from your face.

Not only was Felix standing on the stairs, but also the other victims, Jeongin, Minho, Changbin, Jisung, Seungmin, and Clara. They all watched you drive away, not happy their victims got away.

Of course Felix was there, as you just realized he was a victim too. Your mind briefly wondered how he became a victim, but you stopped yourself immediately, not really caring.

You shook your head and faced forward, driving away from the weekend from hell, never to look back again.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @seungfl0wer @velvetmoonlght

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oaksgrove · 2 months ago

Text

Welcome Gift

Pairing: König x Reader

Synopsis: After moving to Austria to live with König, you find yourself overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of a new country. From navigating the bustling streets to adjusting to the rhythm of life in a different culture, your nerves are stretched thin. But König, ever thoughtful and patient, is determined to make you feel loved and at home in every way possible.

Warnings: none?

word count: 985

Salzburg streets bustled with a quiet charm, the winter air crisp as you and König walked hand in hand. Snow dusted the cobblestones, and warm lights glowed from shop windows, painting the city in hues of gold and white. It was picturesque, but your nerves were a jumble. Moving to Austria to live with König had been a leap of faith, and while you loved him deeply, adjusting to life here was proving to be a challenge.

You found yourself clutching König’s hand a little tighter than usual as you walked. Everything felt so new—unfamiliar faces, different languages, even the way people carried themselves. There was a rhythm to the city, it wasn’t unfriendly, just one you hadn’t quite learned yet, and while it was beautiful, it also left you feeling adrift in an ocean of the unknown.

“You’re quiet,” König said softly, glancing down at you. His Austrian accent, once a novelty when you first met, had become a comforting melody in your life.

“Just… taking it all in,” you murmured, giving him a small smile.

König slowed to a stop, turning to face you fully. His height meant he had to dip his head to meet your gaze, and his piercing blue eyes held a wealth of affection. “If it’s too much, we can take it slow,” he said, his large hand brushing softly against yours. “You’ve already done so much by coming here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his warm smile and the steady reassurance in his gaze stopped you. He leaned down slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Let me spoil you today, ja?”

Before you could respond, König guided you toward a shop nestled between two taller buildings. Its display window glittered with jewelry—delicate chains, rings, and gemstones arranged with care. You blinked up at him, your brow furrowing.

“What are we doing here?”

“I told you,” he said, holding the door open for you. “A proper welcoming gift. Something beautiful to match you.”

You blinked, cheeks flushed at his words, your mouth opening and closing as you searched for a response. A welcoming gift? You’d thought the flowers he brought home every day were already more than enough, but König clearly had other ideas.

The interior of the shop was even more charming than the display outside—polished wood counters, velvet-lined cases, and a faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. A kindly older woman greeted König, her tone familiar and warm as she spoke in German. He responded easily, his voice dipping into the fluid rhythms of his native tongue.

You caught most of the exchange—your German was decent, though far from fluent—but nuances still slipped through your grasp. König noticed your tentative expression and gave you a soft smile. “This shop,” he explained, switching back to English, “is special. My mother, my sisters, even my grandmother—they’ve all come here over the years. It’s where my family buys things for… important moments.”

Your heart skipped at the significance of that statement. “König, that’s—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Now, let’s find something for you.”

He took his time examining the displays, occasionally asking the shopkeeper questions. Eventually, his gaze landed on a pair of earrings— a delicate silver design, teardrop-shaped with a subtle shimmer that wasn’t too flashy. Beside them was a matching necklace, simple yet elegant, with a single pendant that mirrored the earrings’ design.

Turning to you, he gestured to them. “These. Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing. “But König, I can’t—”

“You can,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want you to have something from here. So that when you wear it, you’ll remember how much it means to me that you’re here.”

The sincerity in his words left you speechless, and before you knew it, you were leaving the shop with a small, carefully wrapped box in your hands, almost too much to bear. You turned to König, your voice tentative. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You already have,” he said simply, taking your hand in his as he led you back into the bustling streets.

Later that day, the scent of fresh coffee and pastries filled the apartment as König emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate. On it was your favorite pastry, carefully chosen from a bakery he’d insisted on visiting earlier. He set it down in front of you along with a cup of coffee and a small stack of German vocabulary cards, each one handwritten with neat, blocky letters.

“I know your German is good,” he said, almost shyly, his towering form seeming a little smaller in the soft light of the kitchen. “But I thought these might help with the little things.”

You picked up one of the cards, your eyes skimming over his careful handwriting. “You made these?”

He nodded. “I want you to feel comfortable. To feel… like this is home.”

Your chest tightened at the depth of his thoughtfulness. “König,” you said softly, setting the card down to reach for his hand. “You’re spoiling me.”

He chuckled, crouching beside you so that you were eye level, his large hands cradling yours gently. “Maybe,” he admitted, his smile warm. “But I don’t mind. I want you to know how much you mean to me. You’ve made my life so much better just by being in it. Now that you’re here, I want to make sure you feel loved and safe every day.”

Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, unable to find the words to express how much his actions meant to you. Instead, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It was a quiet reassurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

König smiled against your lips, his hands tightening around yours. “Welcome home, meine Liebe,” he murmured.

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bunnyluvx · 1 month ago

Text

spending rainy nights with you.

featuring: vlad dracula tepes x gn!reader.

summary: you're reading late at night, and your husband grows impatient waiting for you.

warnings: minors and ageless blogs dni regardless of content.

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!! finally a new fanfic after 4 months. i'm really proud of this one so i hope you all like it! thank you to everyone who gave me advice, i really needed it. i appreciate you all so much! p.s i made the dividers featured, so please do not use them.

date started: 5:02PM, december 31st, 2024. date finished: 5:56PM, january 8th, 2025.

ib: @creativepromptsforwriting ♡ | wc: 2.9k | ao3

Darkness cradles the Earth in a loving embrace while the clouds cry. The moon cannot give its glow for beings below, and the stars are unable to watch the wonders of the night unfold for long without the clouds covering their view. It has been this way all evening, rain pouring down anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour, stopping for around the same amount of time before starting again. The plants and animals of the forest are grateful for the sky's nourishment, and the clouds feel so encouraged by nature's gratitude that there are no signs of this pattern letting up anytime soon.

You appreciate the weather, too, for it is perfect for reading. At the moment, you find yourself sat in one of many libraries in the castle. The rocking chair that you find yourself in is rather comfortable, and the book in your hands pulls you further into its story with every word you follow. In your most comfortable nightwear with a blanket on your lap and a cardigan around your shoulders, not many other things come to mind when you try to think of a better way to spend your evening.

"I'll be to bed soon, dear. I'm almost finished with this chapter." Your voice breaks the comfortable silence and echoes across the wooden shelves enveloping you in your little corner to reach the ears of the rather large man that is making a very poor attempt to hide.

Standing not far from you, partially behind a bookcase, is your husband, Vlad Țepeș. You've felt his presence for the past few minutes, deciding that you would wait for him to speak first, but as quiet lingered in the air, you quickly realized that he wasn't going to announce himself. Your history with Vlad goes far beyond your marriage, for the two of you were some of the first vampires to ever walk the Earth. You were good friends for a very long time, and to save the novel-worthy story, you found each other after many years of being separated and romance fiercely set ablaze. No divine being could send you someone that's close in comparison to him, and he could say the same about you.

There are a few more moments of silence before you feel wind hastily rushing against the back of your neck, followed by large, strong arms tightly wrapping around your shoulders and cold skin resting right where the air had just wafted past you. Many would find it hard to believe that Count Dracula is a clingy lover, but this behavior is of no surprise to you. For as long as the two of you have been together, Vlad has always craved closeness. When he is without you for a certain period of time, he searches the castle to take his rightful place by your side once more. He didn't have to look for long tonight, for he knew exactly where you were.

You have been obsessed with this book that you found in the library, and while he is glad that you are enjoying it, it is taking your attention away from him. This is not something that pleases Vlad very deeply, so he is planning on making some changes tonight. "You've been in here for hours. Come to bed, now." His deep voice comes with a rumble from his chest, tone composed of a gentleness reserved for you alone.

His plea does not go unheard, for you know that all he wants is for you to snuggle up with him and doze into night's comfortable slumber together. Fondness takes hold of your heart as a small, tender smile curls onto your lips. It's difficult to refuse him such an innocent ask, but it is just as difficult to pull yourself away from the narrative in your hands, so you assure your beloved, "There isn't much left. You'll be alright a few minutes more."

This earns a disappointed groan from Vlad, burying his face further into your neck. "How much more is there?"

You tilt your head and take each remaining page between your fingers until you find the next chapter, and when you find your answer, you tell him, "Three pages."

Another groan grates from Vlad's throat, prolonged from the previous one as he nestles impossibly further into your skin with his large frame leaning against the back of the wooden chair. "Remind me why we sleep at night." Your darling requests, peaking up at your face.

"Hey, you don't have to sleep at night if you don't want to. It was your idea to change your sleep schedule so that we could match," You grant Vlad his request and recall the commitment that he made to sleeping throughout the night so that the two of you would be able to be together when the sun comes up.

You have preferred day to night for as long as you could remember. You have no reason for favoring daytime other than feeling that the Earth is so much more lively and bright. The plants are so vibrant beneath the sunlight, and there are so many things that you want to experience that you wouldn't be able to otherwise. Vlad always knew that you enjoyed day more than night, therefore adjusting your sleeping schedule accordingly; As a result, Vlad told you that he was going to start sleeping through the night too. At first, you were a bit worried about such a major change to his routine, but he insisted that he wanted to see the world through your eyes. This has been the arrangement ever since, and you cannot help but feel so smitten by the idea that he is willing to introduce such adjustments to his agenda in order to be with you.

With this transition in his life, Vlad knew that he was going to be groggy. While he has a substantial amount of energy compared to most vampires, this does not exempt him from needing the same amount of sleep. Have no doubt when he swears that there is nothing that he would change about dedicating himself to your lifestyle. You were right when you said that it was his choice, but unfortunately, it does not cure the fatigue that he often finds himself with when he stirs from his night's rest.

In attempt to adjust to the pattern he promised you, he likes going to bed early. Vlad tries to be tucked in anywhere from seven to nine P.M, and typically, you are by his side. You go to bed around the same time that he does, if not a little later, so when he was preparing himself for bed without you, he got worried. He figured that you would come to bed soon, so he laid down in attempt to fall asleep. As the hours ticked by with still no sign of you, he became restless, eventually making the decision to go look for you.

A defeated huff leaves Vlad's lips as he rests his forehead against the back of your neck again. One of many reasons why he fell in love with you was because of your smart mouth, and you pick the most bedeviling times to use it. "I know that," He mumbles lowly, peaking back up at you before resting his chin on your shoulder and closing his eyes.

"You know that I can't sleep without you. Please, come to bed." The count pleads again, sweeter this time.

You almost give in to his honeyed words, their innocent warmth daring to bewitch you. Nevertheless, you keep your composure while your eyes remain on the page before you, as they have throughout the entire conversation, "You will be just fine, dear. Only a few minutes longer."

Vlad has learned much about patience in his life, especially when he found you again. All good things come to those who wait is something that the dark-haired vampire has commonly watched play out, so normally, this wouldn't be the end of the world for him. He would do naught more than pout and refuse to detach himself from you until you came to bed. Tonight, however, Vlad will not be indulging in your distractions. Quick to stand, sending a blast of wind against your back once more, the count steps to your side before lifting you up into his arms. You yelp at the unexpected change of location and almost drop your book in the process, barely being able to catch it by its spine before holding it closed to your chest and leaning against your husband. "Vlad!!" You exclaim, laughter tickling its way from your lungs moments after.

"No. I have had enough. You are coming to bed with me." The vampire declares as he begins to make his way towards the library's exit.

"Vlad, put me down!!" You demand, only moderately annoyed with him as you flail in his grasp in attempt to escape, "Right now!!"

"Nope. So sorry, my dear, but your book is going to have to wait." Vlad proclaims, lips tilting upwards in a cheeky grin as his head turns to the side so that radiant red eyes can meet yours, "Your husband requires your attendance to the nightly snuggle session. You're late."

Any attempts you're making to escape the security of this man's arms are greatly failing you, so you decide to admit defeat now rather than later. His strength serves well, and while you are grateful for it most days, this is a good example of the cons of being married to one of Earth's most powerful vampires. He can, and will, wrangle you around whenever he pleases. Your bottom lip pokes out from its place as you lean against the man's chest, determined to uphold your front of unwavering stubbornness.

Amused by your dramatics, Vlad rolls his eyes playfully and allows them to close while a chuckle vibrates up his chest and past his lips. He opens them again to admire your sullen expression, musing, "Oh, come now. I can't be that bad of a cuddler since you're pitching a fit."

Your pout is quick to dispel from your face, a long sigh expelling from your lungs just afterwards. You avoid eye contact as you agree with him, "No, you're not."

Another chuckle escapes the mouth of your lover, a sound that you are secretly glad to hear that reassures you that he isn't taking you seriously. He draws you closer to his chest as he softly murmurs against your forehead before placing a kiss to it, "Don't worry, you can read more tomorrow."

You sulk and avoid eye contact for a bit before dropping the act. It wasn't much longer before you arrived into your shared bedroom, the door coming open to reveal a sight that has grown comforting to you over the years. The room is decorated primarily in red and black, as you both adore the colors, but there are a few distinct shades around too which sets apart your individual styles. Assorted trinkets rest across dressers and shelves from the many travels that you two have taken over the years, gifts and ornaments that you've made for each other through a plethora of shared anniversaries that always bring a smile to your face every time you pay mind to them.

Variously styled mirrors, decor, and paintings hang on the walls. There is no real purpose for the mirrors other than to enhance the elegance of the room, as they are too high for both you and Vlad to see anything from. The paintings, however, hold much importance to both of you. Each illustration that lays across your walls tells a story from one of your memorable moments together. Vlad personally hired the best artist he could find to perfectly capture your most treasured experiences, and whenever you are having a bad day, all you have to do is look up to brighten your spirits.

Your husband walks over to his side of the bed and holds you above the center before dropping you onto the soft surface, causing you to puff out an exhale before your laughter sings into the air. You lay yourself across the bed and remain still while Vlad adjusts the canopy draped over the wooden post by his pillow before he launches at you. With no time to move away, he plops over your stomach, the impact of his weight causing you to wheeze. You look down at him with an astonished grin on your lips as he lays in momentary silence before lifting himself off of you to settle onto you comfortably. You sit up and adjust all of the pillows behind you before leaning back against them, prying your book open again before it is promptly snatched out of your hands and slammed onto Vlad's nightstand. You laugh and try to reach for it, imploring for its return, but that is quickly shut-down by the vampire hovering above you, "No. Sincerest apologies You'll get it back tomorrow."

Slowly, he stations himself on top of you with his head against your abdomen just under your chest. He is mindful of your body language to ensure your comfort, and when he descends his full weight with no awkward shifting or complaints from you after a few minutes, he concludes your contentment with the position and nestles his head against you with closed eyes. Your arms lift as he gets himself cozy, and once he relaxes, you wrap your arms around his shoulders while your fingers begin to comb through his hair. A smile graces the vampire's lips as your touch serves to soothe all worries away from his mind.

You cannot stop the smile that grows onto your own face as you watch his lips curl up. No soul, alive or dead, can say that they have experienced Vlad Țepeș' joy the way that you do, and for this, you are grateful. Vlad has spent so much of his life keeping up a cold, merciless profile for all vampires that dare to step to him, but charades with you are unnecessary. All of the walls that he spent centuries building are torn to shreds in your presence, and no matter his methods, they could never withstand your blinding iridescence. There is comfort in your arms that he has never found in another, and this tranquility that he has the luxury of being the only person to experience is something that he holds close to his heart. This is not something that you do knowingly, for it is who you are. You are a constant source of peace that quells the ever-roaring fire in his soul to a quiet crackle. You are what inspires him to be curious about the world, you keep his thirst for knowledge abundant with your differing perspectives, and he firmly believes that your ideas could change the world.

It's truly a shame that your eyes cannot convey the amount of love that you hold for this man, but they are doing their best. Your gaze displays your overwhelming adoration for him, and he surely feels how loved he is. When you look at him, Vlad knows that he is admired in every way he never dreamed of. Your eyes do not have to meet for him to know that you look at him like he is the greatest thing in the world, and that is all you could ever wish for. You finally decide to break the silence after watching him rest for a bit, teasing him, "Is this going to be your spot for the night?"

Any thoughts that Vlad was having before you embraced him have completely vanished. Now, it's just you, him, and your warm bed. All he can muster out is a low, "Mhm."

You giggle as you recognize his sleepiness and lift your legs slightly, asking, "Then can we at least get under the covers so that we don't freeze to death?"

A lazy, amused smirk curls onto Vlad's face at your suggestion, his nostrils flaring in a huff. "I'm not even sure that we can freeze," He admits.

You chuckle and move your hands from his hair onto his back to pat it. "Well, I don't want to risk finding out. So come on."

An agitated groans leaves your comfy husband before he begrudgingly eases himself off of you so that you could get under the covers. The two of you adjust the pillows to their normal spaces and you shake off your cardigan to toss it aside before you slip your legs beneath the sheets. A corner of the sheets lay open, and you lift them up to welcome him inside. Vlad's lips form a gentle smile, and his eyes soften affectionately at the sight before he climbs into the covers and rests himself back on top of you. Your fingers return to threading through his hair, a blissful sigh respiring from his lungs as he resumes a comfortable position. You look down at the top of his head with the same benevolent expression that you wear every time that you look at him, and your voice comes out soft when you say, "Goodnight, my dearest. I love you."

The words that you tell him every night are words that he could never tire of hearing. When you say it, he knows that you mean it, and it fills him with ease to know that when you wake up in the morning, he will get to hear you say it again. "Goodnight, my darling. I love you too." Vlad returns the sentiment, falling into an inescapable slumber with you not far behind him.

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rascalthehamster · 5 months ago

Note

HCs of Platonic!Yandere Legoharu with a gn!mole reader friend that starts out as one of Haru's only friends before Legoshi came along and now both are friendship yanderes for mole platonic darling. Please and thank you.

Platonic!Yandere LegoHaru

Being a member of the garden club was natural for a mole like you. Digging came natural, and you loved the smell of dirt. There was only one other person, a dwarf rabbit, whose reputation far preceded her.

You knew about the rumors, you also knew how rumors can change. How a spark can create a forest fire. What really surprised you was her attitude. She was always cheery, almost ambivalent towards the rumors that followed her around. The whispers that she obviously catches with her large ears. Yet, she was nice to you.

She knew you knew about the rumors yet she still treated you fairly. People have come to the roof to make a joke about joining the Garden Club. Her reaction made that clear when you first came with your slip filled out.

“What is it that you want? Here to mock me? Well at least you’re doing it to my face and not behind a corner. Well go ahead, spit it out!”

You were taken aback by her aggression, but still persisted to join her club. She saw that you were serious, and not just trying to yank the carpet from under her.

She wanted to test your will, see just how far she could push you. She made you move around many bags of dirt, just to have to move them again, repot all of the flowers, and clean the clubhouse completely, dusting and sweeping every nook and cranny.

When you did all of that, the sun was beginning to go down and she was still shocked at you not giving up. If it was a prank you wouldn’t have done anything, and if you were just trying to join a club so you could put it on your college resume you would’ve given up by now. She must’ve read you wrong.

She doesn’t apologize upfront to you about misreading the situation, but she did say she wanted to see you the next day. So it seems it’s official, you’re apart of the gardening club.

When you make it to the roof the next day there’s another person there. Someone much larger, and scarier. The grey wolf stares at you silently, sniffing the air softly. You walk past him, ignoring your body screaming at you to run away.

“Excuse me.” He said in a soft tone, keeping his hands behind his back and shrinking his body. “Uhm…” he lifted his hand to scratch his face, the long claws fingering his snout. “Do you know where Haru is? The little dwarf rabbit.” He moved his hand to accentuate just how small Haru was, she barely made it up to his knee.

“I don’t know. Yesterday was my first day so she could be doing something.” You picked up a bag of dirt and began moving it to some plants that looked like it could use some soil.

“Oh, okay.” He said, his voice disheveled and his tail tucked under him.

You felt bad for him. So you offered that he could help you while he waited, which he agreed to do. Canines were always eager to please. He quickly went to work, grabbing triple the amount of bags you could carry and just looked at you as if he wasn’t even strained, his tail happily wagging. “Where do you want these?”

After a few hours of him helping out, cleaning the gutters that towered over you and Haru, grabbing the hose that was put on the top shelf even though you specifically put it on the bottom shelf yesterday, Haru eventually appeared.

She saw you working with Legoshi and started to get excited. She didn’t want to show it so she pretended to get onto Legoshi for messing something up, grinning at you when his back was turned. You just giggled in response.

You began working on some flower beds that weren’t given attention yet when you saw Legoshi and Haru talking to each other. The wolf was knelt down to meet her eyes. When he caught your eyes, Haru also turned and she waved first, Legoshi just stuck out his hand. They were so different yet they were so close you thought.

When you finished up the plant beds Haru appeared behind you and asked if you wanted to go to dinner with her. Well, it went more like “Hey, me and Legoshi are going to head to dinner.” And she grabbed your arm, dragging you away from the plants.

The fresh dirt still on your paws as you were dragged along. You appreciated the invite though. Even if it came with weird stares from carnivores and herbivores alike.

The next thing you knew, Haru was following you all around campus, along with Legoshi who followed Haru all around campus. Haru would study with you, would eat all meals with you. When you woke up she would be right outside your dorm waiting for you. Legoshi also wanted this but was less extreme.

If anybody tried anything with you she would instantly stand up for you, however she had scary boyfriend privileges so the opportunity to prove that she could defend you never showed up. She made you know that she would if you needed it!

LegoHaru as yandere’s would be pretty good in my opinion. As long as you don’t mind a very clingy bunny and wolf I think all will be well.

#yandere #yandere beastars #yandere legoshi #yandere haru #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #Yandere Legoshi x reader x Yandere Haru

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doodle-pops · 3 months ago

Text

Their Favourite Place To Kiss You | House of Feanor

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Fëanor

Nape of your neck, just where your hairline met your skin. His touch was always intense, but there, his lips were soft and unhurried. He loved how you would tilt your head slightly, allowing him more access—the simple act felt like a quiet surrender. He would press his lips against that tender spot, and the warmth of his breath would linger long after he pulled away. It was his private gesture, a way of stating a claim without words. Whether you were standing together in his forge, your hands stained with ink from writing down his notes or seated by the fire, Fëanor would lean in, his lips finding that familiar spot, letting you know that even in his most focused moments, you were never far from his thoughts.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maedhros

On your wrist, right over the faint pulse that beat steadily beneath your skin. His kisses were gentle, his large, calloused hands cradling your smaller ones as he brought your wrist to his lips. There was something worshipful about the way he kissed you there, almost as if he were paying homage to you with every press of his lips. He loved how your pulse would quicken when he did it, how you would shiver at the delicate contact. It wasn’t a public display—Maedhros was too private for that—but when you were alone together, he would often reach for your wrist, brushing a kiss there in quiet moments. It was a kiss that spoke of trust, silent devotion, and the love you shared.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maglor

The corner of your mouth, where a teasing smile would often begin. He adored the way you would turn your head just slightly, pretending to evade him, only to let him catch you in the end. His kisses were playful, his lips lingering there as if savouring the promise of a fuller kiss to come. It was a tender spot, full of unsaid things, where laughter could easily turn into something softer. He’d brush his lips there in passing, whether you were seated beside him while he strummed a melody or walking together in the peaceful garden. Every kiss felt like a small secret, something shared just between the two of you, unspoken but deeply understood.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celegorm

Your temple. It was an act of quiet affection, one that contrasted with his usual exuberant energy. He was always so intense in every other way, but when he kissed you there, it was soft, a rare moment of calm in the storm of his life. He loved the way you’d close your eyes, letting the tension melt away as his lips pressed against your skin—a sign of trust and comfort. Whether you were resting your head against his shoulder after a long day or sitting together in the grass, he would lean over, his kiss firm and warm. It wasn’t a kiss that demanded attention, but one that grounded him.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Caranthir

Your jawline. He loved the way you would tense ever so slightly in surprise, as his lips brushed the curve just beneath your ear and then traced the line down to your chin. There was something almost possessive about it, the way his kisses there would linger, his mouth barely moving, just pressing firmly into your skin. It wasn’t a place others would think to kiss, but Caranthir wasn’t like others. He found solace in these quiet moments, his lips against your jaw, his hand resting against your waist as if he needed to keep you close. It was intimate, a way of anchoring himself, and a way of showing you how much he needed that quiet connection.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Curufin

The curve of your shoulder, where skin met the delicate slope of your collarbone. His lips would hover there, just brushing the surface before pressing down more firmly, almost as if he were tasting your very essence. He loved how you would instinctively relax into him, your body turning slightly to allow him more access. It was a vulnerable place to kiss, exposed and intimate, and Curufin relished that fact. Whether you were sitting together in his study or standing by his side as he worked on his latest project, he would lean in without warning, his mouth finding that familiar curve. It was a kiss that was both grounding and possessive, a silent reminder that you belonged to each other.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amrod

Your forehead. It was a simple, gentle gesture, and one that he reserved for moments when he wanted to express affection without needing words. His lips would brush over your skin softly, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. Whether you were sitting beside him, lost in conversation, or leaning against him by the fire, Amrod would tilt your chin up with a quiet, unspoken request. He adored the way you would smile slightly in response, knowing that this small kiss carried the weight of all the tenderness he didn’t often express openly. It was his way of grounding you, making you feel safe, and showing you how much he cared without needing to say anything at all.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amras

The top of your head. It was a casual yet affectionate act that came so naturally to him. You’d often be standing or sitting in front of him, unaware of how his gaze would soften as he reached out and pressed his lips against your hair. Whether you were wrapped up in a blanket, half-asleep in his arms, or simply leaning against him as the day drew to a close, he found comfort in this small, affectionate gesture. His kiss was always accompanied by the gentle press of his hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair as he pulled you a little closer. It was an intimate touch, one that never failed to make you feel cherished and loved.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celebrimbor

Your hands. Whether he was working in his forge or meticulously sketching a design, whenever you were near, he’d take your hand in his and press his lips to your knuckles, his eyes filled with a quiet devotion. There was something intimate about the way his lips lingered there, a silent acknowledgement of the trust and affection that flowed between you. He’d always smile afterwards, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if it was his secret way of expressing his feelings. Whether you were walking through the halls of Eregion or sitting with him in the glow of his forge, his kisses on your hands felt like small promises.

Masterlist

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salem-witch-slut · 4 months ago

Text

Behind Closed Doors (18+)

Ellie Williams x Abby Anderson

SYNOPSIS: Abby and Ellie are always at each other's throats and everyone can safely say that they hate each other. But no one ever sees what happens when the doors are closed and their hidden away from the world.

WARNINGS: Excessive swearing, dom!Abby, sub!Ellie, pussy eating, aggressive scissoring, hair pulling, spit swallowing, hate sex, no aftercare, Ellie being a rude bitch

WORD COUNT: 3.7K

A/N: I just love these two. This one was a personal favorite because it's just so damn dirty. This is NOT a continuation of Unrequited. Just a similar preface.

Part 2 is up! Check it out ->Here<-

dividers made by @cafekitsune

Everything was going her way right now. She had woken up on time, she had enough time to take a shower even, and she was able to get breakfast before patrol! The sun was up, and the autumn air was comfortably cool, enough for her to wear her thin hoodie all day long. Everything was going good… And then she saw her assignment.

“Unfuckingbelievable…” Ellie’s hand went to the board where she saw she was running the Hoback Pass trail with… of all the people that she could go with, why was it her?

“Damn, you got Abby?” Ellie looked over her shoulder to see Jesse standing right behind her. A deep sigh left Ellie’s throat as she ran her entire hand across her face and tried to calm down. She knew it was too good to be true. And she knew that the second they were deep inside of the patrol route, her and Abby would be attacking each other like wild animals. It was always inevitable.

Shimmer was being pulled in from the paddock as Ellie went to retrieve her rifle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joel and Abby’s dad, Jerry, leaning against the fence on the far right with mugs in their hands and casually talking, clearly enjoying their day off. Ellie envied them, but at the same time she felt bad for Jerry. He had the world’s bitchiest daughter.

“Where even is she?” Ellie checked the chamber of her rifle and made sure it was loaded before a hand curled around the barrel. A very large, veined hand that she could recognize with her fucking eyes closed.

“Don’t fall in the lake again,” Abby remarked, her hair in that same stupid braid it always was. She was wearing a flannel that she cut the sleeves off of and underneath was a black compression shirt with a few tears near the collar. She sure was adapting to that Wyoming fashion after being here for like… five years now.

“Oh my, god, that was one time,” Ellie rolled her eyes and yanked the rifle out of her hand, slinging it over her shoulder with her backpack. Abby simply scowled and went to get her own rifle while retrieving her horse.

As usual, Jesse gave the morning talk like he always did before he jumped onto his horse and the gates opened up. Ellie noticed that Dina was riding with Manny today; that’s good. They got along great and shared stories about Mexico, and New Mexico.

Ellie looked at her partner and saw that Abby seemed more than eager to get this patrol started. What was going through her mind right now?

“You ready for this?” Ellie scooted Shimmer closer to Abby’s stallion, Artax.

Abby looked over at Ellie, and smirked. “Try to stay quiet this time.”

Attacking each other like wild animals was almost an understatement…

Everything was going like normal, with Ellie and Abby clearing out their routes, taking down any infected that was nearby and making sure the paths were clear… And as soon as they reached their first lookout, Abby snapped.

Seconds after Ellie signed them in, Abby was pushing her face down into the table and grabbing a fistful of her auburn hair, leaning down low enough to whisper into her ear in just the right way that it drove Ellie crazy every time. “Wore those fucking jeans on purpose, didn’t you?”

Ellie couldn’t stop herself from whining from Abby’s gravelly voice, basking in the warmth from her body heat and leaning back against her. Ellie knew that the blonde loved these jeans, and for some reason, she just couldn’t help herself when grabbing them this morning. They hugged her ass almost perfectly.

“Y-you fuckin’ wish,” Ellie teased, her heart racing at Abby sliding her hands down in order to grip her ass with her immense strength. What was it about this damn woman that made Ellie want to submit but give attitude at the same time?

Abby’s veined hands slid into the back pocket of Ellie’s jeans before her thumbs traced the crease between her asscheeks, teasing the redhead to no end as she moved her hands down and dragged the tips of her fingers across the denim crotch. Abby didn’t miss the way Ellie shivered at her touch. And Ellie couldn’t hide how wet she was even if she tried.

“Fucking sad, isn’t it?” Abby taunted, her right hand sliding back up to grab at Ellie’s hair hard enough to make her eyes water. “You hate me… and I’m the only one that can fuck you good enough.”

“S-Shut up,” Ellie demanded. “J-Just stop fucking talking.”

“Oh, but you like it when I talk,” Abby taunted before her hand curled into the waistband of Ellie’s jeans and started yanking them down over her rear. For some reason, Ellie knew this would happen… and she had this sickening suspicion that Abby was prepared this. “You love it when I degrade the fuck out of you and split you open on my fingers, don’t you?”

Ellie stayed quiet, trying to deny her and biting down on her lip in order to stifle the sounds that were escaping her against her will. Abby wasn’t having it. Her massive hand came down and smacked directly against Ellie’s ass. A loud yelp left her and she looked over her shoulder and stared Abby down with a simmering glare. Abby was grinning.

If Ellie wasn’t careful, Abby might get angry enough to rip her jeans in the process… it’s happened a few times in the past before, and that was an awkward walk back to Jackson. Falling in the river? Yeah, that’s why she trashed her jeans, not because the seam was ripped right over her cunt so Abby could have easy access to her.

Tried to blame Ellie’s shaking legs on the cold water… But Abby knew the truth.

The blonde was waiting. She wanted to hear Ellie say how desperate she was for her, but Abby was going to need to try harder than that. She knew Ellie and knew that she was a stubborn little shit until the end.

Ellie tried to blame the sweating on the hot weather, but that wasn’t fully true. Her shirt was sticking to her bare skin uncomfortably, and normally Abby would have her almost completely naked by now, but the blonde was holding back. She was torturing her, and Ellie didn’t know if she loved it or hated it.

“You gonna say it?” Abby leaned down, her braid tickling the side of Ellie’s neck as she breathed against her skin. Ellie scowled, looking at Abby with narrowed eyes and resisting the urge to spit on her cheek like she’s done in the past. Their dynamic was so fucked, but so much fun that they just couldn’t stop themselves from sinking into madness. When Ellie curled her lips downward into a mocking snarl, Abby scoffed and grabbed a fistful of her hair once again, yanking her off the table and pushing her down onto the couch against the wall.

Ellie can’t even remember the number of times they fucked on this couch. And now another one was about to be added to their mental list. Abby put the sole of her boot into Ellie’s chest, forcing her to lean all the way back against the couch. Once she was satisfied, Abby removed her foot and stepped forward, standing between the auburn-haired girl’s legs and reaching down with her right hand.

“Open,” Abby demanded, her fingers gripping Ellie’s jaw as she huffed, and denied Abby what she wanted. In retaliation, Abby lightly swatted her cheek with her hand, forcing Ellie’s head to cock to the left as she whined. “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

Ellie opened her mouth, and Abby immediately slipped her fingers in, dragging her index and middle digit across her tongue and teasing her mouth in the most torturous way possible. Ellie drooled, saliva slipping from her tongue and down her neck as Abby pushed her fingers a little further into her mouth and made the girl gag.

“That’s it, good girl,” Abby praised, seeing the way Ellie shivered when she gave her the positive words. She knew that Ellie loved it when she praised her, but Abby loved to tease… And she loved to degrade. And while Ellie loved sweet words of affirmation, she also loved being treated like a slut sometimes… and by sometimes, she means every time with Abby. “Head back… just like that…”

Ellie sat there obediently and whined as Abby leaned forward and mercilessly spit into Ellie’s open mouth. Ellie’s heart was racing with every passing second as she did exactly what the blonde wanted. Abby pressed a kiss to the corner of Ellie’s lips and released her jaw. “Swallow.”

She gulped without a word of disobedience.

“Oh, fuck this,” Abby looked frantic as she got down on her knees in front of Ellie and began yanking down the girl’s jeans as fast as she possibly could. She almost ripped the denim, wrestling with Ellie’s dumb converse as she yanked them off and left her in just her shirt and socks before leaning down and grabbing Ellie’s thighs with both hands. The veins flexed in her forearms and Ellie huffed pathetically.

They’ve done this dance so many times before. Ellie was so familiar with Abby’s touch by now that she knew what to expect when the woman was desperate. Her tensed fingers gripping at Ellie’s flesh was making her tremble with anticipation as the blonde dived down like she couldn’t take it anymore. It was only a few seconds before Abby’s tongue was on Ellie’s pussy.

“OhmyGOD,” Ellie arched upward, her eyes rolling to the ceiling as she fell against the back of the couch. It always felt like the first time, and she could never get enough of the blonde’s mouth on her for as long as she lived. Ellie looked down, seeing how Abby’s brows were pulled in almost anger as she lapped her cunt from her hole to her clit, drinking in her arousal and pushing her legs up so Ellie’s knees nearly touched her shoulders.

Abby loved being in control. She had no problem folding Ellie’s limbs around so it was easier for her to take advantage of her body and have her lay in the perfect way so she could reach her deepest parts and get Ellie to make the sweetest sounds. Not once had Ellie topped Abby, but it didn’t seem like an issue. She always made Abby cum so it didn’t matter… Ellie loved being used by her like this. It was a part of her that she was allowed to lose and give to someone else; a piece of control she could relinquish willingly to the strongest person she knows.

Ellie didn’t voice that she trusted Abby, but it was wordlessly affirmed for her almost every time.

Abby was drowning in her. Ellie’s heavy taste was making her moan, her tongue dancing between the girl’s slick folds and feasting on her pussy like she was the most delicious thing she’s ever put in her mouth. Ellie wasn’t allowed to touch her yet… not until Abby said so.

The blonde’s fingers squeezed her thighs harder, and Ellie let out a squeak that was so pathetic, Abby almost felt mercy for a second. She broke away from her core for a small second, panting and looking down at how the girl’s cunt was glistening with pleasure and her drool. God, Ellie was so fucking hot that it was painful. Abby was ignoring the pulse in her own cunt as she looked up and latched her lips around Ellie’s clit, sucking hard and making Ellie’s body jerk forward off the couch.

“FUCK!” She sounded like she was in pain, her eyes squeezing shut and her thighs shaking as she bent forward and wrapped her arms around Abby’s head. Fuck the rules, she wouldn’t survive this if she couldn’t touch her. Abby allowed it, and hummed with approval at Ellie’s nails scratching on her scalp. “Fuck, shit… A-Abby…”

The blonde wiggled her head from side to side as her tongue provided delicious stimulation for the tattooed girl at her mercy. She was drowning and loving every second of this… but Abby wanted more. Oh, she wanted so much more that it was painful.

Ellie was in ecstasy, but it was immediately ripped away when Abby broke off from her cunt and leaned back, looking at her and bringing her strong hand down to deliver a swat to her glistening pussy, right over her exposed clit. Ellie screamed, and immediately covered her mouth. If she was any fucking louder, the lookout would be swarming with infected… that would be beyond embarrassing to explain to everybody.

“Abby w-what the fuck is—” Ellie complained, now angry that the blonde stopped. But her complaints died on her mouth when she saw Abby stand up and unbuckle the belt on her hips, pushing her cargo pants down and unlacing her boots. “Can’t wait, huh? I’m that irresistible?”

“Shut up,” Abby bit back, grabbing at Ellie and pulling her off the couch. She laid her down over the sleeping bag that was left from the last patrol that had to stay here, pushing her down onto the ground and kicking her boots off, along with the jeans and underwear hanging off her ankles. “Shut up and do what I fucking say for once.”

“And if I don’t?” Ellie barked, staring Abby down with a fire behind her eyes. Abby didn’t like that answer and she immediately began to pull away, almost like she was about to get dressed again. Ellie began to panic, and she reached out, gripping Abby by the front of her shirt. “Okay, okay, you win! Fuck, I’ll do whatever you say, just please—”

Abby smirked, caging Ellie with her arms for a brief moment as she bent down and captured Ellie’s lips with her own. The kiss was soft, gentle, the opposite of what these two were with each other. That was one thing that always felt wrong, but so right… It didn’t matter how hard Abby fucked her, or how aggressive she was with her… Ellie always gave her the sweetest kisses that had Abby’s heart racing and it made her tremble with some forbidden emotion that she swore she didn’t feel for Ellie.

“You even beg like a whore,” Abby teased, resulting in Ellie biting her bottom lip. The blonde responded with gripping Ellie’s hips and pushing her upward a little before she used her right knee to lift the girl’s leg up a bit. “Come on, behave. Leg up, on my shoulder.”

Ellie obeyed, and she wasn’t sure if it was because her cunt was pulsing angrily, or because Abby smelled so good when she leaned forward and trailed her lips down the outer column of her neck. Ellie lifted up her leg, resting her calf against Abby’s broad shoulder as the blonde wasted no time in crawling over her body and slotting herself perfectly between Ellie’s legs.

“God, just fucking look at you,” Abby taunted, dropping forward and listening to the way Ellie groaned as she felt the blonde’s slick cunt slide against her own dripping pussy. Why did these two completely opposite women fit together so perfectly, like puzzle pieces from different boxes? Abby reached forward and pushed Ellie’s bangs out of her face, basking in how her green eyes sparkled with tears that threatened to fall. “You want me to fuck you so bad, you look stupid.”

“T-Then fucking do it already,” Ellie snapped, her fists curling into the front of Abby’s shirt as she yanked her down, veins bulging from her hands as she showed that aggression that Abby adored in her little spitfire so much. “Fuck me like you fucking mean it.”

Abby fell forward, her hands slamming into the floor behind Ellie’s head as she rutted down against her. The mix of their juices together provided the most perfect friction that Ellie couldn’t stop moaning, even for a second.

Normally she wasn’t this loud, but for some reason today, Ellie was overly whiny and vocal. It was like she was more sensitive than normal, and everything that Abby did was sending her into overdrive. She was wetter, her heart was racing faster, and her muscles were trembling with every single thrust of Abby’s cunt against her own.

Ellie reached up, grabbing the back of Abby’s neck and biting her lip as she did everything in her power to stifle her sounds, but it just felt too fucking good, and she didn’t even sound like herself! Ellie has never made these kinds of noises before in her life… Abby was practically drooling.

Everything was going just how Abby wanted it… and then Ellie grabbed her braid. A rough yank to her hair had Abby’s head snapping back and she gaped, eyes widening as she looked down and stared into Ellie’s green irises that seemed almost playful as she tugged on the braid again.

It was like a trigger as Abby just moved her hips faster, and ground herself down against Ellie’s cunt harder. She felt Ellie’s clit rub against her own in the most perfect way that Abby’s pace was beginning to falter, and her hips started stuttering. She hasn’t been able to cum in almost a week… Abby was just as sensitive as Ellie.

“Shit, El…” Abby huffed, her heart slamming against her ribs as Ellie’s fingers began aggressively curling in her hair. It didn’t take long for Ellie to unravel the braid, long blonde waves falling over and framing her face in golden curtains. Ellie loved seeing Abby with her hair down… it made her look even more beautiful than before. “Fuck… b-better cum f’me…”

“A-Abby… Abby, please…” Ellie sobbed, falling back to the ground. One of her arms went over her eyes and she arched off the floor, trying to meet Abby’s movements and slip herself along the blonde’s beautiful pussy. Abby was having none of it.

“No,” She grabbed Ellie’s wrist, pushing both arms down onto the floor and towering over her. She was really testing how far Ellie could stretch as she nearly forced the girl into a split. “Don’t you f-fucking dare look away from me… Want you to look me in the eyes… w-when you fucking cum— Jesus christ…”

Ellie couldn’t bring herself to disobey even if she wanted to. It was like a hot shower after falling in a frozen lake. It warmed her from the outside in, sending Ellie into sudden trembles that quickly took over her entire body.

“Fuckfuck— Ohmygod Abbyyyyyy…!” Ellie pressed her forehead against the blonde’s her eyes rolling back as her orgasm brought her to literal tears. Abby wasn’t far behind as she rutted against Ellie’s cunt that was getting wetter and wetter with every second.

Abby stopped moving, her hips jerking forward as low, violent groans of pleasure left her throat. “F-Fucking take it, baby… Making a fucking mess of this pussy…”

She could only hold herself up for so long. It didn’t take much for Abby to fall, her arms giving out as she pushed her face into Ellie’s sweat stained shirt. She carefully moved Ellie’s leg, listening to the poor girl cry out as her thigh cramped up and she fully lowered her limb down onto the floor. Her breath was labored, and her heart was racing and pounding hard enough that Abby could hear it and feel it against her face.

Both of them were quiet for a long time… What exactly are they supposed to say about it? It was always slightly awkward after they fucked each other speechless. This part never got any easier to deal with. A sigh left Abby’s throat as she looked up, trying to gauge Ellie’s expressions, but as always, she was an expert at schooling how she was feeling on the outside.

“You okay?” Abby asked, sitting up slowly and looking into Ellie’s eyes. Her pupils were dilated and to anybody else, they could assume she had gotten high. Abby began to remove herself from Ellie, her face turning red at how their bodies stuck together in the most vulgar fashion. “Ellie, are you—”

“I’m fine,” Ellie remarked, rubbing at her face with both hands as she sat up off the floor, only to fall back on her palms when a wave of dizziness washed over her. “I’m always fine…”

“Yeah,” Abby muttered wordlessly, reaching for a towel inside of the emergency duffel bag that was kept at every lookout. She slowly wiped off her inner thighs and stomach before she went to clean Ellie up, only for the redhead to stop her. “Would you just—”

“I’m not a fucking baby, I can do it myself,” Ellie snapped, wiping her legs off and making sure the remnants of Abby’s slick wasn’t left on any part of her skin. “See? Fully capable.”

“Just…” Abby looked like she had more to say. Ellie waited, pressing her thighs together to try and regain some sort of modesty, but Abby just scoffed, reaching for her jeans and tugging them back on. Ellie looked disappointed. “We gotta get moving.”

Ellie knew she was the one in the wrong. Abby always tried this every time. She would ask if Ellie was okay, and if she needed anything. Abby always tried to clean her up, whisper words of praise, even tried to kiss her once when it was over… But Ellie wasn’t having it. She was cold, aggressive, and pushed all forms of aftercare away from the blonde like being fucked by her was the worst thing she could think of.

Abby refused to tell Ellie just how much it hurt her. Every time Ellie denied her advances, Abby felt her heart ache all over again… Funny, isn’t it? How the biggest, baddest person in Jackson is the one pining after the rudest bitch to ever walk the streets.

Abby was embarrassed for the rest of the patrol route. She felt angry, dirty even, as she watched her patrol partner act and kill like nothing had happened, and nothing was wrong. Like she didn’t just have Abby all over her and against her…

Would Ellie ever let Abby in? Would Abby ever stop simping for Ellie? Or the bigger question…

Would they ever admit to themselves just how badly they were in love with each other?

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