#you can have one day of freedom and then back to containment

[foldingfittedsheets]

In proof that any competency can be hot here’s a story from when my beloved and I first started dating.

See, they were living in a house and had chickens in the backyard. The original chickens were called Salad, Parm, and Caesar which we can all agree is very funny. They were later joined by Tesla, Spirit, and Cecil who didn’t fit the theme but we’ll forgive them.

The owners didn’t clip the wings so the chickens were really just pets that flew the fence sometimes but largely respected their backyard borders. One of the chickens however was notorious for breaking containment. The jury is out on whether it was Tesla or Spirit but we’ll say Tesla as that was my recollection.

So one morning after I had slept over I was dressed in my nice work clothes, button up, vest, etc. ready to leave for work.

I kissed my beloved goodbye and walked to my car when I spotted the chicken in the front yard. I went back and tapped on the door. My beloved opened it back up and I reported, “One of the chickens is out.”

My beloved was getting ready for their day too and their face fell. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Oh? Well that’s fine, come here real quick.”

I scoped out the yard and pointed where I’d like them to stand then stalked toward the chicken. The hen turned her head warily and started to move away from me but then saw my beloved in her escape path. She decided to make a last ditch effort for freedom and bolted, trying to make a break under my legs.

I casually scooped a hand under her, slinging her upside down and holding her by her feet so she was forced to go passive in my grip. Holding birds upside down is like a cheat code to put them in a trance. I’ve learned since this can be risky as the blood rush can harm them in rare cases but holding chickens by their feet was like my entire childhood so apologies to all those past birds but we didn’t have any resulting injuries.

I looked back at my beloved, dressed in my business casual work clothes with a chicken dangling incongruously from my hand and said, “Not too bad, she just goes in the backyard, yeah?”

My beloved nodded. I casually tossed the hen over the fence and she flapped down to land amidst the rest of the flock with a disgruntled cackling sound.

I turned back for one last kiss and found my beloved starry eyed. “That was so hot.”

“It was!?”

“Yeah! You knew exactly what you were doing and you were so smooth! You made that look so easy and it would have taken me forever.”

I puffed up with pride and took my leave, mentally adding chicken wrangling to my list of sexy assets.

[incorrectbatfam]

Ways to be a nuisance in our year of 2025

(from personal experience)

Get a small box. Write "take as you need" on the side. Fill it with period products. Put them in public bathrooms, including men's rooms.

Find a pothole. Paint a dick on it. Either your town will fix it or the public will enjoy your masterpiece.

Apps like No Thanks, Boycat, and Boycott X (my personal fave) let you scan items for boycotting shit. Money talks.

Red Cards contains all the rights that everyone, citizen or not, is entitled to in this country. They come in a bunch of different languages. Print them, give them out, leave them in places that need it, etc.

Don't be a snitch. Know someone undocumented? Someone traveling for reproductive or gender-affirming care? No the fuck you do not.

If someone asks your help doing #5, be their cover. If you live where they're fleeing from: no you don't know where they went, no they didn't tell you anything. If you live somewhere people are going to: that is now your cousin, friend from high school, camping buddy, etc.

Here is a fake person generator including phone, email, and address. Here is a free VPN for desktop and mobile. Spam the shit out of those ICE tiplines, trans bathroom reporting forms, etc. Here is a thing that lets you flood an email. Make their system useless.

If you're white, you have way more freedom when it comes to interacting with cops. Distract and divert.

See Nazi shit? Tear it up, kick it down, paint it over. See a Nazi? Rip into them. If you can't, record them, post it, send it to folks connected to them. Do not let them know peace.

If you protest: nondescript outfit with a change of clothes, cover scars and tattoos, leave behind devices that can track you, and either don't drive or park far away. Masks, goggles, and helmets highly suggested. Heavy duty gloves or tennis rackets for lobbing gas cans back. Fresh water or saline solution for tear gas and pepper spray. Have an exit route but also be prepared to hunker down or get arrested.

Nonprofit orgs are always looking for donations and volunteers, especially smaller local ones. There's a role for everyone, including admin stuff for folks who can't leave home. Reach out to them and ask what help they need. The people who aren't seen are just as important as the ones who are.

If you're taking someone to get an abortion, especially a place like Planned Parenthood that might have picketers, put something under your shirt and pretend you are the one who's pregnant to divert attention. Guys can do this too. Be their secret mpreg fantasy.

Cis folks: if your trans friend asks you to accompany them to a bathroom or locker room, do it. And if someone comes poking their nose in your business, pretend you're the one who's trans—again, taking the attention away from your friend.

It takes just a dozen emails or a few people showing up at local town hall or school board meetings to disrupt everything and steer the discussion.

If you have a job in the government or something adjacent, gum up the works. Let calls go to voicemail and don't return them for hours. Leave emails unanswered for a day or few. Don't work through lunch breaks even if it's busy. Take your PTO in its entirety, and leave something only you can do incomplete. Rearrange your priorities ("Sorry Janet, I can't look into who's hiring illegal immigrants, I gotta fix this printer first"). Create excuses to delay things—it needs to be double checked, it didn't pass inspection, it didn't contain some insignificant detail.

Gather some food or prep some meals for your local homeless folks. Make a portion for yourself too. That way if someone asks, you're simply sharing a meal with an old friend who happens to be down on their luck.

Get some Pride stickers/flags/posters and sprayable Gorilla Glue. Slap them on everything, including cars and businesses owned by conservatives. Make our presence constantly known.

[ririkookiemonster]

Be with me- JJK

Summary: Breaking up with Jungkook was supposed to be your freedom from his obsession, but he’s never been one to let go easily. His presence lingers, stalking you even in places you thought were safe. When you finally agree to meet him after the break up, what should have been a simple talk turns into a moment where you 'keep your promise'.

Pairing: yandere ex bf jungkook x ex gf y/n

Genre: smut

Warnings: yandere tendencies, unprotected sex, jk is a freak, dirty talk, voyeurism, rough sex, manipulation, stalking, dub con, sex while being unconscious, recording while fucking, tit slapping, name calling, nipple sucking, groping, jerking off, cumming inside, fighting, jungkook is crazy about yn.

Word count: 8.4k+

Writer: riri🧞

Writer's note: ⚠️this fic contains sensitive contents, which may be triggering to some readers, including adults. please refrain from reading if any of the warnings trigger you. if you still proceed to read my fic, you're on your own. i will not be responsible for your ass, respectfully.⚠️

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You knew you were royally fucked when you laid in your ex’s arms that night, him stroking your hair softly as he drew invisible circles on the small of your back. This was it again. He was back in your life. You let him. You didn’t had a choice.

Thats when you realized

The only way to get rid of Jungkook,

Was to be with Jungkook...

You were a beautiful woman, with big eyes, a perfect body, pearly white teeth, and certainly popular among men. Jungkook absolutely hated how other men ogled you. You were his woman, not theirs. He couldn’t stand how you laughed with your male friends, or how your girlfriends giggled whenever a man eyed you from head to toe. He despised it. And you hated how overprotective he was.

His intense jealousy often ruined social events, and slowly, you began to isolate yourself from friends. You feared his angry outbursts more than you enjoyed your social life.

“Why were you talking to him for so long? Don’t you know how much it hurts me to see you with someone else? You belong with me, only me.”

He insisted on knowing your whereabouts, your schedules, and even installed a tracking app on your phone, claiming it was for your own safety. Jungkook loved you so much that he couldn’t bear the thought of you getting into any ‘trouble’. The world was too dangerous.

“I just worry about you so much. This way, I can always make sure you’re safe. You don’t mind, do you? It’s because I love you.”

His constant checking on you started to feel more like surveillance than care. You hated it, but you loved him.

At first, you found his constant attention flattering, but his possessive grip on your hand felt tighter with each passing day, as if he feared you might slip away if he let go.

“I can’t stand being away from you for even a moment. The thought of anyone else seeing you, talking to you… it drives me crazy. You’re mine, and I need you to know that.”

Jungkook wasn’t always like this, you swore to your friends. You knew he was a great boyfriend. They just didn’t know him the way you did. He took care of you, wanted to protect you from everything in this world. You were his heart. He often bought you gifts to show his love for you. You loved when he gave you a beautiful necklace, a token of his love for you that you were supposed to wear all the time.

“This necklace is a piece of my heart, Y/N. I want you to wear it always, so everyone knows you’re taken. Promise me you won’t ever take it off.”

As time went by, what seemed like a romantic gesture became a chain, a constant reminder of his possessiveness and ownership over you. Jungkook would get so upset if you ever forgot to wear it. Why did you have to remove it in the first place? Didn’t you love him enough to keep his necklace close to your heart?

“He’s too controlling!” your friends said, but Jungkook wasn’t controlling. He just wanted you to himself. You’re his girlfriend, right?

Jungkook wasn’t possessive or controlling, but he didn’t like when you snapped at him for being too possessive and controlling. Mind you, he was just teaching the guy a lesson for asking to buy you a drink. He had to teach him a lesson. So what if he broke his nose? So what if he threw a few punches? Nobody flirts with HIS woman.

“he wasn’t flirting with me!”

“Oh, shut up, Y/N! He clearly wanted to get into your pants!” Jungkook snapped.

You scoffed at his remark. Was he serious? So what if the man was flirting? He didn’t know you were taken. And even if he did, he didn’t deserve to get beaten up so brutally that the bar had to kick you both out and ban your entry in the future.

“This happens every time, Y/N! Every. fucking. time!” Jungkook was fuming.

“I don’t like it when they see you like you’re a piece of meat. Can’t you see how beautiful you are, baby? A body so flawless, men can’t help but be drawn to you. You’re mine… and I don’t like to share what’s mine…”

Damn. There he was again, turning a heated argument into an emotional conversation in the blink of an eye. You hated how smooth he was, how he’d come closer and wrap his arms around you, whispering sweet apologies in your ear. You hated how you always gave in to his embrace. It was like this every time. Your friends wanted you to break up with him, but he always had you like this. In his arms, where he glided his hand down to cup your ass firmly, giving it a possessive squeeze.

You hated how hot he was… so uncontrollably hot. And you hated how this night was going to end… yet again.

“F-fuck!” you whimpered at the animalistic pace Jungkook was pounding into you. Jungkook groans as your cunt wraps around him so wet and perfectly, grinding on him back and forth.

“You love it slut? Looking like a cock hungry slut for my dick. Gonna bust my nut right fucking now because of how wet you are.” Jungkook groaned, maintaining his pace, pounding hard and fast into to.

“O-only for y-your dick daddy! so big and hard” you mewled, a tiny droplet of tear falling out of your eye at the pleasure.

Jungkook was fucking good at fucking good.

“Yeah? gonna make make you cum so hard whore, you’ll forget your own name.” He moaned out, not slowing down his face. He loved the dirty talk during sex. and so did you. it was fucking hot.

Jungkook knew you were close when he felt you tightening around him. He took his camera, like he always did, and turned it on to record your precious expressions of the pleasure that he gave you.

He loved recording you.

And you loved to get recorded.

Jungkook thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world. Looked so fucking beautiful riding cock out your climax as your face contorted, letting out a thread of profanities from your mouth. He loved to keep a record of your beautiful tapes. Only for him; Only for his eyes to see.

He kissed your temple lightly, cradling you in his arms after doing the deed. You looked so angelic after the afterglow.

“You did so amazing baby… so pretty moaning my name like that. i could listen to you for years.” Jungkook said, playing her tape, replaying her sweet moans again and again. Fuck, he means when he says that.

“Tell me Y/N, would you let me record you sleeping, baby…?”

You hummed lightly, lying boneless in his arms humming at whatever stupid request he was making. You were used to him rambling, you had jeon wrapped around your fingers.

“Really babe? you'd let me fucking record you while i use your body while you're asleep?”

Jungkook asked, excitement evident in his voice. Just the thought of recording your tape while youre sleeping… it turned him on so much.

“Promise me Y/N. You wont back off, right?”

“Alright, baby…” you murmured softly, your voice laced with exhaustion.

“You can’t back off now,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, eliciting another sleepy hum from you. He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, his fingers gently combing through your soft locks until you slipped into a much-needed, peaceful slumber. After what felt like an eternity, he carefully disentangled himself from your embrace and sat up, his back resting against the headboard of your bed.

Jungkook reached over to the nightstand, picking up his camera with a reverent touch. He lowered the volume to ensure your sleep remained undisturbed. His eyes gleamed with possessive pride as he played the video he had recorded just moments ago. Your face, captured in the throes of pleasure he had bestowed upon you, was a sight that fueled his obsession. He couldn’t resist the allure of watching his recordings of you over and over. To him, you looked utterly captivating, a vision of raw sensuality.

He was consumed by an all-encompassing obsession. He’d rewind the tapes countless times just to hear his name fall from your lips again. Each repetition sent shivers of satisfaction down his spine. He could lose himself in those recordings for days, weeks, even months, relishing in the intimacy they captured.

Only he deserved to see you like this. Only he had the right to make you scream in ecstasy. Only he was entitled to touch you in such intimate ways. He wanted to be the sole possessor of your every touch, every glance, every breath. The thought of anyone else witnessing your beauty, your vulnerability, was unbearable. You were his. His woman. He was your lover, your protector, your everything. Only he deserved to see your pictures and videos.

Hell, only he deserved to see you at all...

7:47 PM

You turned your phone screen off after checking the time, stretching your back as you rubbed your sore eyes. You got up from your chair, feeling your spine crackle and pop with relief. After all, you had been hunched over your laptop for the past two hours, grinding away at your English assignment. Even though they were enjoyable in their own way, but they could be a real headache, especially when it came to meeting Professor Smith's sky-high standards. She was a tough cookie, but thats what made her challenging assignments even more interesting. You wandered over to the window, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air and clear your head now that you were free for the rest of the weekend.

You were hungry. After working your ass off on that assignment, you were finally free for the rest of the weekend. There was nothing better than cooking up something for yourself and sinking down on your bed to watch Bridgerton. The night was still young. You could hear the faint sounds of crickets coming from your bedroom windows, even though they were locked. you slowly opened the windows and felt the cool air caressing your face in the moonlight. You loved summer nights. You loved how lively they were and how the cool breeze flowed through the balcony of your apartment building, even though it was a hot season.

You slipped on your slippers, intent on cooking something quick for the night, when the faint glow of your phone screen caught your eye, indicating a notification received on silent mode. Curiosity piqued, you picked it up and saw a new message from an unknown number. The message was short, just a few cryptic words that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t shake the strange feeling that crept up in your chest as you read it, like someone unseen was watching, waiting for your response.

[Unknown]: “All done with work, baby?”

You didn’t know who this person was or how they knew you were free now. A strange unease settled over you, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe it was curiosity, or perhaps a nagging sense of denial that urged you to dismiss "it". Taking a slow, deep breath, you hesitated before finally deciding to text the person back.

[You]: “Who is this?”

You hit the send button after which you got a reply almost immediately.

[Unknown]: “It’s me, babe. JK.”

So it was him again. “What did he want now?" You muttered to yourself, a mix of frustration and anxiety rising within. It had been three months since you finally ended things with him, discovering the invasive cameras he had installed in your home to monitor your every move. He didn't stop there; he even sabotaged your social media, deleting precious memories and controlling what you could share, claiming you were only meant for "his eyes" to see. You couldn't tolerate his manipulative and possessive behavior any longer, and that was when you finally decided to cut ties for good.

You still remembered how he acted up on the day you decided to end things with him...

“You cant do this to me! I love you!”

“I don’t care Jungkook! What you did was unforgivable. We’re done.”

Your words broke Jungkook. His hands were shaking, eyes filled with tears. He gave you your everything and you were breaking up with him, like nothing mattered to you. All he wanted was to protect you from everyone. You were his.

“No, we’re not done, Y/N. We are not done.”

He sees you stand near the window, looking out at the city lights, your arms crossed defensively. He’s sitting on the couch, his eyes fixed on you, a mix of desperation and anger in his gaze.

"I can't do this anymore. This-whatever this is-it's not love. It's suffocating.” You declared, your voice firm.

"I did all of that because I love you, dammit! I can't stand the thought of anyone else seeing you, touching you, being near you. You're mine, and I need to protect yo—“

”Protect me!? Really, Jungkook?” You scoff, turning to look at him, all desperate. You knew he was shaking, but didn’t know why. It could be sadness, anger or desperation. But you refused to gave in. “Protect me by Sabotaging my social media? Protect me by tracking my phone? By deleting my online presence? You deleted my emails, Jungkook!”

“This isn’t true, baby. I just want the best for you, pleas—”

“Get out of my house, Jungkook.” You cut Jungkook off. You knew you had pissed him off, but this needed to be done.

Jungkook didn’t like how straight off asked him to leave your apartment. You never told him what to do. so why now? he didn’t like it one bit. He stood up abruptly, knocking over the coffee table in his anger. His face contorted with rage and desperation.

"You can't leave me! I won't let you. You need me. No one else will love you like I do. You know that." Jungkook spat. “If you loved me, You’d have known i was doing this for us, Y/N! Goddamit!”

You flinched at his words, but your relsove did not harden.

“Get out before i report you for stalking and spying”

Jungkook’s face hardened.

“so you’ll report my love now, huh?" He narrowed his eyes, taking some calculative steps towards you.

“You’ll get no one, Y/N mark my words. No one who’ll love you like me. I have always loved you. I have always cared you for you. I have always wanted to protect you. cant you see that baby? i have always loved you, my angel. I can change, just give me a chance…” He spoke, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek.

You flinched at his touch, your resolve hardening. You did feel a little sad about the situation, but you knew you had to do it. You had to distance yourself from him. Whatever this was, it wasn’t healthy.

"It's too late for that. You need help, and I can't give it to you. Leave.”

“You think you’ll ever find someone like me, little brat? No one will want you! Because they dont love you the way i do! so stop being a bitch.”

“Jungkook. leave.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and fury.

“This isn’t over, Y/N.” Jungkook spoke as hep turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Jungkook didn’t take the breakup well. He was absolutely shattered when you ended things with him. He never expected it from you, and the shock was too much for him to handle. In the days following the breakup, his messages became relentless. He would text you at all hours, begging you to take him back, saying he couldn’t imagine life without you. At first, you tried to respond politely, but his persistence became overwhelming. It felt like every time you looked at your phone, there was another message from him, each one more desperate than the last. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. His constant pleas were starting to get under your skin, and you needed space to move on. So, you blocked his number, hoping that would be the end of it. Since then, the silence had been a relief. But a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he had really given up, or if he was just biding his time.

Till today.

He was texting you with a new number…

[You]: What do you want, Jungkook?

[Unknown]: i just want to talk, Y/N.

[Unknown]: please...

[You]: No

[Unknown]: i want to make it right baby… i am not asking you to take me back. just please see me this once.

[Unknown]: just want a closure

[Unknown]: if you ever loved me you’d do this

[Unknown]: lets talk for the last time baby

[Unknown]: like adults

You sighed reading his messages. You knew he was watching you. there was no point in ignoring him. you just wanted to get this over with. You still loved jungkook but staying together with him was a BIG NO for you. You took a deep breath and typed out your next text.

[You]: Just talk right?

[Unknown]: yesss baby just wanna talk. don’t expect you to take me back

[Unknown]: miss your face

[Unknown]: let me see you for the last time :(

[Unknown]: i am outside your apartment building. know you are free right now.

[You]: Fine. But dont get your hopes up.

[Unknown]: i wont, i wont baby. be right there

You nervously started fidgeting around your room, playing with your fingers and pacing back and forth. It was sinking in just how dumb a decision you had made by inviting your ex over to talk. Not just any ex, but him. Jungkook. The thought of him coming over filled you with a mix of dread and curiosity. How did he even know you were free right now? You decided to push that unsettling question aside, focusing instead on the fact that Jungkook could arrive at any moment.

In a rush, you dashed to the bathroom to brush your tangled hair, hoping to look at least somewhat presentable, regardless of your relationship status. Anxiety spread through your body like wildfire as you heard the doorbell ring.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Jungkook was here.

And YOU gave him the permission to do so.

But you wanted to get this over with. nothing else. theres no way you and jungkook would get back together, he knew that too. it was just a friendly talk and you both will part ways after that. Taking a deep breath, you slowly walked over to the door.

Heart pounding, you opened the door to find Jungkook standing there, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he greeted softly, holding up a takeout bag. "I brought us some food.

Thought we could eat and talk things through."

Food. Were we going to have a long chat?

You forced a smile, stepping aside to let him in. "Hey, thanks. That's really thoughtful of you." As he walked past, you caught a whiff of his familiar cologne, stirring up a whirlwind of memories.

You both settled on the couch, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

Jungkook unpacked the food, handing you a container. "I got your favorite teokbokki" he said, his voice gentle, almost apologetic. "I remember you always loved this place."

He remembers…

You took the container, your hands trembling slightly. "Thanks, Jungkook. I appreciate it." You hadn't eaten all day and your stomach growled in protest, but a part of you was reluctant to accept anything from him.

Jungkook noticed your hesitation and frowned slightly. "What's wrong? He questioned. “You don't trust me?"

Absolutely not.

"It's not that," you lied, forcing a laugh. "I'm just not that hungry."

His eyes darkened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a reassuring smile. "Come on, just a few bites. I promise, it's safe. I wont kill you or something." He said nonchalantly, making you gasp. You didn’t trust this man one bit. But you needed to get things over with.

Reluctantly, you picked up a fork and poked at the food. Your stomach growled again, louder this time, and you gave in. "Fine, but just a little." The corners of Jungkook’s lips turned upward at your decision.As you took a bite, Jungkook watched you intently, a strange glint in his eyes. "See? Not so bad, right?" You nodded, chewing slowly. "Yeah, it's good."

He relaxed slightly,opening his own container and taking a bite. "I've missed you, you know," he admitted after a moment, his eyes meeting yours. "I know things ended badly between us, but l've been thinking about you a lot."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "I've missed you too, Jungkook. But a lot has happened. It's not that simple. Especially after what you did. it makes me want to rethink my choices that why even are you in my house in the first place."

"I know," he replied, his voice earnest. "But i love you, Y/N. i really do. I might a been a little controlling but i never thought anything bad about you. I just wanted to look out for you, baby.” Jungkook sighed, before continuing. “But I want to make it right. I want to fix things between us."

You continued to eat, each bite filling your empty stomach but doing little to ease your nerves. The food tasted a little strange, but you brushed it off, just like you brushed off his bullshit. You didn’t wanna have this ‘i DiD wHaT i DiD bEcAUsE i LoVe YoU’.

"So, what have you been up to?" you asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Just the usual," he said, shrugging. "Work, gym, thinking about you. You know, the usual."

You laughed lightly, though it felt forced. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

After a few minutes of normal conversation. You did ease yourself a little in his presence. He didn’t seem too persuasive. Maybe he really just wanted to have a conversation. Though, it was unlike Jungkook but he did seem less Jungkook-ish this evening. And it wasn’t normal.

a normal Jungkook, a normal conversation and this bad headache.

Nothing was normal.

You started to feel dizzy, your vision blurring. "Jungkook... I don't feel so good," you mumbled, dropping your fork. Jungkook's expression shifted, a frown forming on his lips, along with a crease forming between his eyebrows. He was worried.

But was he? A hint of something dark flashing in his eyes. But he didn’t wanted to show it to you. Yet.

"Maybe you should lie down," he suggested, his voice smooth. "I'll take care of you." He said, getting up to hold you by your shoulders lightly.You tried to stand, but your legs gave out, and Jungkook caught you, his grip firm.

“Shh… its okay… you’re gonna be alright. Just a little headache and dizziness for an hour or so. you wont get unconscious, don’t worry baby.” He cooed, slowly guiding you towards your bedroom

Panic started to rise as you started to breathe heavy, your body growing heavier. Though you were still conscious, you had almost no control over your body. “What did you do?" you whispered.

"Shh," he soothed, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he laid you on the bed. "It's just something to help you relax. We need to talk, really talk, without any distractions. Gotta talk about your fake promises that you made with me, pudding."

Your vision blurred, and you fought to stay in control. "Jungkook, please..."

Your vision swam as Jungkook's words echoed in your ears, his tone shifting from gentle persuasion to something more intense. "I did everything to love you. Protect you. even built a shrine for our love." he murmured, his grip tightening on your arm. "But you left me. You broke your promise."

Fear and confusion clouded your mind, but his proximity and the drug's effects left you unable to resist. "Jungkook…" you managed weakly, your voice barely audible. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear.

"I can't let you go, i wont let you go," he whispered, his fingers tracing along your jawline. "You made a huge mistake by breaking up with me, Y/N. And i’ll make you regret it today. You’re mine.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Despite the fear of his threat, a part of you recognized the desperation in his eyes, a twisted kind of love. obsession.

"Okay," you finally breathed out weakly, hoping to calm him down, to keep yourself safe. Maybe agreeing was the safest option for now, a way to gain his trust. Deep down, you knew this was far from over, you played along, hoping to keep yourself safe from his dangerously twisted self.

His expression softened slightly, a manic gleam in his eyes as he pulled you closer. "I knew you'd understand. Had no choice. Gotta love you some more. Need to keep our promises alive." he murmured, a dangerous edge to his voice. Though his embrace was not something you should enjoy at the moment, you felt a surge of relief mixed with dread.

Your mind raced as Jungkook's grip on you tightened, his words cutting through the haze of the drug. "You're mine, Y/N." he whispered, his voice a chilling blend of possessiveness and longing. "No one else can have you."

You forced yourself to stay calm, nodding weakly in agreement."I know, Jungkook, I belong to you.” You managed to say, your voice trembling.

He nodded, a dark satisfaction crossing his features. "That's right," he murmured, his hand trailing possessively down your arm. "We'll fix everything. Just you and me."

You flinched inwardly at the intensity of his gaze, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I'm sorry for leaving, kookie. I couldn’t see how much you were looking out for me." you offered softly, desperate to placate him, to find a way out of this nightmare.

Kookie. He missed that. He smiled, a hint of warmth in his gaze, contradicting his devious smile.

"You'll make it up to me, I won't let you go again." He insisted, his voice firm.

As his words sank in, a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. You knew this wasn't right, that you shouldn't have to endure this kind of control. But for now, you had to play along You were drugged by this man. And he was crazy.

Jungkook leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're mine forever," he breathed, his grip on you unyielding. "And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you." Fear mingled with resignation as you nodded weakly, hoping beyond hope that this little act of yours would finally set you free in the future.

"You have to understand," Jungkook continued, his voice low and urgent. "I can't let anyone else have you. If you try to leave again, I'll... I'll do things you wouldn't like, and you know how persuasive i can be, baby…" His words sent a chill down your spine, the threat hanging heavy in the air.

"Kookie, I didn't mean to hurt you. I just needed some time."

His expression darkened, his grip on you tightening almost imperceptibly. "Time? You had all the time in the world with me," he growled softly.

"But you ignored everything i did for you, Chose to walk away. You made me promise things, and you broke them."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words, to calm him down without provoking him further, despite being hazed. "I'm sorry," you slurred, your voice breaking. "I never meant to hurt you, baby…"

He studied you for a moment, his gaze intense and searching.

"I know," he finally said, his tone softening slightly. "That's why l'm giving you another chance…”

You sighed in relief, only to gasp after.

“Remember babe? You promised to let me record you…sleeping”

“P-promised you…?

“Tell me Y/N, would you let me record you sleeping, baby…?”

You hummed lightly, lying boneless in his arms.

“Really babe? youd let me fucking record you while i use your body while you’re asleep?”

“Promise me Y/N. You wont back off, right?”

“Alright, baby…”

“You can’t back off now.”

“Y/N?” Jungkook shaked you lightly, dizziness evident in your eyes.

“Yeah..?”

“I wanna fuck you and record you while you’re asleep. You wanted to earn my forgiveness, right? We can start off by completing the promises you made.” Jungkook said, almost in a quiet tone, staring right into your eyes.

You gulped in nervousness over his words. You had no choice.

You wanted to save yourself from Jungkook

and that could be only done

by being Jungkook’s…

You nodded sofly, a hint of small smile playing on your lips, as you stared at his beautiful brown eyes.

Jungkook looks so sweet. Too sweet that you almost forgot who he really is.

“Of course kookie… I’d do anything to earn your forgiveness…”

Jungkook slowly slumps down your unconscious body on the bed. He felt a surge of excitement, as he was finally be able to do what he had been wanting to, from a long time, and youd finally be able to keep your promise.

Promises aren’t meant to be broken, you both know that. Jungkook loved how he still had you in his arms even after everything that happened. Thats the power of the shrine he made at his home of your knick knacks. He knew his love held an immense power as you, the love of his life had finally decided to open your eyes and see what Jungkook was doing for you.

He was your savior. Your lover. Your life.

If it hadn’t been him, you’d have been so lost. so hurt, so vulnerable, so messed up. Mind you, you could have even be murdered by someone.

Or by Jungkook, if you weren’t his.

But you had Jungkook

He was your life. He knows it.

He stared down at your soft body, lying unconscious on your pink sheets, that smells like vanilla. Jungkook knew you loved him and wanted to prove it when you agreed to take on the sleeping pill 10 minutes ago. You were his. His to use, his to love, his to fuck.

It didn’t take Jungkook long to strip your clothes away from your body, laying you in nothing but your light pink cotton lingerie in front of his gaze. Even though he had seen you without them countless times, (well in the past), it felt like he went through a jolt of electricity, sending shivers straight to his spine, a smirk to his lips.

Jungkook's smirk turns into a wicked grin as he looks down at your unconscious body, his fingers staring to trace over the smooth texture of your skin. His eyes glint with excitement and desire, once seeing your fluffy breasts, his cock standing in salute.

"Fuck, you have amazing tits, baby..."

Jungkook mumbles to himself, as he takes a second to admire them before pulling your bra down to free your tits. Wasting no time, He leaned down, taking the soft flesh in his mouth, his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking softly, swallowing around it, tongue flicking it inside his mouth. They were for him to squeeze, kiss, lick and pinch, after all.

He couldn’t get enough of you, like ever. And so, for a brief moment, he pulled away, releasing your wet and tortured nub, as we walks to his drawers, taking out the same camera he used everytime you to did stuff together.

"This is going to be so fucking hot. I am going to make you mine again, baby. I missed you so much…"

Jungkook turned on the camera. The small red light near the lens indicated the video had started recording. Jungkook makes his way to the bed again, where you were lying there completely at his mercy. He slowly settles himself down beside you, moving the camera closer to your body, recording every inch of you as if he was doing it for the first time. It was Getting hot. You were hot. Jungkook gulped as he slowly removed his white tee, showing off his soft traces of abs and the tattooed arm. He added a few more to his sleeve tattoo collection when you two were not together. Jungkook turned on the air conditioner and sets the temperature on 24. Perfect.

He drifts his attention back to you, his hands move up to your already freed and sucked tits, touching and squeezing them, making sure to get a close-up. His mouth finds a way to your neck, taking in a whiff as he kissed it slowly, his lips wet against your neck. His fingers knead into the flesh of your tits, nipples hard in his palm as he relieves his stress.

He then moves his hand down to your panties, slowly pulling them off as he continues to film. He lets out a satisfied hum when he sees a patch of slick on your panties, not much, but enough to say that you were turned on. In this state. This was how Jungkook made you feel. You were utterly the doe eyed boy’s, in every possible state. This is what true love is. He slowly moved your thighs away, taking a close up of your pussy. Hell, it wasn’t freshly waxed. Jungkook knew you liked to keep it clean whenever you both would get intimate. His heart almost swell in pride as he got a proof that you weren’t fucking anyone all this time. (Not that he didn’t knew it already, he always kept tabs on you.) It still had a soft little patch of hair, but not enough of to make an obstacle to film those luscious lips and needly clit of yours.

Jungkook starts to touch your cunt, filming his finger’s movement. He starts to rub your clit, watching your reaction, not that he expected any. He starts to whisper filthy things while recording the sinful act.

“Look how wet she’s for me. She’s so fucking hot. Fuck,"

The sight of your now slick wet cunt, being teased by his slender fingers made him extremely tight in the pants. Fuck, it was hard to jerk off to the footages of you in your room, doing your thing when Jungkook used to find ways to get his Y/N back. He had missed you so much. God knows how many times he had came in front of monitor just by seeing you change into your pajamas every night. Or when you crossed your legs while watching TV in the couch, wearing his favorite pink tank top.

He lost a month’s worth cum when he saw you playing with yourself with the toy HE gifted you. That was the only toy you owned. Only that thing was allowed to enter you whenever Jungkook wasn’t around. You were using his toy. Why? You wanted him. You need him. You needed Jungkook, isnt that why you used His replacement to calm yourself down. Why didn’t you use your fingers? They weren’t long enough? wrong. they didn’t satisfy you? No. Jungkook knew why. You obviously missed him. You wanted him back.

Jungkook continues to touch and record himself pleasuring you, his own desire growing with each passing moment. He slowly starts to finger you, starting with one finger, soon followed by a second one, making sure to capture the slick movements, the camera moving a little due to the jerks produced by his other hand working on you. "This is so hot, she's practically begging for it,"

Jungkook continues to finger you and suck on your nipples while the camera captures everything. How wet your pussy was. The slick. The wet sounds. Jungkook’s grunts. Your soft breathing followed but a few straggled breaths. Everything . "Look at her, she loves it. Such a dirty slut. My pretty Y/N. She needs my cock inside her."

Jungkook pulls his fingers out of you, admiring the wetness and a sticky thread of your juices joined between his fingers before bringing them to his mouth and sucking on them, followed by a satisfied hum as if just tasted a forbidden fruit. Well, technically yes, the only difference is this fruit wasn’t forbidden. It was completely his.

Jungkook then moves the camera away from your pussy and focuses it on himself as he undoes his pants, the metal of his belt makes a soft click sound as he pulls down his Blue Calvin Klein Denim jeans, followed the the pair of his black Calvin Klein Boxers. His painfully hard cock was already standing parallel to the floor, the veins on it as swollen as the bulbous head, sparkling with a drop of precum. He slowly start to touch his thick length while recording himself.

“You want this… My filthy Y/N. You want my cock inside you.”

Jungkook starts to jerk off, his hand moving vigorously over his shafts, focusing the camera to your body time to time.

“She doesn't know it but she is a slut. My slut.”

“She was stupid to even think about leaving me.”

“She missed me so much. I am going to fuck her so hard to show how much she means to me.”

Jungkook knew he couldn’t take it anymore. You were in front of his eyes after a long time. he needed to be inside you, and fuck you like he means it. He focuses the camera on your body once again and spreads your legs wide open, positioning his hips against yours, his hard and heavy cock being brushed against your folds. Jungkook groaned as he pushed the tip in, head being thrown back as he basked in the feeling of your tight walls. It always felt like first time whenever he fucked you.

“Fuck! Shit! Y/N I missed this cunt.”

In one swift movement he enters you fully, burying himself to the hilt. He can barely contain himself, his fingers dig in your waist as he fucks his cock inside you, his mouth letting out a guttural moan, pulling his length back just to pound into you again. and again. and again. The sound of your thighs meeting fills the room, with soft grunts and mewls of pleasure escaping Jungkook’s mouth, his eyes solely focused on the sight of your round tits bouncing with every thrust. So pretty, so round, so soft, all his.

Jungkook lips turn into a twisted crescent at the sight. Unable to hold himself any longer, he starts to squeeze and slap your unconscious tits, causing them to become red, which only fuels his desire to slap and squeeze them more, just how you loved it.

“You’re my cunt, bitch. Gonna Fuck this fact into you.”

Jungkook had noticed that you had started to stir a little, maybe the the reaction of the pill was slowly wearing off. He found you moaning unconsciously at the feeling of his cock pounding facts into you to the hilt.

“M-mhhh…k-kook ahh-“ He heard you mumble incoherently, feeling your walls clench around him tightly.

“Such a slut, just woke up and you’re already about to cum? You missed my dick that much baby?” Jungkook groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases down his own orgasm. It took him all his might not to bust a nut just right then at the feeling of you clenching around him so tightly.

“Gonna cum in you, you want that, right love?” Jungkook said, his hips never stopping to move against yours, as you slowly started to feel faint trickles of your orgasm, which got stronger and stronger with Jungkook’s pounding. You gasped loudly as he thrusted himself in you for the last time, emptying thick ropes of his cum inside you and filling you to the brim.

The room was quiet, the only thing that could be heard was the humming of air conditioner, and both of your soft breathing, as you lay on the bed beside, your back firmly pressed against his chest. You still felt a little drowsy due to the effect that pill had on you, but Jungkook had made sure to clean you up and change you to your comfortable pjs. The purple satin ones.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his fingers playing with the chain of your ‘pendant’ that Jungkook had bought you tonight as a gift for your union since you threw the last one.

“…do you forgive me ggukie…?” You mumbled, earning a soft hum from him.

“I forgive you, Y/N. But if this happens again-"

“It wont happen again.” You cut him off. “I promise, kook.”

His smile returned, though it lacked warmth. "Good," he said, his voice tinged with possessive satisfaction. "Now, let's forget about everything else. It's just you and me now, Y/N No one fucking else. I’ll kill them if anyone gets between us, Y/N.”

You hummed, finally surrendering to the situation that has you caught up in a fucking cycle. And you knew.

The only way to get rid of Jungkook,

was to be with Jungkook.

Jungkook felt you slowly drifting away, so he shifts you in such a way that you were lying on your back. He sat up, his back pressed against the headboard. He reached to the night stand and grabbed his camera, to see how you kept your promise to earn his forgiveness.

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i was supposed to post this on halloween 😭 but had been so so busy with college. my exams are coming up so I won't be able to post as much, please keep supporting.

please like and reblog

-riri🫐

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.

Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters

Chapter 1 (You're here)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 1

You can't remember a time when you didn't live under the roof of Wayne Manor. Those hallways that for a 4-year-old child seemed chilling and eternal, today you consider a prison. And no, they don't keep you locked up or anything like that, in fact they give you a lot of freedom within this house, but you can consider that so-called 'freedom' as negligence.

Yes, negligence. Of course you had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, a roof to shelter in, but what about love? If they could ask you if you have ever felt loved in your home, the answer would be simple.

No not once

Bruce Wayne, your father, may be one of the biggest billionaires in this world but it seems his love and attention was limited towards you. But, with your brothers? It seemed to be an endless well of love and patience that he gave them.

Unconditional love, something you always looked for.

Or maybe he was busy owning one of the most successful companies in the world or cosplaying a vampire to help the city.

Yes… in short, Bruce no longer knew what excuse to give himself for not spending time with you.

And your brothers? They weren't much better. Richard "Dick" Grayson may be very loving and charming but with you? You were just a zero on the left. He didn't think you needed attention as much as his traumatized brothers and sisters. You, being a normal civilian, knew that you were safe from anything, so he only limited himself to greeting you with that little smile that at first seemed warm to you, but now it just cracks your teeth to see it.

As if he were the perfect brother.

Jason Todd was everything to you until it became nothing. You met him in his days as Robin and the truth is he was nice to you and you had a good relationship with him (they are only three years apart). When Dick wasn't at the mansion he would play with you and let you watch him train. He was your greatest confidant, your best friend… Until the Joker killed him. When he came back to life you couldn't recognize him, was he really your brother? A being full of hate and revenge? So much so that even though he saw you once after years, he just turned around.

And although he already has a better relationship with his family, it seems that your loving relationship as brothers ended that day he died. He didn't even look at you, much less talk to you.

What a hypocrite.

You can't say anything about Timothy Drake.  Seriously, and it's not because he's a great brother, it's because you've literally never talked to him.  You only know of his existence because of the times Dick shouted his name in excitement at him every time he came to the mansion and because you found out that Todd wanted to kill him.  Furthermore, your room and his are in the same hallway with the slight difference that your room was at the end.

Spoiled child...

Damian Wayne was a totally unique case.  He was violent and explosive but apparently your father preferred him over you.  Damian considered you a zero on the left.  He never found value in you, neither in your physique (you didn't fight), nor in your mind (you're not outstanding) so he didn't waste even a second insulting you or degrading you.

According to him, you were just a nuisance to the Wayne family and a disappointment to the Batfamily. And it didn't matter if you were going to complain to Bruce about Damian's behavior, he always made excuses for it.

Is this how unconditional love looks like?

Cassandra Cain was another ghost like you inside the mansion... With the only difference that she did pay attention to her even though she didn't talk much.  She was never interested in interacting with you even though you tried several times.

Even a mute could attract more attention than you...

Stephanie Brown.  An extroverted girl who wasn't afraid to give her opinion, but apparently she didn't have any opinion about you.  She always gets excited to see others and she was quick to look for things to do with them.  But, if she saw you, she would just give you a slightly awkward smile and she would get out of there quickly.

She runs away from you like you have the plague.

Barbara Gordon is seen by most of the family as an older sister, however you see her as a grumpy secretary.  You could be the most respectful person in the world towards her but just seeing you next to her asking what she was doing made her look at you as if you were a villain she is looking for.

I'm sure she hasn't seen a villain with the irritation she sees you with.

Duke Thomas is the new addition to the Wayne Family.  You have nothing against him, he is a kind and smiling boy. Who you could even consider to be the kindest to you of all your brothers.

When he first came to Wayne Manor, despite you being a nobody in that family, he took an interest in you. At first you thought he did it out of pity, but when one day you heard him asking Alfred where you were because he wanted to show you something, that's when you realized he wasn't doing it out of pity. And that made you feel special, being the sibling Duke turned to.

But you couldn't help but hate how easily he integrated into the family. How easily they accepted him.

And last but not least, Alfred Pennyworth.  He tried to be there for you and he encouraged you to keep trying to get your family's attention. But even with the butler's attention you couldn't help but long for the affection of your father and brothers.

You are more sure that without him you would have gone crazy in that big mansion. 

For that reason, the only ones you would miss once you left that place would be Alfred and Duke.

"Would you be mad at me if I decided to leave the mansion?”

What a bad way to start a conversation.

You were sitting at the kitchen counter. As was custom you watched Alfred make breakfast, occasionally helping him. The butler, upon hearing your question, momentarily stopped what he was doing. Thanks to his poker face, Alfred didn't show any surprise but you knew well that he wasn't expecting that question.

"Pardon me, master (name)?”

"Would you forget about me if I left the mansion?" you asked

"Of course not!" Alfred quickly answered, his tone of voice a little high. However, upon noticing the change in his tone of voice he composed his posture again.

“I mean, of course I would never forget you, master (name). Why do you ask me those questions?”

"You know why Alfie" you sighed.

Alfred likewise sighed and turned off the stove where he was cooking. He walked over to you and sat down in front of you.

"Master (name)…" he was saying but you interrupted him.

"No Alfred… Could you let me talk… please..?" you asked gently but firmly

"Since I came to this place fifteen years ago I have always been part of the ghosts of this mansion and- and I got tired of being that. For a long time I have been thinking about moving somewhere else, away from this mansion, away from them…” You said that last sentence angrier but you controlled your temper.

"But… I can't leave knowing that you don't agree with my decision. I can't stand the thought of you being angry with me.”

You couldn't even imagine a world where he, Alfred Pennyworth, the man who decided to take your father's tablecloth, was angry with you. But even if he gets angry at your decision, you are going to follow your plan to leave the city.

Alfred smiled slightly and took your hand.

"You know very well that I would support you in whatever my little one does. Unless that decision put your life in danger of course" they both laughed at that comment.

"So that's a yes?" you asked with hope in your eyes and voice

"Yes" he nodded "Just take care of yourself"

You could see in his eyes that there was a bit of fear in his eyes as well as something else that you didn't know what it was and you didn't pay attention to it at that moment.

You should have paid more attention to him in that moment.

"Thanks Alfie" you hugged him regardless of the fact that the table was between the two of you. The butler hugged you anyway, his hug felt warm and safe.

"You don't have to thank me, Master (name)"

Then you broke away from the hug and ran to your room with a big smile on your face. You were finally going to be able to live the way you wanted, without living in the shadow of everyone. Finally free.

Once in your room you started making some calls and organizing your things quietly (not that the inhabitants of this mansion cared much about what you did) so as not to attract attention. In a week, this place will only be a bad dream and you will be able to move from this nightmare to a dream with a happy ending.

Or not?

Hellooo! I hope you liked the start of this story! To be honest, this has been something I have wanted to do for a long time. And Let me remind you that English isn't my first language so if you find some mistakes I would appreciate fo you to tell me in a good way.

Anyway, if you liked it I'll appreciate for you leave a heart.

See you in the next one!!

-Izadi <3

[barleyo]

Daddy's Girl.

Step Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: Don't like? Don't read! Either way, READ THE TAGS. I'm starting to get pretty weird on this blog, so expect more stuff like this! A girl has to feed her fetishes, so feel free to tag along with me and enjoy what my sick little mind thinks up. Thanks for reading!

Tags: stepcest, step-dad/step-daughter relationship, cream pie, daddy issues, use of "baby girl" and "daddy's girl," daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), swearing, infidelity, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, LARGE AGE GAP (legal), 2nd person POV

Word count: 2.1k

As far as your mother was concerned, your father was worth less than the sum of his parts. He was fleeting idea, a mere concept in both of your lives ever since you could remember. Sure, you remembered a few odd Christmases with a surplus of gifts, all tagged "from Daddy," and a few daddy-daughter dates here and there, but that wasn't enough to make up for his true absence. 

It wasn't a surprise when your mom eventually left him, scooping you up with her. Just you and her, and the rare postcard that your sperm-donor decided to ship off once a year or so. It was good enough then when it was just you two finding your way in the world, but it went downhill when your mom found a new boy toy. 

Leon.

He wasn't a bad guy, by any means. Wasn't pushy, didn't make you call him "dad" or try to impose his will onto you, but his presence made the absence of your real father that much more obvious. You tried to ignore him for the most part, letting your mom have her little relationship with him to tide her over. 

But then they got married. Leon became a more permanent fixture. That was no bueno. 

You toughened it out, being cordial with him until you finally hit that mark of independence: sweet, sweet 18! The big one-eight, your ticket to freedom! 

Everything was planned out for your big day. Mom and Leon made a cake, presents were given, and all birthday wishes granted, except for one. What you really wanted, was for your dad to show up for just this one day, just this once, to have him and not just his money. 

You could never get that lucky, though, and that thought was cemented in your head when you found yourself waiting for him outside of your house. The driveway was empty, not even your mom's car was out there, she still had to head off to work. The world couldn't pause for a birthday girl, it seemed.

Stepping back inside to the house, you slammed the door behind you, practically throwing yourself onto the leather couch in the living room. The tears started faster than you could contain them, and quite honestly, you didn't want to contain them. It was your party, damn it, and you would cry if you wanted to!

"You okay, kid? I heard the door-"

Fuck. Him.

Leon's heavy footsteps made their way down the stairs, leading to his place in front of you. "(Y/N), are you crying?"

You sucked back a breath of air, steadying yourself as much as you could before speaking. 

"No, 'm not, just-- go, just leave me alone." You let your face drop into your hands, staining your sleeves with tears.

Leon, being just the right amount of pushy, took a steps next to you a placed his hand on your shoulder. "Can we talk about it? I mean, I probably know what it is, but we could- you could say whatever you need to say." His face cringed a bit at his own words, feeling like he was already fucking this up. "No judgement."

You kept your face covered but obliged, knowing that talking about it, even with Leon, would make you feel a little better.

"My dad isn't here. He's been promising for weeks that he'd show, but he isn't here."

"Oh."

Your step-dad bit his lip trying to figure out how to make you feel better. He knew you weren't exactly fond of him, but he felt a twinge of responsibility.

"Fuck 'em," Leon finally decided on. "He's a liar and you don't need him. So, fuck 'em. Why would you want a deadbeat to bring you down on your special day?" 

"Because, he's my dad," you said, like it was the most obvious thing. He was right, of course, but the absence still hurt you.

"No dad would stand up a sweet girl like you on her birthday. You only turn 18 once. A real dad wouldn't miss a birthday this monumental for anything. What's he worth, if he can't keep to his word?"

"I guess nothing." You sat up straighter, trying to make yourself calm down. "D'ya think it's, like, my fault? Why doesn't he want to see me?"

He suddenly got really serious, making his grip on your shoulder firm.

"Not at all. You are a wonderful girl. Your mom thinks so, and so do I. You are brilliantly smart, kind, responsible, sweet, gorgeous-- you're perfect and if that scumbag can't see that, then he's beyond saving." 

He loosened his grip, letting his hand fall down to your lap, a bit close to the crotch of your jeans. You didn't look down, trying to convince yourself it was an accident, but he didn't move his hand either.

His other hand came up to your face, holding your cheek and to your own surprise, you leaned into his hand. His big, calloused, confronting hand.

Fuck him.

Something snapped in you when he leaned in for a kiss. God, it was wrong, so wrong, but you were so conflicted. Is this what a father's love really felt like? Hell if you knew, this was close enough in your book.

"Hmph-! Leon..." You pulled away from the kiss, wiping at your mouth roughly to get rid of the salvia strings connecting the both of you. "This is wrong, this isn't okay, my mom-"

"Is not here." 

He placed another kiss on your lips, this one chaste and sweet, so unlike the passionate one you shared before. 

"Just you and me. I know your dad isn't here, but I am. Let me make up for him, baby." His whispers pricked goosebumps over your body, lighting a fire deep in you. "Let daddy love you. Can I show you?"

His big hand looked nearly comical resting against the small button of your jeans, pawing desperately at them. So, so, so wrong. So fucked up, so not okay, so....

"Yes," you said breathily. "Okay, I-I want you to show me. Just be careful please, 'cause.." you trailed off a bit, feeling the pop of your pants opening. 

Leon yanked them down, tossing them away quickly. "Fuck, that's good," he said, pressing his tongue flatly on your mound through your panties. 

The fabric slowly grew a wet patch that clung to you, getting sticky. He placed a soft kiss on your clothed clit, then rested his head on your soft thigh.

"Anybody ever touch you here?" he asked, running a finger over your pussy. 

You softly shook your head, mumbling out a 'no.'

"Mm, more for daddy, yeah? Gonna make you feel so good," he said, slipping your panties to the slide. His mouth made quick work, tongue already gliding up and down on your clit. 

Your face was already twisting up in pleasure, eyebrows knitting together tightly.

"That's cute," he blew cool air over your cunt, keeping his eyes on your face. "You like it? My mouth all over you like this?"

"Mhm, please- don't stop. I wanna feel it again." 

You reached your hand out to hold his head, wanting to push it down before bringing your hand back nervously.

"That's right, push my head down if you want. 'M here to make you feel good, so you use me. Just a wet mouth for you today, sweet girl."

You nodded eagerly, running your hands through his blond hair and taking taking firm purchase of a section of it. Your hands greedily pushed his face into your cunt. The feeling of his nose rubbing against your clit while his tongue dug into your tight hole made you feel fuzzy inside.

Leon was so vulgar with his noises; he almost enjoyed it more than you were. Slurp after slurp came from his mouth, accompanied by a moan or two while he tried to get himself off by palming himself through his pants. 

The sight of him was just as good as the feeling of him. You had never been taken care of so thoroughly. Leon was opening a whole new world to you, a world where you could be selfish and take, because your daddy would provide, no questions asked.

"Lemme try somethin', yeah, baby?"

He shook your hand off and spat directly on your clit, spreading the fat glob with his fingers. Tight, fast circles were traced over your bud, back and forth. It felt like hypnosis, the way he reeled your body in closer to an orgasm. 

"Daddy, please, 'm gonna cum," you said, face flushing of all color. "Your mouth, want your mouth," you shot out quickly, already obsessed with the feeling of his hot mouth tonguing you down.

He obliged, of course. How could he turn his princess down? Leon's lips again wrapped around your clit, sucking on the bud like it gave him life. 

You came soon after. You seized and convulsed and the feeling of his eyes taking you in made the waves of pleasure crash down that much harder over your body. 

"If he knew what a sweet fucking pussy you had," Leon said, licking a final stripe over it, "he'd never wanna leave."

"Wha--?"

"I said," Leon pulled away from your pussy, lifting his head to your ear, "that even your dad would wanna be tongue deep in your sweet, tight cunt. But it's all mine, isn't it?"

The sound of his belt unbuckling made you wetter, if that was possible, but it also sent a sense of realization through you.

You had your pussy in your step dad's mouth. And you liked it. And now, you would let him fuck you. And you would love it. 

"I know you're a virgin, but fuck, baby, you're so tight." His voice was grumbly and strained while he tried to push into you. "Maybe I need to eat you up a little more," he teased.

"No, I need you inside, wanna feel it now." You let yourself go completely. Here you were, whining like a brat while Leon's fat cock stretched you. The pain with sharp, but immediately worth it. He fit inside perfectly, easily hitting your sensitive spots with a few thrusts.

He hissed, feeling you clamp down on his length. "Shh, come on, gotta get used to it baby. Don't want me to cum too quick, do you?"

"Yes, I do," you whined, desperate to know for certain that you were making him feel good too. 

Leon's laugh softly rang in your ears. "No, I wanna make it worth your time. Wish I could take you all night long," he muttered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. 

He swallowed all of your moans, slipping his tongue into your mouth while he rocked into you. He tried to find a rhythm, but he was too lost in pleasure to be neat about it. 

He'd fuck you nice and orderly another day, but for now? He just wanted to feel you gush around him, and feel your cunt get sloppy while he took you.

Your breathless moans caught his attention. He found the angle that made you get oldest and stuck with it, lifting your hips up with his hands so he could piston into your g-spot.

"Oh my god, right there! That feels-- oh my god."

"I know, baby," he said, thumbs digging into your hipbones. "Feels good f'me too. You're so good for daddy."

Your heart, and cunt, pounded the more he spoke. You were close and you knew it, you just needed him to keep talking you through it. "I am?"

"Yes, baby, you're perfect. Daddy's perfect little princess, taking my cock so good." His cock twitched, so he clenched his jaw, refusing to cum before you did. "You know what good girls get to do?"

"Hmph?" Your face was red and hot, mouth hanging open while he continued to fuck into your spongey walls.

"They cum hard on daddy's cock. Can you do that for me? Cum all on me?" He traced his hand over your cheek, letting his thumb land on your bottom lip while he egged you on.

Your body had never reacted faster, immediately creaming on his length. Your hole milked him, each contraction gripping his length and sucking the cum right out of him. 

Leon let a shaky breath out before pulling out of you, scooping the mixture of your cum in his fingers. He rubbed it between two fingers for a moment and popped it into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

You came down from your own high and looked over at him, feeling guilt pull at your chest.

"Leon."

"Hm?"

"What about mom? She's gonna freak if she ever finds out. Did we fuck up? What's gonna--"

"Hey," he said, shushing you with his finger over your lips. "She's not gonna find out and she doesn't need to know. I might be married to her, and I get why you're stressed, but what we have is different."

He pulled his finger off of your mouth and pressed a kiss to your forehead cheekily. "You're daddy's girl. That makes you special."

[innerfare]

Nightmares - Part 2

Summary: What sorts of nightmares do they have about losing you?

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Mihawk, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Corazon, Smoker

Genre: Angst

CW: SFW // that being said, caution- contains mentions of death and suffering

——— 

Shanks: 

It’s all fun and games as he chases you down the beach under the full moon, both of you splashing in the shallows, the mugginess of the summer night somehow refreshing after a few too many drinks. He doesn’t run very fast at first, giving you the head start he always does, the one you complain about, but when he does decide he wants you in his arms, he picks up his pace, only to realize you’re much further down the beach than you should be. He runs faster and faster, and with each step, you seem to get three more away from him, until the outline of you is rapidly disappearing. His throat begins closing up as he realizes he’ll never catch you. And when he wakes on deck, a half-empty booze bottle in his hands, he sets it aside and searches the ship for you, not catching his breath until he finds you sleeping in his bed, right where you belong. 

Beckman: 

You’re in the clutches of the marines. Beckman had a past before Shanks, a past that involved deserting the marines and going on the run from the World Government, and there’s a small part of him that never did overcome the fear of that past catching up to him. Worse still, he has a fear of that past catching up to you, and that fear comes to life in his dreams, when you’re thrown into Impel Down for his crimes and he’s forced to watch them dunk you in boiling water over and over again. He wakes with you asleep on his chest, the same as every night, and the skin to skin contact calms him down, but not enough for him to go back to sleep. 

Mihawk: 

He sent you away for your own good. He had a premonition the Navy would be coming for him, and with them, a slew of bounty hunters that would have no qualms about using you against him. And yet, you remained in his dreams, though the hot and heavy ones he once had were replaced by cold fear. Every time he went to sleep, a different scenario, though the crux of it the same: you were being used as a pawn to get to him, a pawn in a lot of pain. And every time he woke up, the same: your side of the bed was empty, the shape of your body tangled in those satin sheets now but a memory. For your own good, he kept reminding himself, though he believed it less every time.  

Crocodile: 

You betray him. Of course you do. He would betray you in an instant, and not even for a whole lot. A business deal, or perhaps the freedom of one of his more valuable people. From the look on your face, it’s not difficult for you, either. In fact, you seem to relish the pain on his as you inform him you’ve taken a deal with one of his enemies- a lucrative one, at that. And all you had to do was set him up. He wakes with a start, sitting up on the sofa in his office he often crashes on when he doesn’t feel like dragging himself to bed. You’re nowhere to be seen, and that’s what he needs for the next few days. He only stops giving you the cold shoulder when he figures out a way to approach the topic of betrayal without telling you how pathetically heartbroken he would be if you ever did turn on him. 

Doflamingo: 

The angry mob gets you. That same mob that went after his family, that same mob that went after him. They’re after you, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s not a warlord, not even a pirate, hasn’t eaten his devil fruit or met Trebol, hasn’t done anything to make himself powerful enough to protect you. You’re supposed to be his, but the mob is determined you’re theirs, and what is he supposed to do about it? He wakes in a cold sweat, leaning forward in his chair with his chest heaving. He takes a moment to massage his temples before climbing to his feet and stalking out of the room in search of you, determined to lay eyes on you (and probably to increase your security detail, too). 

Corazon: 

His brother has you tied up like a piñata for the executives to beat. Everyone in the family is there, even Law, and Corazon cries out, but he really is mute, completely unable to protest your treatment. He can’t move, either, can’t do anything but watch as everyone takes hits at you, from his brother to his son. He wakes in a fit of desperation, calling out for you. It’s the sound of his own voice- hoarse and frantic- that finally calms him down, though ultimately, he doesn’t take another calm breath until you appear at his side, your brow furrowed, asking him what’s wrong. He knows it’s crazy, but he just has to check you over for marks. 

Smoker: 

He comes home after months at the sea and finds your home wicked, windows shattered and furniture overturned. He approaches the bedroom with a lump in his throat. Just as he rounds the corner, he wakes up, but laying there in bed, he knows what he saw, knows what a crew of vengeful pirates did to his beloved. Though he had been firm on not telling anyone about you or your relationship for fear the wrong person would find out and your life would be in danger, he makes the decision to put in a call to an old friend and ask them to drop in on you every week or so to be certain you’re safe. He also installs a new, state of the art security system at your place as soon as he gets leave. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Imprisonment, Mentions of Starvation

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Something I think we don't talk about enough is how interesting Yandere!Zhongli would be in the past, when he took a more active role in Liyue's rule, under the name Rex Lapis. More specifically, I continuously go back to the idea of Rex Lapis falling in love with one of his most loyal mortal worshippers.

Every day, he can hear your prayers floating across stilled air, stirring up the more draconic instincts in his heart. Such beautiful songs, all for him. Your prayers alone are the greatest blessings he's ever received in all his years as Liyue's Archon, but you've also given him frequent offerings, from grains harvested to jewels mined. Sometimes he cannot help but feel concerned, hoping you're not living in squalor due to your unceasing devotion.

Every night, he enters your dreams and claims them as his own. He never reveals himself, but he stages scenes where he plays the part of the heroic lover, protecting you from harm. For you, it provides protection, soothes your worn mind from labor done during the day. For him, it quells the possessive desire to have you in the palm of his hands, pampered and doted upon, treasured for all eternity.

It isn't enough. Rex Lapis knows it isn't enough, but he pretends as though this little share of your life is satisfactory, even though the depths of his heart stir with displeasure. He wants to be your world in every way.

Luckily for him, he soon gets the opportunity. A famine of unparalleled magnitude—the most devastating disaster Liyue has faced in three centuries—strikes. Not only that, but the heart of the ruin centers around your village. Your prayers become more fervent and frequent. At the sound of your sobs, he can't hold the draconic side of himself back. Rex Lapis may not be Morax, but like his past self he is neither mortal nor moral, and does not abide by the laws of humans. Freedom is not a blessing to be granted, but a cantrip to contain by means of contracts and laws.

That very night, when he comes into your dreams, it is with the sole intent of coercing you into his private adeptal domain. Go with him, and not only will he protect you for eternities upon eternities, but he will protect your village—and all who you love within it—with his life.

The only price you must pay for such a bargain is with your freedom.

Don't worry though. Should you decline, Rex Lapis would be remiss to bind you to him through force. No, he'd much rather let you learn the consequences of contumacy, the many follies of freedom you seem to cling to with such pitiful desperation. Instead, he'll let the days pass by, every second wasted avoiding an inescapable outcome. While those you hold dear begin to grow weak and starve, by some miracle, you stay strong.

Each night, visions of luxurious domesticity pass across your eyes, as thick and syrupy sweet as honey. After the montage, Rex Lapis returns, contract in hand and a knowing smile playing on his lips. Though he says no words, his argument is clear as day: should you agree to fulfill your destiny, your village will need not fear the threat of famine ever again.

Finally, as expected, you crack. The minute the quill you write with leaves the parchment, you find yourself transported from one dream to the next: a picturesque diorama surrounds you, the landscape a perfect replica of Liyue's scenery. A few yards in front of you rests a house as big as your village. "Our home", Rex Lapis tells you, his expression indulgent, though you see in his eyes the depths of his devotion and what lies within them: an insatiable desire to possess you wholly.

"Where you will stay. Forever, my treasure."

[obae-me]

How He Kisses

Hey there, so things are...kinda awful right now, and while I don't want to fully distract myself from my other works I'm chipping away at, I did want to post something a bit short and sweet to hopefully- well, saying "to make everyone feel better" feels sort of self-inflated, but if I can make everyone stop and think about something happy for just one second, that's more than I can ask for. I have no idea how similar this is to my hug headcanon ones. Not really checked for too many errors, this was all kind of done in the spur of the moment, but I don't think that matters too much.

Lucifer

Proper and slow. He likes being patient, kissing you once before pulling back to look at your face. He feels a sense of Pride when he can see the effect he has on you, knowing that he can comfort you like this. He's a perfectionist, he likes the whole experience to be included. That's why he likes to do it more often when you two are alone, knowing he has the freedom to do whatever it takes to make this moment perfect. Whether it's music, a lit fireplace, over a dinner, under the comfort of a blanket, everything is set up for you. To show his love for you, nothing less than high quality will be accepted. The kiss is simply the bow that ties everything together. And he'll take his time to relish in this moment with you.

Mammon

Fervent and greedy. He cannot contain his love for you. Even around his brothers, he lets it slip. So when you find yourselves alone, it's like pulling the lid off a stuffed container. Your eyelids, your ears, your forehead, cheeks, chin, lips, none of them shall be spared in his spree. It's almost frantic, as if he doesn't get as many now, he'll never have them again. He craves all of you, and he wants to be only yours in equal measure. Love, soul, attention, all of it is for you. It's as if he has to make up the seconds lost whenever you're apart. He never wants it to end. He hardly breathes. Every one is just as good as the last, and he is focused on making it just as wonderful an experience for you as well. After all, he wants you to be greedy too. Tell him your every desire.

Levi

Eager and grateful. Push past the anxiousness and the self-doubt, and you find a Levi that adores you more than anything. Like an ultra rare drop he can't get anywhere else. If he can stand in line for days for something he wants, he will stand with you till the end of time. His kisses show that, how deeply in love he is for you. Given the chance, he has the confidence to prove to you how special you are to him. Every kiss gets him more excited than the last, and in turn, he's determined to do whatever it takes to make you feel just as joyous as he is in these moments. Thank you for being here with him, your presence means more to him than you currently know, and he'll spare no effort to start showing you that.

Satan

Meek and curious. Whether or not it is considered if he's kissed someone before, every time he kisses you, it feels like the first time. He almost always has a distant look on his face, as if he's thinking about a million other things at the same time, and every million of those thoughts is something about you. He learns something new every time and commits it to memory. Which way your head naturally tilts, where you prefer his hands to be, how many you like, how long they take, he's going to remember them all. Well, he says that, but oftentimes its as if his mind wipes after every kiss. It's hard to think during those moments. But he's not worried about it, that just means he'll have to keep going. He has no plans to leave your side anytime soon after all.

Asmo

Uplifting and addictive. He likes to kiss for every occasion, every emotion. Happy? Kiss. Excited? Kiss? Sad? He says he saves his best kisses for those moments especially. Maybe it's shared love that makes his kisses almost tingle, or maybe its some kind of magic. It makes you feel light. And he'll give you as many as you want. He adores kissing you, not able to get enough of it. It's as though he's almost on clockwork, having to give you an embrace at perfect intervals throughout the day. He can't get enough of you, and he can't help but get giddy at the thought of running to your side and letting you know exactly just how much he loves you.

Beel

Warm and encompassing. Gluttony often gets mixed up with Greed, but this is one of those instances where the differences are clear. Every kiss is slow, and feels as if it lasts several lifetimes. It's as if he's drinking you in, savoring this moment in it's entirety. Of course he'll come in for seconds, and thirds, and fourths, but it comes steadily. Something about his kisses fills you with a warmth that's hard to describe, similar to soup or a hot beverage seeping through every part of your body to endure the coldest of days. It makes your toes curl like they're in warm socks. It makes you feel as if nothing can get to you. And with him around, nothing will.

Belphie

Soft and persistent. No amount of drowsiness can stop him. Even if he's asleep, the demon that will normally sleep like the dead will wake himself up and make sure to give you a kiss. They're so gentle, and it's difficult to tell if its tied to his personality, or if he's afraid of hurting you. Sometimes they're as light as a feather, almost tickling you. If you're falling asleep, they'll never wake you, only guiding you towards sweeter dreams. With every movement you make, you'll almost recognize the sensation of his kisses. They're like a promise, an assurance, that even in the deepest darkest of dreams, he's right there. They always lull you into a sense of peace.

[lotuswish]

˗ˏˋ what loving you feels like to them (pt. 3 - heartslabyul) ♡ .ᐟ

synopsis: have you ever wondered what falling in love feels like for each twisted wonderland boy? this series explores love from their perspective-how their personalities, experiences, and desires shape what loving you means to them.

featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, trey clover, cater diamond, ace trappola, deuce spade.

content warning(s): none.

a/n: what loving you feels like to them might occasionally use the same words, but those words mean something a little different for each of them. it might sound familiar, but it's still their own!

link(s): (masterlist) (pt. 1 - scarabia) (pt. 2 - savanaclaw) (pt. 3 - you are here) (pt. 4 - ignihyde) (pt. 5 - pomefiore) (pt. 6 - octavinelle) (pt. 7 - diasomnia)

riddle rosehearts

loving you feels like uncharted territory for riddle rosehearts—an unfamiliar but undeniable pull that challenges everything he thought he knew about himself and the world. it’s unsettling at first, like stepping out of a perfectly ordered garden into a wild, untamed forest. riddle has spent his life living by rules, adhering to structure, and keeping emotions tightly controlled. but loving you doesn’t follow the rules. it doesn’t fit neatly into the framework he’s built for himself. and yet, it feels right in a way that nothing else ever has.

loving you feels like freedom, though he’s reluctant to admit it. for so long, he’s been bound by expectations—those of his mother, his peers, and even his own rigid standards. but when he’s with you, he begins to realize there’s more to life than perfection and discipline. you show him the beauty in imperfection, the joy in spontaneity, and the strength in being vulnerable. it’s both petrifying and exciting to let his walls down, to trust you with the parts of himself he’s always kept hidden.

at first, loving you feels like a struggle—a battle between his need for control and the overwhelming feelings you bring out in him. he overthinks, questions himself, and tries to rationalize emotions that defy logic. but over time, he begins to see that love isn’t something to be mastered or contained; it’s something to be experienced. you teach him that it’s okay to let go, to make mistakes, and to be human. and in doing so, you give him a kind of peace he didn’t know he was missing.

loving you also feels like growth. you challenge him, not by opposing him outright, but by simply being yourself—kind, patient, and unafraid to push back when needed. you help him see the world beyond the rules he’s lived by for so long, showing him that kindness and understanding are just as important as discipline and structure. with you, he feels like he’s becoming the person he was always meant to be—not the perfect son or the flawless student, but riddle, someone who can love and be loved in return.

for riddle, it goes beyond breaking free from his past or discovering joy in the present; it’s the chance to create a future where he can fully embrace his true self, with you by his side. you are his first taste of a world without restrictions, a world filled with warmth, understanding, and connection. loving you feels like learning how to live, truly live, and it’s a lesson he’ll cherish forever.

trey clover

loving you feels like the calm after a summer rain to trey clover—refreshing, soothing, and full of a quiet kind of peace that feels like it was always meant to be. for someone who’s always been the dependable one, the quiet supporter in the background, love feels like finding someone who sees him for more than his reliability. with you, it’s not about what he can give or do for others; it’s about being appreciated for who he is, without the weight of expectations. it’s a gentle, comforting feeling, like coming home after a long day and knowing he’s exactly where he belongs.

to trey, loving you feels natural, like something that was meant to be. he’s not one for dramatic declarations or grand gestures, but his love for you is woven into every little thing he does—remembering how you like your tea, baking your favorite treats when he notices you’ve had a hard day, or simply listening when you need to talk. it’s the small, everyday moments that make up the fabric of his love, each one a reflection of the deep care he feels for you.

at the same time, loving you feels like balance. trey is used to being the caretaker, the one who looks out for others, but with you, it’s different. you remind him that it’s okay to lean on someone else, to let himself be cared for too. your presence in his life is a gentle reminder that he doesn’t always have to be the responsible one, that he can let his guard down and simply be himself. that kind of mutual support is something he’s never experienced before, and it makes his love for you all the more profound.

loving you also feels like discovery. trey is grounded and practical, but you bring out a lighter, more adventurous side of him, encouraging him to step out of his comfort zone and try new things. whether it’s exploring a hobby he never considered or sharing in your own passions, you make him feel like life is full of possibilities he hadn’t thought to explore. it’s not a drastic change, but a gentle shift, like sunlight filtering through the trees, casting everything in a new light.

for trey, loving you feels like the slow, steady rise of dough—something patient, deliberate, and fulfilling. it’s about embracing the small moments, treasuring the quiet joys, and allowing the connection to deepen naturally over time. with you, he feels like he’s found a partner who understands the beauty in simplicity, someone who makes his life sweeter just by being in it. loving you isn’t a whirlwind or a spark—it’s a constant flame, warm and enduring.

cater diamond

loving you feels like contradiction to cater diamond—thrilling and unnerving, freeing and suffocating, all at once. for someone who’s built his life around facades, hiding his true feelings behind smiles and filters, love feels raw and vulnerable in a way he’s never let himself experience before. it’s like standing in front of an open window, the breeze exposing everything he’s tried so hard to keep hidden. it’s exciting, but it’s also a little terrifying, because loving you means letting you see the parts of him he’s not sure are good enough.

to cater, loving you feels like being seen for the first time. he’s used to being everyone’s friend, the guy who’s always fun to be around, but you don’t just see the version of him he presents to the world—you see the cater who gets tired, who feels lonely even in a crowd, who wonders if he’ll ever truly belong. and instead of turning away, you stay. you remind him that he doesn’t have to perform to earn your love, that he’s enough just as he is. it’s a kind of acceptance he’s never dared to hope for, and it makes him love you all the more fiercely.

loving you also feels like a risk, like holding something precious in hands that don’t quite feel steady. cater is so used to keeping people at arm’s length, afraid of the pain that comes when they leave, but with you, he can’t help but pull you closer. it’s scary, how much he cares, because the more he lets you in, the more he fears losing you. but even that fear is worth it, because the time he spends with you makes him feel more alive than he ever thought possible.

at the same time, loving you feels like joy. it’s the kind of happiness that comes from the little things—a shared laugh, a stolen glance, the way you say his name like it’s something special. you bring light to the corners of his heart he didn’t even know were dark, and for someone who’s always chasing fun and excitement, you’re the first person who makes him want to slow down and savor every moment. with you, love isn’t a distraction or a game; it’s real, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

for cater, loving you feels like taking off the mask he’s worn for so long and finally breathing freely. it’s messy and imperfect, but it’s also beautiful and real, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. you are his anchor in a world that often feels fleeting, the one thing that makes him believe in something lasting. loving you is the most frightening and wonderful thing he’s ever known, and it’s a risk he’ll gladly take every single day.

ace trappola

loving you feels like a challenge to ace trappola—one he didn’t realize he wanted to win until he was in the middle of it. love wasn’t something he thought about seriously; to him, it always seemed like one of those cheesy fairytale things other people made a fuss about. but with you, it feels real, and that terrifies him as much as it thrills him. loving you feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into the unknown, yet grinning because he knows he’ll jump anyway.

to ace, loving you feels like being thrown off balance. he’s so used to keeping things lighthearted, dodging vulnerability with jokes and playful teasing, but you manage to see past all of that. you call him out when he’s being difficult, and instead of pushing you away, it makes him want to try harder. you don’t let him get away with his usual antics, and that’s part of what makes him love you—you’re not afraid to challenge him, to hold your ground, and that earns his respect in a way nothing else can.

loving you also feels like growth. ace is confident, but he’s not used to thinking about someone else’s feelings as much as his own. being with you teaches him to slow down, to consider your perspective, and to realize that love isn’t about winning or being right—it’s about compromise, patience, and effort. it’s not always easy for him, but he finds himself wanting to be better, not because he feels like he has to, but because you make him want to be someone worthy of your love.

at the same time, loving you feels like fun. ace has always had a knack for turning even the most mundane moments into something exciting, and with you, every day feels like an adventure. he loves the way you can banter with him, match his energy, and keep him on his toes. your relationship is full of laughter and lighthearted moments, but beneath it all is a deep connection that he doesn’t take lightly. with you, he feels like he can be himself—flaws, quirks, and all—and that kind of acceptance means more to him than he’ll ever admit out loud.

for ace, loving you feels like drawing a wild card in a hand he thought he’d already figured out, completely changing the game in the best way. it’s a mix of excitement, vulnerability, and the occasional frustration, but it’s also the most rewarding thing he’s ever experienced. you’re his equal, his partner, and his favorite person to annoy in the best possible way. loving you is unpredictable, exhilarating, and a little scary—but to him, it’s absolutely worth it.

deuce spade

loving you feels like redemption to deuce spade—raw, humbling, and deeply transformative. for someone who has spent so much of his life trying to leave his troubled past behind, love feels like proof that he’s on the right path. he feels something deeper than just affection for you—it’s how you make him see himself differently, like he’s capable of more than he ever thought. with you, he feels like he’s becoming the person he’s always wanted to be, someone strong, kind, and worthy of the life he’s trying to build.

to deuce, loving you feels like hope. he’s always been determined to prove himself, but with you, it’s not about proving anything. you don’t judge him for the mistakes he’s made or the parts of himself he’s still working on. instead, you see the potential in him, the good that he’s trying so hard to nurture, and that belief means more to him than he can put into words. you remind him that he’s more than his past, that he’s capable of being someone who deserves love and happiness.

loving you also feels like responsibility, but not in a burdensome way. deuce is fiercely protective by nature, and with you, that instinct is amplified tenfold. he wants to be your support, your rock, the one you can depend on no matter what. it’s not just about protecting you physically—it’s about being there for you emotionally, about making sure you always feel safe, valued, and cared for. it’s a role he takes seriously, and one he’s proud to fulfill.

at the same time, loving you feels like peace. deuce’s life has always been full of energy and turbulence, but with you, he finds a kind of calm he didn’t know he needed. you’re his anchor, the steady presence that keeps him grounded when his emotions threaten to get the better of him. with you, he doesn’t have to constantly push himself to be better—he can just be, and that’s enough. it’s a rare and precious feeling, one he holds onto with everything he has.

for deuce, loving you feels like a second chance. it’s the opportunity to rewrite his story, to be the kind of person who can give and receive love wholeheartedly. it’s not always easy—he’s still learning how to navigate his feelings and express them—but the thought of losing you is what drives him to keep trying. loving you is his greatest motivator and his greatest reward, and he knows he’s lucky to have you in his life. you’re not just his love—you’re his future, his hope, and his reason to keep striving for something better.

congrats on making it to the end! if you enjoyed this, likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are always appreciated—they help motivate me to keep creating and sharing!

[zaczenemiji]

Can you do a spiderwomen x kenji sato. Maybe she was sent to retrieve emi and then got caught by kenji, and she was put into a jail like thing. So now she's just stuck there. She starts flirting with him. If yk what i mean 😏👉🏿👈🏿🎀💓🌸

Have an ice cream cone. 🍦

Thanks ♡♡♡♡

Kaiju Heist

Kenji Sato x Spiderwoman!Reader

Word Count: 1,066

Genre/Warnings: Anti-hero, Flirting, Imprisonment, Morally Grey/Ambiguous Reader

Author’s Note: This one was a bit challenging, I hope it’s to your liking. Thank you for the ice cream, I offer you this fic.

MASTERLIST

Your plan was simple: sneak in, grab the baby kaiju, and get out. But things rarely went according to plan.

Let’s begin where it all started—that damn spider.

Long story short, your parents were scientists doing experiments on radioactive spiders. You help in their lab and one day, an earthquake enormous kaiju shook the city, causing a containment breach. The next thing you know, a particularly aggressive spider bit your hand.

Of course, you gained extraordinary abilities. Others would’ve loved this and used them for good—be like Ultraman or whatever. But to you, it’s more like a curse. Seriously, you didn’t ask for this so ain’t no way were you going to become a selfless heroine.

So you did nothing with your abilities; you didn’t hone it whatsoever. You looked at it as if it’s just another arm that grew out of your body. Like grabbing a bag of chips from across the room, you’d shoot spider webs out to get it without standing.

Despite living your life as privately as you could, somehow, the Kaiju Defense Force was still able to find you. So here you are now, in their headquarters.

You stood there, arms crossed. “I’ve told you before, Dr. Onda,” you said. “I’m not looking to be a hero. I just want to be left alone.”

Dr. Onda, chief officer of the KDF, and old acquaintance of your parents, leaned forward. “I know. But this isn’t about heroism,” he replied. “This is a highly sensitive mission and you’re the only one who can pull it off.”

"And why should I care?" you replied coolly. "What's in it for me?"

"Payment, of course. A substantial one. Enough to ensure you can continue living the peaceful life you desire without any further interference from us,” Dr. Onda answered.

“And more importantly, it's a one-time deal. Complete this mission, and you'll never hear from the KDF again."

Your face expressed a guarded neutrality but inside, you found it so tempting—the promise of financial security and freedom from future obligations.

“What’s the job?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Dr. Onda tapped a few keys on his desk console, and a holographic image of a baby kaiju appeared, rotating slowly.

“It’s an entity of importance for the goals of KDF to be fulfilled,” he said. “Recently, it fell into the hands of Kenji Sato. We need you to retrieve it and bring it back to us.”

You studied the hologram, noting the details. "And how exactly am I supposed to move a 20-foot-tall kaiju baby without causing a scene?"

Dr. Onda leaned back, a small smile playing on his lips. "We have a special containment unit designed specifically for it. It's portable and can be deployed with your help. Your task is to get close enough to activate it and secure the kaiju.”

"And the payment?" you pressed.

Dr. Onda named a figure that made your eyes widen slightly. It was more than enough to ensure your financial independence for years to come.

"Alright," you said finally. "I'll do it. But remember, this is a one-time deal. After this, I want nothing more to do with the KDF."

Dr. Onda smiled, “You have my word."

You turned to leave but paused at the door, and glanced back. "I hope you're right about this, Dr. Onda,” you said. “Because if this goes sideways, I won't be the one paying the price."

Going back to the present—here you are, in Kenji Sato’s basement, trapped in a cylindrical glass containment unit, similar to the one the baby kaiju you were supposed to retrieve was held in.

A floating spherical robot circled around you. “We knew they would send someone,” it said in a mechanically feminine voice.

Suddenly, it projected a red light over your body, scanning you. “But I didn’t expect a spider-woman.”

You pressed your hands against the glass, testing its strength. "Nice trap," you said. “But it's going to take more than that to keep me here."

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” a voice came out of nowhere. Turning around, you see THE Kenji Sato with an eyebrow raised and his gaze locked with yours.

The biggest mystery that bothered you upon accepting this mission was how the hell did this famous baseball star had a giant baby in his basement.

You leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest. "So, what's the plan, Kenji? Keep me here forever?” you asked. “Or do you have something else in mind?"

Kenji smirked. "Depends. Why are you here?"

"Why do you think?" you replied, your tone flirtatious. "I was sent to retrieve that kaiju baby. But now, it seems I've found something else worth my attention."

Kenji's eyes narrowed slightly, "And what might that be?"

You gave him a slow, knowing smile. "You, of course,” you answered. “You're much more interesting than a simple retrieval mission."

Kenji chuckled, though he tried to hide it. "Flirting isn't going to get you out of there."

"Maybe not," you conceded, stepping closer to the glass, "But it does make this whole situation a lot more entertaining, don't you think?"

Kenji took a step closer, his eyes studying you. "You're not what I expected."

You tilted your head, your smile widening. "Good. I'd hate to be predictable."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you sized each other up. Finally, Kenji spoke. "You know, if you weren't here to take Emi, we might have been able to get along."

"Oh, I think we still can," you said, your voice low and seductive. "Besides, I never said I was strictly here for Emi."

Kenji looked at you, his expression softening just a fraction. "And what if I let you out?"

You pressed yourself against the glass, your eyes locked on his. "Then maybe, just maybe, we can help each other."

Kenji pondered this for a moment before shaking his head. "Nice try,” he said. “But I need to know more about you before I make that decision."

"Fair enough," you replied, leaning back once more. "But remember, Kenji, sometimes the spider catches more than just her prey."

Kenji turned away, a small smile playing on his lips. "We'll see about that."

You didn’t wanna include this in your escape plan because things rarely went according to plan. But in your mind, you noted: flirt, make him fall for you, and escape.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@moonlight-starlight-lady01 @eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan

[cruel-seduction]

A World Without You

(Picture taken from Pinterest)

Pairing - Peter Parker x Female Reader

Genre - Angst 

Summary: When Peter Parker wakes up in a world where Y/N never existed, he thinks he's been given the gift of freedom—no one to put in danger. But as the emptiness of her absence consumes him, Peter begins to question the cost of his choice. How far will he go to bring Y/N back, and who—or what—was behind her disappearance in the first place? Can Peter undo the deal he made, or is he trapped in a world where love never existed?

Glimpse - He thought back to their last conversation, where Y/N had called him a "Nerd" for winning at chess everytime, to which he’d fired back, calling them "a hopeless case with zero taste in music."

Warnings: This story contains heavy angst and emotional distress, exploring themes of loneliness, guilt, and the consequences of difficult choices. It also includes elements of reality distortion and manipulation, which may be unsettling for some readers. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to intense emotional scenarios.

***

Peter Parker woke up with a start. His heart pounded in his chest, the remnants of a nightmare clinging to his mind like a fading mist. His body ached in places he didn’t know could hurt. The city skyline blinked outside his window as it always did, but something about the silence felt…off. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the strange unease gnawing at his gut. It wasn’t unusual for Peter to wake up in a cold sweat after a brutal night of web-swinging, but this time was different. The feeling lingered like a whisper he couldn’t quite hear.

He groaned, rolling out of bed and pulling on a T-shirt. Maybe some breakfast would help clear his head. He padded barefoot into the kitchen, expecting to hear the familiar hum of Y/N’s terrible music playing in the background as they whipped up something quick before heading out. But the apartment was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

“Babe?” he called, only half-expecting a response. Silence. Peter frowned. It wasn’t like Y/N to leave without saying goodbye, even when they had early shifts. Maybe she’s at work already.

But the more Peter looked around, the more he realised something was wrong. The photos on the fridge—the ones of him and Y/N from their last disastrous attempt at a beach day—were gone. He checked the living room; no sign of Y/N’s jacket, their shoes, or the usual clutter that always accumulated near the door. Where the hell are they?

The sinking feeling in Peter’s chest deepened as he began to search the apartment. Their stuff was gone. All of it.

Peter’s mind raced. Has Y/N left him? No, that didn’t make sense. Things had been good between them. They always were, even when they fought. And their playful insults were never serious, just the way they communicated. He thought back to their last conversation, where Y/N had called him a "Nerd" for winning at chess everytime, to which he’d fired back, calling them "a hopeless case with zero taste in music."

But there was love in every jab, every joke. He knew Y/N didn’t mean any of it, and he didn’t either. It was their love language—twisting insults into affection in the way only they could. He could still hear their laugh in his mind, could still feel the way Y/N would poke him in the ribs after a particularly savage comeback.

But now, that warmth is gone. All of it.

Peter’s head was spinning. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialled Y/N’s number. The line rang once, twice, and then, “The number you’ve dialled is not in service.”

Not in service?

Peter’s stomach flipped. He called again, and the same automated voice greeted him. Panic rose in his throat. He rushed outside and knocked on the neighbour’s door.

“Hey, Mrs. Martinez, have you seen Y/N today? She—” Peter began, but Mrs. Martinez gave him a confused look.

“Y/N? Who’s Y/N?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. “You know…my—my girlfriend? The person I live with?” he stammered, his voice unsteady. Mrs. Martinez’s frown deepened.

“I’ve lived here for twenty years, Peter. I’ve never seen you with anyone. You live alone.”

Peter’s world tilted. What?

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He tried to laugh it off, but the horror was sinking in. “You’ve—of course you’ve seen them, Mrs. Martinez. She is always around…”

But the older woman shook her head sympathetically, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ve had a tough week, sweetheart. Maybe you need to take it easy.” She retreated back into her apartment, leaving Peter standing there, frozen.

He sprinted back to his place, his thoughts racing. What the hell is going on?

He fumbled for his laptop, searching through his social media, his phone photos, anything—anything—that could prove Y/N existed. But there was nothing. Not a single picture, no text messages, no memories captured on his phone. It was like they had been erased.

Peter’s chest heaved with panic. This can’t be real.

But it was.

As the day dragged on, the nightmare didn’t end. It only got worse. No one—no one—remembered Y/N. Their friends, their coworkers, even Aunt May looked confused when Peter mentioned their name.

Peter slumped onto the couch, staring blankly at the wall. How is this happening? He gripped his head with both hands, feeling the weight of Y/N’s absence like a suffocating blanket. He didn’t know if it was magic, science, or something worse.

But the silence? The emptiness?

It was unbearable.

At first, he had thought maybe—just maybe—this was for the best. Y/N was safe, right? Without him in their life, without Spider-Man lurking in the background, they wouldn’t be in danger. They wouldn’t have to deal with late-night patch-ups, watching him stumble in bruised and bloodied, hearing him apologise over and over for missing dinner or forgetting plans because someone needed saving.

But this wasn’t peace. This was torment.

Peter thought back to the moments they’d shared, the playful insults and sarcastic remarks that only drew them closer. He remembered Y/N’s smile when they called him a "complete idiot" after he bungled a dinner reservation. Or the time he jokingly told them to "Haww!! You are only with me for that ass" when she tried to help him fix his suit and squeezed his ass in teasinf way. The way Y/N had thrown a pillow at his head, laughing the whole time.

He missed it. All of it. The teasing, the arguments, the late-night takeout dinners where they’d bicker about who had worse taste in movies.

And now…he had nothing.

Peter couldn’t stay here. Not in this reality.

The thought gnawed at him—how had he ended up here? He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. Sure, he’d been toying with new tech from Oscorp, but nothing experimental. Nothing that should have thrown him into some alternate dimension. Then, in a flash, a memory surfaced.

The last night he spent with Y/N before everything changed. A strange figure had appeared—someone with no face, no form, just a voice. A voice that had whispered to him about choices, about the dangers of loving someone so deeply while being Spider-Man. At the time, Peter had brushed it off, thinking it was just the stress talking, some weird fever dream. But what if…?

What if that figure had done this? Created a world where Y/N never existed?

Peter had to find answers. He had to get Y/N back. He couldn’t stay in a place where every corner, every sound reminded him of what he’d lost. The weight of their absence crushed him more each second.

As he sat there, planning his next move, Peter realised something chilling. The figure—whoever they were—had offered him a choice that night. A chance to live without burdening the people he loved with Spider-Man’s dangers. And in a moment of weakness, of exhaustion, maybe Peter had unknowingly made that deal.

But he hadn’t meant it.

Peter Parker was no stranger to guilt. He’d lived with it every day since Uncle Ben died. But this? This was different. This was the pain of choosing to save someone by erasing them entirely.

He couldn’t undo what had happened on his own. He needed to find the entity who had done this and force them to undo it. But first, he had to survive in a world that was a constant reminder of what he’d lost.

And that meant holding onto the memories of Y/N. The real memories.

He could hear Y/N’s voice in his head now: “Peter, you absolute dumbass, you know you can’t live without me, right?” He could imagine the smirk that came with it, the light in their eyes when they teased him.

“Yeah, well,” Peter muttered to the empty room, his voice cracking. “Turns out you’re right.”

Peter sat in the deafening silence of his apartment, his mind running in a thousand directions. Y/N was gone. No one remembered her, as if she'd never existed. And the only explanation he could cling to was that entity—that faceless, shadowy figure from the night before everything changed. A vague memory whispered at the back of his mind, telling him that he’d been offered a choice. But how could he have agreed to something so horrifying?

The truth, as much as it made him sick, was simple: Peter had been desperate. He’d been exhausted, weighed down by guilt and fear, always worrying about Y/N’s safety. Every time she patched him up after a fight, every time she stayed up late waiting for him to come home, Peter felt that gnawing fear that one day, she wouldn’t be there anymore. And for one brief, weak moment, the thought of her being safe—being away from Spider-Man’s world—had seemed like a blessing.

But he hadn’t realized the cost. Not like this. Not the emptiness.

Peter shot out of his chair, pacing the apartment as a plan started to form in his mind. He had to find the entity. That much was clear. This wasn’t just some glitch in reality; this was a deliberate choice—a deal made between him and something far more powerful. But if Peter had the power to get himself into this mess, then he had to have the power to get out.

First, he needed answers. How did he find the entity again?

Peter remembered that it hadn’t come from nowhere. The figure had appeared while he was messing around with Oscorp’s tech, but it wasn’t just any tech. It had been an experimental quantum destabilizer—a device meant to measure energy fluctuations between different dimensions. Harry Osborn had been talking about it for weeks, trying to figure out if they could tap into the multiverse for...who knows what. Science had never been Peter's strong suit, but he had a hunch that the entity had slipped through during one of those experiments.

Multiverse. The word hit him like a truck.

Was this even his universe anymore? Or was he trapped in another reality where Y/N had never existed?

Peter’s heart raced at the possibility. If Y/N was truly gone—not just from his life but from all universes—he might never get her back. But if she still existed somewhere, in some timeline, then Peter would burn through every dimension until he found her.

He knew the first place to start: Oscorp.

Later that night, after slipping into his Spider-Man suit, Peter swung across the city towards Oscorp Tower. It was late, the city’s streets quieter than usual, but Peter’s mind was anything but calm. He landed on the roof and quickly made his way inside, avoiding security cameras with the ease of someone who had done it countless times before.

The lab was exactly how he remembered it—rows of cold, gleaming equipment, the soft hum of high-tech machinery filling the air. But Peter wasn’t interested in the usual tools. He needed the quantum destabilizer.

Peter found it stashed away in a corner, covered in dust. He hooked it up to the main computer and started running a search for energy signatures. If that entity had come from another universe, there had to be some kind of residual trace left behind.

As the machine hummed to life, Peter’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. Why had he said yes to losing her? In that moment, when the entity had whispered in his ear, offering him peace, safety, an escape from the constant fear of Y/N being hurt...he had caved. He’d thought it was a way to protect her.

But now he realized how wrong he’d been. Protecting Y/N wasn’t about keeping her away—it was about fighting alongside her, loving her despite the risks. Peter had always known that deep down, but fear had clouded his judgment. He’d chosen what he thought was the easy way out, but now he would do anything—anything—to undo it.

The machine beeped, jolting him from his thoughts. The screen flickered, showing a faint, pulsing signature. Peter’s heart raced as he recognized the same strange energy from that night. It wasn’t from his universe. The entity had come from somewhere else.

He plugged in the coordinates, knowing that if he followed the trail, it would lead him to the source—to the entity.

The next night, Peter swung through a dim, fog-covered alley deep in the city. The air felt thick, heavy with something unnatural. He could sense it—the same strange energy signature he'd tracked.

And then, like stepping through a veil, the air around him shimmered, and the entity appeared. A swirling mass of shadow, faceless and formless, its voice an eerie whisper that seemed to echo inside Peter’s head.

“You seek to undo what you asked for, Spider-Man?”

Peter’s jaw clenched. “You tricked me. I didn’t know what I was agreeing to.”

The entity’s voice hissed, low and mocking. “I offered you peace. I offered you freedom. You accepted.”

“I didn’t want this!” Peter shouted, his fists trembling. “I didn’t want to lose her! I—” His voice broke. “I love her.”

“Love is weakness,” the entity whispered. “It makes you vulnerable. It clouds your judgment. I gave you a world free from that burden.”

“Love makes me strong,” Peter said, his voice filled with determination. “I don’t want a world where Y/N doesn’t exist. I want her with me, in all her imperfect, wonderful chaos. And I’m going to fight you until you bring her back.”

The entity laughed—a sound that rattled the very air around him. “You think you can fight me, Spider-Man? I am beyond your comprehension. I am the architect of realities. I gave you a gift.”

Peter’s eyes hardened beneath the mask. “Then I’ll take it back.”

Without another word, Peter launched himself at the entity, his fists glowing with the energy from the quantum destabilizer. But the entity was fast, shifting and slipping through his grasp like smoke. Every time Peter thought he had it cornered, it would reform behind him, taunting him with whispers.

“You will fail,” it hissed. “I am all-powerful. You are nothing but a boy pretending to be a hero.”

Peter gritted his teeth, focusing on the entity’s movements. It might be powerful, but it had a weakness—every entity did. He just had to find it. And then, as the entity shifted again, Peter saw it—a flicker in its form, a moment where it hesitated.

That hesitation was all he needed.

Peter leaped into the air, firing a blast from the destabilizer at the exact moment the entity began to reform. The energy crackled, surging through the entity’s form. It screamed, its voice splitting the air like thunder. Peter didn’t let up, pouring everything he had into the attack. He thought of Y/N’s laugh, her smile, the way she called him out on his worst habits, the way she never let him get away with anything. All the moments they shared.

And then, with a final surge of energy, the entity shattered. The air around Peter shifted, reality bending and warping.

Peter collapsed to the ground, panting. For a moment, everything was still.

When he opened his eyes, Peter was lying on his apartment floor, the sunlight streaming through the window. His heart pounded in his chest. Was it real? Did he actually get her back?

“Peter? Why are you on the floor, you weirdo?”

His heart stopped. That voice—it was Y/N. He turned his head slowly, and there she was, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee and looking at him with a raised eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked as he scrambled to his feet, pulling her into his arms.

“Whoa, whoa!” Y/N laughed, clearly surprised. “What’s gotten into you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I thought I lost you,” Peter whispered into her hair, holding her tight as if she might disappear again.

Y/N snorted, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Lost me? Please, Parker. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not. Now, stop being a dramatic idiot and help me make breakfast,”

Peter laughed, a tear slipping down his cheek as he smiled at her. “You can call me useless all you want.”

Y/N gave him a puzzled look. “What’s gotten into you?”

Peter just shook his head, kissing her forehead. “I love you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay, now I’m worried.Is something wrong, babe?”

He laughed again. “Nah. Just…never leave, okay?”

Y/N smiled, her usual sarcastic grin lighting up her face. “I wasn’t planning on it. But you know, I could leave if you keep talking like a sappy idiot.”

“Shut up,” Peter muttered, pulling her closer. “I’m serious.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stay,” Y/N teased, poking his chest. “But only because you’re the dumbest, nerdiest superhero I’ve ever met.”

Peter chuckled, finally feeling whole again. He had Y/N back. He’d fought for her, and now, he wasn’t letting go.

He never would.

[cherry-romper]

Mortal Kombat -

Suggestive Headcannons

+ Lui Kang, Kung Lao, Raiden, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas Vrbada, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Syzoth, Shang Tsung, Reiko, Havik

Warnings; MDNI, Sexual Content,

Contains; GN!reader, fluff, smut

Liu Kang; 

A lover. He will hold you close, taking you in, memorising your every crease and curve, every bump and scar. 

He’s gentle and patient while also being full of zeal and desire. 

He’s not one to ask for it per se, he won’t be so blunt about it. It more so happens when one of you will deepen a kiss or shift when cuddling.

He loves you. Your pleasure is his. Seeing you satisfied, not just in bed but being with him, brings him great pride.

Kung Lao; 

Likes to give, loves to receive. A 69’er at heart, but enjoys seeing your face more; he takes pleasure in staring you down.

High sex-drive. Can be multiple times a night.

Loves building tension during the day. He’ll teasingly throw slights and jest at you all day; replying to all your questions with sarcasm. Adores back-and-forth banter. 

More domestically, he’d love to watch you. No matter what you’re doing, even if you’re just brushing your hair, he’ll be watching you intently. 

Raiden; 

Slow and steady, almost hesitant. He needs time to build confidence and try out new things. 

I feel like he’d want to keep your sex life private. Where Johnny or Kung Lao might brag, he’d rather have only the two of you know. It feels more intimate. 

Gentle with you, but can squeeze your skin when he’s close.

Big on aftercare. Will take care of you so well. Food, water, fresh clothes, a warm shower, clean sheets and cuddles.

Bi-han; 

He’s not big on sex. He’s too busy, and there are other, quicker ways to relieve stress.

HOWEVER, it’s different with you. He could look at you for hours, studying you, trying to find a reason why he feels this way about you. 

Takes you like you’re slipping from his hands. Grips you, hard, anywhere he can; arms, legs, hips, hair, throat, he doesn’t care, he’s grabbing it.

Incredibly spontaneous. You’re almost exclusively bent over something, if not you’re against a wall.

Kuai Liang; 

Gives you everything you ever wanted. You will always be satisfied.

90% love-making, 10% fucking. It’s rare, but sometimes just really needs you.

Soft grabs and deep kisses are his go to. 

Will let his hands glide up your thighs or your arms, often leading to the removal of clothing. 

Tomas Vrbada; 

He worships the ground you walk on, would do anything for you without a second thought. On his knees for you.

A begger. “Please” is his favourite word. 

Lets you take the reins, giving you the freedom to do whatever you want to him, but is down to take control if you get tired.

Will become an illegible, whiney mess. You make him loose his mind. He loves you, no one else could ever make him feel the way you do. You’re his soulmate.

Johnny Cage; 

As much as he loves himself, he reveres you like a deity. Of all the people he could be with, you’re the one he fell for; and he fell hard.

Needs to be able to see your face at all times, but isn’t opposed to doing it from behind, as long as there’s a mirror. 

Big fan of you being on top, with him thrusting, he gets to see himself and you at the same time, plus he can control the pace, it’s a no-brainer. 

He’s an “anytime, any place” kinda guy., you just have to say the word. Pool, Janitors closet, dressing room, toilets, he’s in.

Kenshi Takahashi;

Loves to feel you close. Skin-on-skin contact is an absolute must. He’s obsessed with your body.

Needs your wrapped around him, his head buried in your neck.

Pillowtalk KING. Cherishes being wrapped up in the covers with you, just holding you, reminding you how much he loves you.

Trusts you fully, you see him at his most vulnerable, he loves not having to be on his guard. Has a small kink for letting you take complete control.

Syzoth;

It’s a weird situation with him, you being warm and him being cold. He cannot get enough of entering you, feeling that warmth, it drives him crazy.

Lasts a long time. Big on edging. 

You tend to get caught up in laughing with each other, you’ll just look at each other and giggle. Enhances the feeling tenfold.

Can sandwich you between his cold body and a cold wall, he loves the way you heat up. 

Shang Tsung; 

You serve him. Seeing you on your knees gets him going. 

He never does it laying down, he’s always sitting or standing. You’re either bent over, on his lap, or on your knees.

Crazy for hair pulling, loves pulling you back and staring at the mess he made of your face. 

Will reward you, loves when you beg for him, show him you yearn for him.

Reiko; 

Post. Fight. Sex.

His adrenaline is high, his chest heaving - still trying to catch his breath, covered in blood, his only thought is you.

Absolutely feral. 

From behind, your hair is being pulled, your waist gripped, throat choked, your ear bitten.

Havik; 

Likes to be served, 100%. 

An exhibitionist. Likes to humiliate you, but also show you off. 

Youre HIS. Everyone, from outworld to the neatherrealm to earthrealm, will know about how good he makes you feel.   

Will degrade you but simultaneously tell you how good you feel. 

[lessersole]

The Catch - Part Two

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: With the criminal gang still after you, and a new plan from the head of the Thunderbolts, Bucky and Yelena have to do even more to keep you safe.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: abduction, being restrained (not in a fun way), mentions of alcohol, creepy/sneaky behaviour (not from Bucky or Yelena).

NO THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS! I've not even seen it yet.

Part one

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

Three weeks later, you’re still dealing with the repercussions of the attempted abduction. Yelena brought you back to the city, but since the location of your shared apartment had been compromised, you couldn’t return to it. Instead her job - now significantly less of a mystery to you - had offered you both a protected apartment in their New York headquarters, the old Avengers tower.

At first the novelty of it had been exciting - you were living rent-free on the 18th floor in the middle of Manhattan, with stunning views across the city in every room. You could order food or supplies from the on-site restaurant and shop on the ground floor, also all complimentary, or visit one of the many gyms around the tower. There was even a small cinema room, a climbing wall…almost anything you could want. Unfortunately, what you couldn’t have was freedom.

The group who’d targeted you were still at large, they knew what you looked like and, according to Yelena’s boss, even where you worked. So until they were found, you were restricted to the tower. You weren’t a prisoner, Yelena had explained, her sulky attitude giving away that she was passing on someone else’s instructions, but they couldn’t guarantee your safety if you left.

At first fear kept you willingly contained in the luxury building, then concern about Yelena, who was still blaming herself, and how guilty she’d feel if anything happened to you. You’d also hoped you might get to see more of Bucky - this was his workplace too after all - but other than a quick visit a couple days after you left the cabin, he’d all but vanished.

Now, you were getting antsy. With Yelena away more often than not, remote work and video calls were the only social contact you were getting, and the closest you had to fresh air was an occasional risky visit to the Tower’s wind-battered balcony.

As you endure another lonely evening scrolling through streaming services in a fruitless attempt to stave off boredom, there’s a brisk knock on the door of your private apartment. You leap up excitedly, glad for the distraction and hoping this is Yelena - with Bucky alongside her if you’re lucky - to tell you the enemy gang has finally been dealt with. Instead, the person who strolls in without waiting for you to answer the door is Yelena’s boss, Val.

You pull up short, suddenly worried she’s arriving with bad news - you’ve seen her a few times, but she’s never visited you - you’ve never actually spoken to her before.

“Val, hi. Is something wrong? Are Yelena and Bu- is everyone alright?”

Val narrows her eyes at you, mouth pursing in a way that could be either thoughtful or disdainful. “How very familiar of you,” she purrs. Definitely disdainful. “Let me start by introducing myself. I am Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine, head of this organisation and your friend’s boss. You can call me Director.”

You’ve heard enough about the Contessa to expect this sort of behaviour, but her icy calm relieves some of your worry - surely she wouldn’t be this petulant if she was giving you bad news.

“Director. Sorry,” you defer. “Is everything alright? Everyone’s safe?”

“What an interesting little place you have here,” she mutters airily, ignoring your question and casting a patronising eye over your relatively tidy living space, her gaze lingering on the dinner dishes still stacked in the sink.

“Uh, yeah,” you’re not sure how to reply to her, “Thank you for letting me stay here. But is everyone-”

“Yes, yes, everyone’s fine,” she answers with a dismissive wave of her perfectly manicured hand, “And I’m so glad to hear you’re grateful for us giving you a home.”

Now it’s your turn to narrow your eyes at her carefully manufactured smile.

She continues, “I’m sure you’re so eager to repay us for our generosity. And to get out of here before you die of boredom. Or old-age. Or being crushed beneath a toppling pile of dirty dishes.”

“Yes?” you respond, apprehension turning your answer into a question.

“Oh I’m so glad to hear that,” Val steps closer to you, “After all, it’s not just Yelena who’s working overtime to ensure your safety. Sergeant Barnes seems strangely invested as well. I heard he even came to visit you here, check you were okay. Such a softie. He usually hates coming to the Tower, which can be very frustrating, logistically.”

She grasps your shoulders, making you jump. “But now you’ve agreed to help, this can all be over so much faster.”

Her smile widens.

—

You try to put all your frustration into your punch as you slam a fist into the solid leather.

“Woah,” Agent Rumlow laughs, “what did that punching bag ever do to you?”

You huff out a breath and wipe your arm along your forehead, catching the sweat before it drips into your eyes. “It can take it.” You tell him, stepping away from the bag to take a pull from your water bottle.

The catch to Val’s suspicious offer became clear almost as soon as you’d accidentally agreed to help. It turns out she had almost all the intel on your would-be abductors, except the location of their base.

“We started to think they were hiding in a cave or something,” Val had chuckled mirthlessly, “But we checked all those, and they weren’t.”

What they had discovered was that the base was so well-hidden and so impregnable, that they took all their hostages there, since it guaranteed they wouldn’t be found or rescued.

“Which means…” Val trailed off suggestively, encouraging you to make the connection.

“You need bait.”

“Bingo.”

At first, all you’d had to do was leave the Tower. You’d been given access to the back stairs and told when to go out - times that synced up with the guard’s shift changes, so it would look convincingly like you were sneaking out - but over a week later you remained entirely un-abducted.

You could tell Val was getting irritated, reminding you in an increasingly terse tone that you needed to forget a lifetime of safety instructions and walk alone down dark alleys, keep earphones on, go headfirst into any risky situations, but the criminal gang were nowhere to be seen. All that had happened to you in ten days of living dangerously was an attempted mugging that you’d only narrowly escaped, and the small tastes of freedom weren’t enough to make up for your continued confinement or Val’s bad moods.

After that near-miss, you’d doubled the amount of time you spent in the gym, building up your strength as a way to feel safer. When one of Val’s agents had offered to give you some tips, acting as a personal trainer-slash-self-defence coach, you’d gladly taken him up on the offer.

It also helped to have a friend you could talk to about your bizarre new life.

Agent Rumlow - Brock - smiles understandingly. “Being stuck inside when you’re not dangling on Val’s line getting a bit much?”

“What makes you think that?” You joke breathlessly as you adjust the wrappings on your hands that have come loose from your furious swings at the punching bag.

Brock chuckles, coming over to help re-wrap the tape around your knuckles, “Look, I get it. I had a stake-out once that took six weeks. Six weeks of being stuck in a tiny run-down apartment in a half-abandoned building with another agent I didn’t even like. At least you’ve got modern amenities, and good company.” He winks at you, using your hand to pull you closer so he can casually bump your shoulder with his.

The action makes you wonder, not for the first time, how serious his flirting is - if he might ask you out if you were actually free to go out on a date.

He’s not a bad-looking guy, tall and muscular with thick, dark hair, and you would have considered saying yes, if not for the still-vivid memory of your kiss in the cabin with Bucky. Nearly a month since you’ve seen him, you still can’t get the supersoldier out of your head. And every time Brock’s brown eyes hold your gaze, you can’t help but compare them to Bucky’s bright, intense stare.

“But if you are getting really tired of being stuck here with me - I have an idea for how we can speed things up,” Rumlow suggests.

You look up at him, curious. “I’m listening.”

He gives you a knowing smile. “What I learnt on that stake-out was that sometimes you can’t wait for them to come to you. Sometimes you have to put yourself right in their path.”

—

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the limousine and nervously smooth down your silky floor-length cocktail dress, trying to look more confident than you feel and pushing down the thought that things have got seriously out of hand.

Brock had told you that the team had discovered the head of the target gang was going to be at an up-scale art gallery party in Long Island. Even if they weren’t certain he’d be heading back to their base after, they knew he’d be surrounded by bodyguards and lackeys, none of whom would pass up a chance to impress their notoriously fickle boss by finding and snatching one of his targets - you.

So now here you are, on the arm of a tuxedo-wearing Rumlow, attempting to blend in with the obscenely wealthy and largely criminal crowd. He’s assured you his cover for the night is secure, posing as a wealthy hedge fund manager looking for a few investment pieces, with you as his date. He’d even insisted on running into you on one of your Val-sanctioned trips outside the Tower, buying you a few drinks and getting your number so he could make a show of inviting you here - “in case they’re watching.”

As on your other trips outside the Tower, you have location trackers hidden all over you - in the shoes, necklace, bracelet and ring Rumlow gave you when you were getting ready. You’d also added one of the trackers Val had given you, a miniature transmitter that tucked away in your hair, hidden at the nape of your neck.

The preparation doesn’t help your rising nerves, knowing that your abduction is the aim of the evening.

As you reach the top of the grand entrance stairway, Rumlow nudges you ahead, pulling his phone out to snap a photo of you. “Gotta make it look real,” he mutters with a grin as he rejoins you, “And if I’m out with a girl as hot as you, wearing that dress, I’d be taking a lot of pics.”

You blame your nerves for how off-putting it feels, having his eyes rove over you. Rumlow gave you the dress, and his reaction makes you suspect he picked it out himself. It’s more revealing than you’d typically choose, the thigh slit reaching almost to your hip, and with a low cut front and back that forces you to go braless, which you know hasn’t escaped his notice. You shiver in the chill evening breeze - he hadn’t thought to give you a wrap - and urge him inside with a hand on his arm and a smile you hope looks natural.

Inside the grand hall the two of you mingle with the other guests, Brock keeping hold of you at all times in a way you assume is meant to be reassuring, as you sip champagne and pretend to admire the art. Mimicking the other guests, you force your face into an expression of detached interest, but you’re wound tight with tension, the expensive wine like sandpaper in your throat, and Rumlow’s hand unpleasantly clammy on the bare skin of your back.

You have no idea what these gang members might look like, but as you glance around you’re surprised to not see any faces you recognise from the Tower. On each of your previous trips out there have always been one or two agents surreptitiously loitering nearby, ready to act fast if anything goes south. For an event as big as this, it would be easy for them to blend in amongst the crowd - surely Rumlow’s not the only person Val sent here?

Brock leans in close to you, his dry lips brushing your ear, “It’s showtime,” he whispers, before kissing your cheek and straightening up. “I’m going to the men’s room,” he tells you, loud enough for those near you to hear. “Feel free to have another drink, while you wait for me.” He grins wolfishly, snatching a full champagne flute from a passing waiter and pressing it into your hand before disappearing into the crowd.

You sip from the glass and focus on your breathing, hoping your shaky legs won’t tilt you off your too-high heels. The next part of the plan is for you to follow Rumlow to the bathroom - you’re more likely to be snatched out of the public view. You wait a few moments, gulp down most of your drink, then make your way to the women’s restroom at the back of the hall.

The gleaming white bathroom isn’t empty, but there aren’t many people around. None of them spare you a second glass, so you try to act natural - entering a cubicle, washing your hands, then leaving. Still, no one approaches you.

As there’s still no sign of Brock either, you pull your phone out of the small clutch you were provided and send him a message.

Everything ok?

It’s read instantly, and followed by the dots that show he’s typing.

Yeh, his reply comes, where r u?

You frown, but before you can reply another message pops up.

U cm to the back bathroom? The left?

You glance around you, and sure enough there’s a thick wooden door ajar at the end of the corridor. Maybe a staff area, or more private bathroom. You’re a little apprehensive - something feels off, but you can’t tell what. This whole evening is too weird for you to trust your own instincts.

The heavy door swings open silently, and you’ve barely taken a few steps into the dim hallway before an all too familiar sharp sting on your neck makes you flinch. Muscles instantly weak, you can’t even turn before your body folds and you collapse into darkness.

—

The first thing you notice when you come to is the uncomfortable cramped position you’re in, and the swaying feeling that isn’t just in your head. Despite your lingering grogginess, your inability to even sit up makes you realise you’re trapped in the trunk of a car.

Panic surges up in you, and you shakily take a deep breath - this was the plan, you remind yourself. Eventually, the car will stop, you’ll be rescued, and the whole gang will be taken out, freeing you to go back to your normal life.

Unfortunately, your brain can’t convince the rest of your body. Your breaths hitch and your heart pounds, so in another attempt to reassure yourself, you focus on the location trackers that are your lifeline - and a hot surge of nausea pulses through as you realise you can’t feel them. The cable tie trapping your hands behind your back is the only thing circling your wrists, and your necklace, ring and shoes have vanished. You can only hope the final tracker in your hair is still there.

—

Bucky cracks his knuckles. This whole operation had felt wrong from the start.

He and Yelena had been assigned to stake out the gallery party, following Val’s information that the head of the gang would be there. What neither of them had known until he saw it through his scope, was that you would also be there. Bucky’s eye had immediately been caught by the sight of you ascending the steps in a slinky dress and his body was flooded with conflicting emotions. It had been too long since he’d seen you, and you looked stunning, but why were you here, of all places? And with Rumlow? The party intel was top secret - way above Brock’s clearance - and yet here he was, leering and pawing at you like he owned you.

“She’s here,” Bucky mutters into his comm device, trying to keep the anger out of his voice, “with Rumlow.”

There’s a shocked pause before Yelena responds, immediately knowing who he means. “What? She isn’t supposed to leave the Tower! And Rumlow is not on this mission - you and me are the only ones Val told about this.”

“I know,” Bucky growls, “but that asshole is here, acting like they’re on a date or something. You didn’t know anything about this?”

“No,” Yelena replies darkly. “I’m calling Val. If this is some extra secret crap she’s pulling-”

“She would have told us.”

“She keeps secrets from us all the time!”

“But hiding this makes no sense,” Bucky points out, “We’re guaranteed to see them, and blindsiding us doesn’t help the mission,”

Yelena curses, “So what’s going on here?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t like it.�� Backing away from his hidden vantage point, Bucky goves in to his first instinct. “I’m going in.”

“No!” Yelena’s response is immediate, “That won’t help.”

“I can sneak in through the back. Into the bathroom. Get her out-”

“And if you’re seen?” Yelena hisses, “It will be even more dangerous for her.”

As much as he hates it, Bucky can;t argue with that. Instead, he stays crouched in the hills overlooking the venue, Yelena on the opposite side of the building, both intensely focused on the arriving attendees, and the glimpses of the party they can get through the windows.

In the weeks since he’d met you, Bucky had been unable to get you out of his head. He’d been immediately intrigued by you, and that kiss in the cabin - that kiss he couldn’t stop reliving - had been electric. He didn’t date much, but he knew that alone couldn’t explain the fire that had ripped through him at the touch of your lips, and pulsed hotly in his body whenever he thought of you.

He’d insisted on helping Yelena track down the people who had threatened you, and the weeks of frustrated deadends were wearing on him. All he wanted was to eliminate the person who’d put a target on your back, wrap you safely in his arms and make sure no one ever thought of hurting you again.

But now here you were, not just in the path of danger, but laid right at its door, with Brock Rumlow’s slimy hands holding you there.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, he hears Yelena’s voice in his ear again. “She’s moving! Tech has five trackers on her, plus one on her phone. All but one are still in the building, but the last shows movement, fast, heading west on the highway.”

Bucky’s up and on his bike in seconds, skidding onto the road in a plume of dirt. As he and Yelena follow the tracker, she fills him in on what headquarters had told her after she reported your appearance at the party.

“Val’s been sending her out of the Tower to try and draw them out - using her as bait. But just in the city. She hadn’t authorised anything tonight. Rumlow’s gone rogue - she said trying to get a promotion or something maybe - four of the five trackers were checked out by him earlier today. The fifth is one Val’s team gave her from when she started leaving the Tower.”

“And let me guess,” Bucky snarls, “that’s the one we’re following?”

“You got it.”

“You think Val really believes Rumlow’s doing this for a promotion?”

“I think she said that so we don’t kill him before she can talk to him.”

“Too bad.”

“Точно,” Yelena agreed.

—

Bucky’s got the throttle of his bike in a death grip. The only thing stopping him putting finger-shaped dents in the bar is the knowledge that breaking the thing would stop him pursuing the bastards who took you.

“It’s gone!” Yelena’s panicked shout crackles into his earpiece, followed by a string of Russian expletives “The last tracker signal - it’s - it’s disappeared.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches so hard he swears he hears a tooth crack. 

After chasing the tracker for miles, until long after the sun set behind the mountains in front of them, they’ve lost their only heading.

Sitting on their idling bikes a few minutes later, they pour over Yelena’s mapping screen.

“The signal must have been lost inside the mountain,” Bucky assesses, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“Not if it’s a normal mountain,” Yelena frowns.

“Maybe it’s not.” They share a look, “Maybe that’s why we haven’t been able to find them all this time.”

“Дерьмо,” she swears, “More proof they’re not just a small-time gang then. At least that narrows the search area. Look, there’s only one road into the mountain, over this bridge, through the tunnel and out the other side.”

“It can’t be that simple.”

“It’s never that simple,” Yelena groans, “How about I go into the mountain the obvious way, you look for something else? Some other way they could have taken her.”

Not wanting to waste any more time discussing tactics, Bucky agrees. As Yelena speeds off over the bridge, he skids his bike down the steep side of the hill to the ravine underneath it. Racing over the rocky ground, he keeps his eyes focused on the steep mountainside.

“Bucky, can you hear me?”

“Yes, have you found anything?”

“No,” Yelena’s disappointment is clear over the line, “Nothing promising. But if you’re still hearing me then it’s not the mountain blocking the tracker signal.”

Bucky’s silent. This isn’t good news.

“The only thing I’ve found is a road tunnel. It was kind of disguised, so I thought, maybe - but it just goes outside, down to the base of the mountain.”

“That’s where I am,” alertness drowns out his foreboding, “What side of the mountain?”

“South,”

“There’s no road down here,” he tells Yelena as he speeds up, “So a road down from there -”

“Is suspicious,” Yelena finishes.

Sure enough, as he rounds a spur of the mountain, Bucky spies a flattened path in the dirt leading towards what looks like just a crack in the cliffside. Leaving his bike far away enough that the engine won’t echo within, he silently approaches and peers inside. The darkness of the night outside helps his enhanced eyes adjust even faster.

“This is it,” he whispers to Yelena through his comm, “I’m going in. Wait outside.”

“Buc-” The rest of Yelena’s reply is cut off as he uses his vibranium arm to push the false rock face open enough for him to slip inside - whatever stopped your tracker working has silenced his communication device. Pulling a knife from his holster, confident that he’s found your location, he sneaks into the bunker.

—

You shudder violently as another chill wracks your body. You’re still bound by cable ties - ankles together and hands behind your back, and shivering just makes your muscles ache more. The black sack over your head stops you seeing anything, but you can feel the hard floor beneath you, cold and damp through your thin dress.

After a painfully bumpy journey being knocked around the trunk of a car, you were dragged out, squinting in the sudden light before your captors forced a bag over your head and lugged you away to your current location. The only clues to your surroundings were the echoey footsteps as you’d been carried away, and an alternating pattern of bright and dark that reminded you of walking down poorly lit tunnels. A sharp turn ended with you being dropped to the floor, the clang of metal on metal and receding footsteps making you certain that even if you broke out of your bonds, you wouldn’t be able to escape.

At least your body could only sustain the adrenaline rush of panic so long, and you focused on breathing, telling yourself that having your eyes covered meant they probably weren’t planning on killing you.

Unless they’d hidden your face to make your execution easier on them.

Shutting down that thought, you wriggle upright, leaning against the rough wall. It scratches your bare back but you feel less vulnerable when you’re not lying down - you can hear men’s voices not too far off, and can just about make out enough lewd comments to know they appreciate the dress Rumlow put you in.

Was he in on this? It would explain the loss of your trackers, the lack of other agents and the general unease you’d felt all night. Anger flares at the thought, and you grab onto it, desperate to feel anything other than fear and despair. Eventually even that peters out, leaving you numb - and with nothing to do but wait, alone in the dark.

It feels like long hours later, once your frozen body has become as numb as your mind, that a sudden hush from the men makes you sit up straight, attention focused. The moment of silence is rushed away in a chorus of shouts, yelps and swishing, thudding sounds that you can’t identify. You jump as gunshots ring out, ending with a strangled cry and heavy thud.

Fully alert, every muscle is tense and locked, your eyes wide as you pant into the fabric. Before you have time to react, a welcome voice, gravelled with emotion, calls your name.

You gasp in relief - Bucky! You wince at a metallic screech, and an instant later the bag is pulled from your head and your sensitive eyes meet Bucky’s relieved ones.

“It’s okay,” he tells you, ripping the cable ties from your wrists, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Your arms scream in pain as they’re released from their cramped position, but that doesn’t stop you flinging them around Bucky’s neck as he removes the ties from your ankles.

“Thank you,” you gasp, sure that you’ve never meant those words so much in your life.

Bucky simply shakes his head, restrained emotion pressing his mouth into a straight line as he wraps his arms around you, squeezing gently as he lifts you to your feet.

“You’re freezing,” He breaks away to take off his jacket and wrap you in it, his concerned eyes noticing your shiving body, from your sack-mussed hair to your bare feet. Without hesitation, he picks you up and moves back through ripped apart iron bars into what you can now see is some sort of underground tunnel system.

Stunned, you cling to him tightly.

“We have to be quick,” he tells you, “Yelena’s outside, but the entrance is a long way-”

“You found her?!” This close even you can hear Yelena’s ecstatic shout in Bucky’s ear as his comm device bursts into life.

“Yes,” he answers, not breaking his stride, “I’ve got her. Where are-”

“I’m inside,” Yelena answers before he can finish his question, “in a control room. Left!”

“What?”

“There’s a fork in front of you, take the left.”

“How do you-”

“This whole place is a Faraday cage, inside it I can see her tracker signal. I know where you are, go left.”

Bucky turns left, moving silently and rapidly through the tunnel with you in his arms.

“There are too many people between you and the way you came in-”

“Not any more,” Bucky growls.

“-this is the only other way out and it’s closer to you.” Yelena explains.

A few twists and turns later, Yelena’s directions lead you to a half-concealed hatch high up in the wall of the tunnel. Once Bucky yanks it open, you can see the starry sky and feel a soft breeze - as well as hear a distinctive hum coming from the silvery mesh covering the opening.

“Don’t touch it,” he warns, switching his hold so he’s grasping you around your thighs, lifting you until you’re practically sitting on his right shoulder, feet against his chest. Yelena explained the rest of her plan to him in rapid Russian, so you know he’s waiting for something. Just as you open your mouth with a question, a deep boom resonates through the base - and the mesh stops buzzing.

Instantly, Bucky rips it away with his vibranium arm and pushes you through the hole with the other. Startled, you find yourself on a dusty slope, steep enough that you’re immediately sliding down it - but luckily not for long enough that you gain too much speed.

Managing to avoid the rocks littering the hillside, you land in a heap on the flat ground and turn to check on Bucky. As you do, you hear a sharp zap and see him tumbling down the hill after you.

“Bike.” he gasps as he lands almost on top of you. “That way. Quick.”

You follow his nod and set off, speeding up once you check that he’s got to his feet. You can tell from how he moves that something’s off, but if it’s not slowing him down, you won’t let it stop you either.

Round a bend you see the same black motorbike he picked you up on months before. Bucky catches you up and mounts it, reaching across himself with his right arm to pull you in front of him, and you realise his metal arm is hanging limp at his side.

“Bucky,” you gasp.

“It’s fine,” he insists through gritted teeth, “It’s temporary. But I need you to work the clutch.”

Imitating his grip on the right, you grasp the left handlebar, fingers over the lever. “Got it,” you assure him.

“Keep hold of me with your other arm,” his voice is gruff in your ear as he slides closer to you, pressing his legs tightly over yours, “And grip with your legs. I’m not letting you fall.”

You grab his forearm as the bike takes off.

—

Following Bucky’s instructions, the two of you zoom safely through the night, ending up at a small motel off the main road. After parking in a secluded spot round the back, Bucky leads you into a room, securing the door behind you.

“You promise Yelena’s safe?” You ask as soon as the last lock clicks into place.

“Yes,” he assures you. You’d already checked on the drive, but you wanted to make sure.

“You said you’re okay too though, and-” you trail off, gesturing to his vibranium arm, still motionless at his side.

With an efficient click and gentle whirring sound, Bucky detaches the arm and lays it on the small table with a sigh. “It’s not a problem. Just needs to recalibrate.” His searching gaze turns back to you, still only wearing his jacket and the silky gown you wore to the party - now decidedly worse for wear. “You probably want to clean up. And warm up - bathroom’s through there. And there are clean sweats in the bag, help yourself.”

He nods to a black kit bag on the bed; the one bed, you can’t help but notice. After dropping his jacket from your shoulders and draping it over one of the small chairs by the table, you open the bag and pull out a t-shirt and sweatpants - they’re soft and clean, and clearly Bucky’s clothes rather than something brought for you, and you have to resist the urge to bury your face in them and inhale deeply. Instead you thank him and move to the bathroom, glad to scrape the grime and dirt from a very long and terrifying day off your skin.

Bucky swaps places with you when you’re done, and you curl up on the bed, exhausted in a way you’ve never been before. Anxiety dances at the edge of your chest, but a combination of the adrenaline crash and the warm scent covering you from Bucky’s clothes leaves you relaxed, almost boneless where you lie - until you hear a series of muttered expletives from inside the bathroom.

Concerned, you slide off the bed and pad over to knock gently on the door. “Everything alright in there?”

“Yep,” comes the immediate reply. You sit back down, not entirely convinced as the grumbles and soft grunts from the bathroom continue.

“You sure you’re okay?” You call out hesitantly.

You hear a resigned sigh before the door swings open to reveal a grumpy and slightly embarrassed Bucky.

“I’m fine, it’s just - goddamn buttons,” he grunts, gesturing vaguely at himself. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that clings to every muscle in his chest, stomach and arm, and black tactical pants that puddle at his socked feet - and hang open below his hips.

You swallow, hard. It’s probably a good thing you’re so exhausted or you’d be jumping him right now. His dark hair hangs damp in his face, and the heavy brow and slight pout making up his shamefaced expression is unreasonably attractive. Not to mention the visible bulge straining against his boxers beneath his open fly.

“Can I help?” You ask, voice huskier than intended.

An unreadable expression flickers across Bucky’s face as you step towards him.

“Uh,” he bashfully pushes his wet hair back from his face, drawing your attention to his arm again, “If it’s not too-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him a bit too quickly, your voice cracking, “It’s kind of my fault your arm’s not working and – oh,”

You realise why, despite living so long with one arm, Bucky’s struggling now – the palm and fingers of his right hand are red and scorched in a pattern that matches the mesh he ripped though to free you, leaving his motion limited, stiff and visibly sore. Electrical burns, you realise.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s fine,” he sounds nonchalant as he mirrors your response, but you can’t tell if he’s actually unbothered, or if he’s acting that way to alleviate your guilt, “The serum speeds up healing. It’s already better than it was. I’ll be back to normal by the time we’re back in the city.”

You nod but bite your lip, guilt and worry shining on your face.

“And to be clear,” he adds, leaning towards you to emphasise what he’s saying, his eyes catching yours from only inches away, “None of this is your fault. The only ones responsible for any of this are the scum who took you.”

He holds your gaze, and you can smell the clean scent of his body fresh from the shower.

“Got it,” you answer breathlessly, reaching for him. When your eyes drop and your fingers brush the edge of Bucky’s pants you feel him tense, as though trying to keep himself under control. You’re warmed by the thought that this is affecting him as much as it is you.

Pulling the waistband tight over his hips, you fasten the top button with ease, then continue down the others. Despite trying to touch him as little as possible, you can’t help the tingling pulse in your core at being this close, this intimate with him.

Aware that you’re staring a bit too hard, you make the mistake of looking up at him as you close the last button. Above the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the hard set of his jaw - as though he’s trying very hard not to move - you’re captivated by the dark heat in his eyes. You both freeze for an instant, your knuckles still grazing the front of his pants, when you feel a delicious throb beneath your fingers.

Bucky starts back. “Thanks.” His voice is husky.

“No problem,” you respond, audibly out of breath. There’s a beat where you both just stare at each other, before he moves past you into the room, shoving his feet into his boots in an attempt to distract himself from the way he’s reacting. You realise at the same time he does that he’s not going to be able to tie the laces with one hand, and smile slyly at him, nodding to his feet. “You need a hand with those too?”

Bucky looks at you like he’s forgotten what shoes are. “I, uh-” his shoulders relax slightly as he takes in your expression, “I guess - if you don’t mind…”

“Not at all”, your smile widens and you hear his breath catch in his throat as you drop to your knees in front of him, taking your time as you carefully lace him up, pretending not to notice his hand twitching by his side, or the quiet expletives he mutters under his breath.

You look up at him coyly once you finish, not failing to notice how the buttons on his pants now strain tight.

“All done,” you confirm as you stand.

“Thanks. Again.” He doesn’t move back this time, and there’s barely an inch of space between your bodies.

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him softly, “Besides, I’d like to thank you. For rescuing me.”

“There’s no way I wouldn’t have.” Bucky replies, his tone deepening as his eyes drop to your lips, but followed by a spark of amusement. “And it was really a team effort.”

“Even so,” you slowly, gently, place your hands on Bucky’s chest, feeling it swell beneath you as he takes a deep breath, tilting his head down to yours. Your lips meet as you capture each other in a kiss that thrums through you from your toes to your scalp.

The delicious press of him against you pulses through your veins as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close, licking into your mouth. You graze your teeth along his tongue, his lips, needing and wanting him more than anything you ever have, thrilling as you’re rewarded with a deep groan that reverberates out of him.

As you reluctantly surface for air, his lips trail down your neck, the moan that spills from you making him grip you even harder, his arm across your back, hand tight on your waist  - before you remember the angry red burn you saw on him moments ago.

“Wait, your hand,” you manage to gasp out, “Is it hurting?”

He pulls back with a lazy delight at your concern clear in his eyes, “No,” he assures you, tenderly pressing a soft kiss to your flushed lips before pulling back further to look at you with an easy smile. “But thank you for caring.”

“Any time.” You return his dazed smile.

A teasing look crosses his face, “So do you intend to thank Yelena like that as well, or-?”

You laugh, tugging gently on his hair as rebuke. He grins back at you, a broad, open smile you’ve not seen on him before, and you swear you feel your heart swell. “No,” you tell him firmly, using your grip on his hair to pull him back into the kiss.

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

Probably more to come with these two!

Tags: @yesshewrites1 @lcolumbia1988 @vxllys @starfly-nicole @luvr-bunnyy @greatenthusiasttidalwave @oneofstarkskids @ye-olde-trash-panda @rockyeatrock @raelikesdinosaurs @freyathehuntress @whitewolfluvr @xoxabs88xox

[dreamersworldduh]

The Boy Who Broke Chains

• CONNER KENT x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — Conner Kent, known as Superboy, is a powerful figure, capable of great destruction and widely feared. He is respected for his immense strength and serious demeanor, making him a strong ally. However, to you, he is much more than that. He is Project Kr, a clone of Superman from Cadmus who once helped you escape from captivity. You remember his fierce determination and how he fought for his own identity while freeing you. To the world, he's Superboy, but to you, he's the boy who brought hope and light.

WARNING! 18+MDNI! Swearing.

WORDS! 16.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Conner Kent is that guy, no one can tell me otherwise. The boy is fiooooneeeee, okay! This was a long one to write and it definitely trampled other fics I have planned, but I had get it out for the readers. Anyway, enjoy your reading! 😉 ✨

Acquiring the ability to control cosmic energy was never something you envisioned for your life, but desperate times can drive even the most ordinary person into extraordinary circumstances. For years, your family had been struggling under the suffocating weight of financial instability. Bills piled up like mountains, debts threatened to swallow your home, and your part-time job at the corner store barely scraped together enough to keep the lights on. Watching your parents age prematurely under the strain of endless stress made you feel helpless, as though you were merely a spectator to your family's slow unraveling.

But one evening, as you flipped through the faded pages of a secondhand newspaper, something caught your eye. It was a small, inconspicuous ad nestled between real estate listings and job postings. The bold letters read: "Volunteers Needed: Lucrative Opportunity. Life-Changing Rewards." Beneath it, the fine print offered no real details, just a phone number and one name: LexCorp.

You'd heard of LexCorp before—who hadn't? Depending on who you asked, it was either a beacon of technological progress or a shadowy conglomerate with too many secrets. Whispers about their projects varied from revolutionary to downright sinister. But desperation doesn't allow for hesitation. The promise of financial salvation was too tempting, so you dialed the number that same night.

A calm, professional voice on the other end of the line invited you for a preliminary interview. The process moved faster than you expected. Within days, you found yourself in a gleaming, sterile office building that loomed over the city like a monolith. You answered questions about your health, your resilience, and—strangely—your willingness to take risks. The interviewer never clarified what kind of risks, but when they slid the contract across the table, your focus locked on the reward: a sum so generous it could pay off all your family's debts and still leave enough for a comfortable life.

The contract was a labyrinth of legal jargon and densely packed paragraphs, punctuated by bold phrases like "irreversible effects," "assumption of risk," and "non-disclosure agreement." But the promise of freedom for your family outweighed any doubt, so you scrawled your signature across the dotted lines without looking back.

It wasn't until later that the grim reality set in. The "project" wasn't just experimental—it was dangerous. LexCorp had unearthed a crystalline artifact, a strange cube humming with energy not of this Earth. According to the scientists, it contained pure cosmic energy—an unstable force capable of reshaping matter, bending space, and altering the fabric of reality itself. They theorized that, in the right hands, it could create beings with abilities to rival even Superman.

You weren't alone in the program. A handful of other volunteers joined you, all desperate for their own reasons. The testing began almost immediately, a grueling process that pushed your body and mind to the brink. You were exposed to blinding flashes of the cube's energy, its chaotic currents coursing through containment fields barely strong enough to hold it. Each session felt like standing in the heart of a storm, your nerves stretched taut as the energy seared through your veins.

It didn't take long for the casualties to mount. One by one, the other volunteers fell. Some collapsed under the strain of the experiments, their bodies unable to adapt to the energy's raw intensity. Others met even darker fates as containment breaches unleashed bursts of uncontrollable power. The scientists treated each loss as a data point, scribbling notes on clipboards while their expressions remained disturbingly detached.

And then there was you. Somehow, inexplicably, you endured. Where others withered, you thrived. Your body didn't just survive the energy—it absorbed it, adapted to it, and transformed. You began to exhibit abilities that defied explanation: manipulating matter with a thought, generating bursts of pure energy, and sensing disturbances in the world around you as if you were tethered to something far greater than yourself.

At first, the scientists were ecstatic. You were their success story, their living proof that the experiment could work. But as your abilities grew, so did your unease. This power didn't feel natural—it felt like something alien, a force that didn't belong within a human shell. The memories of the other volunteers haunted you, their faces a constant reminder of the cost of your transformation.

The financial burden that had weighed so heavily on your family was gone, replaced by an entirely new weight—the realization that you were no longer just a person. You were a weapon, a product of ambition and desperation. Your life was no longer your own.

What began as a desperate attempt to help your family had turned you into something else entirely: a walking, breathing experiment. And while your body thrived on cosmic energy, your soul bore the scars of what you'd become.

The madness didn't end with your newfound powers. If anything, it spiraled into a nightmare beyond your darkest imaginings. LexCorp saw you not as a person, but as a priceless asset—an investment they intended to exploit to its fullest. To ensure you would remain under their absolute control, they delivered a cruel, calculated lie to your family: you had died in a tragic, catastrophic accident. There was no body, no closure, just grief. As far as your parents knew, you were gone—a victim of this cold, merciless world.

But you weren't dead. Far from it. LexCorp secretly transferred you to Cadmus, an infamous facility buried deep in classified government records, renowned for its cutting-edge but ethically dubious experiments in genetic manipulation and superhuman biology. The compound itself was a fortress, hidden in an unmarked location, surrounded by layers of security designed to ensure nothing—and no one—got out.

Your new "home" was a specialized containment cell, meticulously engineered to nullify your powers. The walls shimmered faintly with a metallic sheen, imbued with compounds and technology designed to absorb the cosmic energy flowing through your body. No matter how much strength you summoned, the cell rendered you powerless. It wasn't just a prison—it was a tomb for your autonomy.

The routines of captivity weren't physically harsh, but they were psychologically devastating. Each day was a dull monotony, a predictable loop that wore on your mind like sandpaper against stone. You were provided meals on a rigid schedule—nutrient-rich but devoid of flavor—and your quarters, while minimally comfortable, felt suffocating in their sterile, inhuman design. Time blurred into an endless expanse of sameness.

Occasionally, you had moments of interaction that broke the monotony. Conversations with the G-Gnomes, small, psychic creatures employed by Cadmus to probe your thoughts and monitor your mental state, offered a strange sort of companionship, though their eerie, insectoid features unnerved you. Then there was Kraig, a peculiar hybrid being who seemed almost amused by your predicament. He spoke in riddles, dropping cryptic hints about Cadmus's inner workings and the shadowy figures pulling the strings.

They also allowed you to practice your powers, but only under strict supervision. The training arena was a sterile, white void, filled with sensors that monitored your every move. You were tested to your limits—summoning bursts of energy, manipulating objects, even warping matter in controlled settings. But you weren't doing it for your benefit. Every session was another data point for Cadmus, another step in their quest to unlock and weaponize the full extent of your abilities.

The guards at Cadmus ensured compliance at all costs. They weren't your average enforcers. These were genetic hybrids, beings with enhanced strength, speed, and resilience, some of them augmented by alien DNA. Their presence was a constant reminder of the futility of resistance. Every hallway you walked, every glance from their cold, calculating eyes, made it clear that rebellion was not an option. Even if you managed to overpower them—which seemed impossible—the labyrinthine facility offered no clues about its location. No windows, no distinguishing features, nothing that hinted at where you might be in the world. For all you knew, you could have been on another planet.

The isolation began to chip away at your resolve. Days bled into weeks, the walls of your cell pressing closer with each passing moment. You began to lose track of time, your mind slipping into darker places. Dreams of escape faded, replaced by the oppressive reality of your imprisonment. And then, something unexpected happened.

On what seemed like an ordinary day, during one of your escorted walks to the training area, you encountered him. At first, you thought your eyes were deceiving you. Standing before you was a figure straight out of legend: Superman. The same chiseled jawline, the iconic red cape, the unmistakable "S" shield on his chest. Your heart froze in your chest. What was he doing here? Had he come to save you?

But Kraig, your enigmatic acquaintance, quickly corrected your assumption. This wasn't Superman. It was Project Kr—an imperfect clone crafted in Cadmus's relentless quest to control the power of Kryptonian DNA. Up close, you could see the cracks in the illusion: his slightly rougher features, the faint aura of instability in his demeanor. He was no savior, but another prisoner, bound by the same invisible chains that held you.

Meeting Project Kr changed everything. He wasn't just a clone; he was a person, struggling with his own identity, his own chains, his own quiet rebellion. In him, you saw a kindred spirit—a reflection of your own suffering and longing for freedom. For the first time, hope flickered in the darkness.

Finding someone to talk to was a relief, even if Project Kr wasn't exactly the warmest conversationalist. At first, your exchanges were brief—fleeting moments punctuated by short questions or observations. He wasn't particularly chatty, and his reserved nature made it difficult to know whether he even wanted to engage. Still, you persisted. Slowly, those terse exchanges began to grow into longer interactions. It might have started with a simple question—something about the sterile facility you both called a prison—but it gradually blossomed into hesitant conversations that carried the weight of mutual understanding.

Project Kr was captivated by your stories of the outside world. His eyes would narrow in quiet fascination as you described the mundane details of life beyond Cadmus. The way sunlight broke through trees in the morning, the scent of fresh rain on concrete, the chatter of strangers in a crowded marketplace—things you'd once taken for granted now felt like treasures as you recounted them. His questions were sharp and deliberate, as though each answer unraveled a world he had only dreamed of but never truly believed existed. You painted him pictures of blue skies and bustling cities, of quiet parks and chaotic streets. And every word seemed to stick, as if he was storing these glimpses of freedom deep within himself.

In return, you tried to nudge the conversation toward anything that might help you escape. You asked careful questions about the facility's layout, its security measures, and anything else that might give you a clue. But Project Kr's responses were vague, fragmented, and often unhelpful. It didn't take long to notice something was off about him. Sometimes, mid-conversation, his expression would cloud over, and he'd grow quiet, almost distant, as though listening to something you couldn't hear.

It was then you realized the truth: Kraig. The strange psychic hybrid who had been a begrudging presence in your life was manipulating Project Kr's mind. Subtly, perhaps even unconsciously, Kraig was twisting his thoughts and controlling his actions. The realization sent a chill down your spine. One day, in a rare moment of privacy, you managed to warn Project Kr. You kept your tone neutral and your words vague to avoid tipping off Kraig, but you urged him to be cautious, to question the voices in his mind. Project Kr didn't acknowledge your warning directly, but his thoughtful silence made you hope he'd understood.

Your chance at freedom came sooner than expected—and from a source you never could have predicted. One day, alarms erupted through the sterile corridors of Cadmus. The red lights painted the walls in flashes, and the normally unflappable guards scrambled like panicked ants. You had no idea what was happening. Then the sounds of muffled combat echoed through the facility, followed by explosions and shouts.

The chaos found its way to your cell when the door hissed open, and three figures appeared: Robin, Kid Flash, and Aqualad. Their presence was so unexpected that you thought it might be a trick or some elaborate test. But there they were, battered but determined, with Project Kr at their side. They wasted no time in freeing you. There was no room for questions or hesitation—only urgency. They needed to move, and you weren't about to argue.

The escape was a whirlwind of chaos. The five of you fought your way through the labyrinthine facility, dodging guards and tearing through security systems. The young heroes moved with reckless determination, their banter sharp despite the life-or-death stakes. You quickly found your place among them, using your powers to blast through obstacles and defend the group as the facility descended into absolute pandemonium.

Along the way, you liberated others—victims of Cadmus's cruel experiments. Some were like you, beings infused with strange powers, while others were creatures whose very existence seemed impossible. Together, you all made your way toward freedom, leaving destruction in your wake. Guards fell, alarms blared, and containment units shattered as the facility unraveled.

When you finally broke free, the night air hit your skin like a long-forgotten memory. You barely had a moment to savor the victory, though, before the Justice League arrived. The towering heroes descended like gods from the sky, their presence commanding. But instead of celebration, you were met with sharp disapproval. Batman's cold glare, Wonder Woman's disappointment, and Superman's shock all weighed heavy on the young heroes.

The League was unimpressed with the recklessness of Robin, Kid Flash, and Aqualad. But it was the sight of Project Kr that truly sent ripples through the group. Superman froze, staring at his clone with a mixture of disbelief, discomfort, and unspoken questions. The tension in the air was palpable as the League tried to make sense of what had happened and what Cadmus had been hiding.

You stood awkwardly amidst the chaos, unsure of where you belonged in this strange new reality. All you wanted was to go home, to finally see your family again and leave this nightmare behind. But it quickly became clear that wasn't going to happen—not yet. Batman's sharp, calculating gaze lingered on you, assessing your powers, your potential. You felt like a puzzle piece he was already trying to fit into a grander scheme.

It wasn't freedom you had walked into—it was the beginning of something much larger. The escape had torn open a new chapter in your life, one where you were no longer just a prisoner but a player in a game far beyond your understanding. And as the Justice League deliberated your fate, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the start of something far more complicated, far more dangerous, than you'd ever imagined.

Returning home should have been the end of your nightmare, but instead, it marked the beginning of a more complicated and harrowing chapter in your life. Batman, true to his word, arranged for your return to your family, but not without strings attached. Standing in the shadows of your old neighborhood, he issued a warning: he would be watching, checking in periodically to ensure you didn't lose control—or endanger anyone. His voice was steady, almost detached, but his presence left little room for argument. Exhausted, you didn't press for details. All you wanted was to go home.

The reunion with your parents was both heartwarming and devastating. When they opened the door, their faces were a storm of emotions—shock, disbelief, and overwhelming joy. The tears came quickly, followed by bone-crushing hugs, as they struggled to reconcile the son they thought they'd lost with the one standing before them now. But as relief gave way to reality, their joy turned to anger.

They didn't hold back, their voices rising as they scolded you for your recklessness. Volunteering for an experiment with LexCorp—of all places? What were you thinking? Didn't you know how dangerous they were? The words hit you like blows, but you understood the source of their anger. It was fear disguised as frustration, born from the agony they'd endured while believing you were dead. And though their scolding stung, it was underscored by a simple truth: they were just grateful to have you home.

For a brief time, it felt like life might return to normal. You tried to fall back into old routines, helping out around the house, making small talk at dinner, and even considering the possibility of returning to school. But nothing about you was normal anymore. The cosmic energy flowing through your veins wasn't something you could hide forever.

At first, the signs were subtle—a glowing fingertip here, a static hum in the air when you were nervous—but it quickly escalated. Your emotions became dangerous triggers. A flash of frustration could send a burst of energy surging from your hands, while excitement might cause objects to levitate or shatter. Despite your best efforts to suppress it, your powers were volatile and unpredictable. You knew you were losing control, and worse, your family was beginning to notice.

Then there was LexCorp. They weren't content to let you slip through their fingers. Just weeks after your return, strange cars began appearing near your house, their darkened windows reflecting nothing but menace. Agents loitered on the edges of your property, their suits sharp and their gazes sharper. They didn't bother hiding their intentions, occasionally knocking on the door with thinly veiled threats, demanding to know where you were. Their intimidation tactics grew bolder by the day, turning your home into a pressure cooker of fear and tension.

The breaking point came during an argument with your father. He had been on edge since your return, and his concern for your future boiled over when you mentioned wanting to go back to school. He insisted it wasn't safe—not for you, and not for anyone around you. But you were desperate for a shred of normalcy, and the argument escalated until it was loud enough to rattle the windows.

And then it happened. In a flash of frustration, you lost control. A surge of cosmic energy erupted from you, sending your father flying across the room. He hit the wall hard, slumping to the floor in stunned silence. Thankfully, he wasn't seriously hurt, but the look on his face—the mixture of fear and disbelief—broke something inside you. He wasn't looking at his son anymore. He was looking at a stranger, someone dangerous, someone he couldn't protect.

You knew then that you couldn't stay. As much as you loved your family, as much as they loved you, you were a threat to their safety. And LexCorp's shadow looming over them only made things worse. You couldn't protect them here—not from yourself, and not from the enemies you'd made.

Desperate and unsure of what else to do, you made a decision that felt surreal: you called Batman. The fact that you even had the means to summon the Dark Knight was a strange reminder of how far your life had strayed from normalcy. When he answered, his voice was as calm and precise as ever. After you explained the situation, he listened quietly before offering a solution.

Batman extended an invitation—or perhaps a directive. He offered you a place at The Cave, a secret base for young heroes and sidekicks under the mentorship of the Justice League. It wasn't just a sanctuary; it was a training ground. There, you could learn to control your powers, defend yourself, and face the enemies who would inevitably come for you. It wasn't a retreat—it was an enlistment into a dangerous new world.

The Cave was unlike anything you'd imagined. Hidden beneath layers of earth and stone, it buzzed with cutting-edge technology and the faint hum of activity. This wasn't just a hideout—it was a hub for covert operations. The young heroes who called it home were unlike anyone you'd ever met. Aqualad, Robin, Kid Flash, and others moved through the space with confidence, their actions precise and their camaraderie sharp-edged. They weren't just kids—they were warriors in training, bearing the weight of their mentors' legacies.

You felt out of place among them, like an outsider in a world where everyone else already knew their role. They were fast, skilled, and experienced, while you were still struggling to keep your powers in check. But this was your new home, your new reality. It wasn't what you wanted—far from it—but maybe it was what you needed. Here, under Batman's watchful eye and surrounded by others who understood the burden of extraordinary abilities, you had a chance to find stability.

This was no ordinary life, but then again, you were no ordinary person anymore. You weren't just a kid trying to fix your family's problems. You were something more—a fledgling hero, a potential force for good. And as you stood in the Cave, surrounded by the hum of advanced technology and the determined faces of your new teammates, you realized this wasn't the end of your story. It was only the beginning.

Among the chaos, one thing brought you a measure of comfort: seeing Project Kr, now going by the name Conner. The sight of his familiar face, stoic as ever, made the adjustment a little easier. For Conner, the surprise was mutual. He hadn't expected to see you again, and though his expression didn't betray much, you could tell he was glad to have someone he recognized.

For you, it felt like a lifeline. You had barely interacted with the team members who had freed you—Kid Flash, Robin, and Aqualad—and they were already deep into their missions and camaraderie. While they were friendly enough, their bond made you feel like the odd one out. But Conner was different. He wasn't a polished hero or an experienced team player; he was just trying to figure things out, much like you. That small connection eased some of the tension.

Not long after settling in, you were introduced to two more members of the team: Artemis and M'gann. Artemis, with her sharp wit and cool confidence, made an immediate impression. She wasn't one to sugarcoat her words, and her tough exterior initially made her seem intimidating. But there was something about her—an edge of vulnerability beneath the bravado—that suggested she understood what it meant to fight for your place in a world that doubted you.

Then there was M'gann, or Miss Martian, who was the complete opposite. Her warmth and enthusiasm were like a burst of sunlight in the dim, serious atmosphere of the Cave. She greeted you with a beaming smile and an openness that immediately put you at ease. Her curiosity about you was genuine, and she made an effort to include you in conversations and activities, even when you felt like retreating into the background.

It didn't take long for you to realize how different each member of the team was. Robin was quick-witted and a little cocky but clearly brilliant; Kid Flash was an endless source of energy and humor; Aqualad carried himself with a calm, commanding presence that made him seem like the glue holding the group together. Conner, however, was still figuring out where he fit, much like you.

Through all of this, Conner remained a steady presence. While he wasn't one for long conversations, his quiet support was reassuring. Occasionally, the two of you would exchange a few words about Cadmus, your powers, or just the strange twists your lives had taken. Those moments of familiarity in an otherwise unfamiliar world kept you grounded.

Artemis and M'gann quickly became part of your routine as well. Artemis was the one who pushed you during training, challenging you to step up and prove yourself. M'gann, on the other hand, helped you feel like part of the team, her kindness and patience making the transition easier. Slowly but surely, you began to feel like you belonged—not just as someone seeking refuge, but as a true member of something bigger.

In your free time, you and Conner began spending more and more time together, falling into an easy, natural rhythm that neither of you had expected. At first, it was just casual conversations, catching up on everything that had happened since Cadmus. You talked about the weeks you'd been apart—how he'd adjusted to life at The Cave, how you'd wrestled with your powers and the lingering guilt of your escape. Those chats were brief but meaningful, moments of quiet connection amid the constant chaos of life as young heroes. But before long, they became something you both craved—moments of solace that grounded you in ways nothing else could.

It was impossible not to notice how much Conner had changed. He was still the strong, silent type, but there was a new layer to him now, a quiet confidence that made him seem more centered. Gone was the unsteady, uncertain figure you'd met in the depths of Cadmus. In his place was someone learning to take control of his life, to find his place in the world. That growth only deepened your respect for him, and soon, your conversations began to shift. What started as small talk about training sessions or team dynamics turned into late-night discussions about your fears, your hopes, and the strange, winding paths that had led you both to this point.

It felt effortless, natural, like you could say anything to Conner without fear of judgment. He listened in a way few others did—quietly, intently, as if every word you spoke carried weight. And when he opened up in return, you could feel the trust he was placing in you, each admission a window into the person he was becoming. The bond between you deepened with every conversation, and it didn't take long for you to realize that what you felt for Conner wasn't just friendship. It was something much more profound, something that scared and exhilarated you all at once.

You couldn't ignore it anymore. How could you, when every glance he gave you seemed to linger a little longer than it should, when every brush of his hand against yours sent a shiver down your spine? Those piercing ocean-blue eyes seemed to see straight through you, leaving you breathless and flustered in ways you hadn't experienced before. And then there was his physique—broad shoulders, a chiseled frame, and strength that felt almost mythical. You'd caught glimpses of him without a shirt during training, and those moments had a habit of staying with you, replaying in your mind at the most inconvenient times.

But it wasn't just his looks. It was everything about him—the way he could calm your nerves with a simple look, the way he listened to you ramble about the smallest details of your day, the way his presence made you feel safe in a way you hadn't felt since before Cadmus. Even his infamous temper, which should have been a warning sign, only drew you closer. You'd seen the fire in him, but you'd also seen the way he softened around you, the way your words could bring him back from the edge when no one else could.

And then there were the little things: waking up in the morning with thoughts of Conner already swirling in your mind, the sound of his voice echoing in your head long after he'd spoken, the way his rare but radiant smile could make your heart race. It wasn't just a crush—it was something deeper, something undeniable. You were falling for him, hard, and every moment you spent with him only solidified that truth.

Unbeknownst to you, Conner was wrestling with similar feelings. At first, he didn't understand what he was experiencing. Emotions were still a foreign concept to him, something he was learning to navigate, but the more time he spent with you, the clearer it became. The way his heart leapt when you smiled, the way your laughter could cut through the anger he so often struggled to contain, the way his pulse quickened every time you touched his arm—it all pointed to one undeniable fact: you weren't just a friend. You were someone who made him feel alive.

He began gravitating toward you without even realizing it. Whether it was during training sessions, missions, or quiet moments in The Cave, he found excuses to be near you. He volunteered to partner with you whenever possible and couldn't help but let his protective instincts take over whenever you were in danger, even though he knew you could handle yourself. It wasn't just habit—it was something deeper, something he couldn't deny no matter how hard he tried.

The rest of the team noticed almost immediately. The chemistry between the two of you was impossible to ignore, and it quickly became the subject of playful teasing. Kid Flash, ever the joker, took every opportunity to comment on the "will-they-won't-they drama," making exaggerated bets on how long it would take for one of you to confess. Robin smirked knowingly but kept his thoughts to himself, while Artemis alternated between amusement and light encouragement, often giving you both subtle nudges to just admit your feelings already.

But not everyone was thrilled. M'gann, who had her own complicated feelings for Conner, watched the growing connection with thinly veiled jealousy. She tried to hide it, putting on a brave face and pretending everything was fine, but her envy was apparent. It cast a shadow over the group dynamic, one that you and Conner both felt but didn't know how to address.

Despite the teasing, the jealousy, and the unspoken tension, nothing could stop what was building between you and Conner. Every shared glance, every accidental touch, every late-night conversation brought you closer to the inevitable. The feelings between you were too strong to ignore, and sooner or later, one of you would have to take the leap. Because this wasn't just a fleeting crush—it was something unstoppable, something that had already started to change both of you in ways you couldn't begin to explain.

The weight of your emotions kept both of you tethered in uncertainty. That is, until one quiet evening when the truth could no longer be contained.

It had been a long, grueling day at The Cave. Training sessions had pushed everyone to their limits, and the tension among the team was palpable. You needed a break from the relentless chaos, and as if reading your mind, Conner had suggested a walk along the beach near the cliffs. Without hesitation, you agreed. Wolf, his ever-loyal companion, bounded ahead, his paws leaving faint imprints in the sand as he explored the shoreline. Occasionally, he would stop and glance back, his amber eyes checking to make sure you were both keeping up.

The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange, pink, and gold. The ocean mirrored the colors, its surface shimmering like liquid light as waves crashed rhythmically against the shore. A gentle breeze carried the salty tang of the sea, tugging lightly at your clothes and hair. The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the soft crunch of sand beneath your feet and the distant calls of seabirds.

It was a moment of rare peace, one that felt almost too perfect to be real. For once, there were no missions looming, no training drills to face, no external pressures demanding your attention—just the two of you and the endless horizon.

Conner was the first to break the silence. His voice, quiet and contemplative, barely rose above the sound of the waves. "You know," he began, his gaze fixed on the distant ocean, "a lot has changed since I left Cadmus." There was a hesitance in his tone, as if he were still trying to piece his thoughts together. "Back then, everything was simple. Not in a good way, just... empty. I followed orders. Did what I was told. I didn't think about anything beyond that."

You glanced at him but stayed silent, sensing that this was something he needed to say in his own time. His jaw tightened briefly, and he ran a hand through his hair, his expression flickering with uncertainty. "Since then, I've learned a lot—about myself, about the world, about what it means to... choose who you want to be." He hesitated, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "And about what I want."

The confession caught you off guard, your chest tightening as his words sank in. Conner glanced at you, his ocean-blue eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "Sometimes, it's overwhelming," he admitted, his voice dropping lower. "I feel like I'm always trying to catch up, to figure out who I'm supposed to be, what I'm supposed to do. But when I'm with you..." He stopped walking, turning to face you fully.

The wind ruffled his dark hair, and the fading sunlight bathed him in a golden glow that made his chiseled features look almost unreal. For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression soft but intense, as if searching for the right words.

"When I'm with you," he continued, his voice steady now, "everything feels... clear. Like none of the confusion or doubt matters. Like I can just be."

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. The air around you felt charged, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Before you could respond, Conner took a small step closer, the sand shifting beneath his boots.

"I don't know how else to say this, so I'm just going to say it," he said, his voice firmer now, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. "I love you."

The words hit you like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from your lungs. He stood there, raw and unguarded, every wall he'd ever built stripped away in this one, vulnerable moment. "I didn't realize it at first," he continued, his voice quieter now, as if the confession itself had drained some of his resolve. "But I do. I love you. And it's not just some fleeting feeling—it's real. It's... everything."

The world seemed to stop. The waves, the wind, even Wolf's distant barking faded into the background. All you could see, all you could hear, was Conner standing before you, his words hanging in the air like the last rays of sunlight on the horizon. He looked at you with a mixture of hope and fear, his hands hanging uncertainly at his sides, as though he didn't quite know what to do with them.

"I love you," he repeated, softer this time, as if reaffirming it to himself. "And I don't care if it's messy or complicated. I just... I had to tell you."

It was then that you realized your hands were trembling, your emotions a whirlwind of shock, joy, and disbelief. You had imagined this moment so many times, but nothing could have prepared you for the sheer weight of hearing those words spoken aloud. For the vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion etched into his features.

"Conner..." you began, your voice catching in your throat. His name felt like a lifeline, grounding you in this moment that felt too big, too important, to fully comprehend. You stepped closer, your trembling hands finding their way to his. The warmth of his touch steadied you, his calloused fingers gently enclosing yours as if to anchor you both.

Looking into his eyes, you saw everything you needed to say reflected back at you—the trust, the connection, the undeniable truth of what you both felt. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the world in twilight, you realized that this wasn't just a moment of confession. It was the beginning of something new, something real, and something worth holding onto.

"I love you too," you whispered, and the smile that broke across Conner's face was brighter than the fading light of the setting sun.

The confession lingered between you like a fragile thread, heavy with emotion yet pulsing with potential. For a long moment, neither of you moved, the weight of Conner's words and the silent tension locking you both in place. His piercing blue eyes searched yours, as though trying to read your thoughts, his vulnerability exposed in a way you had never seen before. Then, as if something inside him shifted, Conner took a step closer—close enough for the warmth of his body to cut through the cool ocean breeze.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The intensity in his gaze said everything. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his movements careful, giving you every opportunity to step back, to stop what was about to happen. But you didn't. Your feet stayed rooted in the sand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest as the world around you seemed to fall away. The rhythmic crash of the waves, the distant cries of seagulls, even the faint sound of Wolf panting nearby—all of it faded into nothing. There was only Conner, and the way he made the air between you feel electric.

And then his lips met yours.

The kiss was everything you hadn't realized you were waiting for. It was slow at first, tentative, like the beginning of a story you both wanted to savor. But it didn't stay that way for long. As the initial hesitation melted away, the kiss deepened, growing in intensity. There was a passion behind it, a rawness that spoke of everything the two of you had been holding back for so long. His lips were soft yet firm, his movements deliberate but hungry, as though he were pouring every unsaid word, every pent-up emotion, into this one perfect moment.

His hands, rough and calloused from endless training, moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently against your cheeks. The tenderness of the gesture contrasted with the fervor of the kiss, and it sent a shiver through you. It was as though he were afraid to let you go, afraid you might vanish if he didn't hold on tight enough. You leaned into his touch, your own hands instinctively finding their way to his shoulders, gripping him as if to anchor yourself in the surging tide of emotions threatening to sweep you away.

The kiss deepened further, and Conner pulled you closer, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. The feel of him—the strength, the warmth, the sheer presence—was overwhelming. His body pressed against yours, solid and steady, making you feel both consumed and protected all at once. You could feel the faint, steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, a grounding reminder that this moment was real, that he was real.

Your own hands slid up to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with everything you had. Each movement, each touch, felt charged, electric. It wasn't just passion; it was love—raw, unfiltered, and impossible to contain. The connection between you seemed to hum with a life of its own, as if the universe had been holding its breath for this exact moment.

Conner tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss further as his hands tightened around your waist, holding you close but still gentle, still careful. His touch sent warmth radiating through you, a heat that spread from where his hands rested to the very tips of your fingers. You felt as though you might burst from the sheer intensity of it all, yet you didn't want it to end.

And then, reluctantly, the two of you broke apart, gasping softly as you both remembered the need to breathe. Conner didn't move far. His forehead came to rest gently against yours, his breath warm and uneven as he tried to steady himself. His eyes remained closed for a moment, a soft smile curving his lips—a smile so rare, so full of affection, it made your chest ache.

When his eyes finally opened, they were filled with a tenderness that made your knees weak. He didn't speak right away, and neither did you. Words felt unnecessary in the face of everything that had just passed between you. Instead, he lifted a hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek, as if to confirm to himself that you were still there, still real.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he finally admitted, his voice low and almost shy, a sharp contrast to the confident strength he usually carried. The vulnerability in his tone only made your heart swell further.

"So have I," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft crash of the waves. The words carried a weight of truth that made him smile again, his rare, breathtaking smile that seemed to light up the darkening horizon.

For a while, neither of you moved, content to stay locked in this moment. His arms remained around you, holding you close as the ocean breeze swirled around you both. Wolf's distant bark brought a faint laugh from Conner, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he finally pulled back, though his hands never left your waist.

Standing there, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, you felt as though the world had shifted. The tension that had lingered between you for weeks, the unspoken feelings that had hung in the air, were gone. In their place was something real, something steady.

And in that moment, as you gazed into Conner's eyes and saw nothing but affection and certainty reflected back at you, you knew one thing for sure: this was only the beginning.

From that day on, everything changed. The kiss on the beach didn't just mark the start of your relationship—it was the foundation for something transformative, something neither of you had fully realized you were missing until that moment. You and Conner became inseparable, building a bond that was as powerful as it was tender. Over the next five years, your lives intertwined as you grew together, navigating the complexities of both hero life and the challenges of adulthood.

The beginning of your relationship was an adjustment period, filled with both excitement and learning curves. Conner wasn't the most expressive person when it came to words, but his actions spoke volumes. He showed his love in the quiet, meaningful ways that only he could. Whether it was standing protectively closer to you during tense missions, slipping you a cup of coffee just the way you liked it after a grueling training session, or silently sitting by your side during long, quiet evenings, his devotion was clear.

Conner wasn't one for grand romantic gestures, but the little things made up for it. He remembered details about you that no one else did—your favorite music, the way you liked to unwind after a stressful day, the exact spot on your shoulder that was always sore after combat training. His love wasn't loud or flashy, but it was steady and undeniable.

Of course, it wasn't perfect. Adjusting to each other's quirks and differences wasn't always easy. Conner's occasional temper and your own stubborn streak led to clashes, sometimes over the smallest things—who forgot to clean up after training, or which of you deserved the last slice of pizza after a long mission. Other arguments ran deeper, rooted in the immense pressure both of you faced as heroes. Sometimes Conner would shut down emotionally, retreating into himself when he felt overwhelmed. Other times, you'd push yourself too hard, refusing to admit when you needed help. But no matter how heated or difficult things became, the two of you always found a way to reconcile, your love proving stronger than any disagreement.

Not everyone was thrilled about your relationship—M'gann, in particular. It was no secret that she had feelings for Conner, and the announcement of your relationship hit her hard. Though she wasn't openly hostile, the tension was undeniable. At first, her actions were subtle: lingering a little too long in conversations with Conner, finding excuses to partner with him during missions, or offering advice that felt far more personal than professional. Her glances toward you were sharp, her words clipped and frosty whenever you were around.

You tried not to let it bother you, but there were moments of doubt. M'gann was stunningly beautiful, effortlessly charismatic, and had a connection with Conner from the early days of his life outside Cadmus. Part of you couldn't help but wonder if she could offer him something you couldn't. But Conner's loyalty never wavered. He made it clear where his heart lay, whether by politely but firmly shutting down M'gann's attempts or simply moving closer to you during team gatherings, taking your hand in his and grounding you in the reassurance of his presence.

Over time, M'gann began to accept the reality of your relationship. Her attempts to win Conner over became less frequent, and while the tension between you two never completely disappeared, it faded into the background. Eventually, her focus shifted toward her own growth, and though your relationship with her would never be warm, it settled into a quiet indifference. She became a minor distraction compared to the love and connection you shared with Conner.

As the months passed, you and Conner faced countless challenges together, each one shaping the bond between you. Life as young heroes wasn't easy—the missions were grueling, the stakes high, and the sacrifices often painful. But through it all, you were each other's constant. You celebrated victories together, no matter how small, and offered comfort during moments of doubt and loss. Conner's quiet strength became your anchor, while your unwavering support helped him find his footing in a world that often felt too complicated and overwhelming.

When life outside the team came calling, you tackled those challenges together too. From figuring out how to balance hero duties with the mundane struggles of daily life to simply learning what it meant to grow into yourselves, you became each other's greatest ally. On the days when it felt like the weight of the world was too much, Conner would pull you into his arms, his steady heartbeat reminding you that you weren't alone. And on the nights when his own doubts crept in, you were there to remind him of his worth, of the incredible man he had become.

Then five years passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. You went from two unsure teenagers navigating the chaos of the team to adults who had found not just strength in one another, but a deep and abiding love that had weathered every storm. There were still challenges, of course—every relationship has them—but the foundation you'd built together was unshakable.

The connection that began in the sterile halls of Cadmus had blossomed into something extraordinary. Conner wasn't just your boyfriend—he was your partner in every sense of the word. He was the person who stood by your side in battle, the one who held you close when the nightmares came, the one who believed in you even on the days when you struggled to believe in yourself.

And you weren't just his boyfriend—you were his rock, his constant in a world that had once seemed so alien and confusing. You gave him a sense of purpose, of belonging, that he'd never known before. Together, you had built a life filled with love, trust, and the unshakable certainty that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, you could face them as long as you had each other.

What began as a quiet connection had grown into a love that was steady, powerful, and enduring. Conner was your home, and you were his. And as you looked toward the future, you knew that whatever storms came your way, you would weather them together. Always.

You two had grown into your roles as senior members of the now-expanded Team, a transformation that felt both surreal and inevitable. What had started as a small, tight-knit group of young heroes had evolved into a sprawling organization with dozens of recruits, each bringing their own unique powers, personalities, and challenges. It was a far cry from the days when you and Conner were the rookies, scrambling to keep up with the veterans. Now, you stood among the most experienced, entrusted with leading the next generation of heroes and steering them through the chaos of their missions.

Stepping into leadership roles hadn't been easy at first. The weight of responsibility was daunting, especially when you remembered your own early missteps. But with time, you both found your footing, developing your own distinct styles as leaders. Conner's leadership was natural, almost effortless. His steady presence and unshakable sense of duty made him a rock for his squadron. He commanded respect without demanding it, his quiet authority inspiring trust and loyalty. Conner was the kind of leader who always showed up—whether it was to guide his team through a perilous mission or to quietly offer a word of encouragement to a struggling recruit.

Your leadership style was different but no less effective. Where Conner's strength lay in his consistency and calm, you excelled at connecting with your squad on a deeper level. You had a gift for understanding people, seeing their potential even when they couldn't. Your approach combined empathy with just the right amount of tough love, pushing your team to grow while making sure they always felt supported. You understood the importance of believing in someone, of showing them they could succeed even when the odds felt impossible. Your recruits respected you not just as a leader, but as someone who truly cared about their success.

Despite the demands of leadership, the dynamic between you and Conner remained as strong as ever. Though your duties often pulled you in different directions, you always found time to collaborate. Whether it was during strategy meetings, debriefing after missions, or those quiet moments when you both needed to vent about the latest recruit who thought they could "go solo," you leaned on each other. You balanced each other perfectly—Conner's pragmatic approach grounded you, while your empathetic perspective often helped him see angles he might have overlooked. Together, you made a formidable team, both in and out of the field.

The new normal was a far cry from the uncertain days of your early years with the Team. Back then, you'd felt like you were constantly running to catch up, to prove yourself. Now, you and Conner had become the ones others turned to for guidance. It was a strange realization at first, but also deeply rewarding. You weren't just fighting battles anymore—you were shaping the future, mentoring the next generation of heroes who would one day carry the mantle.

That didn't mean it was easy. The new recruits were a mixed bag, as new recruits always are. Some were eager but reckless, driven by the need to prove themselves in ways that often landed them in trouble. Others were more cautious, unsure of their abilities and hesitant to take risks. And then there were those who chafed under authority, testing the limits of your patience. Each recruit brought their own challenges, and managing them required different approaches.

Conner handled the rebellious ones with his usual no-nonsense attitude. He didn't tolerate excuses or slacking, but he was also fair, quick to recognize hard work and improvement. His squad knew where they stood with him, and while his methods were sometimes intimidating, they were undeniably effective. You, on the other hand, excelled at breaking through the walls recruits often put up, finding ways to reach even the most difficult personalities. You had a knack for making them feel seen and valued, which often helped smooth over the rough edges.

You and Conner frequently swapped strategies, often during late-night conversations in the Cave or on rare quiet evenings at home. These moments were a reminder of how well you worked together, your different styles complementing rather than clashing. You didn't always agree—Conner's straightforward, discipline-focused approach sometimes clashed with your more empathetic methods—but your shared goal of keeping the team safe and prepared always brought you back to the same page.

Conner had just wrapped up one of the most grueling missions he'd faced in weeks, tracking Clayface through the rancid, labyrinthine sewers beneath Gotham City. The mission had been long, messy, and exhausting. With Nightwing leading the operation, the team had managed to corner and neutralize Clayface, but not without a few close calls—and plenty of exposure to Gotham's less-than-pleasant underbelly. By the time they returned to the Cave, the stench of sewage clung stubbornly to Conner, his clothes ruined and his mood sour.

After a quick debrief in the command center, Conner wasted no time heading to the showers. The hot water was a welcome relief, scalding away the grime and the memory of slogging through filth. He scrubbed at his skin with almost aggressive determination, muttering under his breath about how the smell refused to go away. Finally, after what felt like forever, he emerged clean and refreshed, droplets of water still clinging to his short hair and glistening on his skin.

He made his way to your shared room in the Cave, his fatigue weighing heavy on him. The door creaked open, and as he stepped inside, the sight before him made every ounce of stress from the day begin to fade. You were lounging on the bed, wearing one of his black T-shirts, the oversized fabric swallowing your frame and hanging down to your thighs. It was comically large on you, but that only made it more endearing. You sat cross-legged, utterly engrossed in the book resting in your lap, your brow furrowed slightly as you turned the page.

At the sound of the door opening, you looked up, your expression softening instantly into a warm, affectionate smile. "Hey," you said, your voice light and soothing, as though you'd been waiting for him all day.

A small but genuine smile tugged at the corners of Conner's lips. "Hey," he replied, his voice still low and gravelly from exhaustion. Without a moment's hesitation, he crossed the room and climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He didn't bother with words, didn't ask for permission—he simply made his way to you, resting his head on your stomach as he settled himself between your legs. His damp hair pressed against the fabric of the T-shirt you wore, the coolness of it a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin beneath. His strong arms slid around your waist, pulling you close as though anchoring himself to you.

You didn't need to ask what he needed. Over the years, you'd come to understand Conner's unspoken language. He wasn't one to articulate his emotions easily, but his actions said more than words ever could. The way his body relaxed against yours, the way his breath slowed, and the way his grip on your waist tightened slightly—it all told you exactly what he was seeking: comfort, grounding, and the peace that only you could provide.

Your hand moved instinctively to his hair, your fingers threading gently through the damp strands. You stroked with slow, deliberate motions, your touch light but firm, knowing how much he loved this simple gesture. Conner let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, the tension visibly melting from his body. His arms flexed briefly around your waist, pulling you just a little closer, as though to ensure you wouldn't slip away.

"Tough mission?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers continued their soothing rhythm.

Conner hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes half-lidded as he let himself relax fully against you. "Clayface. Sewers. You can probably imagine the rest," he muttered, his tone laced with weariness.

You chuckled lightly, the sound vibrating gently against his cheek where it rested on your stomach. "Yikes," you teased. "Bet that smelled like roses."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, his dry humor peeking through despite his exhaustion. "Yeah, real refreshing," he murmured, his voice softer now. "Definitely one for the books."

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that came so naturally after years of being together. The sounds of the Cave—distant footsteps, the hum of machinery—faded into the background. You set your book aside, your attention fully on Conner now, your hand never ceasing its slow, comforting movements through his hair. His breathing grew steadier, his shoulders losing the last remnants of their tension as he melted into you completely.

The quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a warm cocoon. Conner's grip on you was secure but gentle, his presence grounding you just as much as you grounded him. You couldn't help but smile as you looked down at him, his face peaceful and relaxed in a way that made your heart ache with love. These were the moments you cherished most—the quiet, unspoken ones where words weren't necessary, where just being together was enough to make the world feel right.

As the minutes stretched on, you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his temple, your lips lingering against his skin. Conner responded with a barely audible hum of contentment, his arms tightening briefly around your waist before relaxing again.

"You want a massage?" you asked softly, your fingers threading gently through Conner's damp hair. His head rested heavily on your stomach, his body fully relaxed against yours, and the rhythmic motion of your hand seemed to ease away the tension he carried after his grueling mission. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing steady, and for a moment, it seemed like he might drift off completely.

He didn't reply right away, as if weighing the question or simply savoring the comfort of the moment. Then, slowly, a familiar smirk crept onto his lips—the kind that sent a shiver of anticipation through you every time you saw it. His ocean-blue eyes fluttered open, the corners crinkling with mischief as he tilted his head slightly to look up at you.

"Nah," he murmured, his voice low and edged with a playful undertone that made your heart skip a beat. "But I do have another idea."

You raised an eyebrow, feigning suspicion, though your pulse quickened at the teasing glint in his eyes. "Oh? And what idea might that be, Mr. Kent?" you teased, your fingers momentarily pausing in his hair as you waited for his response.

Conner shifted lazily, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could get a better look at you. His smirk widened as his gaze swept over you, taking in the sight of you curled up on the bed, still wearing his oversized black T-shirt that fell just above your thighs. The amusement in his expression was almost predatory, his eyes darkening slightly as they met yours.

He didn't answer right away, letting the silence stretch. His hand moved with deliberate slowness, brushing against your thigh in a way that sent a jolt of warmth through you. His fingertips lingered, tracing idle patterns on your skin, the touch both teasing and intimate.

"Well," he drawled at last, his voice dipping into that deep, gravelly tone that always made your stomach flutter. "I was thinking..." He trailed off, leaning in closer, his face just inches from yours now. The smirk softened into something more tender but no less dangerous as his hand slid up your leg, his palm coming to rest firmly on your hip. "Maybe we could do something a little... more fun."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, a mix of nervous energy and anticipation. "More fun?" you echoed, your hands instinctively moving to his shoulders, your fingertips grazing the solid warmth of his muscles beneath his shirt. "And what exactly do you have in mind, Conner?"

His chuckle rumbled low in his chest, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He leaned in even closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Why don't I show you?" he murmured, the suggestion laced with affection as much as mischief.

Before you could respond, he moved with effortless strength, his arms tightening around you as he shifted your positions in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised gasp as he flipped you onto your back, pinning you gently beneath him. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and the warmth of his body enveloped you as he braced himself above you.

His smirk was back, but there was a tenderness in his gaze now, a softness that made your breath catch. His hand remained on your hip, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of the shirt you wore—his shirt. "You've been taking care of me all night," he said softly, his voice quieter now, laced with gratitude and something deeper. "I think it's my turn to take care of you."

Your heart raced as his lips found yours, the kiss starting slow, almost reverent. His mouth moved against yours with a tenderness that sent warmth blooming through your chest, but it didn't take long for the kiss to deepen. The passion that simmered beneath his calm exterior broke through, his lips pressing against yours more firmly, his hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back to pull you even closer.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, still slightly damp from his shower, as you kissed him back with equal fervor. Every movement, every touch felt electric, the world narrowing to just the two of you. Conner's weight above you was grounding, his warmth seeping into you, his presence wrapping around you like a cocoon.

He broke the kiss just long enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting against yours as his breath came uneven. His eyes, now darker with emotion, held a mixture of love and desire that made your heart swell. "You're all I need," he whispered, the words so soft you almost didn't hear them over the sound of your own pounding heartbeat.

You smiled, your hands sliding down to his shoulders as you pulled him back down for another kiss. "Then don't let me go," you murmured against his lips, your voice just as quiet but filled with all the affection you felt.

Conner didn't reply with words—he didn't need to. The way his arms wrapped around you, the way his lips moved against yours, the way he held you as though you were the most precious thing in the world—it all spoke louder than anything he could have said. And in that moment, with the warmth of him pressed against you and the world fading into the background, you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

His rough, calloused fingers slid beneath the hem of the oversized black shirt you wore—his shirt, which hung on your frame like a dress. The fabric bunched slightly as his hands traveled upward, the contrast of his warm touch against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

His movements were unhurried, almost teasing, as though he wanted to savor every moment. His eyes stayed locked on yours, the intensity in his ocean-blue gaze making your breath hitch. When his fingers found the waistband of your underwear, he paused, his lips quirking into a playful smile as though silently asking for permission. The anticipation was electric, crackling in the air between you.

You nodded, barely able to contain the heat rising in your body. That was all the confirmation Conner needed. Slowly, he slid your underwear down, his fingers grazing your hips and thighs as he removed the final barrier between you. The sensation was maddeningly soft, yet charged with an undeniable intimacy that left you feeling completely exposed—and utterly desired.

As your underwear slipped away, Conner's hand trailed back up, his touch firm yet gentle as his fingers brushed against your dick. His palm enveloped you, his grip warm and steady, and the simple act sent a surge of pleasure coursing through you. His movements were slow at first, deliberate, as if he were mapping every inch of you, learning the way your body responded to his touch.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw before murmuring in a low, husky tone, "You're perfect, you know that?"

The words made your pulse race, your heart pounding in your chest. Conner's gaze softened, though the intensity never wavered, and his hand moved with practiced care, each touch sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. There was something deeply intimate about the moment—more than just the physical connection, it was the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

The shirt you wore—his shirt—slipped further up as he moved, exposing more of you to him. His free hand slid around your waist, holding you in place, anchoring you to him as his movements became more deliberate. The warmth of his touch, the weight of his body pressing against yours, and the sheer love in his gaze all combined to create a moment that felt nothing short of breathtaking.

"Conner..." you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as you felt yourself surrender completely to him. He smiled at the sound of your voice, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that was as passionate as it was tender.

His hand moved with deliberate slowness, sliding up and down your dick in a rhythm that was maddeningly precise, designed to make you unravel beneath his touch. The heat of his palm, the strength of his grip—firm but never rough—had your body responding instinctively, arching slightly into his hand as your breath hitched.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his deep voice dropping to a low, husky whisper that made your entire body tremble.

"You're so hard for me," he murmured, his words laced with a teasing edge that sent a flush of heat straight to your cheeks. His tone was rough, raw with desire, but there was also a playful affection in the way he spoke, like he loved seeing how easily you came undone in his hands.

"Look at you," he continued, his voice like velvet, each word dripping with intent. His grip tightened slightly as he stroked you, the added pressure drawing a quiet moan from your lips. "You're so perfect like this—so needy. You like when I touch you, don't you?"

Your heart raced, your breaths coming faster as his words hit you like a spark to kindling. Conner's hand never faltered, moving in a steady rhythm that left you teetering on the edge of control. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just below your ear before continuing, his voice filled with a delicious mixture of command and tenderness.

"Every inch of you belongs to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin with every word. "And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

His free hand slid around your back, pulling you closer to him, as though he couldn't stand even a fraction of space between you. The heat of his body pressed against yours was overwhelming, and the way his words filled your ear—dirty, possessive, and utterly irresistible—made it impossible to focus on anything else.

"You're mine," he growled softly, the roughness in his voice sending another shiver down your spine. "And I'll make you feel so good you won't be able to think about anyone but me."

Every touch, every word, every deliberate stroke of his hand was a symphony of pleasure, building higher and higher until you felt like you might explode from the sheer intensity of it. Conner's lips brushed against your neck now, his teeth grazing your skin lightly as he whispered one final promise, his hand moving just a little faster, driving you closer to the brink.

"Let go for me," he murmured, his voice a mixture of command and reassurance. "I want to feel you completely lose control—just for me."

And with that, the overwhelming combination of his touch, his words, and his presence pushed you over the edge, your body surrendering completely to the man who held you like you were his entire world.

The tension in your body built to an almost unbearable peak, every nerve alight as Conner's skilled hand continued its deliberate rhythm. His grip, his pace, the heat of his touch—it was all too much and not enough at the same time. Your breath quickened, a series of soft gasps and quiet moans escaping your lips as you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge.

Conner must have sensed it, because his lips found their way back to your ear, his voice a low, sultry murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. "That's it," he whispered, his tone both commanding and tender. "Don't hold back. Let me feel you."

His words were your undoing. The tension coiled deep inside you snapped all at once, and you cried out softly, your body arching instinctively into his hand as you reached your climax. A rush of heat surged through you, and you felt yourself release, your hot seed spilling over his hand in a wave of pure, unrelenting ecstasy.

Conner didn't stop, his hand slowing just enough to draw out every last pulse of pleasure, his touch grounding you even as your mind reeled. His other arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer as your body trembled against his.

"That's it," he murmured again, his lips brushing against your neck now, pressing soft kisses to your heated skin. "You're so beautiful when you let go like that."

You couldn't form words, your breath coming in uneven gasps as you tried to steady yourself. Conner's touch became gentler, soothing now, his thumb brushing lightly along your hip as his free hand reached for a nearby cloth to clean you up. His movements were tender, his eyes filled with a quiet affection that made your chest ache.

As he finished, Conner leaned back slightly, his gaze meeting yours. The corners of his lips turned upward in a small, knowing smile, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You okay?" he asked softly, his voice steady and warm.

You nodded, still catching your breath, and managed a faint smile in return. "More than okay," you murmured, your voice laced with both exhaustion and contentment.

Conner chuckled, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "Good," he said simply, his tone filled with quiet pride. "Because I'm not done spoiling you yet."

Suddenly, Conner had you straddling his waist, your thighs resting firmly on either side of his hips as his hands roamed over your body with an intensity that made your pulse race. His calloused palms gripped your ass firmly, fingers digging in just enough to leave a lingering warmth against your skin. The strength of his touch sent a shiver through you, a perfect mix of control and affection that made you feel completely consumed by him.

He shifted beneath you slightly, his muscles flexing under your weight as he adjusted your position to pull you even closer. His lips curled into a teasing smirk as his hands tightened on your backside, the possessiveness in his gaze making your breath hitch. Without warning, he raised one hand and brought it down with a sharp, deliberate smack against your ass.

The sudden sting was quickly followed by a rush of heat that spread through your body, the sound of the slap echoing in the room. You gasped softly, the mixture of surprise and pleasure making your body instinctively arch toward him. Conner's smirk grew wider, his ocean-blue eyes darkening with desire as he watched your reaction closely.

"You like that?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a teasing edge that sent a thrill through you. Before you could respond, his hand came down again, another firm smack that made your skin tingle and your heart race. The way his strong hand lingered afterward, kneading the spot he had just struck, sent shivers down your spine.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck as his other hand slid up your back, holding you steady. "You drive me crazy," he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with raw affection and desire. His breath was hot, his kisses deliberate as he nipped lightly at your neck before trailing his tongue along the sensitive area.

His hand on your ass delivered another firm smack, the impact sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "I could do this all night," he muttered, his tone both playful and commanding as his lips moved back to claim yours in a kiss that was as consuming as it was passionate. His grip on you remained firm, his hands alternating between soothing caresses and sharp, tantalizing slaps that kept your body tingling with anticipation.

Every movement, every touch, every deliberate action reminded you just how deeply Conner desired you, his actions a perfect blend of strength, passion, and unwavering affection.

Your body pressed firmly against Conner's, your fingers tangled in his short, dark hair as his lips claimed yours with a fiery intensity. The kiss was deep and unrelenting, filled with passion that made the rest of the world fade into insignificance. Conner's hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you impossibly closer, as if the space between you was unacceptable.

A low moan escaped your lips, muffled against his, as the heat between you built to an overwhelming crescendo. You felt his lips curve into a small, satisfied smile against your mouth, his body reacting to every sound you made. Breaking the kiss for a brief moment, you tilted your head slightly to whisper in his ear, letting out another soft moan, the sound raw and unfiltered. His sharp intake of breath and the way his grip tightened on you told you exactly how much it affected him.

Just as Conner's lips trailed down to your jawline, leaving a path of slow, deliberate kisses, a loud knock echoed through the room, startling you both. The sound cut through the intimate atmosphere like a knife, and you felt Conner stiffen beneath you, his grip on your waist momentarily freezing.

A low growl of frustration rumbled in his chest as he turned his head toward the door, his expression shifting into one of pure annoyance. Without letting go of you or breaking the connection between your bodies, he raised his voice, his tone sharp and commanding.

"Go away," Conner barked, the edge in his voice leaving no room for argument.

You couldn't help but smile at the irritation lacing his words, finding his reaction both protective and endearing. His attention shifted back to you almost instantly, his hands moving back to your hips as he resumed where he left off, his lips brushing against your neck now.

"They better not knock again," he muttered against your skin, his voice low and full of barely restrained frustration. The way his breath warmed your neck sent shivers down your spine, and the momentary interruption quickly melted away as Conner's focus returned entirely to you.

The knock may have broken the rhythm for a moment, but the intensity between you two reignited almost immediately, pulling you both back into the heat of the moment as if nothing had happened.

Conner's body was taut beneath you, every muscle coiled with tension as the heat between you both continued to build. His breaths came heavier, his chest rising and falling beneath your hands, and you could feel the unmistakable hardness pressing against you. His arousal was evident, firm and insistent, a clear sign of just how much he wanted you.

The way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, left no room for doubt. Conner's smirk turned devilish as he shifted slightly beneath you, making you acutely aware of the growing pressure. "You're killing me," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire, his ocean-blue eyes locked onto yours with a gaze that felt like it could set you on fire.

As you shifted in his lap, the friction only made the tension between you more palpable. His arousal strained against the fabric of his pajamas, firm and ready to break free from its confines. The way his body reacted to every subtle movement of yours sent shivers of anticipation through you, and the intensity in his expression made it clear he wasn't planning on holding back much longer.

His hands slid up your thighs, his touch deliberate and teasing as his lips found their way to your neck once again. "You've got me ready to lose control," he whispered against your skin, his tone filled with equal parts affection and raw, unfiltered want. The promise in his voice was enough to make your heart race as you felt the full extent of his desire, firm and eager to join the moment.

Conner removed his hands from your body briefly, his gaze locked onto yours as he reached for the waistband of his pajamas. The tension in the air was almost palpable, each second feeling like an eternity as he slowly pushed both his pajamas and underwear down in one fluid motion. The fabric slid over his hips, revealing the taut, sculpted muscles of his lower body, every inch of his physique a testament to his raw strength.

And then, there it was—his dick sprang free, standing proudly, thick and fully erect. At nine inches, it was impossible to ignore, commanding attention with its sheer size and firmness. The sight alone sent a rush of heat through your body, making your breath catch in your throat. The way he exuded confidence, his body radiating a natural, effortless dominance, only added to the allure.

Conner's smirk widened slightly as he noticed your reaction, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with a mixture of affection and desire. He stepped closer, the tension in his movements now replaced with a sense of ease and purpose. His hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer as his body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin intoxicating.

"You've got me all worked up," he murmured, his deep voice low and teasing as his fingers brushed lightly against your sides. The weight of his dick against you was undeniable, a reminder of the intensity simmering between you two.

The moment was electric, the anticipation thick in the air and before you knew it, Conner's hands gripped your hips firmly, his touch grounding and steady as he positioned himself beneath you. The heat of his body pressed against yours, and his ocean-blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Every movement he made was deliberate, filled with purpose, as if he wanted to savor every moment leading up to this.

His dick, thick and pulsing with anticipation, rested heavily against you. You could feel its heat, its weight, as he shifted slightly, aligning himself with your entrance. The sheer size of him made you gasp softly, your body trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves. Conner's hands slid back up to your sides, his thumbs brushing soothing circles into your skin as he leaned in closer.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice low and full of reassurance. His lips found the curve of your jaw, pressing gentle kisses there as he adjusted his position. His dick pressed lightly against your ass now, the sensation sending a spark of heat through your body. The deliberate way he moved, slow and measured, showed how much care he was taking—not just to avoid rushing, but to ensure you were ready for him.

His gaze flicked back to yours, his blue eyes softened with affection but still darkened with desire. "Tell me if it's too much," he said softly, his hands tightening slightly on your hips as he aligned himself perfectly with your hole. The pressure was subtle at first, a promise of what was to come, but it was enough to make your breath hitch and your heart race.

Every touch, every movement felt charged with emotion as Conner held you steady, his body and his presence radiating both strength and tenderness. This was more than just physical—it was intimate, personal, a moment that seemed to transcend words as he prepared to join with you completely.

Your hands gripped Conner's strong shoulders for balance as you slowly began to move, your body adjusting to the fullness of him. The first motion was tentative, deliberate, as you raised yourself just slightly before sliding back down, taking him deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, every inch of him stretching and filling you in a way that made your breath hitch and your heart race.

Conner's hands remained firm on your hips as he guided your movements with subtle pressure, his touch a blend of control and encouragement. His ocean-blue eyes stayed locked on yours, his gaze filled with both awe and desire as he watched you take him, inch by inch. The way his chest rose and fell with deep, uneven breaths told you he was holding back, letting you set the pace.

As you moved again, the motion became smoother, more confident. Slowly, you began to find a rhythm, rising up and sliding back down, feeling every ridge and curve of him as you did. The sensation sent waves of pleasure through your body, building steadily with each motion. Conner's low groan rumbled through the air, his fingers digging into your hips just enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine.

"You feel so good," Conner murmured, his voice rough and filled with raw emotion. His head tilted back slightly, exposing the strong line of his jaw, but his eyes never left you. His hands began to move with you, guiding your rhythm as you continued to ride him, the intensity between you growing with every passing moment.

The connection between you was electric, every touch, every motion building a tension that seemed to radiate through the room. Conner's quiet groans and whispered encouragements spurred you on, his voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace as you continued to move together in perfect harmony.

Soon Conner's fingers pressed into your skin just enough to ground you. You could feel the subtle shift in his energy, his need to guide you taking over as his hands began to set a rhythm, slowly increasing your pace.

"Let me take care of you," Conner murmured, his voice low and husky, filled with both affection and desire. His eyes met yours, their ocean-blue depths darkened with passion, and the look he gave you made your breath catch. His grip on your waist tightened slightly as he moved you, raising your body just enough before lowering you back down onto him, the deliberate motion making you take him deeper.

The change in pace was subtle at first, his guidance smooth and controlled, but you could feel his need building with each motion. His powerful hands worked in perfect synchronization with your body, lifting and guiding you to move faster, the rhythm between you becoming more intense. The sensation of him filling you completely, again and again, was almost overwhelming, pleasure radiating through you with every movement.

"You feel so damn good," Conner groaned, his voice roughened by the sheer intensity of the moment. His hands slid slightly up your waist, his thumbs brushing against your ribs as he continued to guide you, his strength making the faster pace feel effortless. The sound of your bodies moving together filled the room, accompanied by his soft groans and your quiet moans, the connection between you electric and all-consuming.

As he urged you to go faster, his own hips began to rise slightly to meet your movements, the added force sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His head tilted back slightly, his lips parting as he let out a deep, guttural moan that made your heart race. His hands never faltered, holding you steady and ensuring every movement brought you both closer to the edge.

"Just like that," Conner whispered, his voice dripping with both encouragement and need. The rhythm between you built steadily, the intensity growing with every second as his hands guided you faster, harder, deeper. The room seemed to blur around you, leaving only the feeling of him beneath you, his touch on your skin, and the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you both.

Before you could fully register the shift, Conner's strong hands moved with purpose, gripping your hips as he adjusted his angle. In one fluid motion, he leaned forward, gently pushing you onto your back while still buried deep inside you. The sheer strength and control of his movements sent a shiver through your body, the sudden change in position amplifying the intensity of your connection.

Your back pressed against the mattress as Conner hovered over you, his broad shoulders and sculpted frame casting a shadow over you. His hands slid to your thighs, gripping them firmly as he repositioned himself, adjusting his angle with precision. His piercing blue eyes met yours, the intensity in his gaze stealing your breath.

"Hold on to me," he murmured, his voice low and filled with both command and affection. The sound sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and without thinking, your hands found their way to his back, your fingers digging into his firm muscles.

Conner's hips began to move again, the deliberate thrusts sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, each motion hitting places that left you gasping. His pace was steady at first, a mix of controlled power and tenderness, as if he wanted to savor every moment of being this close to you. His gaze never wavered, watching your every reaction as if committing them to memory.

"Damn," he groaned, his voice rough with desire as his hands slid along your thighs, pulling you closer to him. His thrusts grew faster, his hips meeting yours with increasing urgency as he surrendered to the intensity building between you. The sound of your bodies moving together filled the room, accompanied by the deep, guttural groans that escaped his lips and the breathless moans spilling from yours.

His head dipped lower, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses to your heated skin. The combination of his movements and the sensation of his warm breath against your neck left you completely overwhelmed, your body arching beneath him in response. His hands slid up to your waist, holding you steady as his rhythm became more forceful, his need for you evident in every deliberate thrust.

Each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The room felt electric, every nerve in your body alight as he drove deeper into you, his hips moving with an unrelenting pace. Your breath hitched, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders for stability, but nothing could ground you against the overwhelming sensations.

"Conner..." you moaned, his name spilling from your lips without thought, raw and filled with the intensity of everything he was making you feel. Your voice trembled, the sound echoing in the heated air between you. The way his name left your lips seemed to spark something in him, his movements becoming even more deliberate, each thrust hitting deeper, harder.

Hearing you call his name made Conner groan deeply, his breath warm and heavy as he leaned closer, his body pressing against yours. His blue eyes darkened with desire, locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. "Say it again," he growled softly, his voice low and filled with a mix of command and need.

"Conner," you gasped again, louder this time, the sound unfiltered as the heat between you built to an almost unbearable peak. His hands tightened on your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you closer, his thrusts coming faster now, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Your body arched beneath him, completely at his mercy as his name tumbled from your lips over and over, a desperate chant that only seemed to spur him on.

"Just like that," he murmured, his voice thick and ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Let me hear you. I want to hear how good I make you feel."

His pace quickened even more, his hips moving with a raw, unrelenting passion that left you clinging to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. The sounds of his groans, the slap of skin against skin, and your own voice calling his name filled the room, a symphony of unrestrained desire as he drove you both closer to the edge. Conner's strength, his control, and the sheer depth of his connection to you left you completely undone, your moans of his name the only thing you could manage as he pushed you to heights you'd never imagined.

The pleasure built inside you, overwhelming and unstoppable, as Conner's relentless pace drove you closer and closer to the edge. Your body tensed, your breath hitching sharply as you felt the rising heat coil deep within you, ready to burst. Each thrust sent another jolt of pleasure through you, the intensity mounting until you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a sharp cry of his name, you surrendered completely, your body arching against him as you released. A stream of your hot seed spilled out, the sensation crashing over you like a tidal wave. The release was overwhelming, leaving your mind blank and your body trembling in his grasp. Your nails dug into Conner's shoulders, your moans spilling freely from your lips as the waves of pleasure rippled through you, one after another.

Conner groaned deeply, his breath ragged as he held you steady, his strong hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. His eyes flickered down to take in the sight of you completely undone beneath him, your chest heaving, your cheeks flushed, and your release marking the moment with undeniable evidence of the connection you shared.

"You're so damn handsome," he murmured, his voice low and full of awe as his pace slowed slightly, letting you ride out the final tremors of your climax. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he continued to move within you, savoring the closeness and the heat radiating between your bodies.

The moment felt infinite, your body still trembling from the force of your release as Conner's steady presence anchored you. His lips brushed against your cheek, his hands gently caressing your sides as he whispered, "We're not done yet." The promise in his voice sent another shiver through you, and despite the blissful exhaustion settling in, you couldn't help but crave more.

Suddenly, Conner's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin as he buried himself deeper inside you. His thrusts became faster, harder, and more relentless, the sheer power behind them taking your breath away. It was as though he'd reached a breaking point, his self-control unraveling as he chased his own release with an intensity that left you completely at his mercy.

"God, you feel so good," Conner growled, his voice rough and strained, each word punctuated by the force of his movements. His head dipped down, his lips finding the crook of your neck as he kissed and nipped at your skin, his breath hot and uneven against you. The sounds he made—deep, guttural groans that seemed to come from deep within his chest—only added to the electricity crackling between you.

Your body rocked with every thrust, the sheer power of his movements sending waves of pleasure coursing through you all over again. His pace was unrelenting, his hips snapping forward as he lost himself completely in the moment, his need for you driving him into overdrive. The room was filled with the rhythmic sound of your bodies moving together, accompanied by his moans and your breathless gasps, the air thick with heat and passion.

Conner's grip on you became almost desperate as his pace quickened even more, his thrusts deep and hard, pushing both of you to the brink. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled beneath your hands as he reached his limit. His breath came in ragged gasps, his groans growing louder and more primal with each thrust.

"Can't hold it anymore," Conner growled, his voice rough and raw as he thrust into you one final time, burying himself as deeply as he could. His body tensed, and with a low, guttural moan, he released, a hot surge of his seed spilling inside you. The heat of it sent a shiver through your body, the sensation overwhelming as you felt every pulse of his release.

Conner stayed buried inside you, his body trembling slightly as he let out a long, shuddering breath. His arms slid around you, pulling you close as he rested his forehead against yours, his ocean-blue eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and satisfaction.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice soft and filled with a quiet reverence as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. His hands moved to caress your sides, his touch soothing as you both basked in the afterglow, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and utterly content in each other's arms.

After a moment of stillness, Conner let out a deep, contented sigh and slowly pulled out of you, his movements gentle and careful. The absence of him left a mix of relief and longing, but his warm presence remained as he immediately shifted closer, wrapping his strong arms around you. The weight of his body against yours and the soothing rhythm of his breathing anchored you in the moment, bringing a quiet sense of comfort and safety.

He pulled the blanket over the both of you, tucking it snugly around your shoulders as you nestled into his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns along your back, a tender gesture that made your body relax further into his embrace. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, combined with the warmth of his skin, lulled you into a state of pure tranquility. Your eyes grew heavier, the exhaustion from the intensity of the moment pulling you closer to sleep.

Just as your breaths started to slow, the peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by a sudden, sharp knock at the door. The sound startled you awake, and you felt Conner stiffen beside you, his body instantly alert. His protective instincts kicked in immediately, and without a word, he reached for the blanket, pulling it up to cover you completely before sliding out of bed.

"Stay here," he murmured softly, his voice low and reassuring as he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. He grabbed his boxers from the floor, slipping them on with practiced ease before making his way to the door. His movements were fluid but purposeful, his broad shoulders and muscular frame silhouetted in the dim light as he approached.

Conner placed a hand on the doorknob, pausing for a brief moment to glance back at you. His expression softened when he saw you peeking out from beneath the covers, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the door.

Conner cracked the door open just enough to see who was on the other side, his body positioned to block the view of the room. When he saw M'gann standing there, her expression bright and hopeful, he let out a quiet sigh, his irritation easing into polite patience.

"Conner," M'gann said, her tone light and cheerful as she leaned slightly into the doorway. "We're all about to sit down for dinner. I thought maybe you'd want to join us?"

Conner glanced back toward the bed for a brief moment, his protective instincts kicking in as he ensured you were still tucked away and comfortable. Then, turning back to M'gann, he gave her a polite but firm smile. "Thanks, M'gann, but I'm going to pass tonight," he said, his voice calm and even. "I've already got plans."

M'gann's expression faltered slightly, the smile on her face tightening for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered. "Oh... okay," she said, trying to keep her tone casual. "Maybe next time?"

"Yeah, maybe," Conner replied, his tone kind but noncommittal as he gently closed the door. He stood there for a moment, letting out a small sigh before turning back toward you, his expression softening the instant his gaze landed on you.

Sliding back under the covers, Conner wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you close against his chest. "Sorry about that," he muttered, his voice low and soothing as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "Now, where were we?"

You smiled sleepily, your head resting against his chest as you let the warmth of his embrace pull you back into the peaceful haze of sleep. "Right here," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Conner chuckled lightly, his grip on you tightening just enough to remind you that you were safe and loved. "Exactly," he said, his tone filled with quiet affection. "Just us. Always." And with that, the world faded away again, leaving only the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his arms as you drifted back into sleep.

[twistedpink]

retraumatized Lilia giving reader that 1000 yard stare because not only do they look exactly like Raverne, they have Meleanor’s personality AND was a knight back in their world just like the knight of dawn.

I’ve learned that if I ignore lost asks then they’ll make their way back eventually, this one was adventuring for a week!! (It’s always the Lilia ones)

(contains spoilers for the first ~60 chapters of book 7!)

Even after all the years of reflection and busying himself, there are the rare moments that he lingers on his general days. Lilia didn’t allow himself to grieve- he’s never had the time between child rearing and shenanigans, but you’ve sent him right back to that awful time. It’d be going against your oath to not take responsibility, wouldn’t it?

“Nostalgic”!Lilia that is drawn to you, more than he’s been towards any human since Silver. He’s seen far too many faces since the invention of “moving pictures”, it’s obscene! But you, with the confident eyes of Raverne, and frankly bratty (he says this with affection) attitude of Meleanor is uncanny,, It’s exactly what he’d imagined Malleus as before his birth, and you will never know just how magnificent you are.

“Nostalgic”!Lilia can’t bear the thought of leaving you to those “teenage vultures”, so he’s gotta take you under his wing! (Third time’s the charm ig) The tech in your world is severely lacking, and you use the new freedom like any founding father would- Blurry Polaroids litter Lilia’s walls now more than ever, but they’re the closest thing he’ll ever have to the portraits of Raverne he enjoyed tolertated so many years ago,, You have his same too-sweet smile, but you’re much too forthright to smooze your way towards anything substantial. It’s what he likes about you, so human :)

“Nostalgic”!Lilia’s gears turn frantically for you. He feels a duty to aid your cause. It’s for nothing nefarious,, You just make him think. He’s sad that maybe in another universe where you looked or sounded different he hadn’t approached you and had not been able to enjoy your presence- Simply because you’re his friend. He has no debts to pay in his retirement, and it is his choice to help a buddy out!

If there is anything that Lilia has made peace with, it’s that people can change, and they do very often! He admires humans the most for their flippancy, and hopes to embody it with his new freetime. You mortals are only around for a few decades, but you sure as hell make it count! Never judge a book by it’s cover or else you might miss your new favourite! You’re definitely one of his better titles, and a little “shock” never deterred him in the slightest <3

[itsmeyaspider]

Chained freedome~

Yandere Loki x female reader

Notes: This fanfiction contains heavy manga spoilers! Also, I've read the latest manga chapter and it's possible that Loki might change in a few ones! So please be beware of it :) Honestly I need to write something about him so badly😪😭

Trigger warnings: yandere behavior, kidnapping, mention of gore, a massacre happens

A small sigh escapes your almost frozen lips, your (b/s) shaped body wrapped in warm fur, couldn't stop shivering. God how you hate this weather. A young, beautiful (h/c) haired woman stares up at the sky, as she stands still for a small moment of time. Maybe it's not the best thing to stand still in this ice cold weather but she had not much of a choice either. Her giant husband adorns her view of the sky, his muscular body, chained to an even bigger, rooted tree. Of course, the accursed prince wouldn't mind this cold weather.

A big evil smile graces his lips, his insane eyes staring at you, even if they are bandaged you could sense them, as if you were one of his loyal beasts. His raspy, dark voice managed to pull you out of your thoughts, even though you preferred to stay inside them, than with him. Your husband.

"What's wrong little one? Did the sight of me leave you speechless?~" he teased in his usual wicked voice. Your brow furrows, as you cross your arms infront of your body. How could it have come to all of this?! You would love to run, run as your legs could carry you and finally get off this far to huge island. But you are not naiv, no never again. Loki, even if he his currently chained up, would find you and then he would start another massacre. Something you can't allow to happen ever again! The screams of the inhabitants still echo through you head, you can't close your (e/c) eyes without seeing your mother painted face. This all is a huge nightmare and you are the vessel of it, you can't escape him no matter what and still you want to be free.

"No, I wonder why you don't finally give up. Shanks wo-" but before you can even continue speaking, his now angry, dominant voice drowns in. Fuck, you completely forgot how much he hated the red haired pirate. After all, he is the reason why he is chained up. Something what you really appreciate, but you could never ever say that to him, no not if you want to incur his wrath again, Loki tends to do cruel things when someone disobeys him, but especially with you. "Never put this name in your filthy mouth again ot I will teach you to fear me again. You are lucky that I am chained up right now. You seem to have forgotten who you belong to over these years."

A could shiver runs over your almost frozen body, you almost fall into a state of shock, something you can't stop. He is right, why were you so stupid to make him upset again? Immediately you look down at the snow, ashamed and afraid of yourself and the things your husband could do to your misbehavior. A cool wind blows through your hair and it almost feels as if the time has stopped around you.

You should have gone with Shanks when he offered you to save you from him. You see it before your eyes to this day, Shanks the man with one arm, the pirate who managed to chain the monster. The red haired man stretches out his right hand towards you, a gentle, charming smile graces his face. He was the complete opposite of Loki, he was funny and helpful. Somethings you always searched in a men. "Come with us (Y/n). I will take you to an island where he won't dare to visit it, you can be free. I can see in your eyes that you want nothing more than that." His words sound like sugar in your ears, every sense in you screams. 'Yes get out of here, get away from him! This is your final chance' and you surely would have loved to take his hand and sail away with them, a normal, peaceful live, like you always wished to.

But before you can take the plunge, you hesitate, something inside you is holding you back from this opportunity. Was it the fear of Loki? Was it the terrible consequence that could happen if you really try to escape from him? You weren't nearly strong enough to fight against your forced husband, it was a miracle that the redhead mad it. You seriously never thought that anyone in this world could defeat him. Not a single giant on this island dared to mess with Loki and then you are supposed to escape him? It all sounded to good to be true. A small, pained smile graces your lips as you nicely decline the emperors offer. Instead, you spend all your years with the accursed prince, something that he really appreciated.

"I-I'm sorry...It won't happen again." You blurt out, your voice sounds almost broken, like a small glass doll who gets thrown on the ground. God, you look so pathetic- The giant calms down a little bit, even though Loki is still boiling with anger, you somehow manages to calm him down. "You are mine (Y/n)! All mine, do you understand it? If I get out of here, and I will get out of here, the whole world will sink into chaos and you, my beloved little wife, will see all of it.~"

~~~

A few years earlier, on a small but beautiful island, the sun is shining on your face, and the birds are happily chirping. You are cleaning the dirty tables from a bar, where you earn a small amount of berries. It isn't much but it is at least something. A small smile graces your face as the wet washcloth makes the alcohol, who sticks on the table dissappear. You are wringing out the rag in bucket as you suddenly hear a loud, almost wild scream. Your thoughts immediately turn to the sound of an elderly man running through several alleys, almost like a stray dog anxious looking for some meat. "A ship, a huge ship has come ashore." He gasps as he bends in his knees.

Normally you would ignore such things, but you could see the big ship with your own (e/c) colored pair of eyes. It's so huge that even someone from far, far away could see it. You would never thought that this is possible, but the truth is, that a huge ship bigger than this island is making a landfall! Something inside you knew that something terrible is going to happen, surely it often happens that different kind of people arrived here on this island to take a small break, but never ever with such a huge ship!

You bite your underlip as you decide that it would be the best if you get on with your work and didn't do something reckless. You didn't get paid for nothing and besides you aren't this kind of person who interfere unnecessarily. So you trun back to the dirty tables as you try to wander off with your thoughts again.

The day almost flies by, you finish your work faster than expected, as you slowly make your way to your little house. Your mother is already waiting for you and you're sure that she makes another delicious meal! You're walking toward home, humming a small shanty you have in your mind, when you suddenly bump into something- no someone. Shocked, you fall to the ground as you try to glance if the person opposite you is alright. As you carefully look up you realize that you have run into a leg, a god damn leg!!! You keep looking up when a bearded giant stands in front of you. His muscular body is covered in tattoos, he wears a hornet helmet on his head and his clothes look like something from another country you couldn't recognize. But the thing you notice most is the giants wide grin, it's filled with mischiev. "Uh...I uhm..I'm sorry sir."

You don't really know how to face the creature, after all, you didn't even know that such a thing existed until now! Now the huge ship on which he must have arrived makes sense! But what the hell is someone like him doing on a small island like this? But before you could even react further, you feel a strong grip on your (b/s) shaped body, as you suddenly get lift up. You try to fight against it, your arms and legs beat wildly around you, but everything you do seems to be usless. The man looks closely into your now frightened (e/c) colored eyes, as his broad grin even widens. "Let me go!" You scream, the man tilts his head to one side as he keeps staring at you. It is almost like as if he is examining you...

You start to give up after a small amount of time, as you realize how hopeless this whole situation is! This guy is much stronger and bigger than you, he could easily crush your body with his bare hands if he want to and yet he doesn't do it. Instead, an even more wicked smile forms on his face, his eyes gleam with pleasure. Something about it scares you, maybe it is his stare what makes you feel like a prey, or it is the fact that this men don't make any intentions to let you go! "I said let me go!" you shout again, but this time the men finally answers, his voice is filled with amusement and lust.

"Hm, I think I will keep you, little one. You are cute, tell me your name." Something inside you knows this is not a simple question, it is a order! You want to rebel against it, you are not a dog who belongs to some kind of giant but instead other words come out of your mouth. "It's (Y/n).." you whisper more to yourself then to him, the men seems to be quite satisfied with the answer, he decides to still hold you in his big hand as he goes to his ship. Again you try to protest against this nonsense, but the giant just simply ignores it.

The night passes through, and your mind is filled with fear, you just couldn't understand why he keeps you here! It didn't made any sense! This needs to be a god damn nightmare... The loud snoring of the men lying next to you fills the cabin with noises, you carefully watch him, something about him makes you uncomfortable. You need to escape quickly before he wakes up again! You keep on watching him until you are sure that he is asleep. Slowly you try to get out his grip, this alone is a masterpiece in itself, his grip is anything but gentle, but you didn't have time to think about it, you must act now!

You move as gentle as possible out of his hand and the way to huge bed, as you suddenly fall on the ground. You let out a small 'oof' from your lips as you lift yourself up again, your (e/c) colored eyes sneak to the giant again, did he hear anything?! You immediately focus on your escape again as you notice a window that is open. You bite on your lower lip, as you try your best to climb up there. However, it's not as easy as you expected it to be, the furniture of these beings are much bigger than everything else you ever saw in your entire life and so you climb up the wall to the window. You could already feel the cold sea breeze, a small triumphant smile crosses your lips as you keep climbing. 'Soon I will get out of this hell.'

But before you can even touch the frame of the window, you are grabbed roughly by an all too familiar strong grip, you let out a indignant scream as you now look face to face with your captor. Your (b/s) shaped body immediately stiffens, you could recognize a glint of anger in his eyes. Shit this isn't good! The grip gets tighter and tighter as you slowly feel how you breathe less and less air. "I-I can breathe.." you whine as you feel your (e/c) clouded eyes being on the verge of tears. This is it you're going to die here, your whole life runs through your head as you wait for your last final breath, but it doesn't come to that, instead you notice how more air gets into your lungs, the grip becomes softer, although it was still firm.

"Do you think you can run away from me (Y/n)? Do you really think I am that stupid, little one? I will never again let a second woman run away from me. You are mine now, and no one on this whole world can change that." The words of the stranger make you tremble, his voice is filled with pure hatred and possession. What the hell is he talking about? You tried to escape from his grip, but instead your body turns against you! The giant continues to stare into your soul, as he suddenly starts to move, his long legs allowing him to appear in the village in a few seconds. "W-why did you brought me here?" Maybe, just maybe he would let me go! Maybe he saw that I'm not the right woman for him! Hope runs through your veins, as a small naiv smile graces your face.

Your smile immediately dissappear again, you notice that the giant starts to grin again as well, it's the grin from before, an evil, terrible one. "I should show you what happens when you defy me. You care about these filthy inhabitants, don't you, little one? If they go up in flames, it will be a lot of fun, won't it?" Your eyes widen in shock, he couldn't be serious! This is pure madness! But something inside you knew that thus man isn't joking around, no, his grin speaks more than a thousand cruel words. "Please don't do this." you beg "I-I will do anything you want but please-"

Your pleading words only make him laugh, he takes a huge pleasure in the destruction, something that deeply disturbs you. But you had no strength left to resist him any longer, instead you had to watch as the whole village and all its inhabitants, including your family and friends to fall into ashes, the only thing that drowned out their pain filled screams was the prince wicked laughter. The flames continued to blaze for weeks, and all because you wanted to escape this monster.

After this tragic stroke of fate you knew that you would never do something so foolish again, but deep down you hoped that there would be someone who could kill him. At least he is chained up, which gives you a little self confidence, but you know that this won't last forever. One day he will break free and only Loki himself knows what he is planning to do. Fear surges through your body as you catch sight of your forced husband again, if there is anyone out there who could hear my prayes, please make this hell stop. Please anyone....