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wonusite · 1 year

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Virgin Killer

❝ You can’t stand the clear line the cute nerd in your calculus class always draws between you two. However, you’re determined to show him that there’s a fine line between love and hate. And if you happen to get him to cross that line, even better. ❞

pairing: joshua hong x reader

warnings: cheerleader!reader, nerd!shua, virgin!shua, he’s kinda cold in this but is lowkey still a soft boi, drinking, teasing, jealousy, reader has a little bit of a corruption kink, loss of virginity, oral sex (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, riding, multiple creampies, overstimulation

read part two

a/n: huge shout out to hoe nonny for being the mastermind behind this fic! minors dni!!

You’re not sure how it happened.

It’s not like Joshua Hong was nice to you. Hell, he didn’t even act civilly towards you half the time. And yet, none of that matters to you. He’s just so cute and kind (to other people) and smart that you can’t help but be attracted to him. Deep down, you’re aware that what you feel is starting to go beyond that of a crush, but your carnal desire is enough to make you disregard the potential consequences of your feelings.

Nothing matters more to you than having that cute little nerd in the way you want.

“What do you mean he’s not coming?” You frown at Jeonghan.

Your friend rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you were expecting. You know he doesn’t like you.”

“But you promised you would convince him to go!” You stomp your foot petulantly. “You said it would be my birthday gift.”

“I’ll just get you that perfume you’ve been wanting instead.”

You try not to let it bother you, but it’s hard not to. Most people take a liking to you, and yeah, it’s not realistic to expect everyone to like you. But you can’t help the jarring disappointment that eats away at you whenever you think about how much Josh dislikes you. What bothers you the most is that he has no legitimate reason to treat you how he does. All you’ve ever been is nice to him.

It’s pathetic of you to still chase after him despite his blatant disinterest and cold attitude, but you don’t care. You’ve never wanted anything or anyone as badly as you want Joshua Hong.

The very next day, you go to the library with the intent to convince him to go to your party. You know he’ll be at his usual table in the corner of the library, studying diligently like he always does. Josh always sticks to his routine—one of the many traits you love about him. A warm feeling consumes your chest when you find him in the exact spot he’s always at.

“Josh!” You call quietly, smiling brightly when he lifts his head.

Ignoring the way he rolls his eyes, you walk over to him, feeling more determined than ever. He doesn’t look up even as you sit next to him. It’s frustrating yet endearing all at the same time.

“What are you working on?” You peer over him curiously.

“Science stuff.” He says curtly. “Things you wouldn’t know about.”

You ignore his dig and let out a gentle hum. “You’re right. Molecular biology doesn’t really interest me. Data structures are more my thing.”

When he snaps his head up at you in shock, you smirk at him. “Sorry. I guess that’s something you wouldn’t know about.”

In all the time he’s known you, he never knew your major. All he knew was that you were on a cheer scholarship. Honestly, he assumed that you were majoring in something that required no real effort. Josh quickly manages to stifle his curiosity and goes back to his research.

“You’re always studying.” You point out, not wanting to waste any more time. “It’s okay to take a break once in a while.”

Joshua presses his lips together before letting out an irritated sigh. “Unlike you, I can’t rely on looking pretty to get through college. I don’t have time for breaks.”

Your smile doesn’t falter at his words, and it amazes Josh how you never take his biting comments personally. In fact, you somehow take his slight as a compliment. “So, you think I’m pretty?”

Despite you not being the type of girl he likes, Josh can’t deny that you’re very attractive. But that doesn’t mean he wants you for himself.

His lack of response doesn't faze you, as usual. “And I seriously doubt that you don’t have time for a break. All the other biochem majors do. They’re all coming to my party this weekend. You should too.”

He ignores the fact that you’ve invited practically all of his friends. “No, thanks.”

Joshua keeps his focus on studying, and as sexy as he looks, it’s also a bit maddening. How can he not want to party with you when everyone on campus was dying for the opportunity? You weren’t vain, but you knew the affect you had on most people. Plus your parties were nothing short of legendary.

“Why don’t you want to come?” You ask him. An unconscious pout brings down the edges of your lips. “I really want you to be there.”

“We’re not friends.” He reminds you. “Why would I go to your party?”

Vaguely, you think it’s sick that you don’t feel deterred by his coldness. If anything, you only feel more determined to ensnare him and make him yours. Only yours.

“Do you not want to come because it’s my party?” You wonder as you scoot closer to him. A smirk lift your lips when he tenses at the close proximity. “Or is it because you just don’t know how to have fun?”

Josh grits his teeth, but doesn’t answer.

It makes you smirk because you can tell he’s on the verge of snapping. Maybe to the point where he’ll fuck you stupid in the library’s bathroom.

“Come on.” You whine, hooking your hand on his arm. It actually surprises you that you feel a bit of muscle through his sweater. “It’ll be fun. You don’t always have to spend your time studying. There’s more to life than just school.”

The last part of your sentence finally triggers a reaction. Josh can handle you clinging to him for no apparent reason. He can even handle your constant teasing, but to have you imply that he’s a straight up lame is—

“Fine. I’ll go.”

He belatedly realizes you’ve gaslit him into doing what you wanted only after you direct your pleased grin at him. However, it’s so pretty that he can’t really be angry.

“Promise?”

Josh actually smiles a little when you stick your pinky out at him. It’s stupid and childish. At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself as you’re looking at him with those alluring eyes of yours. He feels like he doesn’t have control of his own movements as he sticks out his hand to wrap his pinky around your smaller one.

“I promise.”

It’s crazy for Josh to be doing this. He doesn’t even like you. You’re no friend of his, and you probably will never be. There’s no real explanation as to why he agreed to come (you manipulating him doesn’t really count because you’ve annoyed him more intensely in the past), but it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s here, and he has to see it through.

When he knocks on the door, he’s greeted by a large jock whose name he can’t remember. The guy squints at him like he’s trying to figure out how Josh even knew about the party. Typical. This was just another sign that he shouldn’t have shown up.

“Sorry, bro.” The jock says, not sounding sorry at all. “This is a private party. No invite, no—”

“Gyu!” A familiar voice calls, and Josh hates that the sound of it actually makes him feel relieved. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Josh is the guest of honor!”

He’s actually impressed at how easily you shove the giant football player out of the way. Your thrilled expression makes a strange feeling settle in the pit of his stomach. As always, you look incredible. The dress you’re wearing hugs your figure just right. It makes you look like every man’s fantasy. (Not his, though.)

“You came!” You squeal happily, throwing your arms around him.

The smell of your perfume invades his senses and makes his mind feel fuzzy. Just like in the library, he feels like he has no control over his actions as he wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes you against him.

“How is he the guest of honor if this is your birthday party?” Venom drips from Mingyu’s voice.

You pull back slightly and look over your shoulder with a glare. “He’s the guest of honor because I say he is.”

Your arms are still wrapped around Josh’s neck and his are still wrapped around your waist. Neither of you make a move to let go. Admittedly, part of him doesn’t because of the way you responded to your friend. He’s not sure why it made him feel good, but it did. That feeling doesn’t go away even when you unwrap yourself from him to grab his hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Josh smirks at Mingyu as he lets you drag him inside. A deep satisfaction settles in his gut when the jock glares at him.

Josh isn’t used to the attention he’s getting while you guide him through your crowded apartment. It’s new and uncomfortable for him. He’s gone through the majority of his college years unnoticed, and that’s how he liked it.

He notices that you don’t seem fazed by all the attention. It’s not exactly a surprise. As a pretty cheerleader, you’re popular—obviously. In fact, a lot of his own friends have mentioned that they’d do just about anything to date you. He can see that it’s the same for a lot of guys because more than half of them are glaring at him with pure jealousy.

It’s not like he’s a self-deprecating person, but he can’t help but wonder why you were so adamant on pursuing him. Clearly, there’s more than plenty of guys who were eager for your attention, but all you seemed to care about was spending your time with him.

He still can’t believe it.

“What do you like to drink?” You ask once you two enter the kitchen.

“Uh,” he stammers, not ready for the loss of warmth that he feels when you let go of his hand. “Just beer is fine.”

Josh isn’t a heavy drinker, but he feels the urge to get drunk quickly. He naively thinks it’ll help dissolve the nerves that have settled in the pit of his stomach. He’s wrong. The alcohol doesn’t help, especially not when you leave his side for a moment to say greet someone of your friends. You make him promise not to leave, and he reluctantly does.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

Jeonghan is looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a sly smirk. Josh rolls his eyes and focuses on finishing the remainder of his beer. It only makes his friend’s teasing grin widen.

“I...” he lets out a defeated sigh. “Needed a break.”

Instead of teasing him, Jeonghan only hums. “Yeah? Are you sure it’s not because you finally fell for Y/N’s charms?”

“She’s not charming.” Joshua says as he goes to grab another drink.

Jeonghan raises his eyebrows at that. It’s the first time he’s heard anyone say anything of the sort. The strange part is that while Josh does sound sincere, there’s something about his demeanor that says otherwise. Interesting.

“Really? I thought she would be especially charming to you with all that science shit she talks about. Do you—?”

“What do you mean?” Josh cuts him off. “She’s into science?”

His friend looks at him like he’s crazy. “Um, yeah. She’s majoring in computer science.”

Josh feels like his head is spinning, and he knows it’s not because of the alcohol. He hardly has time to think about how he’s never bothered to know such a huge fact about you because in the next second, you’re skipping into the kitchen with a huge smile.

When Joshua isn’t looking, you give Jeonghan a look that silently urges him to get lost. As much as you love your friend, this was possibly the only chance you would have where Josh was actually willing to spend time with you. If there was ever an opportunity to get close with him (in more than one way), it was now. You weren’t going to let anything get in the way of that.

After you watch Jeonghan leave, you look back at Josh to find him already looking at you. It’s different from his usual stare, and it makes a carnal heat crawl up your torso.

“You’re a comp science major?”

Josh almost regrets asking his question when your smile falters. Belatedly, he realizes that any time you’re around him, there’s always an unwavering smile on your face. His heart starts beating irregularly. Did you really like him that much?

“You...” It feels like your throat is suddenly closing in on itself. “You didn’t know that?”

The dejected tone coloring your voice only makes things worse. In the back of Josh’s mind, he thinks it shouldn’t matter if the revelation upset you. But it does. It matters way more than it should, and he can’t stand the guilt that’s biting at his chest.

You convince yourself that the alcohol is making you more emotional than usual. The sinking feeling in your chest definitely has nothing to do with the fact that your feelings have gone beyond a stupid little crush. You’ve known all along how Josh feels about you because he never hid it, and no matter how much it stings, you have to ground yourself so too many of your emotions don’t show.

“Sorry.” He says awkwardly. “I guess we were in the middle of talking about me for the last two years.”

It’s a relief when you laugh. Not only because the sound is honeyed and possibly one of the sweetest he’s ever heard, but because you’re directing that pretty smile at him again.

As the night progresses, Josh doesn’t leave your side. He can’t believe you actually don’t leave him alone despite how many people flock around you and try to steal you away. But you insist on staying by him and listen to him talk about structural biology.

Eventually, you drag him to your room so you two can speak without being interrupted. It’s probably a mistake, but Joshua likes the feeling of your hand wrapped around his a little too much.

You two are sitting on the edge of your bed when you notice something. His hands are big, the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s crazy how you didn’t notice before when you grabbed them, but now it was all you could think about. Suddenly, you feel like your head is swimming, and you’re not sure if it's because of the liquor you’ve drank or because of the thoughts that were starting to make you aroused.

“Your hands are really big.” You blurt, reaching over to grab the one closest to you.

Josh feels like he can’t breathe when you bring his hand closer to your face. The way you’re inspecting it like you want to eat it makes his dick twitch.

“You’re so pretty.”

Your words actually make him blush. The compliment sounds so sincere, and he can tell it is. Before he can even think to respond, you take one of his fingers into your mouth. All coherent thoughts are abruptly shoved out of his mind as your soft tongue circles around his digit. You look so fucking hot with your pretty lips wrapped around his index finger, and Josh can’t think of anything but you.

His cock is straining against his pants, but he’s too enraptured with the sight in front of him to care. Josh can only imagine how you would feel and look with his dick in your mouth. You abruptly release his finger with a loud pop, and it almost makes him whine.

You keep your eyes on his shimmering eyes as you lean toward him. “So fucking pretty.”

He doesn’t stop you when your hand smooths over his chest and slowly trails down his torso. It feels too good. For a second, he wonders if you know that he’s a virgin. Probably not since the way you’re currently looking at him would suggest otherwise. Would you be so eager if you knew the truth?

Josh’s breath hitches when your hand rubs over his erection. He mentally curses himself for being so pathetic to let just a few praises and promiscuous actions get him riled up enough to let you do this. But you just look so fucking pretty that he can’t help it.

He lets you grip and rub him until your hands move to his belt. That action snaps him out of his daze.

“Way-Wait.” Josh breathes out. “I... I’ve never—”

He can’t finish the sentence, but you know what he’s getting at. It doesn’t exactly come as a shock to you. Every time you ever brought up anything sexual he had grown visibly uncomfortable. Over the years, he’d gotten better at hiding it, but you could still see that it bothered him. That’s why you did your best to not mention anything about sex anymore.

It doesn’t surprise Josh when you abruptly pull away from him. He’s known all along what type of girl you were, and obviously you want a guy that's experienced in this sort of thing. Not someone like him.

“It’s okay.” You say softly. “If you don’t want to do this—with me—it’s okay.”

His eyes seem to sparkle even more now, and you can’t believe this unfairly attractive man has never actually done anything. Those eyes could get anyone to do pretty much anything. You knew it better than anyone because you had been dying for the chance.

Josh is too stunned to say anything. Were you really not going to laugh at him?

“We can go back to the party—”

You’re cut off when he suddenly smashes his lips on yours. The kiss is desperate and messy, but you quickly melt into it. To finally have him like this is more than you ever dreamed of, and you would take anything he gave you.

When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes seem to shine brighter than ever. You feel a jerk in your chest, and you fleetingly have a thought that Joshua had officially ruined all other men for you. It’s crazy to think because you know that he doesn't even like you.

“I...” He swallow thickly. “I want to.”

Your breath hitches slightly. “You... You’re sure?”

All it takes is for him to let out a needy yes for your hands to move and unzip his pants. The best part? He lets you. Once you free his cock from his pants, your jaw goes slack. It’s big and thick and pretty. The prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. You lick your lips and look back up at Josh’s flushed face. The sight has your cunt clenching around nothing.

You were going to absolutely ruin him.

You’re torn between looking at his pretty dick and his even prettier face. Eventually, you decide to alternate between the two. Licking your lips, you gently wrap your hand round his thick cock and give it a gentle squeeze. His soft whimper makes you rub your thighs together. The sensitive reaction he has makes you wonder if he’s ever been touched at all.

Slowly, you stroke up the length of his dick. It’s so hot and heavy in your hand that you can only imagine how it would feel inside you. But you push that thought to the back of your mind as you use his precum as a lubricant.

“Fuck.” Josh grunts as his hips buck up gently into your hand. “I-It feels different when you do it.”

You smile at him, watching his face now as to not miss a single one of his reactions. “Yeah? Is it better?”

“So much better.” He moans, tossing his head back.

You’ve never seen a hotter sight, and it takes everything in you not to start kissing up his long neck. The way he’s responding to the attention you’re giving him is driving you crazy. But it would be even better to see him beg you for once.

Josh snaps his eyes open when the pace of your hand slows dramatically. In spite of the situation, you almost laugh when he furrows his eyebrows and pouts at you petulantly. “Please...”

Don’t stop, he wanted to say.

You seemed to understand what he wanted to say, but you only offered him a teasing smirk. Maybe it’s cruel of you to tease Josh, but hearing him beg you for once was the hottest thing ever. You stop your movements and gently squeeze his cock. It takes you by surprise when Josh buries his face in your neck with a bratty whine. Fuck. Now you can literally feel your underwear sticking to your aching cunt.

“You’ve never done this with anyone else?”

His face is hot against your neck, and you can’t deny the pleasure it gives you. “No.”

“So...” you gently run your thumb along one of the more prominent veins of his cock. “No one has ever sucked your dick before?”

He shakes his head into the crook of your neck, and you just know that he probably has the cutest look on his face. You lick your lips and let out a quiet breath because as bad as you want this, you want to make sure he’s okay with anything you do.

“Will you let me be the first?”

You bite your bottom lip when his cock throbs and he lets out a strangled breath. Josh slowly pulls away from your neck and looks at you with hooded eyes. “Fuck yeah.”

Licking your lips, you release him and sink down to your knees. His cock twitches when you start to get closer, and you can't help but smirk. To think that you’ll be the first person to taste him makes you rub your thighs together in anticipation.

You give his weeping tip a gentle kiss you sensually swirl your tongue around to lick him clean. Josh’s reaction is instant. His broken gasp sounds almost cute, and it makes you wrap your lips around him in order to fully take him in your mouth. You loosen your jaw and let your tongue drag along the thick vein on the underside of his cock.

Every whimper and groan of his spurs you on. It has you wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and stroking what doesn’t fit in your mouth. Your other hand reaches for his balls, rolling them and squeezing gently. Joshua whines before it breaks off into a high-pitched moan. Your movements make him buck his hips up into you.

“Fuh-Fuck. Y/N.”

There’s nothing that compares to Josh moaning your name. It makes you bob your head faster until you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. When he whimpers about how close he is, you moan around him. The vibration sends him over the edge. Hot, thick ropes of his cum paint your mouth, and you happily swallow it all.

You slowly release him, eyes widening slightly when you see that he’s still hard. As you go to stand, you feel yourself being pulled on to Josh’s lap. The quiet squeak you let out is stifled when he messily kissed you. All you can do is kiss him back eagerly, gently suckling and biting his lower lip.

When you pull away, you know you won’t be able to let him leave your house until you’ve had every part of him. So you push him on his back and crawl up his body until your face is hovering right over his. Gently, you grind your clothed cunt on his hot dick, relishing in the way he can’t control his moans and whimpers.

“You know, you’re so mean.” You give him a soft pout that makes his cock throb against you. “Coming to my birthday party without a present.”

Somehow, Josh manages to answer you through the arousal that’s clouding his mind. “I… I’ll get you one. A-Anything you want.”

You raise a teasing eyebrow at him. “Anything?”

Joshua moans when you start to grind into him. He quickly nods, too addicted to the way you’re making him feel.

With a gentle hum, a slow smirk stretches your lips. “Then, will you give me your virginity?”

His large hands grip your hips and press you down harder against him. Joshua looks down, frustrated that you’re still fully clothed. He recalls always wanting to have his first time with someone he truly liked and had a connection with. But now that you’re here, grinding your dripping pussy on him, he doesn’t really care about that. And it was your birthday after all.

“You really want me to fuck you?”

Hearing innocent little Josh say something so crude makes you lick your lips. “I do.”

He’s aware that this probably isn’t the best idea, but at the same time, you look so good that he can’t help but want your pussy wrapped around his cock. And so he sits up and starts to roughly tug your dress off of your body. For someone who’s never done anything sexual, Josh is pretty good at getting you naked. It makes you smirk. This whole time you knew he was an undercover pervert.

You had been right all along.

Joshua feels like he might come from the sight of your naked body alone. Fuck. No wonder every guy on campus was dying to fuck you. He feels an overwhelming sense of satisfaction to think that you only wanted him.

He lets you pull off the remainder of his clothes. Josh groans when you rub your dripping cunt on his twitching cock, coating it in your juices. He’s obsessed with the sight of your pretty pussy rubbing all over him, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to feel the same about you after you two were done.

“I... I don’t have a—”

“I want it raw.” You moan in his ear, and Joshua lets out a groan of his own.

You yelp out in shock when one of his large hands comes down to slap your ass. He gently kneads the skin before his other roughly grips one of your cheeks. A loud moan tears from your throat when he drags you up and down his cock. He does it so well and so harshly that you wonder if he lied to you before about being a virgin.

Unable to wait any longer you finally sink down on his cock. You both moan at the feeling. Josh’s cock is so long and thick that he’s already touching your sweet spot. Almost like he was made for you. It’s a shame that you know he won’t ever be fully yours.

“Josh.” You moan. “You feel so fucking good.”

He whines at the praise and helps you lift your hips so you can slam back down on his dick. You feel so good, and when you start rolling your hips against his, he starts bucking up into you. The sound of slapping skin fills your room, and if there wasn’t a loud party going on you were sure that your guests would hear how good Josh is fucking you.

“You’re so tight.” He says through a choked moan.

Joshua loves the feeling of your hot cunt clamping down on him. He nearly comes when he glances to where you two are connected and sees your sweet cream coating his reddened cock. Something carnal takes over him and before he realizes it, he’s grabbing your hips and starts helping you bounce on his cock.

You let out loud whine when he gives you a particularly sharp thrust and slams his tip against your sweet spot. Josh is quick to notices and repeats his actions. The way his thick cock is bullying into you and hitting the spongy spot inside you is making your arousal drip down his balls. Your moans can’t be contained, and you barely sound cohesive as you chant out his name.

Josh’s large hands are all over you. They glide up to cup your tits and roughly knead them before they slide down to squeeze your ass. His hips are bucking into you desperately, trying to fuck his cock deeper inside you.

The lewd squelching coming from your sopping cunt filling the room only makes you get tighter around his dick to the point where he starts throbbing wildly. It feels like your head is spinning because he’s splitting you open so deliciously and hitting that spot inside you every time.

“Are you gonna come?” You wonder as you start to gyrate your hips in a circle. “You look so pretty when you come.”

“Fuh-Fuck.” Josh groans. He does want to fill you up. He’s never wanted anything more. “I’m so close. Gonna stuff you full of my cum.”

His words push you over the edge and has you clamping down on him as you come with a loud yell of his name. It triggers Josh’s own orgasm and as you’re riding out your high, you suddenly feel his hot seed spilling into your cunt. He shoots rope after rope into you, angling his hips up to fuck it deeper into your pussy.

Coming has never felt so good. Releasing into his fist is fine, but it doesn’t compare to coming inside your sweet cunt. The way you’re sporadically squeezing him is something Josh is sure he’ll never be able to forget. You’ve probably ruined the pleasure of masturbating because it won’t ever compare to the way you’ve made him feel.

It’s worse because he keeps fucking up into you as his hands grip your ass to guide you up and down his cock until you’re both whimpering from the oversensitivity. Josh isn’t entirely sure how he’s meant to forget about this, or you. He can’t act like this didn’t happen.

You press a gentle kiss to each of Josh’s cheeks as your breathing slowly goes back to normal. His shining eyes have a look that you can’t place, but it makes you grin. “I loved my present.” You murmur. “Thank you for choosing me.”

His heart swells, and he can’t hate it. Because you’re gently caressing his hair like you don’t want to separate from him. It’s weird because he doesn’t want you to.

“Let’s go back.” You say without making an attempt to move. “Soonyoung didn’t believe me when I told him you were here.”

He ignores that you’re close with his friend and nods. Vaguely, Joshua thinks that while he didn’t have his first time with someone he loved, he still doesn’t regret it. Because he did it with you.

Josh is pretty sure he’s loosing his mind.

Lately, all he’s been thinking about you. The worst part is that he no longer seemed to be a priority for you. It’s crazy to think about because, yeah, he had told you on multiple occasions to leave him alone. And yes, he had also told all your mutual friends to pass along the message. But how could you finally respect his wishes after he gave you his virginity?

It’s maddening because in all the time you had class together, Josh never paid you any attention. Now he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. As embarrassing as it is, he can’t physically stop staring at you. He might look like a creep, but the thing is you don’t actually notice. You’re so into paying attention and taking notes that it seems like you’re in your own world.

Finally, you come to him on a random afternoon while he’s at the library. He hates that you skipping over to him actually brings a smile to his face.

“Hey, Josh.” You say as you bend down to wrap your arms around his neck.

It doesn’t help that you’re wearing the same perfume from the night of your birthday party. That smell makes his cock twitch in his pants, and he can’t believe that even the very smell of you has him getting excited like a teenage boy.

“I haven’t seen you around lately.” Josh tries to be casual as you slip into the chair beside him.

Your frown piques his interest. “Mingyu has been taking up a lot of my time of my time. That idiot lives to make my life a living hell.”

He tries not to feel bitter about the reason you’ve been ignoring him. What does he care if you’re spending time with some dumb jock? It’s not like he cares that you deserve someone who was capable of matching your intelligence who you also happen to have great physical chemistry with. He definitely doesn’t care at all.

Josh’s bitter frown has you tilting your head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He lies as he returns his attention back to his laptop. “I’m glad you’re having fun with Mingi. You two fit perfectly.”

Anyone might’ve taken offense to the way he purposely disregards your friend’s name and his scathing tone, but it only makes you smirk. You resist the urge to coo and lean closer to him. “Are you jealous, Joshy?”

He doesn’t react, not conspicuously, anyway. The subtle clench of his jaw is enough to rile you up, though. This new development was something that made all the chasing you did worth it.

“There’s no reason for me to be.”

You hum. “So, I guess you won’t care if I call Mingyu so he can fuck me until I can’t walk?”

It’s almost funny the way Joshua stands up and starts to gather his things. But it’s ultimately not because he’s suddenly tugging you out of your seat and dragging you with him. You question him all the way back to his apartment. Josh doesn’t say anything even as he lets you inside. Just as you start to look around, you’re suddenly being pulled in another direction.

You’re barely able to register that it’s Josh’s room before he’s shoving you on his bed. It would’ve pissed you off, but when you look back to see him taking off his clothes, you can’t help but feel excited.

“Josh—”

“You think you’re so fucking funny, huh?” He growls once he’s down to his underwear. “Teasing me like you have.”

Josh’s voice has taken on such a deep tone that you could hardly believe it was him who talked. You lick your lips as he crawls on the bed. He roughly pulls off your skirt and tosses it behind his shoulder. It makes your pussy clench around nothing. When you were teasing him earlier, you didn’t expect to bring out such a side of him.

You lick lips in anticipation.

Last time, Josh didn’t get to fully admire you and look at you, but now he has you spread out for him like this, he’s going to fully savor it. He doesn’t hesitate to rip your panties off, groaning at the sight of your glistening pussy. “Do you get this wet for everyone, or is this all for me?”

You would’ve felt embarrassed if you didn’t want him so bad. If Mingyu hadn’t accidentally deleted your presentation materials, you would’ve fucked Josh again sooner. But none of that mattered anymore because you were here now, and he was acting hotter than he ever had.

“Don’t play with me.” You groan. “You know your dick is the only one I want.”

Josh’s cock throbs at your words, and he rewards you by pressing a gentle kiss to your cunt. He licks a long stripe up your slit, stopping to flick your clit repeatedly until you’re crying out for him. The sounds you’re making have him grinding his hard cock into the mattress to try and ease the throbbing in his boxers. He latches his mouth on to the sensitive bud and sucks, hard.

“Josh!” You moan, grinding your cunt into his face.

He smirks against you before releasing it with a pop. Your cute whimpers are something he can listen to forever, and he intends to hear that as often as he can. Joshua takes his time eating you out, indulging himself with your sweet taste. His movements are messy and uncoordinated, but so good.

Before you can reach your high, Josh abruptly pulls away from your aching cunt. He actually smirks when you whine at the loss of stimulation, and you wonder what sort of monster you’ve brought out. But because it’s him, it turns you on.

“Want my cock, baby?”

The pet name actually has you nodded eagerly and clenching around nothing. But because Josh is so fucking mean he only runs his hands over your body and slowly undresses you like if time is frozen. It’s frustrating, but when you go to help him, he harshly slaps your cunt to stop you. It only makes more slick drip out of you.

Josh thinks he might come in his boxers when he leans back and sees your arousal dripping out of you and on to his mattress. He licks his lips, loving how fucked out you already look.

You bite your lip when he finally takes off his underwear and lets you see that pretty cock of his. The way your hungrily eyeing him has Josh gripping your thighs and roughly pulling you toward him. He gently grinds himself between your folds, relishing in the way you buck your hips up into him desperately.

“Look at you, so fucking desperate for me to split you open.”

The way you pout of him makes him feel like he might actually go insane. Josh can’t keep waiting and shoves his dick into you with one hard thrust. You both moan at the feeling, and you can’t believe that you had let anything get in the way of having him fuck you again.

You notice his somewhat hesitant with his thrusts, and you slowly slide your hands down to his hips to guide them. Joshua pauses for a moment before he starts rolling his hips in that same angle that you seem to like. He focuses on your bouncing tits and the mewls and whimpers that are falling from your lips. His tip is hitting against your sweet spot repeatedly until you’re tossing your head back in pleasure.

“You like it when I fuck you there, huh, baby?” Josh says with a teasing smirk. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

His voice is sickly-sweet, and it doesn’t match the way he’s sharply slamming his cock into you.

“Fuh-Fuck!” You moan. “Don’t stop!”

Your sweet cunt is clamping down on him so tightly that he’s starting to feel some resistance. It only makes him drill into you deeper, determined to have you come undone on him.

The way his thick cock is stretching you out has your mind going blank. Joshua is fucking into your wet cunt until your moans turn into incoherent babbles. His hips are rolling into yours desperately, and you mewl wantonly when you feel his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” Josh gasps.

“Oh fuck.” You whine, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten. “I’m gonna—“

Josh groans when he feels your cunt tightly clamp down on his pulsing cock. He looks down and sees his dick is glistening with the arousal dripping from you. He bites his lip, feeling more turned on than ever. By this point he’s thrusting into you sloppily, hips losing their rhythm as hits against your sweet spot.

With one last thrust, you finally break. Joshua groans loudly as your walls spasm around his cock. He loves the sight of you creaming all over him, and that’s all it takes for him to come. Thick, hot ropes of his cum spill into your walls. He surprises you when he starts fucking his cum into you, hitting your spongy spot over and over again with a smirk.

Eventually, he stills and slowly pulls out of you.

You whimper when he spread your lips to watch his cum drip out of you. For a moment you think he’s done until he’s shoving his face into your sloppy cunt, sucking and licking at it like a starved man. You hiss at the overstimulation, but it feels so fucking good.

Joshua pulls away from you with a smirk. Your thighs are quivering, and the sight makes him shove his still-hard cock back inside of you. He throbs inside your hot cunt, stretching you open with every snap of his hips.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” Josh rasps, as he starts fucking into you like it’s the last time he’ll get to have you like this.

“J-Josh.” You whimper as you arch your back. “S-So fucking good.”

It’s crazy how fast he finds your sweet spot again. He keeps slamming his cock against that spot, and it makes you feel almost dizzy. Joshua seems to notice this because he starts snapping his hips deeper into you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel the veins of his thick cock dragging along your velvety walls.

The sound you let out when Josh throws one of your legs over his shoulder is so fucking sexy that he can’t help, but moan along with you. All the arousal coating your inner thighs makes a sticky mess and fills his room with lewd squelching sounds.

“Don’t stop!” You plead, bucking your hips upwards to match his thrusts.

Josh watches his cock slip in and out of you with a loud moan. To see your cream covering his cock drives him wild. He picks up the pace, needing to see you come all over his dick again. Your mouth is dropped open in pleasure, and before he can think twice about it, he presses his lips to yours and drinks in every muffled squeal as he angles himself to bury his tip against the sensitive, velvety spot of your walls.

You can only moan as Josh continues to slam his long, veiny cock inside your tight little cunt. He smirks when you groan and drive your nails into his lithe back. Your legs tremble as he keeps thrusting into you, his girth splitting you open all over again.

“You just can’t get enough of my cock, can you, baby?” He tells with a smirk. You can’t respond because he sinks his teeth into your neck as your walls tighten on his throbbing cock.

“Fucking love your cock.” You mewl.

The way his mouth sucks on your neck and nips at your skin is almost too much and makes your head spin. Josh slips his hand down to your wet pussy, circling his fingers against your slippery bud. It only takes a few calculated strokes for you to cream and gush around his cock. Your toes curl as you orgasm with a loud cry of ecstasy.

Joshua groans as he feels his own climax take over him. Your tight cunt continues to milk him until he's forced to stop and pour himself into you. The feeling of his hot seed painting your walls is something that you’ll never get enough of. He sloppily fucks you both through your orgasms until he can no longer handle the overstimulation.

It takes you by surprise when Josh presses a tender kiss to your lips. He only grins at you before he rolls over with you on top of him. Somehow, he manages to keep his cock inside you as he nuzzled into your hair. He lets out a deep breath and gently runs his large hands up and down your back.

“Will you stay?” He asks shyly, and you can’t believe that this is the same guy who was railing you like no one else ever had before.

“Yeah.” You grin. “I might as well get used to being here.”

Joshua doesn’t try to hide his grin. He never thought that this was how things would turn out, but he’s so glad they did. Because now he was never going to let you go.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs

#joshua smut #joshua hong smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #hong jisoo smut #joshua hong x reader #joshua hong x you #svt x you #svt x reader #josh x reader #joshua x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #joshua hong #svt #seventeen

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seonghrtz · 8 months

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𖤐ㅤ 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗂𝖾𝗌. ๑ 𝗷𝗷𝗸 𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻 !

呪術廻戦 + femreader ! she accidentally touches your boobs. ／ suggestive fluff college au girl x girl & mutual pining.

୨ৎㅤ𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒌𝒐 𝒊𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒊 ! ㅤㅤYou and Shoko have been best friends since childhood. You and she lived in the same apartment building, and because you were the same age, you became friends. The two of you never drifted apart, even when you moved into different halls of residence and took different courses at university. The truth was that you were the only person Shoko thought was worth keeping in touch with. You two were soul mates (not just in the romantic sense of soul mates).

You are her favourite person and the only person she trusts the most. You know absolutely everything about her and she knows absolutely everything about you. There were no secrets in your friendship ⸻ well, except that you were both in complete denial about your romantic feelings for each other.

But besides all the fluff between the two of you, Shoko finds it really funny to just annoy you every chance she gets. You are not safe from her eternal teasing. She loves to see your face burning red with frustration at her teasing. And she used to tease you the most when she needed attention.

Because of medical school, she didn't have much time for herself or for you. So when she was exhausted from studying all day, she had the costume to appear in your dorm. Usually, when she appears in your dorm, the two of you are just having a lazy day, watching TV, reading books together and gossiping about the people in your classes.

But if you have something to do, like a project you need to finish, and you don't give her the attention she needs, she won't hesitate to annoy you in any way she can.

And this time, she decided to get your notebook and started running around the dorm. You get up from your chair and run after her, trying to get your notebook back to finish your notes. When she gets tired of running around, she stops and hides your notebook behind her back. At first you tried to convince her with words, but she seemed to be having none of it ⸻ but in fact she was just trying to get a reaction from you.

When you tried to get close to her, she put her hands out towards you, and her hand accidentally touched one of your boobs. Paralyzed by the situation, she slowly removed her hand from grabbing your breasts and returned your notebook as she left the living room, went into your bedroom, and she threw himself on your bed. She buried her face in your pillows, red-faced, and left you to finish your university work, asking for some of your attention and apologizing for touching your boob.

୨ৎㅤ𝒚𝒖𝒌𝒊 𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒎𝒐 !ㅤㅤYou and Yuki met in college when you found out she was going to be your roommate. In the beginning, you were friendly with each other. As time went by, you started talking to each other more and discovered a new friendship.

And she and you quickly become the best of friends.

You were out almost every Friday night. You both went to parties together or just did random best friend things. And one of her favorite things to do with you ⸻ apart from going to the bar ⸻ was going to the cinema. She always got really excited about watching the films she loved. And watching them with you was just the most amazing experience ever. The two of you go on her motorbike, buy popcorn, cans of soda, and lots of sweets to eat during the film. It was a great experience.

And this time, she was so excited to see a horror film that had been well received by the critics. And after convincing you to go with her, of course with the promise that she would pay for everything, since you're not the biggest fan of horror movies.

During the movie, you held on to the popcorn pot that was next to your breasts. You were so focused on not getting scared that you forgot to eat. And Yuki was enchanted by the movie. She certainly had the time of her life. She was so focused that the movement to get the popcorn by the pot with you just became mechanical.

And just as she was about to get some popcorn, she was not expecting the jump scare scene and ended up getting scared. And accidentally, her hands end up in your boob. Feeling something other than the popcorn in her hand, she involuntarily squeezes your breasts gently, trying to find out what it is. When she finally looked at her hand and realized it was touching your breast, she quickly removed it and apologized.

With a red blush spreading along her cheeks, she looked back at the screen and tried to focus on the movie again, but the only thought in her head was this situation and how embarrassing it was to touch ⸻ and squeeze ⸻ her crush's breasts. Later, in the light, she would have a big problem looking in your direction without blushing.

୨ৎㅤ𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒐𝒓𝒊 !ㅤㅤEver since you and Utahime met in high school, you two have been inseparable. It was rare to see you and her not together everywhere. And it stayed that way until college. The two of you literally did everything together, from being roommates to going to university parties and everything in between. And one thing Utahime really likes to do is drink, and most of the time at the end of the parties you both go to, you end up carrying her back to the dorm. And this day was no different.

You carried Utahime, who had just had too much to drink, probably more than she ever had, through your dormitory, trying to get her to her bed. It wasn't an unusual scenario. But the thing was, Utahime seems to be more touching compared to the other times. This was probably due to the fact that she had a lot more alcohol in her system this time. And you're not complaining because you've recently started to see her in a different light ⸻ realizing that you like her more than just "best friends". You pushed that thought out of your mind and concentrated on getting her safely to her bed. Just as you thought you had successfully completed the mission, a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the bed. You despaired a little when you heard Utahime mumbling something incoherent and just hugged you, her head between your breasts.

When you realized you couldn't get off without waking her, you just gave up and let her sleep with you in her arms. Actually, it wasn't that unusual, the two of you had slept in the same bed before ⸻ well, the other time she didn't have her head between your boobs. But despite the situation, you hugged her in return, closed your eyes and within seconds you were asleep with her in your arms.

The next day, Utahime wakes up before you with a headache, but at first she doesn't realise where she is. When she finally came to, noticed her head between your breasts and one of her hands grabbing one of your boobs, she tried not to freak out and wake you up. She distanced herself from you calmly ⸻ but inwardly she was desperate ⸻ and tried to get out of bed.

With her cheek burning red, she decided to go to the kitchen and prepare some breakfast. But for the rest of the day she would always look away from you because she was embarrassed by what had happened in the morning.

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fatuismooches · 9 months

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Imagine the 3.8 Secret Summer Paradise event but with Wanderer and you. Nahida sends Wanderer to investigate something in the desert and you tag along for fun but you two get sucked into a magic bottle somehow?! Klee dubs his title as the “Sorcerer” - her mage sidekick - and yours as the “Soldier” - her protecter! (Or whatever you want, I’m bad at this.)

The rollercoasters are nothing compared to Wanderer’s flights of fright. He will do loops, twists, turns, upside downs in the air all while holding YOU… at least in the rollercoaster there are seats. Klee is amazed by your endurance and wants to try flying too! (Wanderer reluctantly gives her a piggy back ride and flies a safe distance up from the ground… Kaeya’s watching him very carefully, but you vehemently reassure him that Wanderer would never hurt a child. The cavalry captain actually grows to like him!) Though you manage to convince Wanderer to ride a slow rollercoaster with you. There’s no one else in the Choo-Choo Cart, and it’s late at night. Wanderer lays on your lap as you play with his hair, the both of you silent as you stare out the window, taking in the lovely sights of this realm.

Idyia’s quite scared of Wanderer at first but overtime she comes to fawn over and admire how deep your love is, she’s met many people in her little bottle, but no one has ever had a relationship like yours! Not to mention, Zosimos takes inspiration from the two of you for his characters. And speaking of plays, I think despite the fact the one the group acted out had poor plot, Wanderer finds joy in it, because I believe he likes the arts/dance/performances, and also he found Klee’s acting endearing. (When Kaeya runs out of stories for her, Wanderer takes over and tells her Inazuman folktales!)

Collei is extremely nervous speaking to Wanderer, but finds herself liking him more than she expected. She feels like she can… relate to him, for some strange reason? She doesn’t really understand, since she’s never met him before, but she doesn’t question it. Plus, she knows you’re a really nice person, so you wouldn’t date someone who’s mean, anyway. Eula is suspicious of him at first too, but seeing Collei warm up to him makes her tolerate him, while Kokomi finds the stranger very interesting. She has a few chats with Wanderer, and the things he says about Inazuma has her only more curious. The most important part is, Klee wants to be the flower girl at your wedding, whenever that happens.

Moving on, Wanderer has a soft spot for the Hydro Eidolons because they remind him a bit of the Aranara. He acts all annoyed when they want to play hide and seek with him but secretly he enjoys it (and you’re enjoying his fervent denial at being soft.) You two play all of the games together, although Wanderer is less enthusiastic about it than you (as usual of course) but he actually enjoys Bing-Bang Finchball! :3 (He wonders if his creator and that kitsune would like it, too.) Most of all, Wanderer especially enjoys the solitude he gets at certain places of the realm. Sometimes you’re with him, sometimes you’re not, but when you are, during these moments he’s oddly quiet and clingy. Sometimes he still struggles to accept his life and what he’s been through. But making memories like these with you make him happy.

At the end of your stay, when you have to bury a treasure to leave behind, you put in two dolls of Wanderer and you that you quickly made in the mirage! (Wanderer had taught you how to make them that nicely.) You didn’t show your lover at first, a bit embarrassed and scared of his reaction, but he found out anyway and sighed, but pulled down his hat to cover his blush. He flew you to a beautiful spot with the best view, and you two buried it together. You wonder if it would still be there if you ever visited again.

Even after many years pass, Idyia never fails to tell the engrossing tale of the grouchy puppet and his darling lover, an unlikely but loving couple. Maybe if you’re lucky, you could meet them spending their days strolling the streets of Sumeru with the young Archon.

Overall, an unplanned but very necessary vacation that Wanderer needed. Nahida had a blast listening to all of your stories! (And happy he has made some more friends, which he of course denies that accusation.)

#smooches talks #can you see my need to push wanderer into everything possible #(i love him)#scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff #scaramouche #wanderer #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact

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embrosegraves · 1 month

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ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣

(request) Fernando Alonso x Fem!Reader Starting a committed relationship means telling all of your deepest secrets

Warnings: Mentions of negative mental health, mentions of abu$e, mentions of su!cide, talks of selfh4rm. I am begging you, don't read this if the topics discussed may trigger you

Note: I've never gone through anything like this myself so, with permission, I have based a little bit of the story on a very close friend of mine. It's not exact obviously, but there are elements of a real experience.

You hadn’t been dating Fernando for very long. Just barely 3 months. It still felt like a very new relationship, even if people said otherwise. It had been enough time to realise that you might genuinely love him. He never pressured you, he never made you feel less than, and he always made sure to tell you that you were enough. Sure it was the bare minimum, but it was always nice to know people could be like that.

However, the fact was that you were scared to love him fully. You had almost sworn off dating completely because of your last partner. Your ex had made you feel so unworthy of everything. He had almost convinced you that he was the only person who would ever love you. Almost. Thankfully you had an amazing support system in your friends and most of your family. They had helped you get out of a horrible situation and they were with you the entire time, helping you recover from the trauma you had experienced.

When Fernando had told you he was serious about dating you, you had said to him that it would be a long while before you went further than kissing and holding hands. Like a true gentleman, Fernando had told you that he completely understood that some things would take time, but he was willing to wait for however long it took for you to be comfortable. Which is why today was so important for you.

“I’m nervous to show him, Y/f/n. What if he runs off after seeing it?” You had called your best friend, who was basically like your sister, trying to get rid of the rest of your nerves and anxiety.

“Babe, I’ve seen how he treats and looks at you. He won’t run off and you’ll be okay.” She said, “You’re so brave and incredibly beautiful and he will see that regardless of your skin and scars. I promise if he hasn’t said ‘I love you’ before, he definitely will after this.”

You scoffed. “Thank you but I doubt it. Once he sees he’s going to run for the hills.”

“Who’s running for the hills?”

You jerked your head around and saw Fernando walking through the door. You quickly said goodbye to your friend who wished you luck, and hung up the phone. You turned your body so that you were fully facing Fernando. Thankfully he could understand that this was going to be a serious conversation, so he gingerly sat next to you and took a hold of your hands.

“I need to tell you something important.” You said, keeping your eyes firmly on the space of blanket between you. His thumbs started rubbing circles over your knuckles, bringing you some comfort.

“I don’t need to know if you’re not ready to tell me.” He said softly.

“No. You need to know this.” You took a deep breath before you launched into your explanation. It was now or never.

“When I was in my early 20s, I was dating this guy. He was my first serious relationship that I’d ever had and for a time I thought he was going to be my future. I didn’t realise it at the time but he was very isolating, and controlling. There were times where he would scare me and laugh when I’d cry. He wouldn’t always, but he would often tell me that he was the only person who could ever love me, and for a time I believed him.” You didn’t want to count the amount of times your voice had already cracked.

“It really took a toll on me. So much that in the last few months of that relationship, I started to hurt myself. Because part of me thought he was right. When he found out what I was doing, he started to- He started-”

Fernando wiped a tear from your face. When had you started crying?

Taking in another big breath, you continued. “He started to hurt me as well. He would press on them while they were fresh and he would bruise me to see the colours. If my brother hadn’t walked in, I probably would’ve taken my life.” You finally looked at Fernando’s face and saw that he had begun crying too. Lifting one of your hands you wiped his gathering tears.

“I decided that if our relationship is going to go further, then you need to see what I did to myself.”

You slowly stood up, taking your hands from his, and began to shimmy your trousers down until they were pooled at your feet. You kept undressing before you could chicken out. You took your cardigan off and your shirt followed soon after. Standing there, in front of Fernando in just your undergarments, your scars were on full display. The scars on your thighs and stomach had been healed over for many years now but they still looked just as angry as the day they appeared. You had to force your arms to stay at your sides instead of curling around your stomach like they wanted to. You tried your best not to flinch when Fernando brought his hands up to gently trace them with his fingers.

Fernando looked up at you from where he was still sitting. He looked at every inch of your face and he saw just how broken you were. His heart hurt just thinking about all the abuse you were put through. He took hold of your hands again and slowly dragged you closer to him, giving you plenty of time to back away if you wanted to.

When you stood directly in front of him, he wrapped his arms gently around the back of your thighs and laid his head to rest on your stomach. Your hands were on his shoulders.

“You don’t know how incredibly strong you are, Mi Vida. You are so, so strong and I’m so lucky to be with you now.”

By now the both of you had tears streaming down your faces. Neither of you bothered enough to wipe them off. You were terrified of how your relationship was going to continue, if it was continuing at all.

You felt Fernando leave soft kisses just over your scars, as if he was afraid to hurt you by pressing more firmly. Quiet sobs broke their way past your lips. Your grip on his shoulders tightened just a bit.

“Please don’t leave.” You whispered, voice heavy with emotion. Fernando loosened his grip and stood up to cup your face in his hands. You brought your own hands to rest on his wrists as he held you.

“There is not a single thing about you that would make me leave.” His thumb brushed a stray tear away. “I love you more than I can say.”

Hearing his words, you closed your eyes and began sobbing harder. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist as you buried your head into his chest. Fernando hugged you close to him and gently caressed the back of your head.

“Thank you for being brave enough to tell me.”

I hope you enjoyed reading this! I tried my best to write this in a way that was both a little detailed but also very vague so let me know how I did!

as always, likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

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WHY DON’T YOU GIVE ME A SMILE? (ACT 1)

YANDERE! BATFAM x JINX (ARCANE/LEAGUE)-ESQUE! READER

A lil’ platonic yanderes harley and joker in the mix too hehe

gender neutral reader.

cw/tw: mentally ill reader. reader has schizophrenia. reader has a massive fear of abandonment. harley and joker only feed to that. a r s o n among other crimes. gaslighting. manipulation. implied r*pe (by reader im so sorry you guys) reader is interested in all genders.

summary: meet jinx, gotham’s loudest, most explosive villain. no one knows who they really are, or if jinx is really even their name. but one thing’s for sure — they’ve got a lot of people chasing after them and their reasons aren’t so noble.

status: unedited

Considering Jinx was inspired by Harley Quinn. You’re probably her protégé. Her darling little child with Joker.

YOUR ORIGINS:

She saw you in the aftermath of the explosion. Cold and alone. Fire roaring behind you despite the heavens pouring its heart out, as if it was desperately trying to wash your tears and pain away.

She saw your bruises and a girl a little older than you walk away.

Her heart ached for you. No child deserved to be put in that kind of position, so she stepped in and made herself known.

“ I . . . I only wanted to help . . . Don’t leave me . . . Don’t . . .

You muttered.

Joker, who came here to marvel at the chaos such an explosion would present smiles maniacally.

You. You were the one that did this.

This beautiful wreckage and an equally beautiful child.

You were practically begging to be moulded into a weapon.

You charged at them both as they got closer, and while Harley was ready to defend her man - even hurt you if she has to - they did not expect what came next.

You just, held unto Joker’s right leg.

“ She’s not my sister . . . No . . . if she was she wouldn’t leave me . . . “

You were far too emotional for his liking. But nonetheless. A boon can always be found in a curse. That is, your desire for revenge.

He takes one look at Harley before picking your small body into his arms.

“ Who cares about fools like them, little one? They don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”

His smile never stopped widening, yet even as a kid you never saw it as creepy or unnerving. In fact, it only reminded you of the smiles you used to draw on your nail bombs.

“All we ever truly have is ourselves. “

“So, smile. Don’t let your tears bring you down.”

Moulding you into the perfect weapon was easy.

Having a psychiatrist as a partner did help a lot in your development.

All it took was a few reminders of that fateful day before you began obediently following their rules and instructions.

You were a genius and since Harley kept protesting against it. You weren’t baptized into a vat of acid like the couple was.

Now, Harley and Joker are the worst possible parents you can ask for. So unlike Arcane’s Jinx. You are way way more unhinged. Not to mention, horny and materialistic.

As you grew up, you began to take interest in intentionally hurting people just for the sake of it. Stealing things was just a normal Tuesday for you. Being successful in your endeavors for once, and having bigger stacks of cash felt exhilarating.

The women and men were amazing. Your pseudo parents being who they were, didn’t really care if you were a sexual deviant or a pervert. When your hormones started kicking in they let you do whatever you want. Even giving you some of the people he held hostage as a toy to play with. If you have the capability of getting someone pregnant/or getting pregnant yourself they wouldn’t really care about the baby but you knew them well enough to know they’d use the kid as a way to manipulate you so you were careful in that aspect anyhow.

Harley noticed that when laying with women you’d often call out your sister’s name or call them sis by itself.

Sick. Disgusting. Is what a normal mother would think after finding out such a fact.

But to her you were just growing up so quickly. She had convinced Joker to go ahead and kill your sibling a long time ago behind your back and was growing anxious with the thought of you hating her and ruining this happy family dynamic (she had in her head)!

So she starts bringing you to more heists in disguise. Always keeping a close eye on you so that if any of those stupid heroes and vigilantes get any close, and you too far. She’d know as soon as possible.

It’s safe to say you grew up pretty spoiled, but even then you were hungry for more.

You see, even if they (Harley and Joker) weren’t careful with their “parenting” approach. They were careful with keeping you hidden from the Dark Knight himself.

Not that they were scared you’d get hurt. They could always nurse you back up again. Harley actually enjoyed the times you’d gotten in the cross fire. More time to take care of you in her arms.

They were mostly scared of the Dark Knight stealing you. Afraid that he’ll take you away and turn you into a goody-two-shoes they wouldn’t recognize anymore.

So as much as you were more involved it still felt like they were babying you.

It was your situation with you family all over again

But this time, this time you’ll show them…

You weren’t weak. And it’ll do them good to remember that.

YOUR RIVALRIES:

You made your debut at around the time Tim was still Robin.

You were his very own Joker. A menace deal with. A person that only cared for the thrill that came with hurting and killing masses.

You were terrible. Evil. A demon he had to exorcise from this world.

A demon he fell hopelessly in love with.

He didn’t know how his feelings came to be. It may have been the amount of stress and pressure he was facing coupled with having to deal with your ass every damn day whether directly or indirectly. But he found himself yearning to see you at times. Getting warm when he thought of you. He felt solace knowing that no matter how many times he’d attempt to tear you down completely, you’d still come back to face him once again.

He was so guilty of his feelings. How could he fall for someone as heinous as you? You were the worst of the worst. But somehow that made things so much more better.

You were a taboo. A vice he couldn’t have. The thought of entering such a forbidden relationship excited him just cause it was just that — forbidden , a temptation that should always stay like that.

He somehow manages to gain the self control to stay away from you for a while.

But then came Damian and he was set to replaced. Just like that.

“Wow there Timmy Boy. You look like shit.”

“J-Jinx?! Why are you here? How do you know my name?!” He asked as if he didn’t know every single detail about you himself.

“I have to know my little birdie well don’t I?”

“What kind of archnemesis would Jinx be to their little Robin if they didn’t do a lil’ research?” You spoke in a higher, cutesy voice as if you were your handgun that you’ve affectionally named Zapper.

“Right you are Zapper! I would be a terrible rival. That wouldn’t do for a hero as great as Timmy!”

He thought that all his work was all for naught. All the hours he spent trying to prove himself was gone so fast.

But you reminded him of his place in this world. Of his position as a hero. Your rival.

The warmth in your eyes when you looked at him sealed the deal. There was no coming from this. He was yours as you were his.

“Only I can hurt you like this, toots. Don’t forget that.”

Little did you know that Tim took those words to heart and never let anyone else hurt him (and stay alive).

“Big Bat can replace you but you’ll always be the Robin in my heart !” You winked at him, signaling with one of your manicured fingers for him to smile. Which ended up almost scratching your cheeks.

Tim was confused (incredibly flustered, not to mention har—), why were you so kind to him all of a sudden. He knew you were the playful type but you were usually ruthless when it came to battle. You weren’t one to play with food for too long. For you to excuse him, much less help him in such a state.

Who were you and what did you do to his Jinx?

“OW hEy! I swear if you put that there Pow-Pow— I’ll—“ Tim heard you screeching out of view.

Scratch his doubts. Yep, you were definitely still his Jinx.

The Dark Knight knew who you were from the beginning.

He had his suspicions even before you came into the scene. With your knack to tag everything with neon spray-paints.

At first he thought you were a simple thug that Joker and Harley picked up. But the way they were sheltering you made it seem otherwise.

The regret he felt knowing that you were basically a child in their filthy hands and was now far too gone to save was immense.

If only he knew. You wouldn’t be in this situation.

While he was “dead” he found himself looking into you more. About the death of your biological parents and the way your sister abandoned you to Harley and Joker.

He felt pity for your childhood and a sense of kinship. Sure the incident may have been your fault but you were a child. How could you have known your actions would have such terrifying consequences.

If only you knew him when you were younger.

If only.

He was sure you’d be one of the greatest vigilantes alive.

“I knew you were alive.”

You looked down at Batman, staring while both of you were being doused by the rain. Thunder accompanying the sound of conversation.

He takes a defensive stance.

“I’m not going to fight ya, that’s Joker’s thing. And I know he’ll grill my ass if I stole his archnemesis.”

“What a loser!”

“Hey! He took us in. We should be more grateful!”

Bruce looked at you as you talked with a new, rather large, shark shaped gun. He had memorized the names of all your “companions” by now and was oddly excited and slightly unnerved by the new one.

“So, why’d you leave? Was it . . . was it on purpose?”

“No.”

“Then come back.”

He almost dropped all his plans with the way you told him that.

“Tim needs you . . . and your other sons too or whatever.”

“Come with me.”

“You crazy, old bat? Why would I—“

“I know what it feels like to have no family. Harley doesn’t love you. Joker doesn’t love anyone.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“Well tough luck man. I don’t give a shit about love.”

You dropped down to his level. A thud resounds, loud enough to cut through the rainfall and thunder.

“Cause love never gave a shit about me.”

“We’ll have to refuse. Just get back to your sons, hero!”

“I’m sorry, perhaps I didn’t make it clear enough—

— I don’t think you have a choice in this matter, [Y/N].”

Act 2 with Jason, Dick and Damian coming soon! If you’d like to be tagged just reply to this post ^^

You like my writing? Follow my blog and maybe take a look at the fic linked below!

WHAT’S UP DANGER : Yandere Batfam x Miles Morales! Reader

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wenamedthedogkylo · 10 months

Text

I already said this in my other post but this really deserves to stand on its own and honestly I'm crying over it so it has to get written down somewhere, but when Bor'Dor took a pull from Ashton's pipe, the smoke turned into an image of him shooting a Fire Bolt at the janky, creepy, lovingly set up dummy that the Hells had made for him. The target that his own targets made out of admiration for him, out of affection, out of genuinely wanting to see him grow his potential.

Ashton's pipe showed that the greatest, most heroic moment of Bor'Dor's life was casting Fire Bolt at that target, and getting to celebrate it with the rest of the Hells. It was feeling accepted for the first time in his life. Feeling respected. Feeling like he belonged, like he and his magic belonged and weren't some horrible, dangerous thing that they would fear him for or would have a temple come and cart him away for.

These people—who he somehow either followed across an ocean or luckily ran into—who he specifically stayed with because he intended to kill them for sabotaging the Ruby Vanguard's plans. For killing "his friends" in Marquet.

These people were the ones he finally felt accepted by. Not the Ruby Vanguard.

He gave Ashton the first piece of mental relief and relaxation they'd felt in years, maybe ever. He gave them jerky, and made them fruit leather, and caught a little fish and had Prism Enlarge it to make sure they could eat. Was he telling himself it was just to ingratiate himself to them, to get closer so the knife would be easier to twist? When did ingratiating himself become "I wanted you to like me"? Did he have to keep convincing himself it was all part of the plan, that he didn't really like them, that he didn't want to keep them alive but he had to to get his revenge, that he could let them die at any moment and this wasn't just him getting attached because how could he get attached to people he meant to kill?

Did Bor'Dor realize, in the moment that he decided to try killing them in that cave, that the Vanguard had only ever seen him as a weapon? That his "friends" who'd died in Marquet (he'd watched Ashton throw some of their bodies out of the Hole just days ago) wouldn't have sought revenge for his death the same way, because he was nothing more than a tool for one man's schemes? Did he realize he had more in common with Orym who'd lost all his loved ones to Ludinus and Otohan and the Vanguard—with Laudna and her myriad of terrifying, beautiful magical gifts and her desire to do good with them—than he'd ever had in common with anyone in the Vanguard?

Is that part of why he just tried to run?

It didn't have to be this way!

Bor'Dor healed most of the group right after fighting the Taker. He knew that his Vitriolic Sphere probably wouldn't kill all of them, that they had health potions and could recover. He just needed to get away. Get away so that they couldn't come after him, and he didn't have to see how he'd hurt the only people who'd welcomed him into their hearts in years, and he could tell himself that maybe they did die and he'd fulfilled his mission, and could tell himself too that maybe they didn't die and he hadn't actually killed his only real friends in the world.

I saw you! In Marquet! You murdered my friends!

Was he really still angry at the Hells for killing Ruby Vanguard members? Or was he trying desperately to fight back against how much they cared about him? How much they had genuinely reached out and taken him in? How much it was going to hurt him to hurt them? Was he trying to cling to his original purpose, so that he could ignore how much it hurt to kill the first people who'd seen his magic and said "you're amazing" and meant it? Who'd said "can I try something", "what else can you do", "it's nice to know I'm not alone, because you're in the same boat as me"?

And when he gave up... when he didn't try to fight back... when he begged for the end because there was no point anymore...

The Vanguard wasn't enough to stay alive for. And he'd just betrayed the only people who'd ever completely accepted him. There was no point anymore. No point in fighting. No point in living. He was done. He'd had enough.

Bor'Dor Dog'Son deserves his peace. I'm glad he got it.

#Critical Role #campaign 3 #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #campaign 3 spoilers #critical role meta #critical role theory #c3 meta #c3 theory #Bree's stuff #about me #about Bree #fuck I'm crying again

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spaceagebachelormann · 5 months

Note

Hello! If you’re taking headcanon requests, may I please request headcanons for what Count Dracula & Erik the Phantom would be like as husbands?

dracula and erik as husbands !

✧ warnings — some mentions of death and possible spoilers for dracula and phantom of the opera. also like 2 sexual jokes i think

✧ additional info — i got so so excited by this request omg <3 if u wanna id rlly appreciate it if u sent me more requests for phantom of the opera and classic monsters!! also not really specific versions of them but i mainly had the book versions in mind

✧ m.list — nav.

ೃ༄ erik destler

he wouldn’t wait to marry you

like at all

the second you show him you’re willing to be in a relationship with him and he’s sure you won’t leave him he’s already planning your wedding

of course if you wanted to take it more slowly he might be a little impatient but he’d try his best for you :)

but he’d be so happy if u were ready to get married as soon as possible

the sad thing is he’d get so stressed while trying to plan it because he’d want it to be absolutely perfect because that’s what he didn’t get with christine

and he’d try to convince you not to worry about it or help plan the wedding becaus he wants it to be a surprise for you

however he’d talk to you about what you want <3

so unfortunately he doesn’t know a lot of people 😭 so your wedding audience consists of daroga, mme giry, and maybe christine and raoul if ur lucky and manage to convince them (but they’ll be a little on edge)

and u can invite ur family if they’d be accepting of erik!

once y’all are married it’s so sweet and romantic ohmygod

he’d make u breakfast and dinner every single day, even if he’s had a particularly bad day

he just loves doing things for you

he’d also love writing even more songs and sometimes even entire operas for you or about you, you’re his muse

before he was able to take breaks from bis work to focus on you for awhile

but now you’re married he just can’t be away from you for two minutes

will sit on the floor and talk to u while u shower

or he showers with u

his love language is spontaneously twirling u around and redoing ur wedding dance in the most random places

also carrying u to ur bed if u fall asleep on him or somewhere else, before marriage he’d just let u sleep there and make sure he doesn’t wake u up

such a sweetheart <3

ೃ༄ count dracula

takes his time to marry you

but that’s only because he takes a lot of time working out when and where to propose and shit

and then probably has the wedding planned before you even say yes

which obviously you do

he’d be a little cocky abt u saying yes ngl cause he already knew u would

but the wedding itself obviously takes place at night and mainly other vampires will show up, but he won’t let them remotely near you assuming he hasn’t turned you yet

if he has then go talk to them!! there’s no risk of u dying or getting turned by someone else!!

he’d also rlly like cooking for u and shit since he canonically had to sprint around his castle to make it seem like he had butlers or whatever 😭😭

how good is fucking amazing btw

like god damn

and obviously he has a comfortable ass vampire bed that he’d let u put 60 pillows on if u want

he’d also like have a thing for ur hair no matter how short or long it is

he likes standing behind u and running his hands through it when u do literally anything for funsies

and his fingers are really pretty and long and cold so they feel nice

he also brushes it a lot esp in the mornings

he also doesn’t even look another persons way when he’s with u

ever.

and his brides are now just. draculas sisters or wtv 😭

unless u want them to be ur wives too he won’t complain

as much as he loves you there’s time where he js like. wants personal time to go kill people think

id also imagine ur very close with renfield

like draculas kinda mean to him but ur rlly nice to him <3

like for example waving at him when u see him or just going “hi renfield!!”

renfields probably the one who found u ngl

i can’t think of anything else for him mb pookie 😔 i’ll add to this later

#mars writing 🧈#dracula #dracula x reader #dracula novel #phantom #phantom of the opera #erik destler #poto #phantom of the opera headcanons #erik destler x reader #dracula (marlees version 🩸)#phantom (marlees version 🎻)

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callsignhoney · 2 years

Text

leave me breathless ➤

pairing ➤ bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader

genre ➤ smut

summary ➤ rooster is wholeheartedly convinced you have no interest in him and you’re just dying to prove him wrong

———

Rooster’s eyes had been glued to you since the moment you stepped foot in that bar. He’d known you for years; you were his wingman, his best friend, his partner in crime. He had been hopelessly in love with you for over half the time you’ve known each other. And that skirt was not helping things.

Most of the time he was good at hiding it. How else would he have kept you oblivious to his attraction if he wasn’t good at shoving his emotions deep into some pit in his stomach and letting them rot and fester until he became lightheaded at the sight of you? He felt oddly breathless watching you from across the room, like there was a weight on his chest that made each inhale a struggle.

“So… I’ve gotta ask. How long have you been in love with Pocket?”

Rooster froze and looked down at the woman beside him. Phoenix had a knowing smile on her lips but kept her eyes forward.

Rooster grimaced and hung his head. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not really, but I just always had a inkling there might be something a little more than friendship between you two. It wasn’t until I saw how you were just looking at her that I was truly convinced.”

When he looked up again, his eyes sought you out immediately. He was wholly captivated, not for the first time, by you. You’d stolen one of his shirts and was wearing it tucked into a skirt that fully showed of your legs. Being around you would be dangerous tonight, threatening the balancing act of “just friends” he so carefully placed atop his undying adoration of everything you were.

“There it is again—man, you are just infatuated, aren’t you?” Phoenix teased.

“Spare me, please,” Rooster groaned.

“So how long?”

“Ten years,” he admitted in a mumble, lips pressed to his glass, “give or take.”

“Why not just tell her?”

Rooster scoffed and downed the rest of his drink.

“It’s not that crazy of a suggestion.”

“I’m pretty sure that’d be breaking some kind of bro code.”

“‘Bro code?’” Phoenix laughed.

“Yep.”

“Are you not allowed to break the bro code if you don’t want to be just bros?”

“If only it were that simple.”

Phoenix may have picked up on his feelings for you, but what she didn’t know was that Rooster had confessed to you once. It was early on in your naval career when you were assigned to the Golden Warriors, Rooster’s flight squadron. You’d been flying with him ever since. He’d been pining over you since a few months after meeting you.

You were easy to talk to and be around. He liked being around you. You had this amazing ability to talk anybody down from panicking in the air and were one of the most reliable, trustworthy people he had the honor of knowing. He never had to try around you; he felt as if he could just exist and you’d be right there with him.

You’d only been assigned for about a year before Rooster drunkenly confessed to you one night as you were tasked with getting him home. You very kindly told him to shut the fuck up and stop spewing nonsense before tucking him into bed and crashing on his couch. You made breakfast the next morning and he pretended not to remember anything of the night before.

Maybe that didn’t properly count on account of his inebriation at the time, which would more than likely lead you to believe he was just being an idiotic drunk, but the sting of rejection still felt very real. He couldn’t risk pouring his heart out to you while sober and leaving himself open for you to turn him down.

Without too much more pestering, Phoenix seemed to take pity on him and left him to his own devices. She joined you across the room. He soon realized what he thought was pity was actually conniving as she pointed him out to you. He subtly flipped her off as you made your way over to him. She flashed him a smile.

“Hey, I didn’t see you come in,” you said, swinging into the seat beside him.

“Didn’t know you were here already,” he lied right through his teeth.

“Phoenix said you had something to tell me.”

“Did she, now?” He caught Phoenix stealing a glance at the two of you. “I don’t, really. Don’t know where she got that from.”

“Oh, she must’ve misheard you,” you laughed it off, thankfully. “You should come play with us. It’s boring without you.”

You and a few other pilots had been playing pool along the far wall. He knew this because he’d been watching you the entire time and forcing himself not to look too long any time you bent over to make a play. That skirt was playing a dangerous game.

“No, it’s alright. I’m probably gonna leave soon, anyway.” Translation: he could not be nearer to you than absolutely necessary when you looked like this.

“C’mon,” you said, leaning on his arm, “just one game? Before you go?”

“Okay, okay,” he relented, if only to get you to stop leaning on him so close that he could kiss you if he turned his head.

———

Another night out with you ending in a cold shower had Rooster laying awake and staring at his ceiling, silently begging the universe for some semblance of mercy. The white noise of his ceiling fan was the only thing that answered him. He didn’t want to end tonight with his hand and thoughts of you again. A knock at his door spared him from his thoughts.

You pushed past him before he even had the door fully open.

“Okay, yeah, come on in, Pocket, fine by me.”

“I have a direct question to ask you,” you told him.

“Okay. Shoot.”

“Are you picking up what I’m putting down?” you said.

“…I’m not following.”

“Are the signals being read loud and clear, or are you getting a lot of mixed messages?”

“Still lost.”

You buried your face in your hands in exasperation. Taking a deep breath, you looked him dead in the eye and asked, “Are you comprehending that I’m trying to sleep with you or not?”

Rooster blinked at you, mouth falling open.

“That answers that question, then,” you said. “God! Phoenix said I was being so obvious, too.”

“Phoenix said—oh, that meddling little snake.”

“Don’t talk bad about Phoenix. She said even Bob noticed the moves I was trying to put on you and you were still oblivious.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop to consider you liked me when you literally rejected me.”

“When did I reject you?”

“That night after the bar? In the Philippines?”

“That did not count! You were drunk off your ass and professing your love to me. And I didn’t even reject you, I just told you to shut up and go to sleep.”

“It felt a lot like a rejection.”

“You—oh my god. I wasn’t going to confess to you while you were hammered!” you said like it was obvious (it was). “Then I’d just have to do it again when you were sober.”

“I’m sober now.”

He walked you back against the door until you were pressed against it. You laughed, he realized, nervously. He made you nervous.

“You are tipsy at best, big guy,” you said with a pat on his chest.

You tried to slip around him, but he wasn’t having it. He put an arm in your way and got even closer to you, leaning down to your eye level.

“I have a direct question for you,” it was his turn to say.

He watched as your chest rose shakily, breath fluttering from your lungs. You shifted, thighs rubbing together. He hadn’t even done anything yet but you were so affected by him. Keep this up and he’d have a power trip.

“Yeah?” you breathed.

“Yeah,” he said.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I want to know if you like me how I like you,” he said. “Do you want me? Like I want you?”

You struggled to hold eye contact with him. Your breaths came unevenly and exhaled shakily. Your eyes darted to his mouth and back up again. Your answer was written clearly behind those eyes, but it was too fun to tease you. He wanted you to admit it.

“Yes,” you said quietly.

There was some low sound that came from the back of his throat. His first touch on you was his hand on your neck, just firm enough to grip and hold you in place. You gasped—literally gasped—at the touch. He almost broke right then. He still needed a little more.

“Do you think of me? When you touch yourself? Because I think of you. Every. Goddamn. Time.”

He had you all but pinned to the wall by your neck but his body was still not on yours. You could feel his breath as he spoke against your face but he was still too far away to kiss. He was so close but there was still a distance between you that he wanted you to cross. He wanted you to make that leap.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I think of you.”

“What do you think about?”

“I think about how your fingers are so much bigger than mine.” You clenched your thighs together. “I think about how well they’d stretch me open to fit you. I want you to stretch me open and make me take your cock.”

“Fuck,” he growled.

Rooster’s kiss was searing. He was all-consuming, smashing his lips to yours and holding you firmly in place with little wiggle room around the necklace his hand had become. His tongue searched into your mouth and you let it. You swapped spit and little nibbles at each other’s lips until Rooster decided to move on.

He let go of your neck only to move his lips to it, sucking and biting hard enough to leave little twinges of pain behind. It hurt so perfectly good. You couldn’t stay focused on how he was kissing your neck for long as his recently vacated hand moved to slide underneath your skirt.

“This thing was driving me crazy all night,” he said. “I swear half the bar was watching anytime you bent over to see if you were wearing any panties or not. It’s almost like you wanted people to stop and stare.”

“I wanted you to stare,” you confessed.

“Well, I did. Almost got hard at the sight of it.”

“Good.”

You gasped again as his fingers discovered you were not, in fact, wearing any underwear under your skirt. You really had wanted this; there was no other explanation. He just wishes he had seen it sooner.

He huffed out a bemused breath. “You are such a little minx.”

“And yet it took me coming here and telling you to fuck me to get it into your thick skull.”

“Keep giving me attitude and I’ll stop playing nice,” he warned, fingers barely ghosting over your dripping core.

“Who said I wanted nice?”

He halted. You laughed at him.

“Again, you’re missing the obvious, Roost,” you teased. “I tell you I want you to make me take your cock and you think I want to play nice? Come on. I want you to fuck me until I’m crying and not stop until I am begging you to.”

Rooster knows you very well. You are his best friend, and he’s yours. He shouldn’t have been all that surprised that the woman who lives for that spike of adrenaline both in and out of the cockpit wouldn’t want to take it slow. You drove him crazy with worry by how fast you flew, how hard you were able to take turns. If you wanted him to be mean, then he could be mean.

Your back hit the wall as Rooster slammed you against it. He pinned you there as he kissed you until you could barely breathe and his fingers—the fingers you imagined touching you so many times before—slid into the wetness between your folds. He dominated the kiss without much of a fight, licking into your mouth as you struggled to catch your breath.

He’d slicked his fingers up enough to slide one into you and you gasped. He pushed a second in beside it that had you whimpering against his lips. You already felt pulled tight against him with just this. The stretching part of your fantasy seemed to be necessary, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d complain at all if he forced his cock into you without prep.

Not this time, he told himself as he started to fuck his fingers into you. He could feel your heartbeat in your throat when he nipped at your neck again. You were gasping and choking on air above him. You squealed as he slid a third finger into you.

“You talk such big game for someone already wrecked,” he mused, pulling out of your neck to look at you. “I haven’t even fucked you properly yet and you’re a mess.”

“Please—fuck! God…,” was all you could manage, not even a response just continued babbling brought on by how his fingers were working you open.

“I have half a mind to just stuff you full right now and not even bother prepping you.”

You keened at that, whining unintelligibly and grinding down into his hand.

“You like that? You want me to make it hurt?”

“Please. Please, Rooster. Please.”

You were begging him to do it, and who was he to deny you? Gentle could come later; this was a decade of pent up emotions coming to its head and he would not wait any longer than he had to.

You gave a little noise as he pulled his fingers out of you and you were suddenly left empty. He brought his hand to your mouth and you opened it to take his fingers inside, licking them clean of your own juices.

“God, you’re such a little slut,” he sang. “You’re so desperate for me.”

You only relaxed your mouth and let him move his fingers in and out of your lips, pressing into your tongue. You grabbed for his belt, desperate to get his pants off and get started already but your fingers kept fumbling, especially as Rooster tilted your head back and shoved his fingers deeper in your mouth. You gagged around them and he finally withdrew them, painting the saliva you left behind on your cheeks.

He started undoing his pants himself. “You gonna be good? Gonna take me like a good girl? Take whatever I give you?”

He pulled his member free and you nodded dumbly, eyes cast downward. “Uh huh.”

He laughed at you, stroking himself. He pushed you flat against the wall and kissed you, hitting your hands away when you reached down to touch him. He bent over and scooped you up off the ground. Legs around his waist, he held you up as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Tell me to stop if you need me to,” he said quietly.

“Just put it in already,” you whined.

He did as you asked, pushing into you inch by inch. “So fucking needy.”

You were gasping for air and grabbing at his arms for something—anything—to hold onto as you were overwhelmed by a cacophony of pain and pleasure at the stretch of your cunt around him. You knew he was big; an unwanted and painfully awkward conversation with a short-term girlfriend of his several years ago assured you of that fact. You still cursed as he bottomed out, touching parts of you that felt simply unfathomable.

“Oh my god,” you cried into his shoulder.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he mumbled close to your ear. “You’re so fucking good.”

“God, please,” you begged.

He bucked his hips into you and you struggled to get oxygen into your lungs. You could focus only on breathing and the overwhelming pleasure of him moving in and out of you. You swear you could almost feel his head parting your insides around him, making room for himself in places you’d never felt before.

“Bradley.”

It was not the first time you had called him by his first name. You alternated between calling each other by your call signs, surnames, and first names, usage mostly dependent on where you happened to be. Never before had he heard you say his name like this. You’d never moaned his name, made it sound like a song that only he was meant to hear. It set his heart on fire.

You gripped his shoulders as he began fucking you against the wall. Gentle and loving would come later; he needed you as soon and as fast as possible. He needed to fuck ten years of sexual frustration out of system before he could even think about anything else. He wondered if you were in the same boat of needing it rough and hard, needing a mind-numbing, leg-spasming release before you could clear your head enough to think about a real future. A future with him.

You smacked your head on the wall as he thrusted up into you. “Ow!”

“Shit, sorry,” he said.

You grabbed at his arms. “Don’t stop.”

“Can you stop being so needy for two damn seconds? Gimme a minute.”

You giggled and gave a little yelp as the wall came away from supporting your back. Rooster easily held you up, walking away from the foyer to set you down. He spun you around and bent you over the arm of your couch. Before you could make another attempt at a protest, he was gripping your hips and pressing back into your cunt.

“Oh my god—holy shit!” you gasped at the new angle he was hitting you from.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he said, restarting his pace from before.

He could go harder in this position. He used his grip on you to pull your hips back and meet his strokes. Your cunt was tight around him, slick and warm and taking all of him just like you said you wanted. The best part of all of this was how badly you wanted it. The proof was in your trembling legs and the pornographic moans spilling from your mouth. It all just spurred him on.

He knew he was inside you, hammering away for his own release and for those pretty noises you kept making, but you still felt too far away. He pulled you back against him. His strong arms wrapped around your front, holding you close to his chest as he continued to fuck up into you. Your head fell back on his shoulder, neck an open canvas for him to kiss at.

He reached a hand down between your legs. That little bundle of nerves was found with ease. His fingers playing with it had you grabbing onto him in any way you could, on the arm still wrapped around you firmly, up to the base of his neck, your fingers curling into the ends of his hair. Your walls fluttered around him, clenching as you tipped closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m so close. God! God, don’t stop. Bradley, please.”

“You’re so good. So good for me. God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

He could feel his own release building up right alongside yours. He felt the pressure mounting in his gut as you clenched around him again, whining into his ear with your head thrown back as it was. He trailed his lips up your neck to your jaw.

“Come for me, beautiful,” he told you. “Come on. Come for me.”

You did not need to be told twice. Your whole body shuddered in his arms as you let out little broken moans and pleas. Your legs almost came out from under you as you were overwhelmed by pleasure, brain nearly short circuiting. Thankfully, Rooster was right there to keep you steady. He fucked you through your orgasm until you were oversensitive and trembling at him still moving inside of you.

With a grunt and a curse, he pulled out of you. “Fuck, baby. Shit—“

He pumped himself through release, cum painting your thighs. He caught himself on the couch as you two started to tip forward, both more than a little spent as you stood panting in the middle of your living room. You laughed breathlessly and leaned back into him.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Good?” he asked.

“I’ve had better.”

“I—“

You guffawed at his indigence. “I’m kidding. No one has ever fucked me that good.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and dropped his forehead down to it. You ran your fingers over his arm, still holding you close.

“Or maybe I’ve just never had sex with someone I like as much as I like you.”

“I’m getting really mixed signals on whether or not you thought it was good. Because you say you’ve had better then you say it was good and now you’re—“

“I never knew you’d be so sensitive about your performance,” you said. “What? Was me moaning my head off not a clear enough message that it was fucking amazing?”

“Okay, just making sure.”

You laughed. “Who knew you’d be so sensitive about your performance?”

“Alright, next time I’ll be sure to only focus on my own feelings and not care at all if you’re enjoying it or not.”

“Next time?” You turned in his arms. “I like the sound of that.”

He’s certain the grin he gave you was one of the goofy and wide variety, but he doesn’t care because he’s in love with you and could not help it. You pulled him in to a kiss. He returned it sweetly, before sweeping you off your feet and carrying you to your bedroom. He went to set you down on the bed, fully prepared to tuck himself right next to you and face all the dirty details in the morning.

“Hang on,” you said, sliding out of his arms.

“What?”

“I need to clean up.”

He could just see his cum cooling into place between your thighs. Maybe sleep would come a little harder than he thought.

“And no condom?” You click your tongue. “That’s a risky maneuver, lieutenant.”

“I saw you take your birth control two days ago, so don’t try to psych me out on that shit. I’m thinking of folding you in half and fucking you again, only this time I’ll finish inside.”

You let out a low, pleased giggle at getting him riled up. “Do you want me to reassure you you’re doing a good job every couple of minutes this time, or will me screaming your name suffice?”

“Why don’t you get over here and find out?”

Rooster made a move to grab you, but you slipped out of reach and back into the hallway you came from. He chased right after you. Yeah. He wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight at all.

#top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun rooster #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun: maverick

5K notes · View notes

msnanu · 5 months

Text

Libertine 05 | JJK

Libertines put value on physical pleasures, meaning those experienced through the senses.

❧ Series Masterlist ❧

⏤summary ❧ He has a reputation for being the most promiscuous man on campus, and you, well, you are basically him in women’s pants. It will be the very first time that Jungkook is faced with someone who is gonna make him question his feelings and actions.

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ❧ f*boy jungkook x f*girl female reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 ❧ some fluff, smut, mild angst, teasing and lots of sexual tension.

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ❧ mature language, NSFW🔞

❧ banner by: @dojakoo ❧

Jungkook was lying on the couch in his house while looking at the ceiling. It was extremely plausible to say that his Sunday was being a bore compared to his last two days of the week.

His friends weren't planning to leave the house, you weren’t there for him to distract himself, and Seulgi was ignoring his calls. It was a horrible Sunday.

Despite the inertia that Jungkook's body was in, his head felt like a deep well, running at the speed of light.

All his thoughts, or most of them, were on you. He was trying to understand what was going on in your head, and of course, he was failing miserably.

There were no explanations for your actions, he could never know what your next move would be. He couldn’t quite understand how you had sex with one of his friends and then kissed him as if nothing had happened.

Funny thing tho, he has done the same thing various times, sleeping with a girl and then moving on to her best friend, and even worse. He had once slept with the sister of a previous hook up, both within the same week. But he was never the one in this position, it was as if the roles had been reversed. It was weird as fuck and Jungkook hated the feeling of not knowing what to do.

If only he knew how you felt about him, maybe he'd know better how to deal with you.

Jungkook thought you were considerate of him, even if minimally. But he also thought you purposely tortured him because you hated guys like him – which wasn’t too far away from the truth. For Jungkook, it was an unanswered puzzle.

That introspective moment was making him rethink his attitude to Jimin. If you were doing all this just for the sake of your fun, there was no reason for him to take it personally. It was always a problem for him when he got carried away by the judgment of his own dick.

It was new for him to feel that kind of feeling. It wasn't really remorse, but it was a feeling that he could have looked at things differently. This had never happened. Most of the time Jungkook thought he was right and went on living.

He felt weird.

His thoughts then returned to you. Jungkook remembered the girl talking about classical literature in his car. She was a nice girl, a nice person to be friends with, but not something he was used to doing. He fucked and left.

He didn't even know if you would want to be friends with him, but he preferred to ignore any and all possibility of getting closer to you than usual.

The rest of his day was like that: complete boredom, and the certainty that this week he would resolve his "situation" with you. Whether it's finally going to bed with you or ending that chase for good.

On Monday morning Jungkook didn't have his first class, but he was determined to find you. So, he woke up early and, as confident as ever, headed off to college. People had already seen him walking down those halls anyway, it wouldn't make a difference.

Luckily for him, he saw you heading towards the Classical Literature corridors. He hurried to stop you on the way and spare himself any more stares from your fellow humanities.

“Hey!” He yelled, trying to reach you.

You turned to him with a frown. He found it amazing how carefree you always looked.

“Are you lost?” You asked, convinced.

“I don't think so. I think I'm really where I'm supposed to be.”

You chuckled. “God. You’re impossible.”

Jungkook couldn’t help to smile at you, he realized that you had enjoyed seeing him there. Maybe just like him, you liked to feel like you'd gotten attention. If you really liked the attention, Jungkook knew he was on the right track.

“What class do you have now?”

“Latin Literature.” You said looking at him curiously, sounding a little weirded out with that random question. Since when does he care what class do you have?

“Skip it.”

You smiled at the nonsense he had just said, causing him again to smile too.

“What makes you think I would do that?”

This time, it was a different kind of flirtation. Anyone who passed by you could feel the tension involved, but both of you preferred to believe that this conversation was just an exchange of information.

“Well, you're still here, talking to me, aren't you?”

He said smugly while he observed attentively how you bite your lip and take a deep breath.

“Come on, Y/N. Trust me.”

When Jungkook said your name, he noticed that you felt different. As if something had awakened in you. Your posture had softened, and your eyes were steadily staring into his. You were actually considering it. That had to be a win for Jungkook. Finally.

“Fine. Where are you gonna take me?” You asked in defeat while keeping your eyes locked.

“Where do you wanna go?”

It wasn't the best answer he could come up with.

“Surprise me.” You grinned, extremely aware of your own potential.

Jungkook returned the smile and allowed you to lead the way. On the way to the parking lot, several eyes turned to you. He swore to hear people commenting on the two of you but considered himself a little paranoid. It was indeed a crooked path.

Not that he didn't like being seen with a pretty girl, but you were different, smart, you were sure to use that against him at some point.

You walked ahead of him, making your scent leave trails behind. Jungkook was having a hard time there.

The ride in the car was silent. Jungkook didn't dare bring up any subject, didn't want anything you said to be another reason for him to think about the night. Meanwhile, his eyes flickered between the street and the girl next to him. You seemed to be too entertained with the view of the city to start any kind of conversation.

Jungkook found himself staring at your uncovered thighs for several moments. The dress you wore was short and sleeveless, leaving your entire cleavage and legs bare. The feeling running through his head was pure anticipation.

Taking you to his house would be too obvious on his part, so he thought of a place he could take you without seeming absurd and you both could be finally alone.

“Did you just take me to a library?” You said in disbelief when you saw him parking.

He laughed. He recognized it sounded ridiculous at first, but he knew the potential of that place.

“Looks like someone doesn't know how to wait for surprises.”

You got out of the car, still looking confused.

“I skip college and you bring me to a place with more books? What kind of fun is this?”

“Shall we?” Jungkook said, ignoring your little complaints. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he found you cute with that confused look all over your face.

As the two of you walked inside the library, you were surprised by a female voice that seemed shocked by Jungkook's presence there. The woman walked towards you and hugged him.

“Jungkook? How long have I not seen you?”

The woman was older, had a tired posture, and on her face was a huge smile.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, looking over the woman's shoulder at you. You looked scared.

“You can't just disappear like that.”

Gradually your features became friendly. You looked at the two in front of you with a slight smile on your face. It was unusual for you to see Jungkook being dear and kind, and he knew that was weird for you.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Yoon.” He tried to justify but the woman interrupted him.

“Don't give me excuses, start showing up more. How is your father?”

With that question, Jungkook broke the hug. You noticed how quickly his smile dropped but you weren’t going to comment on that. It’s none of your business.

It was a complicated relationship, and Jungkook definitely didn't want to discuss it in front of you or anyone to be honest.

“He is fine. I haven't seen him in a while too.” He said hoping she would wrap up the matter.

“When you see him, tell him I sent my regards.”

“Of course…” He took a deep breath as he stumbled over his own words. “Could you, eh... give me the key to the back room?”

“Sure.” The woman turned to the key ring, and when she came back, she watched you up and down.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry, how rude of me, I didn’t see you there. You must be his girlfriend?”

Jungkook felt he could die of embarrassment at any moment. Gradually he was already regretting bringing you there. You both exchanged glances and he could see that you were enjoying the situation. You were standing in front of the woman, waiting for Jungkook to answer the question for you.

Oh God, this was so much fun for you, it’s amazing how much a single word can make Jungkook blush. Free entertainment for your eyes.

“S-she’s not. S-she is… She’s a friend of mine.” Jungkook hated himself for stuttering and even more he hated how amused you seemed to be while observing how nervous he suddenly got. “Mrs. Yoon, this is Y/N.”

He watched the two women embrace in front of him. He couldn't hear what you said to each other, but you were smiling as if you were the most sociable person in the world.

“Let’s go?” Jungkook noticed that you were getting comfortable there and hurried you along.

He placed his hand on your back pushing you forward.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Yoon.”

“Likewise. I hope I see you again, sweetie.” The woman said watching Y/N disappear through one of the corridors.

Jungkook and you continued walking in silence, until you let out a low chuckle.

“What are you laughing at? What did she say to you?” Jungkook asked, annoyed.

“Wow, what's with that humor? She just asked me to fix you.” You laughed as you tried to formulate your next sentence. “By the way, where are you taking me?”

Jungkook didn't know which phrase he paid more attention to. The fact that Mrs. Yoon thought he needed a girlfriend to be okay irritated him. Your impatience at that moment also annoyed him.

Appreciating the good relationship between you two and keeping in mind his plans for the future, Jungkook decided to remain silent and continue on his way.

When you finally arrived in front of a small door at the end of the library's central hallway, Jungkook pulled out the key Mrs. Yoon had given him and opened the door. You were at his side, maintaining an eager posture.

He made room for you to enter first and saw you gape for the first time ever. Your eyes stared at every point in the room, as if you were scanning everything.

The environment wasn't much different from the library itself, but there were sculptures and paintings scattered around the corners.

In the middle of the room were two sofas and a rectangular table big enough to hold many books. All the lighting was darker, in yellow tones.

“What is this place? I had never been here before.” You turned to him outraged.

Jungkook laughed weakly. “I would be surprised if you did it. It's my father's collection.”

You continued to walk forward, looking closely at each bookcase. It seemed like it took you a few seconds to process Jungkook’s response when you suddenly stopped and stared at him with surprise written all over your face.

“Wait. Your father has a private library?”

Your disbelief was funny to watch. Jungkook was so used to it all that he didn't understand the appeal. He knew that place would please you and make you easier to talk to. He watched you walk towards a bookshelf in the left corner.

“Do you have a radar?” He asked, referring to the fact that there were Classic books in that corner of the room. He heard your chuckle as you kept observing the books in front of you.

“I still don't believe it, I mean, look at these editions.” You said sounding way more excited than what Jungkook expected.

Jungkook smiled to see you like this. You were like a kid when mom or dad told you that you could have candy before lunch. You were amazed, your eyes sparkled.

In that moment, Jungkook didn't feel like fucking you. It was an almost angelic sight. The level of naivety you were giving off, destroyed all the vision he had about you being a promiscuous girl.

He waited a while for you to leaf through the book in your hand. He didn't want to spoil that for you.

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook remembered his thoughts from yesterday. Maybe this was an opportunity to come clean with you.

“I think I owe you an apology.” The words came bitterly from his mouth.

Definitely not something he was used to. In the last few days Jungkook was doing a lot of new things he never imagined doing. Apologizing to someone was definitely out of character for him.

You closed the book in your hands and looked up to face him.

“Why?”

Jungkook felt the words choke him. The switch in your gaze was insane. You could be very intimidating sometimes.

A silence took over the room before he could finally speak.

“The last few days I... I... I thought very badly of you.”

His breathing was the only audible sound in the room.

“Because I slept with your friend?”

You simply asked without an ounce of embarrassment. Your face was so serene. The way you remained passive in the face of these situations scared Jungkook.

“Well, one minute you were with me at the bar, the next you were with Jimin. Imagine how I felt.” He said in a steady voice.

“One minute you were with your girlfriend, the next you were courting me in that bar.” You shot back in the split of a second with the calmest voice possible. He wished he could sense some type of jealousy in your words, but right now he wasn’t seeing any signs of that. But then again, it was still really hard for him to read you.

He didn’t expect this to backfire. Technically, you were right. He was indeed with Seulgi before approaching to you that night in the pub, but he just wanted you, he hadn’t even invited her. And suddenly he couldn’t even find the right words to respond to your comeback, so he said the first thing that came to his mind.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

It’s not like you cared��or did you though? You quickly pushed away those thoughts.

You laughed at Jungkook while keeping your gaze on him. “You’re smarter than that, Jungkook.”

For the first time you had called him by his name. Jungkook could feel a shiver down his spine as he heard his name fall from your lips. Your voice was low enough to make him want to forget about the whole argument and kiss you.

He never thought he could win a fight with you, but at that moment he was absolutely sure he had lost.

Your face remained calm; you knew you were dominating him.

“Jimin is my friend.” Jungkook responded, trying to justify what he considered your "mistake".

“So what? I'm single. That’s the beauty of it, I can be with whoever I want. It's not like I'm cheating on anyone.”

You emphasized the last part of your sentence, which made Jungkook realize his disaffection with Seulgi. He didn’t give two fucks if Seulgi slept with anyone else and of course, he himself didn’t care sleeping with others.

He was the same as you, but for some reason he couldn’t pick up, he was feeling insanely annoyed at the fact that you decided to sleep with his friend. And it was even more annoying to see how unfaced you were about it.

“I honestly don't get you. I don't think I ever will.” His voice came out deeper. It was not his intention to argue with you there, but the path the conversation took proved that to be inevitable.

You were a good distance apart, but for some reason the room felt warm.

“It's annoying when someone acts the same way as you, isn't it?” You said narrowing your eyes.

Oh, how well you could read him.

It was so obvious that he was jealous, why? You don’t know the answer to that. And for some twisted reason, that thought alone made you feel so freaking horny.

The infamous Jeon Jungkook was right in front of you, looking hot as fuck at the verge of throwing a tantrum because you decided to sleep with his friend and your panties were getting as wet as possible as the minutes went by. If only he knew.

You didn’t know why your body was reacting this way to his little scene, but you were decided to take care of your horniness right here and right now.

You climbed down a step from the top of the bookcase and walked slowly to the sofa rail in the middle of the room.

Now you were face to face, and Jungkook couldn't hide his nervousness. You watched him swallow hard as his hands squeezed the ledge of the other sofa.

You smiled at him.

“I've seen you a lot, Jungkook. Enough to know how much you love going around teasing girls, hoping they'll run after you.”

You kept walking until you were sitting on the edge of the table between the two couches. “But you should know better by now, I'm not gonna run after you.”

At that sentence, Jungkook let a long, heavy sigh escape his lips. He didn't mean to show how much your words bothered him, but your gaze on him was so strong he couldn't help it.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Jungkook said, taking a step forward.

“I never had to go through this in my life. I never had to go to so much trouble to fuck a girl. You took my peace of mind. You are such a misfortune, Y/N.”

Fuck, he sounded so hot. His voice was barely audible. You both felt all the adrenaline rush through your bodies at that moment.

“Still, you brought me here to fuck me, am I right?”

Your sincerity startled him a second time.

He didn't understand how you could be so rational, so tough to pressure him. The world could be collapsing, and you would still remain passive, with your voice low and your posture straight.

You weren't like him. You were so much better than him.

“Yes.” He replied, without an ounce of shame.

“So why aren't you doing it? Why are you still talking?” You said, holding your gaze on him. “Fuck me, Jungkook.”

That last phrase sounded like music to his ears. He didn’t need to be asked twice.

Jungkook walked towards you, closing the short distance that separated both of you. His eager hands went straight to your face, pulling you in for a kiss. You spread your legs so that Jungkook's body fit perfectly with yours.

For a moment he thought he was imagining it.

As your hands grabbed him by his short hair bringing him as close as possible, one of his hands went to your breast, squeezing it without any courtesy.

The hand that was on your face headed to the back of your neck pulling your hair. With your neck exposed, Jungkook began to alternate between kisses and hickeys, causing you to let out a loud moan.

He was good. Almost too good to be truth. Your body was burning with pure desire. The lust that Jungkook had awakened in you, was something else.

Jungkook took advantage of the short dress you were wearing. In the position you were sitting at the table, the hem of your dress was already at your waist, which allowed him to stroke your thighs freely.

Slowly and deliberately, Jungkook's hand began to caress your inner thighs.

This brat. You knew what he was doing. Or trying to.

“Stop teasing me.” You said through a moan in his ear.

Jungkook smiled while he abandoned the crook of your neck, only to face you. He wanted to see what you looked like when you were losing your mind. When you faced each other, you both felt each other’s hot breaths.

You were a mess, first time seeing you like this and what a sight, your hair was disheveled, your dress was wrinkled, and your face was all flushed.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, returning to attack your mouth.

Something jumped in the pit of your stomach, but you decided to ignore it and focus on fucking him. You were feeling desperate for his touch and you could sense that he was feeling exactly the same.

He could feel your fingernails running under his face and hair, making him shiver.

When Jungkook's hand approached your folds, he could feel your panties heavy with your wetness.

“God.” He didn't mean to express himself aloud, but he couldn't help it.

He placed his hand on the edge of your panties and lifted his gaze to yours. He didn't need permission, but he felt he should have it.

“Please.” You begged as your hands climbed under his shirt. Fuck, he really works out – you think - you catch yourself salivating when your nails run over his six pack.

Jungkook thought for a second about teasing you a little bit more, but even he couldn't stand between his legs.

He pulled away slightly from you to slip his hand under the wet fabric. Looking at you, he could see your reaction when his fingers were finally inside you.

A faint moan escaped your lips. You stared at him with the same intensity as two of his fingers worked inside you. One of his hands gripped your waist, keeping you steady.

With your face resting on his shoulder, Jungkook listened you let out small, high-pitched moans, causing the intensity of his movements to increase. He felt your hardening nipples brush against his chest.

He swore he could cum untouched just by the sounds you were reproducing. He was fascinated with you.

It took no effort for Jungkook to realize that you were almost there. Your body began to shake over his fingers, as if you were hunting for relief.

He pulled your face down and glued your foreheads together. He wanted to see you when you came.

Jungkook increased the speed of his movements, watching you do the same with your waist. You grabbed the strands of his short hair as if your life depended on it.

“I'm gonna… I…I…” Your sentence was brutally slashed by moans that escaped your mouth.

“Fuck, Jungkook.”

Hearing you moan his name as you came motivated him to keep stroking you. It was just like he imagined, even better.

Your face was twisted, but there was a certain concern in your eyes. You wanted him to know that you were going to cum.

“I know.” Jungkook assured you, holding you tighter.

That was enough to make you spill over his fingers. Your legs were shaking, while your breathing was totally uneven.

Jungkook kept his eyes on you, waiting for the moment when you would open yours. Your half-open mouth let out little curses mixed with gasps.

It was Jungkook's personal vision of paradise.

When your eyes slowly opened, and your breathing was steadying, you stared at him hungrily as he licked his fingers deliciously with your scent all over it.

“God. You taste so sweet, Y/N.”

“I want you so fucking bad.” You admitted, taking your hands to his zipper taking him by surprise for what could be the hundredth time already. And God, he was big, so fucking big that you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you.

Unlike Jungkook, you didn't wait for consent. With his erection in your hands, you began to jerk him off as you watched him moan in front of you.

He had thought of this so many times when he was alone. Too many. He had masturbated more times than what he would like to admit at the thought of you. Every time he stroked his dick thinking of you, he imagined that it was your hand instead of his. Imagining how good you would make him feel. And it finally was happening.

He had already given up trying to contain his reactions, his eyes were already closed, and his hands braced around your body, trying to keep steady.

“Oh fuck.” He moaned close to your ear. “I won't last long if you continue this way.”

You pressed the tip of him and saw his body twitch.

“I thought you were better than that.” You provoked him.

“You fucking joking, right?” Jungkook said, gulping. “I've been waiting for this since forever.”

With that, you released him and pushed him away so you could take off your own panties.

Jungkook wasted no time and looked for a condom inside his wallet. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. It was as if that need had been consuming you both.

Duly protected, Jungkook placed himself at your entrance. Teasing you, he played close to your entry, smearing his big cock with all your wetness.

You were losing it. You threw your head back, waiting for him to fill you in. You couldn’t wait any longer.

“I want to see you.” He requested almost in a prayer.

You looked back at him, and this time licked your lips, smiling mischievously.

Jungkook thrusted inside you, slowly, enjoying every inch of you. Your moans and the naughty smile on your face made him increase the intensity.

He was so fucking satisfied.

It was impossible to explain how good you felt. Jungkook pulled your waist, sealing your bodies. You leaned in and the kiss you gave him was now intoxicating him. Every fiber in his body was living to touch and feel your body.

With each thrust, Jungkook felt your walls clench around him, while hearing your smooth moan between his lips.

Jungkook was feeling fucking good. He felt his hands tighten on your body, the softness of your face touching his, your nails digging into his shoulders, into that fucking sleave of tattoos on his arm that drove you crazy every time you saw him.

It was indeed heaven on Earth.

He'd been wanting to fuck you so much and for so long, that he felt his body fail after a few violent thrusts.

“Fuck me, Jungkook.” You repeated like a chant. You knew how much he wanted to hear that.

It felt as if he knew your body from another life. You never felt this horny before and the way he was fucking you was almost animalistic. Just the way you like it.

You brought your hands to his hair, pulling him closer to you. You were practically holding each other as Jungkook fucked you on top of his father's library table.

There was something about that place that gave him the confidence he felt he needed with you. The expectation of someone walking through the door, his father's reaction if he knew, everything in there encouraged him to fuck you harder.

“God. You're so fucking hot.” He whimpered.

A few more thrusts and Jungkook felt a dizziness begin to take over his body. He grabbed you by the hair and kept you looking at him. You opened your mouth and began to moan louder, urging him on.

“Come on, Jungkook. Cum for me.” You begged. “Please.”

Jungkook watched your pleading expression before finishing inside you.

“Fuuuuuuck.”

It was warm, tight, wet.

It was all the possible sensations in the world in one place.

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⏤ author's note❧ okay, i'm not gonna even lie. i admit i had to fan myself as i was writing this chapter 🥵. hope you guys enjoy this new update and as I always say: please give it a lot of love if you like it, reblog, leave your thoughts, send me asks. it will be all very much welcomed 🥰

⏤ tag list❧ @chimsworldsstuff @erica2283 @ahgasegotarmy116

175 notes · View notes

stargirlfics · 5 months

Text

The Gentleman Chapter Six: Tremble

Alfred Pennyworth x Black Dancer!Reader

Summary: Scarecrow threatens to bring Gotham to its knees while you and those you love find yourself caught in the middle

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, canon typical violence, mentions of chemical weapons, anxiety and hallucinations, mild angst and hurt/comfort, competency kink, alfred being a soft dom, smut: soft spanking tw, body worship, oral (reader receiving)

Word Count: 12.0k

This chapter is finally here and I actually cannot believe the journey it has been from when I started working on this, having months of difficulty writing and then I just write this massive chapter! I’m really happy to be sharing it and I hope it’s well worth the wait. I really appreciate and cherish all your comments and love and patience especially on this series, it means so much 🤎

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At the mercy of impending catastrophe, an entire city was holding its breath in sick anticipation.

News of Scarecrow and his fear toxin was everywhere one went, anxiety climbing with every hushed discussion and passing day without answers.

His motives were still unclear and everyone was trying to decipher the severity of the message he had left: This is Gotham’s only warning. Fear the Scarecrow.

What was to come next? And would you be ready?

Trust in Gotham’s institutions was few and far between for most, though you did feel a little more hopeful with Mayor Bella Reál’s steady presence in public lately—even still, people were bracing themselves.

For you that meant dance rehearsals were still being held so stage time was abundant, the exotic performances and the allure of the Iceberg Lounge were quickly becoming a good means of escape for many in the city.

You wanted to dazzle the audience, satisfied when you could suspend their belief that this was just a dance and convince them nymphs and sirens were real and alive in front of them instead.

It was easy to throw yourself into the work if you thought about it; counting steps and turns while the band played their hearts out.

There was no other competition, the shimmer and sparkle of the costumes, the lingerie underneath even more dazzling, opal pearls and diamonds adorning your lush bodies caught every single eye.

Five, six, seven…a spotlight shines down upon you, such a pretty beacon of desire, of the passion flowering so strongly in your own heart until there’s nothing but you and the music.

You left nothing on that stage at the end of the night.

Especially not when Alfred was in the crowd watching you with an ever growing adoration.

He made the effort to catch a show when he could, waiting with roses for you afterwards and no compliment or praise spared from your ears if he could help it.

It was amazing how much things could shift, how nervous you had been the first time you knew he would be watching and now you welcomed it, relished in his promise to show up for you simply because he thought your talent and love for your artform was worth it, that you were worth it.

And of course how could you forget his handwritten letter with such neat and elegantly written words, the very letter that sat on your nightstand since your date in the bookstore when he presented it to you and made it all official.

You read over it in the late night hours and in the morning when you woke up wishing he was next to you, until you could recite every word he had written by heart. Weeks ago you would have felt anxious about entering a relationship, not wanting to go through heartbreak if your feelings weren’t the same but now you understood Alfred would never let you stand on unsteady ground.

He hadn’t since the first moment your paths collided, the memory of it still so vivid you could practically hear the echo of your pounding footsteps on the concrete hurrying to reach him, taking a chance on a stranger and embracing him out of fear only to come away from it with your pulse racing for an entirely different reason instead.

Something solid and gentle had formed here and you wanted to be cocooned inside of it forever.

Your friends definitely didn’t hide their excitement that you were “basically dating a member of the Wayne family!” as Roxie had put it.

She was the first to tell you she wouldn’t mind at all if you slipped Bruce her number. Bambi was already ride or die for the relationship, as was Amber and then Kiera’s encouragement of all things romance on top of it all certainly made this a fanclub if you’d ever seen one.

Truthfully though their reassurances kept you from letting the tendency to overthink get in the way, making sure you knew that the way Alfred treated you was everything you deserved.

Grateful felt like too simple a word but it’s perhaps the best word to summarize the way you felt about each of them. Elated in how they celebrated this with you, a sing-song chorus of excitement when you told them about his letter in the chat or how everything went after he spent the night at your place for the first time.

It kept you hopeful, appreciating everything you had just a little extra.

Fresh snow dusted the windowsills of The Magpie where you were counting down the time until you’d have your evening free to spend with Alfred.

You would see him in just a few short minutes anyways, with Bruce in tow for a meeting with the mayor and her team but knowing you’d still have some time before you truly got him to yourself left you feeling a little antsy.

The bar had already been wiped down twice and you just checked on the handful of people sitting around for brunch, most of them talking and finishing off their drinks for the time being.

So you settled on people-watching, polishing the crystal whiskey glasses while you did, arranging them in a stacked pyramid and you were almost done with the menial task when Bruce Wayne sidled up to the bar.

“Oh, hey! Can I get you anything, Mr. Wayne?” you greeted him with a smile, doing your best not to make it obvious you were also looking to see if Alfred was nearby.

“Please just call me Bruce, you don’t have to keep it so formal, really I insist. And just coffee if you can.”

“Sorry, habit. I can get you some coffee, any sugar or cream?” you were laughing to yourself a little, forgetting that you didn’t have to address him so properly every time.

You still did that with Alfred sometimes, a ‘Mr. Pennyworth’ at the tip of your tongue on occasion which always came with a playful scolding.

“No thanks, I’ll take it as is,” Bruce corrected, thanking you again when you set the steaming mug down in front of him. “Oh, before I forget. He may have told you this already but when time allows it Alfred likes to try and get Dory and I together for a proper Sunday dinner and if you’re able to this coming weekend, I wanted to try and surprise him.”

Oh, how thoughtful! Quickly realizing he was inviting you to join them in this tradition of theirs made your heart swell and you hastened to accept.

“That sounds so nice! Of course I can be there. Should I bring anything, dessert maybe?”

“Yes, that would be perfect actually. It’ll be nice to have you there..uh, I know we haven’t had much time to speak but thank you, it’s good to see him happy lately and that’s because of you.”

Bruce’s usual shy, reserved tone was more open, a little softer and you felt relief knowing that you had his approval in a way, maybe not wanting to admit to yourself that it had been a quiet worry all this time.

His and Alfred’s relationship was on better working ground now and you didn’t want to complicate that or make it any more difficult for them to connect in the way they needed and it was very clear from the start that they did need each other and cared for one another fiercely.

This was good, really good.

“I’m glad and that’s okay by the way there’s been a lot going on you’re probably just as busy as he is, if not more, I figured we’d get to talk at some point. I really do just want to make him happy and I hope you know he is because of you too, he’s so proud of you.”

Your last few words saw the very rare edge of a smile before he took a sip from the mug, face turning stoic again.

Speaking of Alfred, he walked in the very next moment, as effortlessly handsome as usual. His suit was a crisp charcoal gray, a black tie tucked perfectly into that pristine waistcoat you knew felt smooth under your hands, the familiar gold accents of his wristwatch and cane pulling it all together.

He always looked incredible but god did he have you weak from halfway across the room today, those kind, blue eyes finding you with ease.

Waving him over to the bar, you started making his usual cup of Earl Grey, sharing a sheepish smile when you greeted each other.

“Good to see you, darling. I hope you’ve had an easy morning.” The depth and lull of his voice and that accent sent warmth spreading across your cheeks, distracted from hearing the affection in his tone.

“I have, thank you,” setting his cup of tea down on the bar counter, you leave the milk out for him to pour how he likes, “Hope the meeting goes well, you’re gonna kill it!”

“That’s very nice of you. I imagine it will, what we’re proposing will benefit the city and they seem receptive to Bruce’s ideas, which is all we can ask for.”

Beaming at him you nodded encouragingly, giving yourself a few more moments to talk with the two men before the mayor arrived and they were whisked off to a more private table.

Kiera came in not long after that, you were really just working the morning to fill in for her until she could get here but your plans to leave with Alfred right after his meeting lined up with the timing anyways.

An hour passed ever so slowly, the meeting finally finishing with what looked like good spirits from everyone and before long you were saying your goodbye’s to Bruce since he had to head out while Alfred lagged behind to take a phone call from his office.

Bundled up in your coat, you waited by the hostess stand content to watch the snow flurries begin to fall outside, such a stark contrast to the warm, crimson interior.

Not sure how long you were lost admiring the view, a warm hand slides across your lower back drawing your attention in a gentle caress you’re sure you’d know anywhere.

“Ready to leave?” Alfred held his hand out for you and kissed your knuckles when you fit your palm against his.

The eager nod of your head and the accompanying excited giggle gave you away but you didn’t care to hide how much you’d been looking forward to this evening with him.

“Ready.”

Outside the air was chilly, coats zipped up a little higher while you discussed what the plans were for the rest of the day.

It was still fairly quiet out on the streets, the business sector in this part of the city always a bit more empty than the bustling traffic of downtown that you were used to, at least before dinner rush anyway.

Nothing out of the ordinary piqued your attention until Alfred was pausing mid-sentence, asking if you heard what he had heard.

“No, what-” but no sooner than you had opened your mouth, the faintest recognition of what sounded like a scream could be heard. You flicked your eyes up to him in concern.

Had it really been a scream? Or was the frigid wind playing tricks on you, whistling through the air?

The same sound rang out again somewhere in the distance, only this time you both were able to hear a distinct shout of “HELP!” following it.

The mood had suddenly turned urgent but it was as if you could only move in slow motion until you realized that at this very moment, the other shoe had indeed dropped.

Chaos was the only way to describe it, more shouts piercing the air but nothing prepared you for the wave of people running out into the street in every direction.

You can’t be sure exactly what’s going on or what everyone was running from but the gears were already spinning in your mind and you don’t hesitate to move when Alfred hurriedly nudged you to follow him, clutching onto his jacket as he guided you to cross the street where his car was parked around the corner.

But you wouldn’t make it more than a few steps off the curb.

The flow of the crowd was too dense, too panicked and you were jostled as you tried to keep your feet steady on slick, snowy pavement.

A gasp was knocked loose from your throat when someone shoved past you, upsetting your balance in the process, the impact forcing you to let go of Alfred’s hand.

Fingers flailed but it was no use, you couldn’t move fast enough and soon more people pushed themselves between you on all sides which meant he couldn’t reach you either. You were quickly losing sight of him, legs feeling like lead as you tried to follow the sound of his voice shouting your name but there’s too much noise to filter out.

No, no! Where is he? I can’t see him anymore.

Your heart sank realizing you’d lost him in the crowd, even as frantically as you were searching for him there were so many people dashing past as you also tried to keep moving that you knew it would be impossible to find him like this.

You were separated and on your own.

Now it felt like your sense of direction was off, not sure if you were still headed in the right direction towards his car anymore, the whole world feeling like it was swallowing you up.

Deep breaths, just take a deep breath. Keep moving.

You had to repeat it to yourself in order to stay calm, trying to reassure yourself that somehow you could make it out of whatever this was but a pang of worry for Alfred made you feel nauseous.

Unwelcome thoughts of something happening to him threatened to take root amidst your struggle to think. Hands moving on their own volition, you reached into your bag to fumble for your phone; maybe you could could get a hold of him by calling, sending a text, could find where he was and try and make your way to him in the event you ended up making it to the car and he wasn’t there.

Seconds later, up ahead of you, a truck swerved to avoid a group of people rushing into the intersection which sent everyone scrambling to move aside, inadvertently knocking you off balance again.

Stinging pain prickled in the meat of your shins, rattling all the way up to your temple when you collided with the cold concrete, eyes going wide knowing it wasn’t safe to be on the ground like this.

But it didn’t matter because had you not been knocked to the ground you weren’t sure you would have noticed it: the shiny silver canister nestled in a pile of snow not six feet away.

Something didn’t feel right about this. It felt like you were being herded to this point.

Under the noise of so many footsteps and all the commotion you heard it click, a slow whistling hiss coming after. The sound grew louder but you were already scrambling backwards trying to put distance between you and the cloudy plume of gas extinguishing from the cylinder.

This had to be the fear toxin, this had to be him.

Fresh screams dotted the blood rushing to your brain through your ears, dread forming a hard lump in your throat as you watched the gas diffuse again and mix with the falling snow.

Loosening your scarf you folded it over your nose and mouth hoping it would buy you some time if you weren’t breathing as much of it in, you couldn’t be sure you hadn’t already.

Your heart was hammering in your ribs when you finally found your footing and could stand, ignoring the strain in your muscles or how your skin felt raw from where your tights had snagged and torn from crawling on the pavement.

Now that you were on your feet again your surroundings were more familiar.

It’s how you spotted the mouth of an alleyway to your right, knowing exactly where it would lead, recognizing the rust red fire escape peeking out from the side of the building. You hadn’t realized you traveled back this far but you’d take it, at least you’d be off the street this way.

The disadvantage of this was that you were working against the flow of bodies but you tried to keep your stance wide and square out your shoulders so you couldn’t be pushed quite as easily, and there was something else…a noticeable difference in how people were acting.

It wasn’t just panic in their eyes, pupils glazed over and blown wide, this was an erratic look of fright. This toxin was confirmed to cause hallucinations which could only mean there had to be dozen’s on this street alone who’d come in contact with it.

You could only imagine what awful things they were seeing, your voice ricocheting against the clamor of sounds trying to warn whoever you could.

Just then, the quickest flash of gold appears in your peripheral and you hear your name again turning in time to see him, Alfred, shouldering his way through the crowd.

You stared in awe, questioning for a split second if you were starting to see things too but he was really there fighting and pushing his way through the packed street to get to you.

The small relief when he reached you, both of his arms locking around you this time before ushering you the rest of the way. Slipping into the alleyway was easy after that.

“Are you hurt? Darling, look at me please! Are you hurt?” His voice is chalked with concern, a clipped edge to his tone that echoed against the brick wall you had slumped against to catch your breath.

He’s already looking you up and down in careful assessment.

“I’m fine! I’m okay..I think, but wait, Alfred! This was intentional, the gas it-” the words come tumbling out but you fall short at the nod he gave you. Of course he had pieced it together. You’re gulping before noticing his cane is missing. “What about you? I was so worried when we-” the words died in your throat for a second time remembering how you got separated in the crowd.

You didn’t trust yourself not to cry.

“Me too, sweet girl but I am alright. I was far more worried about you.” and it’s the tenderness in his voice that makes you sniffle.

Screaming cuts through the brief moment of rest and you both agree you need to get out of here, deciding to stay off the main streets. If you could cut through a few alleyways you’d be able to get to his car.

His hand is once again steady in yours, thumb passing over your skin trying to soothe you while your own fingers return pressure here and there, beyond relieved to be next to him again even with a million more worries arising.

The damage had already been done though, time beginning to move slowly, buildings looming high above feeling suffocating, as if maybe you’d never find your way out, every muffled cry or scream from the streets a terrible chorus.

A loud squeal and the creaking of metal a few feet ahead halted your steps again, Alfred’s arm thrown back to push you behind him.

Four men filed out of a side door, the hoods of their jackets pulled up so they were shrouded in shadows, both of you just barely avoiding being seen.

Alfred had hastened to backtrack and slip behind an empty delivery truck in the alley that provided some cover without close inspection but was still too close for any sort of comfort.

Everything in you went quiet and still, clammy fingers gripping Alfred’s bicep a little tighter, grateful you were wedged between the side of the truck and his body. You don’t want to look their way again but your anxiety rises at the thought of not knowing how far away they were so you risk a peek over his shoulder.

Your blood goes cold almost instantly, breath sucked from your lungs when a fifth man stepped forth.

Dead eyes pierced through a ripped burlap hood covering the man’s head, its crooked stitching reminding you of an old scarecrow only the rest of him was clad in a suit. All you felt was dread.

“Keep your eyes peeled.” a distorted command came from behind the decrepit hood.

There was something terrifying about the way this man moved, it was creepy and sinister, your suspicions confirmed when you spotted more of those silver canisters peeking out from his suit jacket just before he was slinking away, moving out onto the street ahead flanked by those four men, each with a weapon in hand.

Tentative relief came seeing the distance increase between your position and theirs but you weren’t out of the woods yet by any means with one more street to go.

Counting shallow breaths one by one, you waited until the crunch of their footsteps on the snow faded enough to move ahead safely.

Alfred squeezed your fingers to get your attention, motioning for you to follow him from out behind the truck carefully. It was best not to stay idle here too long.

In the midst of trying to process what just occurred you didn’t notice Alfred pull out a small blade until you saw it clenched in his left hand, noting the way he kept it tucked in towards his palm so that outwardly no one could see it was there.

His other hand gripped your arm, keeping you from being able to move from behind his back as you crept forward together, a defensiveness in his movements that made it seem like this was just muscle memory for him.

Here he was, protecting you, keeping you calm this whole time and though it wasn’t surprising anymore you were still a little struck by just how much he cared for you, your wellbeing. It bled through into every part of him and that had your heart clenching.

When you finally made it out of the alley fresh worry spiked like ice inside your chest, attention drawn to every direction trying to make sure nothing would catch either of you off guard now that you were no longer under the cover of the city’s alleyways but at last, after what felt like an eternity, you had arrived.

Unlocking the car and seeing to it that you were safely tucked inside, Alfred was skillfully weaving the sleek vehicle through the streets in no time.

—

Everything felt like it was turned upside down.

Sirens and police cars whizzed past, headed in the direction you’d just left behind and you could only watch as the weather turned dreary.

Alfred checked in every so often, comforting you with reassuring glances, a soft squeeze to your knee which you returned with a weak smile. You were sure he had noticed you shivering as well and felt appreciative of the warm air circulating through the vents.

Remembering your phone after a moment you fished it out of your bag, replying to a string of texts from Kiera who was worried sick and thankfully still safe inside where you last saw her.

Scrolling through the rest of your messages and missed phone calls that kept pinging in your notifications you let each of them know you were safe until it hit you that something was missing, a sudden gasp catching Alfred’s attention.

“Do-do you think Bruce is okay? He left a few minutes before us. Maybe he managed to miss all that.”

“I’m sure he made it through, but he’s not been answering his phone. We’ll be at the Tower soon and we can check.”

It sounds hopeful but the crease of worry between his brows makes you wonder.

Trying to cling to the more hopeful outcome, you attempt to keep bad thoughts at bay with the idea that you’d see that swath of dark hair emerging from the staircase as soon as you step into the foyer. He just had to be there.

The rest of the drive was fairly quiet but the noise in your head made up for it.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d seen—Scarecrow. How close you’d gotten to the fear toxin but so luckily managed to avoid it, a sick feeling in your stomach seeing what it did to the people around you.

Whatever his big plans were for the people of Gotham, you were sure they were horrifying.

Anxiety drips from your shoulders when the car finally comes to a stop, limbs heavy again as you soar up to the penthouse floors from the parking garage elevator and it’s only when the low hum of the lift stops that you let go of Alfred’s hand, the doors opening to a suspended silence.

It only took a few minutes and a quick search to see that it was evident Bruce wasn’t here.

Your stomach was twisted into knots again waiting patiently while Alfred tried his cell phone one more time. Each trilling of the dial tone felt longer than the last and your heart sank once it went to voicemail.

“If he has his location on, I’m sure I’ll be able to find him.” He takes a deep breath, pacing the floor trying to think, to come up with answers.

Wringing your hands wasn’t doing much to ease the tension in your body so you forced yourself to lean against the solid wood table of the main room.

Touching something solid seemed to help and you wanted to be helpful to Alfred right now, at the very least supportive in the effort to find Bruce, hoping anxiety wouldn’t take over everything.

Mentally you were running through a list of possible places near the incident that he could be, fingers flying to your phone to search news updates, find out if Bruce’s name had been mentioned anywhere.

“Christ, I’ve found him! His phone is at the GCPD building. He can’t have been there for very long yet.”

“Okay, that’s good. He’s probably okay then if he’s there of all places, right?” your question is tinged with a cautious optimism as is Alfred’s responding agreement but you still feel unsure.

“I’m going to head there regardless, surely he’s fine but I don’t want to take any chances. I wish he would answer his bloody phone, though.”

He sounded like such a dad in that moment you might have laughed if the circumstances were different.

“Maybe he’s there with the mayor too, they walked out together before us, it was probably the first place he would think to go especially if they saw something related to what we saw.” you offer a little reassurance and reach out to squeeze his shoulder.

“Smart girl. I’m sure you are right.” Alfred sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Fngers pinching the bridge of his nose before he slips his glasses from his breast pocket and puts them on, focused in on what needed to be done once again, typing out a few messages to Bruce in the meantime.

“I can come with you, just in case he’s in trouble or, or.” you don’t want to go any further with possibilities and you aren’t sure how to articulate your uneasiness at him going back out there on his own even if he could handle himself.

It upset you to think you wouldn’t be there, wouldn’t know if something else were to happen.

“Oh my love, I appreciate that. You’ve been so brave through all this and I do want you with me but more importantly I need you safe and staying here will ensure that. I don’t want you in harm's way.” he’s setting down his phone to cup your cheeks, moving in close so his nose brushes yours gently.

You want to protest but understand that he’s right, the lump in your throat returning as you look at him.

He was being strong, for you, keeping it together just to make sure you weren’t any more frightened than you needed to be but you could see the stress in his features and knew you needed to be strong for him too.

“I don’t like it but I understand,” you relented with a whisper, leaning into him a little more, unconsciously trying to hold on. “I’ll stay here but just please be careful okay?”

Alfred moved back a bit so you’d look him in the eyes, a determination in them that takes away some unsettled nerves.

“I promise I will be. I’ll keep in touch as well, as soon as I find out anything you’ll get a call.” His soft murmur came in between the gentle press of his lips against your forehead.

His kisses were effective in calming you even if it didn’t help the reluctance to part from him, you know he has to go and don’t want to delay him any longer.

A new wave of emotion crests at the way he fusses over you before departing; making sure you were okay to be here alone for a bit, reminding you to eat something soon and that there was a change of clothes still in his room if you wanted to shower and take off your torn tights and snow dampened sweater.

The anxious shake of your hands was better even as you kissed him goodbye, returning his thoughtfulness by making sure he had a pair of gloves and another cane from his collection in hand before hurrying off, your feet lingering for a moment longer after the elevator doors close behind him.

Now…the waiting began.

—

Barely twenty minutes have gone by but you’re restless and there’s a sharp tension in your shoulders all the way down to your hamstrings that won’t ease up even when you try to relax.

Wayne Tower was quiet and far too empty, the methodic tick of the old grandfather clock in the foyer and your footsteps all the sound she’d bestow.

Sitting still has proved to be impossible so you wander the halls, count the steps each staircase you go up, try to roll out the stiffness in your neck little by little.

It’s only afternoon but the skies are gray and dark, some heavy kind of shadow cast over every corner that could be touched and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it but have patience.

News updates are slow meaning no one knows anything concrete yet, just that nearby hospitals were starting to get an influx of people affected by the fear toxin and police were all over the scene of the incident and surrounding areas. You’re just glad it seemed to be isolated to the few blocks you had navigated around earlier, nothing else occurring elsewhere in the city.

That certainly didn’t mean these incidents weren’t going to spread, you were fully prepared to hear of more fear toxin attacks in the near future with so much mystery still surrounding Scarecrow.

This whole thing felt deeper than what you could see at the surface but all you could come up with were questions and more questions.

But there’s no use in giving yourself a headache, not now at least, your phone ringing abruptly and Alfred’s name illuminating the screen. You’re answering before the second ring, taking a deep breath the moment he tells you everything is alright.

Bruce was indeed at GCPD headquarters when Alfred got there and the pair were in the process of giving statements about what they saw related to the attack so it was looking like they were going to be there for a while yet.

You don’t get to speak to Alfred for long before you hear him being summoned and you’re wrapping things up, wishing him well before he leaves you with a promise that he’ll update you as things go.

Your body felt much lighter now that you knew they were safe, the tightness in your chest dissipating as you finally allowed yourself to unwind a little.

Stomach still too tense to try and eat anything yet, you opt to take a shower instead, the change of clothes and the hot steam of the water would do you good.

Finding the familiar path to Alfred’s bedroom was easy, his space inviting, kept as tidy as ever but you still see all of him in it.

The faded bookmark sticking out of the novel on his bedside table, his nighttime reading glasses that lay folded on a stack of books to the left, and the tie and cufflinks atop his dresser still there from when he was getting ready this morning you imagined.

You’re comforted knowing you’re surrounded by his things and you’re further softened seeing your clothing items amongst his from when you stayed the night for the first time, everything neatly folded in the way you’ve learned he liked to fold.

Thoughts of him lingered as you retreated into the warmth of the shower, adrenaline slowly leached from your body, swirling down the drain with the soapy water.

You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from the last hour and a half until your eyes started to feel heavy but you don’t want to get out just yet.

It feels safe here and you’re already too far gone indulging in daydreams of your boyfriend, the thrill of being able to call him that now—the same one who practically bouldered his way through a crowd of people to reach you.

In the moment there hadn’t been time to really think about it but now that you were alone with your thoughts, it’s all you could replay.

Or maybe it’s all you wanted to think about but either way you wanted to drown in whatever strength and steadfast skill Alfred possessed, heart fluttering thinking of how every movement was intentional, the way his entire body pivoted to shield you, keep you safe as you moved through the streets, the switchblade he so effortlessly and quietly had ready and the expert flourish of his wrist when he pocketed it in the car.

Yes you knew he had been a soldier, had seen combat and was skilled in more areas than you could count, you could only imagine all the technical and psychological training he had from his days as an intelligence agent and though you took those parts of him seriously, you also couldn’t help but find it all deeply attractive.

Where words could not be applied, he showed you.

Refreshed and in more comfortable clothes, your mind felt a little clearer even if having to wait was still difficult but you try and be patient for another update, checking in with your friends in the meantime.

Alfred’s bedroom was warm from the steam still escaping from the connecting bathroom and you felt far too cozy here to venture back downstairs so you climb into the large bed and curl up on his side, comforted by the fact that his pillows smell like him.

No longer restless from the quiet aura in the air, fatigue rolled in, the energy to worry had faded quickly. Instead you began to drift off, the allure of resting pulling you under so easily.

Your phone is still clutched in your hand as you oscillate between worlds, thinking of Alfred and that “oh my love” that had left his lips so tenderly, understanding now why your breath caught in your chest after, why you’d been persuaded to listen.

He refused to let you dismiss your own wellbeing when thinking of others, your importance to him was too great to let you follow him into the unknown even if he’d feel much better having you by his side.

Nothing was going to happen to you if he had anything to do about it.

You hadn’t ever been shown this much adoration before and so fiercely and consistently at that and you slip into a light slumber thinking that this must be what falling in love felt like. To know perhaps, somewhere etched deep within you that it was exactly that. Love.

An unending flame, a sewn red string, so viscerally real it had you swearing to nurture it always. Even in sleep you know you’d never dream of stopping.

—

Winter sun had just begun to set when you were woken up by the sharp buzzing of your phone. A text message.

On the way back now, Bruce is with me. Hope you’re doing alright, I’ll see you soon, lovely x Alfred

Smiling at the good news you rub the grogginess from your eyes and reply back before tucking your face back into the pillow for a few more minutes.

Your nap had lasted an hour or so and afternoon was quickly spilling into evening as you blink the last remnants of sleep away and check the time. Anticipation and the rumbling in your tummy finally get you up.

Taking a few moments to fix where your curls had flattened to your head from laying on your side, you fluffed out the small coils until it looked the way you wanted, padding down the old staircases and into the kitchen soon after.

You wanted to try and make something quick to eat for when they got back, you were sure if you were hungry they must be too especially after everything that had happened, all the extra energy spent.

A quick browse through the fridge and pantry had you grabbing ingredients for sandwiches, absentmindedly putting everything together and you’d just stacked the last one on the plate when you heard the elevator chime and you didn't bother to put anything away, rushing out to the foyer right away.

You don’t care that you’re running, feet carrying you forward with their own motivation, you’ve waited long enough and it’s a complete and total relief when Alfred and Bruce step inside.

Alfred saw you first, a grunt that turns into a chuckle resounding through his chest when you all but crash into him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a hug that he returns immediately, his own arms sliding across your torso to pull you in close.

Not a second more apart, that is all you wished out of the rest of this day.

“I’m so happy you guys are back. What’s going on out there?” you compose yourself after a moment.

“Half the city is shut down right now, people are scared and staying inside judging by how empty the streets are.” Bruce runs a hand through his hair while he explains.

You almost don’t notice that his fingers are smudged in some sort of dark ink or paint, the color reminding you of motor oil, thoughts racing as to what could have happened, what he might have seen.

“Are you guys doing okay?” you’re asking quietly as you all walk into the main room, hoping you hadn’t pressed too much too soon, just worried by what their faces won’t yield.

Alfred shrugs off his coat and rubs your shoulders to comfort you.

“We’re both alright, darling, don’t worry.” He's reassuring you, steady and measured voice calming you enough to where you begin to let yourself focus on how delighted you are to see them.

Bruce is the first to head to the kitchen when you mention you made sandwiches if anyone was hungry, his thanks echoing down the hall.

You take a moment then to greet Alfred properly, kissing him soundly, spine tingling when he returned the kiss with a sweet pressure that gave away how much he missed you.

“I’m so sorry it’s been hours, their investigation is a big operation and nearly everyone needed to speak to us. Are you doing alright? I’ve been thinking of you all afternoon." He's looking over your frame again, almost like he can’t help but check for himself one more time

“I’m okay, I promise! Actually doing a lot better now that you’re here. It was hard not to be a nervous wreck for a second there but I took a shower and ended up sleeping for an hour and that really helped.” you’re sighing contently against his shoulder.

“That’s my girl. I am so proud of you for how you’ve handled all this today, I really am. That’s great!”

His words were so full of praise and affection it flusters your thoughts and you’re glad he can’t fully see your face lest he notice how much you’re affected, how much that just made you want him, but you reasoned it wasn’t the right time for romantic feelings and desires to take hold yet.

Not when there were still so many questions and things to be talked about, so you stow away those thoughts for the moment, already sure the tension would be palpable when you were able to be alone.

Maybe it would only be a little longer left till then.

Eventually the two of you joined Bruce in the kitchen, everyone feeling a little more settled after eating, able to process and debrief about what madness you’d found yourselves in today.

Surreal didn’t even begin to describe how it felt but it’s all you could manage to say, not quite sure how you were able to make it out of the chaos in the streets unscathed save for a few bruises, it all felt like a bad dream come to life and everyone feared that the worst was still yet to come, that sick feeling in your gut returning with the thought that they were probably right.

Dusky colors peeked over the horizon as the three of you tuned into the five o’clock evening news hour, wary faces glued to the TV as the first solid pictures of Scarecrow flashed across the screen. Your knees bounced nervously where you were sitting on an old loveseat, the reminder of his hooded face making you shiver.

An eerie cell phone video showed him moving down a street with his henchmen, people screaming and writhing on the ground from the toxin.

It seemed like he enjoyed what he had caused, a maniacal glint to his eyes, in the way he moved his face under that hood you swore had to be fused to his skin by the way it looked on him. You had to look away after the third loop of the video, an attempt to keep any nightmares about him later at bay.

Some information was given about the initial incident that sent everyone running; the toxin had been released inside the vents at the City Hall building near The Magpie, gas canisters later found in the ducts like the ones you’d seen in the commotion, lying in the snow so coincidentally.

Having confirmation that it had been planned like you thought only produced more confusion with the sudden wish to have been very wrong about what was going on.

Premeditation like this could only mean this man was cunning and careful, that he’d only been caught on video and surveillance footage because he intended to be seen and that terrified you to realize.

When you dared to peek at the TV again you immediately had to do a double take, up close photos of the men flanking Scarecrow in the video popping up, showing you what the men you saw in the alley really looked like out of the shadows.

You wanted to throw up. You knew for sure that you recognized one of them.

The same man who had been following you when you ran into Alfred that morning you met completely by chance.

It couldn’t be, you didn’t want it to be, as if you could kid yourself into believing you’d forgotten his face no matter how hard you had tried since that day, but it was him and a shudder rolled down your spine at how much of an awful turn this was.

Your small gasp of surprise caught Bruce’s attention and you noticed his careful gaze shift from the screen to your face in a question, figuring out what you’re stuck on trying to explain before you can get any words out.

“You know one of them?” there’s something in Bruce’s tone you can’t discern right away.

“I..yes I recognize him,” your sigh was heavy, followed by the point of your finger when the man’s picture was shown one more time. “Don’t know his name or anything but I do know he works for Oz, I’ve seen him around the Iceberg Lounge pretty recently.”

You took a deep breath before turning your attention to Alfred who was also listening curiously.

“I should also mention that I found out he was the man who was stalking me the morning we met. Oz sometimes uses his men to intimidate the dancers who get out of line with him and I may or may not have injured his pride the night before. I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner I just didn’t want to upset you with it.”

You cringe inwardly, anxiety rushing in all over again now that you’d said it out loud.

That incident had been something you tried not to give too much thought to, you’d been careful, always were and hadn’t had any more issues with being followed, even got back in Cobblepot’s good graces lately as well but seeing that photo brought it all back.

“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for, darling. That’s quite alright and more than understandable, I think you know either way I’d always be upset knowing he sent that man to stalk you but I would never be angry with you about that.” Alfred spoke gently.

You’re relieved he isn’t mad at you even if the guilt that lingered made you worry.

Maybe you’d make a point to bring it up again when you were alone and able to discuss it in the full context of your relationship, you were sure he wouldn’t mind giving you a little extra reassurance about it.

“Thank you. I don’t know what to make of this but I am a bit shocked Oz would be connected. He’s looking for opportunities to climb up in the crime world, all of us know that and he can be sleazy and he has a reputation for a reason but for him to be part of something like this if he really is involved is extreme.” you chew the inside of your cheek, pondering if your boss had made a deal with the devil in his search for power in Gotham.

Men like him were all smoke and mirrors with a penchant for easily bruised egos but these revelations had you questioning things. It wasn’t a good thing to know too much in this situation and right now, you were making one too many connections for your liking.

You would just have to be more vigilant now, especially around him.

The investigation into today’s fear toxin attack was still ongoing and every news outlet was clamoring for updates and solid information that was nonexistent right now, Bruce finally turning off the TV after a while.

There would be a press conference tomorrow, maybe the city would know more by then but for now it was no use to any of you to rewatch the events you’d already experienced firsthand today.

Bruce announced he was going to shower and call it a night and wished you well if he didn’t see you again, adding that you were welcome to stay any time if you didn’t feel safe going home and he was glad you weren’t hurt after everything.

It brought about a smile to your face again to know he didn’t think any differently of you and made sure you felt welcome.

You were remembering his offer to surprise Alfred with a proper dinner this weekend and though what happened today seemed to put a huge damper on things, you hoped that could still happen.

Closeness and company was what you all needed right now.

After helping Alfred tidy up the kitchen a bit he offers to drive you home and your face must have indicated your disappointment because he was quick to explain he had every intention of spending the rest of the night with you, just thought you’d want to be in your own space after such a taxing day.

He was right, as comfortable as you felt here at Wayne Tower you did miss your apartment and your bed and the familiarity of being in your space but you were also relieved to know that he was still looking forward to making the most out of things this evening.

Of course he’d never leave you wanting or wishing.

Trying to hide your eagerness was a challenge, a new kind of adrenaline in your system as you watched Alfred gather some things to take with him because he said he’d be staying the night too which meant you’d get to have him to yourself after all, putting excitement back in your veins after you’d been quietly hoping to be able to wake up next to him in the morning.

When you finally left the Tower, the streets were just as barren and quiet as Bruce had said, it was eerie not seeing any of the usual traffic.

The only semblance of relief came from seeing that familiar bat signal lit up in the sky, a few hopeful beams cutting through the gloom in the air.

Nothing was going to be the same moving forward and most of the city had been bracing for this since the first threat. It was only a matter of time but tonight, you wanted to forget for a little while and just take all the comfort and quality time with Alfred that you could.

He was as protective as ever walking up to your building and doesn’t fully drop his guard until you’re both inside and the door is locked.

Home at last!

Falling back onto more recent patterns, the space by the door is filled in with Alfred’s shoes, his coat hanging up next to yours, his presence in your apartment making it feel the most complete it’s ever been.

He insisted that you let him make an evening cup of tea for both of you while you sank into the couch cushions, browsing through movies to watch together before you agree on something comedic and lighthearted.

Eventually he joined you and somewhere in between laying your head against his shoulder and the middle of the movie, you finished your mug of chamomile tea and Alfred had pulled you into his lap.

And somewhere between then and the end of the movie you fit yourselves together so you could be cuddled against his side, your leg draped over his to make space.

He’s so solid and warm that you’re helpless to sink into his hold, unable to explain why his arms made you feel so sweetly held, so comforted that the feeling radiated through just the mere mention of his name.

Maybe it’s why the tears eventually came, when you knew you were completely safe and able to feel all your emotions fully after hours of having to push through.

It didn’t take Alfred long to notice your quiet sniffles though, catching the moment some of those tears spill over in silence.

“Ohh sweetheart, it’s alright you’re okay. I’m right here, can you tell me what’s on your mind?” His words are soft and patient and spoken so gently you feel more tears come.

“Today was just a lot…like I keep thinking of when we got separated in the street. I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as I was at that moment. It’s probably all hitting me now I think,” the waver in your voice could have broken his heart.

“It was a lot and you’ve done such a good job getting through it, you know that was a brilliant idea to use your scarf as a mask? You have no idea how proud I am of you! But you are right, that was terrifying, I was so worried you were hurt or trampled or worse, can’t imagine how caught off guard and disoriented you must have felt and I am so sorry for that, darling.”

Alfred kissed your temple, fingers careful when he began to wipe away the salty streaks left behind on your cheeks and nose.

You wiggle yourself a little closer and nod against his shoulder, “You found me though, you made sure I wouldn’t be hurt even if you did almost give me a heart attack thinking I’d never be able to find you again.”

This time there’s a genuine, shy laugh at the end of your words.

“I’d always find you, you know that right?” his tone shifted to a slight seriousness, still comforting but there’s a weight to his words that steals your breath. “There isn’t a time, a place or a world in which I wouldn’t come find you, wouldn’t do everything in my power to keep you safe, you mean far too much to me.”

You cried a bit more when all of that sentiment sank in because you trusted Alfred so much you knew he spoke truthfully, it wasn’t just to ease your emotions he meant every word and in turn, you’d felt every word.

“I know, I don’t doubt that one bit. I know we talked about this earlier but I do want you to know I didn’t intend to keep that information about Oz sending someone to stalk me a secret from you. I promise I’m going to be a lot more careful around him now too.”

He wiped away the dampness from your lashes before simply shaking his head at you and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“That would definitely be wise going forward especially since we don’t know how deep his involvement goes but I also don’t want you worrying about how I feel, sweet girl. That was always yours to tell if and when you felt ready and it meant something greater that you trusted me with that knowledge, that I can be a place of confidence for you.”

When would he ever stop rendering you speechless?!

You began to think the answer was never and that was just fine honestly, your heart so taken with his patience and diligence to validate your feelings whenever it was needed, no shame or dismissal involved.

“Sometimes I think I just need a little extra reminding but you’re right I do know I can trust you with anything that’s going on, with anything I’m feeling.”

“Good, that makes me happy. I may have been thinking about putting you over my knee for thinking such silly thoughts that I would be upset, but there’s not a single thing you have to apologize for.”

Oh.

You forgot how to breathe after hearing that, something lighting up inside you imagining yourself over his knee, accompanying thoughts of being toyed with, spanked, squirming and helpless under the grip of those strong hands of his followed swiftly.

He’d figured it out now, reading the change of your expression for what it was, latent desires rising to the surface.

You untangled yourself from his embrace to sit up for a moment, further distracted when he clasped his hands behind his head, shirt pulling taut over his biceps.

“Thanks for reassuring me, if I ask again feel free to do that though, think I might actually get it through my head then,” you teased shyly, “I guess I am being silly, you did after all muscle your way through a wall of people to get to me, which by the way was very impressive.”

He laughed at your compliment, the sound low and gravelly to your ears, pulling you in.

“Mm used to be a boxer, love. I’m flattered you think so.”

Oh wow. Again your interest in his skills had been piqued and he must have seen the flicker of an urge to ask further in your eyes because he continued after a second.

“Well, field medics like to have fun too and it was the army so we were all trained in hand-to-hand combat; boxing kept us in shape and gave the lads something to do, to focus on. I still try to keep up with the training, Bruce and I spar a lot of the time, we have since he was old enough to throw a punch.” Alfred tilted his head at you a little, reminiscence on his features for but a moment.

A stray image of potentially watching him spar one day landed right in your lap and it was incredibly hard not to involuntarily scoot your leg further up from where it was draped over his thigh.

He was so damn attractive it wasn’t fair. It made sense, the boxing, connecting why his shoulders were so defined, the tone in the muscles of his back, the power you knew he had behind those thick hands and even thicker thighs.

So sturdy and agile, age and old injuries just a reminder that every move was calculated for a reason.

“That’s so cool. I bet it’s a good way to let off some steam too,” you rest your chin on the plush pillows of the sofa. Something had begun to shift, a slowly simmering tension working its way between your bodies.

“Oh I can think of other things that would do that better.”

The look on his face sends a wave of heat through you, straight to your core.

“Like putting me over your knee?”

It slipped from your lips on a whim but he was ready for it and you realized he’d been enticing you this whole time.

“If that’s what you’d like then of course. Have you ever been spanked before, darling?”

You took a shallow breath, “Maybe once or twice it’s happened in the moment but no, not really, not properly like that. I-I think I’d actually enjoy it, um have you ever spanked anyone before?”

“I have.”

He unclasped his hands to sit up next to you, eyes never leaving your face, keeping the intensity up, lighting every little flame inside you by the second. He knew exactly what he was doing and you were going to let every spark catch.

“Also impressive and yes, Alfred. I want your hands on me,” you sighed a soft plea.

“C’mere then, I’ve got you.” He tugs you gently into a kiss and your fingers slide down over his wrists when they moved in to cup your face, touching you the way you wanted, so sure and thorough until he grasps for your hips, hungrier than you’d anticipated.

He doesn’t waste time, your surprised little squeal making him smile when he moves to stand up and lifts you slightly by your hips, tipping you so you’d fall into him before he was transferring your weight so you were hauled over his shoulders, centered with such ease so that you felt balanced and stable now that you were off the ground.

Your pulse thuds in your chest as you cling to him, those nervous giggles muffled against his back while he carries you to bed.

—

The short walk down the hall made you feel jittery in the best way, a nervous excitement bubbling inside you knowing he was experienced with this, that he was going to show you and make it feel so good. You were sure he would.

It’s almost crazy to be back in your room after all that’s happened today, how tense all the minutes bleeding into hours had been.

But it could all be pushed to the background for a while, your attention locked into the moment as Alfred sat down on your bed, bringing you with him, your body positioned across his lap so prettily, angled so your legs were spread just slightly with the length of his left thigh keeping you supported.

You stretched out your upper half on the duvet, propped up on your elbows to look back at him, watching as he pushed your leggings down, throwing them somewhere behind him on the bed before warm hands were caressing up your shins, over your thighs and up to the swell of your ass.

His palm kneaded your flesh, strong fingers applying a teasing amount of pressure while you squirmed and arched back into his touch.

“I’ll start slow, is that alright? Nothing too hard, just a few spanks to see what you can tolerate. If you don’t like it or aren’t sure, we don’t have to continue.” His hand moves in soothing circles across your skin and he leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“Yes, I’m okay with that.” you try and breathe.

“Good, I want you to say the word red if you need to stop, yellow if you need to slow down and green to continue if I stop to check in. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

There’s a little authority in his voice and it made you squirm again, aroused by his establishment of cues and a safeword right away, how in charge he felt right now, you wanted this so badly it caught you by surprise. You hadn’t expected to be so needy for this.

Remembering that he was waiting for a reply you squeak out a yes and have to bite your lip to keep from gasping when he pulls his hand back and swats the center of your ass, more sound behind the movement than there was force but it still made you jolt forward.

You groaned at the dull sting that prickled your skin after and glanced at Alfred who was already studying your reaction.

“Well done, how did that feel?” he cooed praise at you and this time you don’t try to stop the sound you make in response.

“Felt good, like what I was expecting but also different but I liked it, I want more.” your legs flexed when his hands smooth over your skin one more time, his pleased smirk at your declaration making heat pool in your lower back.

You wished he would slip off your underwear too, so then he’d be able to see just how soaked you were from all this but you knew you had to be patient and the reward would be everything.

You do take a second, however, to wiggle out of your sweater, starting to feel warm under the fleece lined fabric, and when you glanced back Alfred was admiring just as you thought he might be.

No bra, nothing underneath but soft, brown skin for him to feel and just to entice him a little more, you arch your hips, making your ass jiggle, just enough to pull his steely gaze down your backside.

The next spank is firmer than the first, more heaviness to his hand that made you whimper, your mind feeling a little hazy in the best way, the kind of haze that felt like a release, a soft bed to lay down on and surrender some control because you knew you’d be taken care of.

Thwap!

Whimpers and moaned out gasps mark the smack of his palm on each of your asscheeks, only a slight increase in the amount of force so that the sting just bordered on stealing your breath.

“Christ, you’re so gorgeous like this, baby.”

His accent was deeper, that gruff voice sending tingles rippling across your spine, going down smooth like whiskey and followed by his left hand sliding over your back to rest on your right hip, making sure you couldn’t squirm away.

He made each spank hurt in the most delightful way, alternating between right and left and then across both cheeks, spreading out the sensation, giving you a feel for which areas were more sensitive, which areas you liked being spanked at.

“Oh, fuck!” breathy curses left your lips when he kept at it, precise hands giving you just the right amount of impact.

“Good girl, you are doing so well. I think it’s time we take these off, hm?” he coaxes your hips up slightly so he can hook his fingers under the waistband of your panties and you’re all but begging him to.

Nevermind if he felt like tearing them in two, you would have let him, but he’s polite in how he strips you despite the way you feel him stirring, hardening beneath where you lay. God, you wanted him so badly.

“Please touch me, oh please,” you don’t even realize the words are coming from you.

In barely audible little pleas muffled by where your face is flush with the bed but Alfred doesn’t miss anything and he’s grinning in your peripheral.

“You should see how soaked you are, love. Need my fingers there, is that right?” his fingers were already inching towards where you ached the most, his right hand circling, distracting you from being able to speak while preparing you for another spank.

“Yes! Please, Alfred, I want it so much!” your whimper leaves both of you aching.

A tremble in your thighs had spread down to your pointed toes with the way he swirled the pads of his index and middle fingers over the slick mess between your thighs.

Slow and sweet as he slid them over your folds and circled over your clit, waiting and then rewarded with the eventual roll and arch of your hips, his free hand drawing back and then coming down on heated skin.

You gave a strangled cry, the sound turning into a moan when his fingers continued to circle your clit, responding to the way your body reacted, only taking his eyes off you for a moment when he finally put aside his self control to watch your pretty pussy swallow his thick fingers.

He worked you open gently, remembering how you liked him to move, where those sensitive spots were even at this new angle.

Giving you something to clench around with his next spank, coaxing you to rock into his touch like he could see you wanted to do, the gorgeous sway of your hips trying to meet the plunge of his fingers, undeniably needy for him.

You knew he could hear it in the way you cried out his name, how sensitive your entire body was now, the broken, pleading edge to the way you praise him in return, telling him how good it felt, how much you’d been needing this.

The pleasure built higher as did Alfred’s movements, a hiss at the edge of your words at each searing swat of his hands that mixed with the scissoring of his fingers, both working in careful, measured tandem.

“That’s my girl, come on, that’s it!” he grits out when you push up onto your elbows again and grind your hips back.

The passion and possession in the way he called you his merged with the curving of his fingers and you both know you’re there, tender walls fluttering as you come, thighs aching, your whole body tingling, trembling with the steady roll of his wrist keeping the pleasure drawn out, filling your entire body.

You’re not embarrassed by the tears that prick your eyes or the sob in your throat that follow when he finally flips you over, laying you back because you’d begged for him to and who was he to refuse you, an angel.

If you wanted his face between your thighs, eating your dripping pussy until you were too sensitive to take it, that’s exactly what he’d give you and it’s why you weren’t shy, not in this moment, not when you knew he wanted it just as much as you.

Soft hands disturb the careful style of Alfred’s hair, unable to help it when his tongue licks you and the salt and pepper scruff scratches achingly over your inner thighs, daring you to try and close them.

Not like you’d want to, able to see how his shoulders curved and bulged with the stretch of his shirt as he kept your legs parted with his body.

This was everything you had wanted, moaning at the way he consumed you so lovingly, a weight in his touch and in his encouraging, filthy words that told you he wasn’t holding back now, you were his girl, he could show you the more true depth of his desire now.

And you were safe to do the same, you craved it actually, always wanting this and you reason you have this entire time, craving this level of care and need, even obsession with each other, so much trust and feelings at the center of it.

“So good, baby. Just like that, please…” you barely get the words out, lungs losing air from the focus he gave to your words even before you finished speaking.

His hands didn’t stay idle, the grip of his hands over your body like he wanted to memorize the feel of you, the way you dipped and curved and stretched and it drove you wild, the wet suction of his mouth the only thing your mind could focus on.

It’s a wonder you can even move when he finally withdraws his mouth from your puffy lips, turning his still hungry and devoted gaze towards your chest, those stiff peaks he’d been neglecting through all this, but no longer.

You squirmed into the flick of his tongue, the way he kissed your skin and praised and nipped and got his lips on every inch of skin that he could while you just laid back and relaxed, recovered from the orgasm still twitching in the muscles of your arms, your thighs, your tummy.

“Just look at you. Fuck, I am so lucky,” he rumbles against your collar and you wrap your arms around him, curled against him.

“I feel exactly the same way.”

His soft huff of breath against your neck tickled and you snake your legs around him, hoping to keep him close, just wanting to be in his arms and under his body for as long as you could.

You’d take forever, and that was all you needed to know.

The Shoreline Lofts

November 27

12:00 a.m.

The Batman was watching. Unblinking and focused, planted in place but ready for anything that might come. Folding himself into the inky cloak of the midnight hour.

The Iceberg Lounge was directly beneath the loft space but that wasn’t why Bruce had come tonight.

No, he was far more interested in what Penguin got up to in private, without guests and dancers and clients around, what secrets or clues might be yielded if he just sat and watched, surveilled for a while.

He was curious why the man you had recognized from the news was connected to Scarecrow and he didn’t believe for a moment that Oz wasn’t keeping tabs on what his men were doing, he had to have known the attack was going to happen.

Motives were unclear but pieces of this horrid puzzle were starting to come together so Bruce wouldn’t rest until he could see the grand picture for what it was.

He tipped the binoculars back up to the blackened edges of his cowl, zeroing in again on where Oz was playing pool, unaware a shadow sat spying through the skylight.

The building’s layout was already scoped out, every entry point found, tested, and memorized. Now Bruce would wait and watch until Penguin left the loft to slip in and see what he could find.

Gordon needed intel, something to go on after grasping for dead end’s, there was no time to sit on things, not after what he’d seen today.

Not after you and Alfred were almost hurt and especially not after he’d seen what the toxin did to people, recognizing the look of anguish in their eyes like his own reflection.

A waking nightmare was no stranger to Bruce so he’d make sure of this, Scarecrow would be made to answer.

A/N: It’s been so long and I have missed writing for Alfred and I’m really surprised and proud of what I wrote here! Went through a lot of emotions trying to get this on the page and there was a lot of self doubt and anxiety and unfairly beating myself up about things not coming together but here we are and I just really love that I pushed through and had fun putting this all together in the end 💕 We stan protective Alfred! Like if that’s not a whole husband right there!

Thanks for giving this a read!

no pressure tags! 💌 @flamingdisputes @saradika @ozarkthedog @tarabyte3 @tarrenterror25 @the-eyes-of-andyserkis @communism-bitches @xnodamsel @glitterjuju @mariahthelioness29 @ayoarticulate @fluffyprettykitty @unrefinedmusings @xoxovivafics @peachyteabuck

#amalia writes #alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth x black reader #alfred pennyworth x woc #the batman!alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth smut #alfred pennyworth x you #alfred pennyworth fanfiction #alfred pennyworth fanfic #andy serkis

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insult-2-injury · 6 months

Text

Scream Queen - Part 1/2

Gojo Satoru/FemReader

When it comes to horror films, Gojo considers himself a connoisseur. He knows a good chase when he sees one, and he's had his sights set on you for a long time.

AO3 Link

NSFW, 6.3k wc, porn with plot, dirty talk, fingering, pussy eating, masturbation, mild predator/prey

Part 1

Gojo had picked the horror flick that night. Had insisted it was critically acclaimed. But it was just some campy thing where the heroine was running all too slow down a flickering hallway, her screams serving only to alert the pursuing monster of her exact location. The woman’s hair was as beautifully curled as when she’d arrived, her skirt hiked up to her upper thighs, tank top torn in a way that left little to the imagination.

“‘Amazing cinematography’ my ass,” you mumbled. You lay sleepily on Gojo’s couch, head in his lap, his fingers carding through your hair.

“You don’t like?”

“She’s tripped over six times.”

“Yeahhh she’s a little clumsy,” he agreed. “But try and think about it this way: every time she stumbles, her tits go bananas. I mean talk about breaking the fourth wall.”

The woman ran into a room, barricading the door with just a weak press of her shoulder, weeping hysterically. You pointed at the screen, livid. “I can literally see a cameraman standing in the corner! Critically acclaimed? Really?”

“Yeah. Critically acclaimed by my penis.” He frowned. “Did I not say that?”

“No, actually, you failed to mention that, deviant.”

The tug of sleep was beginning to draw your eyes closed, the warmth of his thigh and the drone of shitty TV lulling you into a dreamlike trance. It was a rare occasion that you didn’t like the movies Gojo picked out; in fact this was a first. He actually had a surprising eye for pretty things and a knack for picking out quality flicks you’d never even heard of. But this was… decidedly un-epic.

The sound of wood splintering through indicated the start of yet another chase sequence that you couldn't care less about witnessing.

“Couldn’t be me,” you mumbled, melting further into his lap with a deep sigh, eyes finally closing. “I’m fast as fuck.”

“Yeah?” His voice held more than a touch of amusement. “You’re alright.”

With a cursed technique that granted you a speed on par with the all famous Gojo Satoru, you’d fare more than alright in a horror film.

“You could never catch me.”

The fingers in your hair paused for a good minute before he responded.

“You think?” he said.

Your only response was a sleepy hum.

“Hm.” The fingers continued. “Alright.”

You were too tired to think much of it, honestly, or the fact that you had inadvertently issued a challenge to the most insufferably competitive man you’d ever met.

As your breathing slowed, his touch switched almost absentmindedly to the shell of your exposed ear, sweeping softly along the curve of it. Back and forth. Goosebumps tracked down your arms and you shivered, pulling your legs so tight to your chest that they knocked into his. You opted to ignore the puff of amusement from above – not like you could help that his couch was so comfortable.

Not to mention his apartment was bafflingly huge compared to your 400 square foot rabbit cage – with one of those open plan living spaces boasting enough area to plant a giant sectional couch right smack in the middle of it. But for how filthy rich he was, the place wasn’t ostentatious at all. It was cozy. Blessedly quiet, too, in comparison, even with the constant murmur of background noise that you were convinced Gojo would drop dead without.

His apartment had become somewhat of a home base in recent months for you to decompress after tough missions. It hadn’t been easy finding friends since your move to Tokyo. Not that Gojo had started out as anything close to one. You’d hated his guts at first, actually. Still did sometimes - your first meeting ending with you fuming and him grinning down at you like you were the funniest little creature. He had a habit of that, making people feel small, what with his 6 '3 string bean stature and a perma-smirk that did little to fight off the asshole allegations.

You weren’t sure if you could deign to call whatever this was a friendship, either, with the two of you pushing each other’s buttons like it was your sworn duty to do so. But the bickering was a strange sort of constant in your life, and jujutsu sorcerers didn’t get many of those. So you showed up here time and time again for what? Normalcy? Comfort? Something like that. You just took it for what it was, and Gojo was certainly never one to complain about company.

You dozed off to the thought of how surprisingly cushy his thigh was, even if he was built like a string bean.

A sharp pinch on your earlobe jolted you awake. In an instant, you’d snatched the offending wrist and pulled yourself up. “Ow! The hell was that about?!”

“Whoopsie! Sorry ‘bout that.” Gojo shrunk back from you, his sheepish apology so comically phony he reminded you of a kitten caught testing its boundaries. “Got scared. Hand slipped.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Sheesh. Careful, no second chances with this one.”

He was being extra annoying tonight, and you said as much. Grumpily, you released your hold of him and he made a real show of it: inspecting for bruises, rubbing at his wrist and shaking his hand out like he’d been in iron shackles. Worst of all, the movie seemed like it was only a little past the halfway point, which means he hadn’t let you sleep through much of it at all.

“Well.” You clapped your hands together. “you’ve just got to fill me in on what I missed.”

He inhaled.

“Sarcasm.”

His bottom lip stuck out in a pout, his head falling against his shoulder as he regarded you.

“You’re so mean to me.”

With a dramatic huff, you turned and collapsed back into the couch beside him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the heels of your palms. With senses so finely attuned to Gojo’s impulsive tendencies by now, you blindly knocked his hand away with your forearm before he could reach out to aggressively ruffle your hair in retaliation.

Just as smug as he could be, you crossed your arms and smirked. You’d found he often liked to justify inciting violence by lecturing how a good sorcerer was always on their guard. Well, guess what.

“Who’s the strongest now, bitch? That’s twice now I’ve blocked your ass.”

You caught the tail end of his quiet, mournful suffering – “could’ve seriously been injured…”

“You have a weak constitution.”

He pointed at himself, looking around the room as if to say ‘me?!’ You nodded solemnly.

“Uh oh, I smell jealousyyy,” he sang, fingers drumming a scattered beat on the leather behind your head.

“Yeah? What of?”

He raised his chin with a dazzling smile. “My dainty, effeminate wrists, of course!”

Despite your best attempt, you snorted a laugh. Damn if he didn’t look pleased as punch about it, too.

“Strongest,” you scoffed. “You can’t even stand up from the couch without groaning. Let’s get you home, grandpa…reduced to bone dust if someone tightened your watch band a little too hard–”

You let out an angry squeal when the fingers behind you finally seized the chance to reach up and tousle your hair– not in the cute little gesture of affection kind of way. More in the pure violence for violence sake kind of way. You threw your arms over your head, forehead tucking into your folded knees, shouting over his witchy cackle.

“Strongest guy at the bingo table more like! Stop. Stop!” You smacked at his accosting hand blindly but it was like swatting at a relentless swarm of bees. “THAT’S ENOUGH.”

With one final ruffle, he let you go. You threw him your fiercest scowl.

“I hate you.”

His fiendish laughter trailed into the low, drawn out sound of your name, hummed with a purring appreciation that had your stomach flipping oddly, twisting in knots. You froze. Dear lord, when had you gravitated so close to him? If you tipped your head back, you’d be lying on the crook of his elbow.

Quickly, you averted your gaze and got to work on your hair, smoothing down the devastation he had wreaked upon it. But strangely, his touch never quite left you, knuckles stroking gently at the base of your neck in an unfamiliar act of intimacy. You waited for him to launch an attack again, but he didn’t. Just quietly kneaded his fingers into your spine. The whole thing left you feeling a little stranded by what seemed like an unnerving insinuation of closeness, gaining an invisible weight to it the longer it went uncontested by you.

You blinked and spouted the first lie you could conjure up.

“You make for a terrible pillow, by the way.”

He made a throaty noise of disappointment, studying you a moment longer before turning his attention back to the movie, touch abandoning your neck. “Come into my home…”

“And I’ll walk right back out of it if you’re not careful.”

“Ooh, consider me scared!”

“You should be scared.”

“Don’t I know it.” His long form slouched impossibly further down into his seat, his fingers lacing over his chest before he barked out one startlingly loud laugh, as if he’d just remembered you’d said the funniest thing. “Careful,” he said, a self-satisfied grin beginning to creep across his lips. “You would hate careful.”

You frowned. “What–”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he waved you off. “You can do whatever you want.”

Your jaw clenched at the pet name. But still it took a moment for your brain to kick back into gear. It was just… the way he’d said it that gave you pause, like he knew something you didn’t.

“Shit movie,” was all you could think to say.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’, sitting there still with a far-too-pleased grin.

Hit with a sudden bout of nerves, you turned to the coffee table, which was littered with a variety of sweet snacks he’d fished out of his cupboard. Stomach already full and strongly protesting to anything more, you panic-swiped two kit kats and jammed them into your mouth, taking the opportunity to scooch yourself away from him.

For a guy whose cursed technique allowed him to control space, Gojo was awfully oblivious to the concept of it. He was a taker; give him room to spread and he would take it unapologetically. It was no different now, his long form stretching immediately into your space again. His knee chased yours almost mindlessly, leg knocking into yours, bouncing there with a fervor.

“Stop.”

He looked at you with a raised brow. “Heh?”

“You’re encroaching.”

His gaze flicked down, noticing the personal space violation for the first time, blinking, making a small hum of decision. He leaned in close, murmuring into your ear. “Well here’s an idea, yeah?” He grabbed your knee with an outstretched palm. “Go on and walk right out of here, then.”

You could only pray the movie was loud enough that he didn’t hear your breath catch. God, his hands were huge, his long, spidery grip bleeding warmth across your lower thigh and knee.

The feel of Gojo’s breath swept across your cheek as he observed your reactions closely. And you couldn’t help but gulp as a different, more alarming heat burned its way slowly up your thigh like a lit wick.

A thumb brushed featherlight across your bare skin, the pads of his fingers beginning to crawl gently inward to tickle the sensitive skin at the inside of your knee. You quickly jerked your leg away.

“Here’s an idea,” you sputtered, fumbling to find anything clever to say and failing miserably, “stop… being the way that you are.”

“Uh. Alright.” Gojo scratched his head, pulling back to give you the space you thought you wanted. “Don’t know what you want me to do about that, really. Sheesh. What’s a guy to do? Not like I can stop being hot or a genius or whatever. You want me to just ‘say goodbye’ to my baby blues?” He cupped his palm over his mouth in hushed confidentiality. “My giant horse cock?”

You made a horrible retching sound.

He shrugged away your disgust. “Just sayin’, you’ve gotta see it to believe it.”

“Cut it out.”

It was like you’d told him there was strawberry cake on the ceiling the way his eyes lit up, rolled back in his skull, jaw dropping as he threw his head back in fake ecstasy. And you just knew what he was about to do.

Your fist pulled back to prepare what should’ve been a non-punch to his infinity.

“Stop or I will punch all the way through you.”

In an outrageously high-pitched, shrill voice, Gojo moaned.

“Make me, daddy–!”

The words were cut short by a choked grunt as he allowed your fist to connect to the soft of his stomach. Hard. His head lolled backward, a long, appreciative groan slipping from between an open-mouthed grin. The slender column of his throat bobbed as the raunchy noise dissolved into giggles. And you might as well have been struck in the gut yourself with how violently you yanked yourself back from him.

Because Gojo Satoru was beautiful like this. In that stupid, unfair way that made you want to run your tongue up and down his neck just once to see if he was made of real flesh and blood. You shook the thought from your head.

“You’re so weird.”

“You think so?” he asked, voice just a touch raspy.

‘Yeah. I do.”

His eyes rolled coyly to the side to meet yours.

“Brat.”

“Pervert.”

Gojo lifted his head lazily, perfect tufts of snow white falling across his forehead, a dangerous grin stretching slow and wide across his face. “Babe, you have no idea.”

Your face heated, nerves shooting off like a flurry of butterfly wings in your chest. You wanted to hiss at him. What was he playing at anyway? He’d flirt with the likes of a potted fern, but still.

It wasn’t something you could afford to think too hard on. This was just who he was: an irredeemable flirt, someone who couldn’t help but poke around the edges of boundaries just to test the strength of the fenceline. A guy like him wasn’t interested in the long term, anyway, and probably wouldn’t last with someone who didn’t want to sit around and stroke his vanity all day.

Besides, it was nobody’s business but your own whether you occasionally thought about how it might slap his thighs when he walked.

To your growing horror, you found yourself unable to tear your wide eyes away from his; gaping far too long to chalk it up to a mental hiccup. And he was eating it right up if his stupidly smug smirk was anything to go by.

You fell back into your earlier TV watching position, but instead of settling your head in his lap like before, you curled yourself beside him, the crown of your head pressing against his outer thigh. Safer that way, better to avoid his gaze. Mortification burned bright and unbearable in your chest.

“Stop staring. And stop calling me babe.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” you said sharply.

“Because,” Gojo considered, nodding, seeming to roll the word out on his tongue. He laughed, insincere. “Because! You’re so right.”

You remained stubbornly silent. The pad of his thumb dropped to smooth over the deepening scrunch of your brows and you barely allowed it to stay. It was just a thing with Gojo; his hands always had to be fiddling with something, touching something. And you were usually the closest thing.

That was all.

“Ya know, you get all twitchy when you’re nervous,” his voice purred from above. “You nervous?”

Having little hope that he missed the small shudder that tracked your spine, you craned your neck to shoot him a warning look. But the sight that greeted you had you forgetting how to breathe.

Gojo was studying you with a shocking intensity, the glowing Six Eyes flicking between yours like he was carefully mapping you out. The ghost of a fascinated, greedy sort of grin curled at one corner of his mouth, seeming only to deepen at the sight of your unease. You dropped your head back into the couch, squeezing your eyes shut to will away the stone of want that had lodged itself firmly at the base of your throat.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Never been able to stop you before,” you snipped.

Gojo hummed, undeterred.

So sly that you hardly registered what he was doing until his shadow was looming over you, he repositioned himself, one leg sliding onto the couch so he could turn sideways to fully lean over your balled up form. With a quick move and a scooch forward, you found your head propped on his lap again.

A large palm cut off your furious protests, sliding to cup gently beneath your jaw, two fingers grazing over your clattering pulse. A calloused thumb slid across the seam of your downturned lips.

“Do you like feeling helpless?” he asked softly.

You stilled as a drop of startling heat slithered between your legs. His hand drifted down the column of your throat to follow the contraction of your nervous swallow, like he’d predicted it, like he was fine-tuning an instrument. Shit, you felt so small tucked into his lap like this.

You averted your eyes back to the movie.

“Serial killer question,” you said, wretchedly anxious with him peering down, every tiny response of yours seeming to be dissected and filed away for something sinister.

You pretended to be invested in whatever Oscar-worthy, nonsensical bullshit was happening on screen, the woman now captured in the monster's clutches. That is, until you were thrown headfirst into a crippling silence.

“Hey! I was watching that.”

The remote landed with a loud clatter on the coffee table. “Sorry, baby. Can’t have you holding out on me.”

And then suddenly, the real horror was right here in the dead quiet. The only light source was a soft overhead. With a burst of anger drawn up from a slowly drying well, you rolled onto your back, glowering up at him.

“Can I fucking help you?!”

“Mhmm.”

Your teeth clenched. “What are you even talking about, helpless?”

Gojo propped back on one hand and pretended to think about it. “Ah, you knowww. Scream queen style or whatever. When the cards are down and you’re all played out.” His eyes flicked down your form to where your hands twisted nervously into the bottom of your t-shirt. Then back up, voice dropping pensively. “So fast you’ve probably never felt it, though… being chased down like that, backed into a corner. Never been challenged the way you deserve, I bet. You like the thought of someone who can keep up with you?”

If the body was a chest of drawers, yours overturned all at once. Someone who could keep up with you… Challenge you. Like… him? Your jaw clenched. A desire you didn’t even know you had settled with a pulsing heat in your lower belly.

“So, what I’m hearing, and correct me if I’m wrong.” You stopped, centered yourself with a deep breath. “What I’m hearing is you asking whether I’d get off on being chased?!?

“Get off on it?” Gojo’s jaw dropped, acting as if the idea had only just occurred to him. “Wow. Uh. Dirty girl. Well. Sure I mean, yeah. If you want.”

Your nails scraped across the leather of the couch, trying to distract yourself from how ridiculously enticing the idea was. Because it shouldn’t be at all. Nope. Not to a well-adjusted person. What made it exponentially worse was that the longer you went without storming out of his apartment, the more Gojo looked at you like the cat about to eat the canary. And damn it all, you didn’t hate it.

No. You hated that you didn’t hate it.

“If I want?” you grit out. “First of all, there’s something wrong with you if you get your rocks off on the idea of hunting women. Elmer Fudd over here. Get a grip.”

He smirked. “Be nice, kitty cat.”

Using your elbows, you shoved yourself up, whirling around to sit on your heels so you could better set him on fire with your eyes.

“Why should I?!” you spat his earlier words back in his face.

Gojo went still, his slightly widened eyes flitting across your red-faced indignation. His gaze dropped to your lips as he chewed on his own for the span of a few breaths. Finally, he clucked his tongue. Whistled softly.

“Well, shit,” Gojo said. “Would ya look at that.”

Without an ounce of shame, his hand slid down the front of his pants.

“Wha–”

“Sorryyy,” he sung. “Mind of his own, it’s the darndest thing!”

You gawked at him in disbelief as he casually adjusted himself.

“Really, man?!”

“Oh relaaax. Ever seen one before? Wanna take a peek?”

You tried to clear the image of those long fingers wrapping his cock, bringing himself to completion for you with that same groan he’d demonstrated for you earlier. The thought had you too hot in your skin.

“I’ll kill you. They’ll never stop finding your body.”

“Oh, keep going, I’m almost there!” he groaned theatrically before he shot you a cheeky, lopsided grin. “Gotta give it to you, babe, you really know how to get a guy goin’. I’m half hard and we haven’t even started.” His head cocked just a degree further and suddenly the playful grin he sported gained a sharp, predatory edge, voice dropping in low warning. “Keep looking at me like that. All angry. Sweetens the deal at the end of this thing. Makes it allll worth the wait.”

You swallowed, throat like sandpaper. “Deal?”

“When I catch you.”

You should walk out. You should walk right back out, like you said you would.

Unfortunately, your silence spoke volumes. Frustrated on several different levels, your hands flew up to cover your eyes, fingers pressing into the lids until you saw spots. But nothing could distract from the hyper awareness of the ache between your thighs.

“What do you want?” you asked, voice sounding small.

A long-fingered hand encircled each of your wrists, prying your hands away from your face. He held them hostage, pinning them to your upper thighs so you couldn’t retreat as he leaned in. Your heart stopped when his cheek brushed past yours.

“What I want is the whole thing. Listen. I love it when you play dumb with me. Seriously I do,” Gojo murmured into your ear. “But I think we’ve been sitting on the same page here for quite some time now, yeah? All the fighting, dancin’ around the tension and whatnot. I mean it’s sexy as hell, don’t get me wrong, but we both know it’s just extra bullshit.”

Your entire being was up in flames, face so hot you wondered if he could feel the heat emanating off your cheeks, his own pressed so tightly to yours he could probably feel your jaw work out a response.

“Make your point.”

He laughed, dipped his head, the tip of his nose nuzzling down the slope of your neck. The tiny, experimental flutter of warmth against your skin made you twitch, but the sudden hot drag of his tongue had you violently shuddering, searching for purchase until suddenly you were the one holding onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders. You could practically hear his arrogant smile as he breathed you in long and slow, the following sigh one of genuine contentment.

Gojo leaned back to have a look at you, disgustingly pleased with himself.

“Sure thing. I’ll make my point,” he said. Your arms felt strangely bereft when he moved out of your space, falling limply at your sides. Casual as could be, Gojo settled back into the couch, one ankle perched over his thigh, fingers clasping together like the two of you were discussing weather patterns. “Here’s the thing. I wanna find you, chase you, and fuck you in that order. Think you’d like somethin’ like that? Being pinned down with my cock in you?”

His eyes dropped to the motion of the unsubtle squeeze of your thighs, a razor sharp smile spreading slow across his lips.

“Yeah,” he purred. “Always thought you might.”

“You don’t know shit.”

His eyes flicked back to yours.

“I know that pussy has to be nice and wet by now.” Another spasm of want rocketed between your legs. God, he was so arrogant. “No shame in it, sweetheart. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop the whole thing.”

A palm settled on your knee, thumb stroking in a gesture of mock comfort. His voice was soft. “Orrr you could just admit you’re making a mess of your panties right now hearing me talk like this.”

It was like your strings were cut all at once, your chin tipping to your chest as you lost whatever self-preservation instinct you had left. “Shit,” you whispered.

A finger hooked into the bend of one of your knees, tugging invitingly. His hum was a soft, rolling lull.

“Come here and sit on me.”

You may have been cracking, folding beneath the weight of your desire, but nothing could have dulled the precision of the homicidal glare you leveled him with.

“Think you have it in you to shut up for like six seconds?”

Gojo laughed. “Damn, my girl gets mean when she’s frustrated, huh?” At your lack of response, his smile dwindled and he seemed to truly consider you, taking in your stiff form. His gaze fell unabashedly between your legs again, tongue running along his teeth in deliberation. “You want me to eat you out a little? Loosen you up?”

Your jaw clenched as the mental image tore across your mind: hooded blue eyes looking up from between your legs, warm tongue put to work lapping at your cunt – he always did like to stay busy. Shit, why could you conjure up that image so well?

Because Gojo had looked at you like that before, hadn’t he? Like he wanted to take you apart, piece you back together. You’d just been too blind to see it.

He continued, his other hand reaching out now so both were hooked behind your knees. “Yeah… Yeah. That’s what you need. About time, too, huh. Makes my dick so hard just thinking about it. C’mere.”

“I don’t–”

In a single movement, you were pulled off balance, falling flat on your back. He cut off your yelp of outrage, seized your ankles, spun and dragged you to the edge of the couch, your thighs now bracketing his. You squirmed, head spinning as you panted up at him with searching eyes. It wasn’t a comfortable position you’d been suddenly squeezed into, your head bent awkwardly against the back of the couch, trapped in a slouched position by the oppressive energy coming from the man standing between your spread legs.

Gojo loomed above. His fingers twitched at his sides, drawing your attention there and then directly over to the glaring evidence of his arousal pressing against the front of his pants. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Feels like I really don’t even have to check,” he breathed, hungry gaze trailing across your body like he couldn’t decide what to focus on. “Just know you’re soaking. It’s crazy.”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said again, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Last chance.

“I– you’re… F-fuck you.” His grin was deadly, eyes sparkling in dark victory. It was unsettling, how much you wanted to fall headfirst into that blue.

Gojo Satoru collapsed on his knees like he was about to start muttering prayers. He tugged you closer, the weight of his head falling against your inner thigh with a satisfied hum. Laying there so he could simply observe the slight quiver in your legs as he slowly drew his oversized palms up and down any bare skin available to him.

“Fuck. Look at you,” he murmured, breath sweeping across the damp crotch of your sleep shorts like he was talking right into your clothed pussy.

At the sound of your tiny, pathetic squeak, his shoulders shuddered violently. He slid forward, fingers hooking into the hem of your shorts, teasing there. His eyes raised with a hooded intensity, holding yours for a few heated seconds. Terribly slow, he let his jaw drop, tongue unveiling itself, and leaned forward to press it firm and flat against the thin fabrics covering your entrance, letting the heat bleed from his mouth. A groan choked out of your throat, coming out more as a grating wheeze, the noise met with a gleaming, wicked satisfaction.

“So the…” you swallowed thickly, voice so ragged it was almost completely foreign. “The thing with eating pussy is you have to remove my-”

There was a sharp, reprimanding smack on your thigh. “Don’t start.”

You half expected him to rip your shorts right off; you wouldn’t have been opposed. But Gojo instead rolled the hem down little by little, so torturously slow your fingers ached with how hard they dug into the couch with anticipation. He nipped, sucked bruises into the skin as it was exposed, gently guiding you to lift your hips so he could pull your bottoms the rest of the way.

His eyes danced in wonder across the arousal that you could feel being squeezed from you just by his appraisal. “Shit,” he exhaled, his warm breath brushing gently across your soaking cunt. You gasped, legs automatically attempting to clamp together. To get away. When was the last time you’d been this vulnerable to anyone?

“No, no. Nope. None of that,” he reprimanded, pushing your knees into your chest, spreading your legs more lewdly for his perusal. “Lemme see what I did to you.”

“I– I c-can’t.” You averted your gaze. It was all too much: the sight of Gojo Satoru kneeling between your legs, looking as if he’d let the world burn just to get a taste of you. He breathed across you again, his mouth so damn close that you wanted to start tearing at his hair.

“Shit,” he said again. “Pussy got hot hearing me talk about how hard I’m gonna fuck it later.”

You couldn’t help but let out a muffled cry when two fingers stroked down your slit, pressing against the entrance to your pussy, swirling there. He coated the tips of his fingers thoroughly in your wetness, raising them to the light just to slowly scissor them apart. Watch your own fluid stretch thin between them before going back for more, just lightly teasing. Your face felt impossibly hot, chest rising and falling in short gasps, chasing the stroke of his fingers, needing something to clench around, the slow spread of your slick too ridiculously loud in the quiet room.

“You always this wet for me, baby?”

“I d-didn’t think your head could get any bigger.”

Gojo hummed in amusement, giving no warning before he began to slowly ease two fingers inside you. A string of expletives punctuated the air as your cunt throbbed and clamped down in relief, accepting him greedily.

“Look at that,” he said, hooking the long digits inside you and pulling another whimpered curse from your lips. He took his time dragging them out, pushing them back in with an obscene squelch. “You’re a sweet girl letting me finger fuck you like this. Shit, look at your pussy suckin’ on my fingers. So fucking hot… my girl letting me do this to her.”

“You–You’re- I d-” You attempted to mouth off, snap back that you didn’t belong to him, but a targeted curl of his fingers cut you off at the pass.

“I know,” he crooned. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

A thumb pressed into your clit and your back arched as bolts of pleasure shot up your spine, hips rolling with the pump of his fingers, chasing more. You needed more. You couldn’t even breathe you needed it so badly.

Gojo bit the inside of your thigh, moaning obscenely and latching harder when you yelped in pain and smacked him hard in the head.

“Ow. What the– what the fuck,” you gasped, although you hadn’t really disliked it at all. He soothed the sting away with little licks.

“Sorry,” he said insincerely, voice in shreds now, strained with an odd concentration. “Wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve whacked off to the thought of this right here. But now look at you spreading your pretty legs for me. Still tryin’ to act like you’re not starved for my cock after all this time. Making me wait like that. Dripping your cum all over my couch. Makes me fucking crazy. Filthy girl. You’re my filthy girl, aren’t you? Ffuck,” he hissed.

It took you too long in your blissed out state to realize his shoulders were rocking slightly, and not just from the push and pull of his fingers inside you. “And my sweet girl’s gonna let me hunt her down, isn’t she? Spit on her tits, slap her, fuck her from behind.”

You couldn’t see it, but there was no doubt now that Gojo was masturbating himself in tandem. Thrusting his hips, not fast enough to relieve himself, just to appease the torment. God, he was vulgar, he was disgusting. He was sexy. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

With a wet schlick, his fingers pulled out of you. And you could only assume from the way both his gaze and hand fell down to his lap that he was spreading your cum along his cock. Fingers wrapping himself, Gojo choked on something between a salacious moan and a manic laugh. His eyes slid up to yours dangerously.

A quick flash of pink was all you got before he was leaning forward and sliding his tongue through your drenched folds. Finally, you let loose the keening cry that had been stuck in your chest. Your spine felt close to snapping with how hard it pulled taut, your fingers leaping from their death grip into the couch cushion to embed deep in his soft hair, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

A long, appreciative groan came from deep in his chest and he sighed, relaxed further into his task. One hand fisted around his cock, the other wrapped round one of your thighs to draw you closer, hand splaying across your lower belly to better hold you down. The rough pad of his thumb found your clit, dragging tight circles.

With long strokes of his tongue, he lapped at the wetness collecting at your entrance. You wanted him to go higher, needed his mouth elsewhere, for that wet heat to replace the thumb steadily masturbating you. You dipped your hips to guide him there but he didn’t relent, tongue fucking into your cunt with the same aching slowness. It was like this wasn’t even for you.

“Gojo,” you said weakly. He just hummed, the vibration sending arcs of pleasure up your spine. God you were so close already. You just needed… “G-Gojo.”

Still he didn’t speed up, acted like he hadn’t even heard you. And it pissed you right off. He wanted the whole thing, didn’t he? He’d said that before. Gojo Satoru wanted you. Badly. He was good, but so were you. Gojo was a man who took. Had taken his entire life. He didn’t want someone who sat around and stroked his vanity. No. He wanted someone who took, too. He wanted you.

A rising anger loosened your tongue.

“Gojo, you f-fucking prick,” you spat. “Take your hand off your fucking cock and do this the right way.”

Deliberately, his tongue pulled from you, thumb still working you at an infuriatingly slow pace. A lazy, dangerous grin began to crawl across his lips, still wet with your juices.

“Careful,” he warned.

“I hate careful.”

Something dazed crossed his face then, like you’d struck him square across the face. He shuddered, his eyes darkening, glimmering suddenly with an almost terrifying devotion.

And then both his hands were on you.

Arms wrapped under your thighs, palms splaying to lock your hips down completely. A blessed heat enveloped your clit with a gentle suction, tongue fluttering where you had so desperately needed it.

“Ffffff” was all you could manage, your back arching, unable to even watch him like you wanted to as your body contorted with the pleasure shooting to a quick crescendo.

“Shitshitshitshit,” you cried, fingers yanking at his hair, uncaring whether it hurt him, shoving his face impossibly further into your pussy. A vulgar, encouraging groan left him and with one final suck and a flicker of his tongue, you were sailing into oblivion. You clawed at him, a string of filthy curses stuck in your throat as you spasmed against him. It was long, debilitating, and drawn out by warm, slow slides of his tongue against you as he continued to lap up what you spilled, murmuring soft praises.

Your spine laid flat against the couch again as you collapsed with satisfaction, the pleasure still buzzing like a livewire across your skin. You twitched with sensitivity when his thumbs spread you apart, observing the final, tiny convulsions of your pussy.

“I– you’re amazing,” he groaned, like he was imagining himself deep inside you. “God, baby I… I wanna ruin you. My fucking cock is…” His forehead fell between your thighs for a second, like he was gathering himself. “I’m so fucking hard.”

Gojo leaned back on his heels as you sat up, assisting as you pulled your pants back up. He helped you up on shaky legs, until the two of you stood looking at each other, him unmoving, just eyeing you silently with a dark intensity.

Gently, you pulled his face down to yours, placing a short, gentle kiss to his lips.

You pulled back.

“I really do hope you’re as fast as they say you are.”

And you disappeared.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #no use of y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut

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tibbythetiger · 6 months

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Hello friendsssss! We have an official tag on AO3, we’ve all grown so much in just a few days. Amazing work all around!

I’m just dishing out some general HCs today! Hopefully, I can actually get the time to turn my main DreamTheory meeting as coworkers at Sparky’s into a real fic soon!

Both of them enjoy their height difference greatly. Mike usually hates feeling smaller or shorter than people, but he’s never met someone as genuine and nice as Ness so it doesn’t bother him, and makes him feel kinda safe. Ness just loves his pocket-sized boyfriend.

I know someone else has already said this, but Ness with freckles!!!! Ness with freckles is so very important to me. I think they’re super light during most of the winter, but once it gets warmer and the sun comes out they’re fairly noticeable. Mike likes to kiss each one he can find, it always makes Ness laugh.

I know we all agree that Ness is Conspiracy Boyfriend, and I agree! I think he particularly loves those paranormal ghost-hunting shows that were super popular back in 00’s, and he’s a HUGE Unsolved Mysteries fan. When he’s looking to get the same thrill but looking for more fictional media, he loves the Twilight Zone.

Mike makes a mean grilled cheese and tomato soup, this is in part because it’s Abby’s favorite food and he decided if he had to make anything really well it would be this. Ness actually doesn’t like grilled cheese, but Abby talked it up so much he gave it a try and he ended up really liking it. It is one of Mike’s proudest moments.

I think Ness is really good with kids, he seems to me the type that was the oldest cousin at parties. (This is just projection), so he’s used to having younger kids following him around and having to keep them entertained. While he’s used to it, he’s really genuine and loves doing it. He’s always overjoyed to hang out with Abby, and she adores him because of it.

Ness and Mike cannot draw to save their lives! They are horrible at it, Abby likes to hold “drawing classes” where she tries to show them how she makes her masterpieces. Ness always tries hard, but it’s just not his strong suit.

They are the couple that slow dances in the kitchen or living room. Mike is always reluctant about it, he’s fairly paranoid at romantic gestures, and he’s always scared someone will see them, but he always enjoys it when Ness convinces him it’s okay. Abby thinks it’s the most magical thing, so she draws the two of them as princes when they dance during a Disney movie night.

Ness absolutely tells Mike and Abby stories to help them sleep. They both think he has the most soothing voice, Ness just loves being able to help them, sometimes he’ll even sing to them, but he’s still really shy about it.

I think Ness really loves listening to musical soundtracks, but he’s also a pop girly through and through, like, he loves Kelly Clarkson, Paris Hilton, and Brittany Spears. Meanwhile, Mike doesn’t listen to music super often, he usually lets Abby or Ness pick. Otherwise, I feel like he’s really into grunge or early rock. He listens to Nirvana sure, but also Radio Head. (I also think he’s a very big Weezer fan)

I think Mike is a big writer, he started journaling to help him take note of his dreams/memories of Garrett, then really leaned into it once his parents were out of the picture since he didn’t really have anyone else to turn to to vent. Sometimes he can be a little poetic, and he’ll write lil notes to Ness and leave them in his apron or pockets for him to find later.

Ness thinks this is simply the cutest thing he’s ever seen actually, and attempts to do the same thing. He’s a little cheesier, and are usually filled with lil hearts and things doodled around them, but he sticks them on the mirror or on Mike’s alarm clock. Mike saves everyone he finds and slowly they start to cover the walls in his bedroom.

The three of them cannot have board game nights. They are all waaaay too competitive, and the last time they played Uno and Ness won, Mike pouted so much and Abby locked herself in her room. They settle for movie nights or puzzles when they’re doing things the three of them.

When Abby first starts dabbling in painting her nails, she practices on Ness and Mike. Eventually Ness and Abby usually just have matching nails, Ness doesn’t let the looks he gets bother him any.

Abby absolutely knows they’re dating, Mike tries not to keep secrets from her, especially after the debacle of Freddy’s, and what happened with the Aunt. She’s too young, so she doesn’t get why people are weird about it, but she understands enough that she can’t tell anyone that Mike and Ness are dating. When she does talk about them, most people assume Ness is a girl, just because of his name. Abby just stops correcting people, the only person outside of them who knows is Abby’s therapist(?), but she supports Mike so it’s not really an issue.

Ness loves stealing Mike’s sweaters and coats, they’re so much bulkier than the ones that Ness buys himself, so they’re so comfortable. In the winter, he’ll steal them and wear them to work or around the house. Mike grumbles and pretends he cares, but he thinks Ness looks cute in them.

Ness has the worst road rage, Mike is both horribly amused and terrified of this when it occurs. Ness always apologizes afterward usually followed up by an “If people could just learn how to drive, I swear to GOD”

Mike and Abby will go into Sparky’s when Ness is working just to get desert and to see him. Most of the employees at Sparky’s know there’s something going on between Ness and Mike, but they all let it remain unspoken. It seems like everyone is taking good care of each other, so no one decides to interfere.

Well, that’s all I have for now! I’m really loving seeing everything everyone is putting out, and getting to read everyone’s work and see their art is amazing!

#mike schmidt #mike x ness #ness the waiter #securitywaiter #dreamtheory #fnaf ness

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ddarker-dreams · 7 months

Text

Nexus IV.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Explicit not SFW, alcohol consumption, Space Politics, possessive behavior, yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 15.4k.

Nexus index.

Time plucked away at the few petals still clinging to Kafka’s roses.

The insipid end brought an inexplicable sense of relief. An irrational foreboding cast suspicion upon the bouquet; you considered it an ill-omen. You observed it religiously as one would an upside-down hourglass. Waiting, anticipating, dreading. When the last petal fell, you breathed a sigh of relief. It was late by then, so you decided to throw the remains away in the morning.

Presently, you examine the vase.

The once wilted stems stand tall, pridefully lifting its crowning gem on a green pedestal. Ruby-colored petals burst forth, wickedly beautiful and fragrant.

Is this a practical joke? Some little parlor trick intended to unnerve you?

The latest developments in holograms include olfactory stimulation. Consider this, you decide to test its authenticity. You reach out, expecting your hands to glide through an incorporeal image.

Your fingers meet resistance.

You try again just to be certain — the results are the same.

You’re more determined to get rid of it now than ever.

You pick up the most vain rose by its stem. It delays its demise by pricking you, earning a temporary pardon along the white veneer of your vanity.

Blood pools into a crimson dome on your finger. You watch it, mesmerized, taken aback by memories that emerge alongside it.

The voice of a haughty girl echoes throughout your being.

“What’s wrong? It’s just a bit of blood. We all have it inside us, don’t we?”

The LOTUS-EATER has always been your home.

So long as it wasn’t open for business, you were free to run amuck. Of course, you refused to run amuck — how unladylike is that — but you did enjoy roaming. There were a lot of interesting things to look at. Anything was better than spending hours in front of that dumb blue screen with its stupid made-up people with stupid made-up problems. You didn’t get it. Everyone always said you’d grow up to be a super amazing Arbiter. You’d get tons of clients, make them all happy, get mountains of credits, buy the IPC, and then fire their staff.

Miss Calliope, your teacher when mother was busy, said it took most twenty years to get to where you’ve gotten in one. This reinforced an argument you’d practiced for many cycles. You thought for sure you could convince mother.

It didn’t work out that way.

Mother said you had to keep studying before you could make a link with an organic being. You really wanted to argue, but you chose to act like an adult and be angry in silence instead. She tried to win you over and offered a ride on the nectar guides. This bribe almost swayed you from your mission. To ensure she knew how serious you were, you said you’d pass, calmly enough for her to know you weren’t actually calm.

She went off somewhere to discuss boring things with boring people. You seized this opportunity to further refine your strategy and paced The Lounge’s hallways. Maybe if you broke the blue screen, mother would have no choice but to let you learn through experience. This idea greatly enthused you, until you remembered they could just get another blue screen. For this mission to succeed, you needed to cause the ‘collapse of supply chains.’ This was adult for ‘we can’t get the stuff we want’ from what you could surmise. The problem was, you didn’t know where these important chains were located. There’s Thelx, the good place, Ade, the weird place, Mele, the boring place, and Arc, the scary place.

You stood and contemplated. If you had to hide something important, you’d put it in the scariest spot. Arc it is then.

A mission of this magnitude would be unlike anything you pulled before. You’d need a… what was that term again…? Accompanied lice…?

Accomplice!

That’d be the crux of the whole thing. It couldn’t be any of the adults either, they’re all snitches. You required someone who would do your bidding. You closed your eyes and concentrated. There were three people around. Two on the first floor, one on the second. You sought out the latter.

A little boy with long blonde hair and dull blue eyes sat by himself in the break room. He hadn’t noticed you yet, he just stared off into space and halfheartedly kicked his legs. The workers sometimes brought their kids along and stuffed them in here, where there were snacks and games. He didn’t seem interested in either.

What resolve, you thought. What fortitude!

You walked in front of him, pointed, and loudly demanded, “What’s your name?”

“M-Miss Phaeales?” He squeaked.

“No, that’s my name,” you sighed. Maybe your intuition was off. “What’s your name?”

He hung his head and frowned.

“Oh, um… I’m Vincent.”

You squinted. “Huh? That can’t be right. Vincent’s the bartender. You can’t do that.”

“He’s my dad. We have the same name.”

You felt a strange feeling from tinier Vincent; the kind of strange feeling that made your stomach and head hurt. Mother said you’d be able to block it out as you grew up. You hoped you’d grow up soon.

“Well, that’s dumb. I don’t like that name,” you decided. He remained silent. “Pick a new one.”

“I don’t think I can…?”

“You can because I said you can. Pick a new one, or I’ll pick one for you.”

He stared at you like you had three heads. You did the scary thing mother does when angry — you counted down from three to one in a mean voice. Not-tinier-Vincent just sat there and looked confused. You scrunched your face up when your mean counting finished. You didn’t get it, that always worked on you. He must be immune to pressure… a quality your mission required.

Maybe he had his merits after all.

“Alright, I’ll pick one. From now on, you’re… hm… Lear.”

You placed your hands on your hips and nodded. This is a great name, you thought. It rhymes with so many things.

Lear tilted his head. “Uh… alright?”

“Great. Onto the next business order — how old are you?”

He put up five fingers.

What luck you have!

You grinned. “I’m seven, so according to the law, you have to listen to me.”

“The law?” He questioned.

“Yeah, the law. It’s what you have to do or you get in trouble.”

Lear processed this new information and nodded. “Okay. I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

“From now on, you’ll be my ac—”

You covered your mouth with your hands. Wait a moment, you can’t tell him he’s an accomplice! He might not help you then. That was a close one. You considered alternative titles, but none of them sounded as cool as accomplice. What a shame, but it can’t be helped. Missions required sacrifice.

“From now on, Lear, you’ll be my best friend.”

…

A few cycles later, you convened on the balcony outside of mother’s office.

You liked the balcony. No one made you use the blue screen there. Sometimes, when you weren’t monitored, you’d grab a chair, pull it to the railing, hop up, and stare. This is Eris, you’d think. A cold planet far away from the stars. Stars are big fireballs that make everything nice and warm. I don’t think I’ll ever get to see one. It’d be cool if I could.

You displayed a vital object for the mission.

“Lear, do you know what this is?”

Lear stood still with his hands in his pockets. “A circle?”

“No. Well, okay, yeah, it’s a circle, but this is called a hair tie. You use it to tie your hair.”

“That’s cool.”

You held it out to him. “For this mission, full visibility is required. I’d cut your hair, but mother hid the scissors from me.”

His tiny hand grabbed it. Lear regarded your gift blankly and glanced back at you, his eyebrows furrowed. Did he not know what to do with it?

You sighed because that’s what mother did in these situations. You started to get why. You took the gift back, tied your hair up, then returned it. He managed to do it on the fourth try. Relieved that the trial was over, you clapped and smiled. Your effort has been rewarded.

“Good job, Lear.”

Lear’s head rose at that. “What?”

“I said good job. When someone gets something right, that’s what you say.”

“... It is?” He murmured. You nodded. You didn’t think you needed to teach him the basics, but an accomplice must be capable. Miss Calliope said that extra effort was always worth it. She changed her mind after you grabbed a stool to mix the adult drinks. You’d like to think she still meant it.

“Since that’s finished, we can get to the main event.”

You pulled out a paperclip from a pocket inside your dress. The object was subjected to your immense strength, manipulated, and reforged. It went from a boring shape to a useful shape. You took a deep breath, brought the paperclip’s edge to your pointer finger, then stabbed down. Lear released a choked sound when blood surfaced.

You cleaned the paperclip’s edge with your dress’ hem and handed it to him. This would go on to determine the rest of your life, you decided. It needed to be done well.

“I read that doing this makes your promises stronger. Since we’re gonna make an important promise, it has to be extra strong,” you explained. The color drained from Lear’s face. “What’s wrong? It’s just a bit of blood. We all have it inside us, right?”

Lear refused to take the paperclip. “A promise? Miss Phaeales, I don’t know if I can.”

“You don’t have to press hard. It barely stings, anyway.”

“B-But...”

You pursed your lips. “Lear, we have to, or the promise will be weak.”

Lear shook his head and took a step back. There were lots of weird feelings that came from him. They confused you, you couldn’t think of a word to describe them. It didn’t hurt, but it felt heavy on your chest. What did you do wrong? Were paper clips that scary? No, it had to be something else. Mother said you can’t focus on another person too hard because it’s unfair. If they don’t tell you it themselves, you shouldn’t know it.

“Lear…?”

He stood on his tiptoes and reached for the number pad. You revealed the top-secret passcode to him, since the balcony was to be your top-secret hideout. Every top-secret hideout had to have a top-secret password. The detective books you read said so.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Lear apologized. His voice sounded tiny. “I’m really sorry.”

You didn’t know what to say to stop him or if you should try.

Was this what people meant when they called you pushy? You wanted to complete the mission, but you also didn’t want Lear to be sad.

The door opened and quietly closed.

With that, the first friend you ever made was gone.

…

The next time you were allowed on the balcony, you were curled up in a ball.

You hugged your knees to your chest and sniffled. Mom was mad at you. Miss Calliope was mad at you. Mister Caicias had scolded you. The other Arbiters were less nice too. You don’t think they ever liked you, but at least they pretended they did. It’s okay to hate you for now so they stopped pretending.

You could hear their thoughts. You didn’t want to, but you could anyway.

What a spoiled child.

If anyone else had done what she did, they’d never be allowed in this line of work.

I hope the Exalted Arbiter lives a long life, if this is to be her successor.

Your throat was sore, your eyes burned, and your chest hurt. You didn’t know you were spoiled. You never thought you were better than anyone. You hadn’t realized your attitude was awful. You just wanted to be confident like mom. That way, no one would be worried about the future. Everyone on Eris relied on mom. Everyone on Eris will have to rely on you eventually.

You looked at the black sky, the only sky you’d ever known. It always felt sad. The gray clouds were like little discolored tears.

You wondered if Noct ever felt bad that they made a planet where everyone was unhappy.

Someone’s coming, you realized. Is it moma?

It isn’t.

It’s the little boy with blue eyes and long, blonde hair. This time, it’s pulled back into a ponytail. You hadn’t changed the top-secret password, he must’ve used it to gain entry.

You hurriedly rubbed your tears away, and he looked elsewhere until you gave up on your task. Afterward, he sat down beside you. He hugged his knees to his chest as well.

“Are you okay?” He murmured.

You nodded and sunk your head into your knees.

“... Those kids are mean, anyway,” he reassured. “I dunno what they said, but it’s not true.”

“It is too. The adults think it but they don’t say it,” you whispered.

You know it’s true. Your mission to Arc almost caused what Miss Calliope called ‘a scandal.’

You snuck out of the LOTUS-EATER by yourself.

It wasn’t as difficult as you expected. You just borrowed a staff member’s lanyard, pressed it against the door, and it opened. You stuck to the shadows and navigated your way south. You could tell when an adult was close if you heard their thoughts. The thoughts were rarely happy. You pushed on until you encountered an alley, where some older kids were gathered.

You froze; you hadn’t accounted for kids. Their thoughts weren’t as loud and terrible. You didn’t hear them.

This bunch, though… they had a kid’s build and the expression of an adult. You counted four in total. One was tall, another was scrawny, the tiniest covered in dirt, and the last kid wore a tattered shirt that reached their knees.

The tall kid spat on the ground.

“This is our spot,” he said. “Get lost.”

You fidgeted.

“Hello, um… could I just pass over that fence? I’ll be quick,” you reasoned.

“Are you deaf or something? I said, get lost.”

The scrawniest kid squinted at you. “Hey, wait a sec, J. I feel like I’ve seen her before.”

“Really? When?” The tiny one squeaked.

“Y’know, during those big events for when Arc folk move over.”

“Huh, now that you mention it…” the tall boy trailed off, “You’re [First] Phaeales, right?”

He said your name like it was a disease. It made your heart hurt.

“Can you read my mind? What am I thinkin’ about, huh?” The scrawny kid called out.

“Hey, be careful. I heard those things can make your head explode with a single look,” the kid in a long shirt whispered.

The tall boy guffawed and stepped forward. “Really? Is that true?”

You took a step back.

“What? You gonna run away? Can’t stand to see people like us, huh?” He remarked. “Must be nice, getting everything you ever need handed to you. Yeah. Real fuckin’ nice.”

“I don’t—” your voice gave out. You ignored how they snickered and pressed on to finish your important sentence. “I don’t think that about you! When I grow up, I wanna help—”

The tall boy stormed over and lifted you by your dress’ collar. “Help? Help? You can’t do shit. You people never do anything! You promise and promise and never come through!”

You didn’t understand, there was too much to process. Anger and sadness mixed to become a storm that you were caught in the middle of. You closed your eyes and hoped the pain would go away. Maybe you prayed to Noct, maybe you cried out for your mom, you don’t really remember.

When you reopened your eyes you saw a music box. It was simple, small, and made of wood. There was nothing else around it. No ceiling or sky, floor or ground. You couldn’t speak, so you couldn’t scream. Nothing felt normal. This wasn’t Eris. Did you float into space? Can anyone save you? Would anyone find you?

The music box’s handle creaked; the lid lifted like a yawning mouth. No song was played. Voices came out instead, though they sounded far away. There was nothing else to do but listen.

“At this rate, she’s only going to get worse…”

“You don’t know that. I have a few more items I can pawn off, and then…”

“... Temperature of 102 degrees…”

“How much longer will this embargo last? Why can’t they just give in to the IPC’s fucking demands already? We all know they’re going to, but we have to sit and suffer while they play politics!”

“Honey, keep your voice down, the children are trying to sleep…”

“... Temperature of 104 degrees…”

“My wedding ring! There’s still my wedding ring! We have— we have to go fast, the pharmacy closes at 3400!”

“Jason, your mom and I need to run a very important errand. I need you to keep an eye on Iris, okay? Can you do that for me? I know it’s scary, but it’ll all be okay, I promise. We’ll be quick.”

“Hey… big bro?”

“You shouldn’t get up! Here, lay back down. There you go, take it easy. Mom and dad will be back soon. They’ll get what you need, and… and… it’ll be okay. They promised.”

“I’m sorry… for making everyone sad.”

“No, no, that isn’t true! When you get better, we’ll be the happiest family there is. We’ll— we’ll take a trip to the entertainment district, get tons of yummy food. I’ve been saving up my allowance so I can spoil you. You can have cookies, cakes, whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“... Pudding too?”

“Of course, pudding too. You’ll have so much, you’ll need an entire lifetime to eat it. A long, long lifetime. So… just wait a bit longer. They should be back any minute now.”

“You want to hear the music box mom gave you? That’s all the way in the— no no no, don’t look at me like that, I’ll go get it. See? Keep an eye on the door, lift your head just a little bit. I’ll be quick.”

“Hey, look what I found. Works like a charm too. Hm? Did you fall asleep? That was fast. It normally… it takes… normally takes… l-longer…?”

The music box slammed shut.

The tall boy — Jason — released his grip on you and staggered back. His friends ran to his aid. You squeezed your head in your hands, fell to your knees, and tried to disappear. It hurt, it hurt, oh, it hurt, a pain you’d never experienced before. It felt like your chest was stabbed over and over again with something sharper than a paperclip. This pain, his pain, it was too much.

A few guards that’d been dispatched to search for you overheard the commotion. They ran over, worried that you were injured. Nothing was wrong with you physically. The pain came from within. You thrashed and screamed when they picked you up. You wanted to be left alone, you wanted it to go away.

You looked at the tall boy one more time before they pulled you away.

Tears fell from his eyes and they couldn’t stop.

You don’t think those kids were mean. They were just really sad.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” the little boy said. His voice wavered. “I was scared.”

You felt numb. “Of me?”

His eyes widened and he waved his hands as if he’d caught on fire. “N-No, well, kinda, but not like that. You’re nice. You don’t tell me to smile or to stop looking sad.”

Your lower lip trembled. “But I made you tie your hair up.”

“I see better now.”

“And— and I said your name was dumb.”

“... I don’t like it,” he said. The strange feeling reappeared. “That name. It is dumb. You know that I guess, ‘cause of the mind stuff.”

“Isn’t that scary?”

“Maybe if you did mean things with it, but… that name made me sad. So you picked a new one. Lear is cool. It rhymes with stuff.”

You lifted your head. The little boy wasn’t lying, you could tell.

“Why’d you leave then?”

His little hands balled into fists by his side.

“I was scared. I was asked to make a promise before, and I lied. It was a promise I didn’t like,” he explained.

Then, he lifted his finger. A droplet of blood dripped from it. “I shoulda said something. I’ll try, I’ll really try, so please don’t be sad. It makes me sad. I want… I want to be best friends!”

A lump formed in your throat. Tears stung your eyes, the strength of his words pierced through your sadness like an arrow. A friend. You never had a friend before. You didn’t think you’d ever get to have one. Mom said it’d be difficult, that if you wanted it, you’d need to try harder than you’d ever tried before.

You launched at Lear, your arms outstretched, and wailed loudly. He caught you awkwardly with a gasp. You pressed your forehead to his shoulder and hugged him tight.

“I don’t want you as an accomplice anymore! You’re my best friend! I really mean it this time!” You exclaimed in between sobs.

“Eh? Accom-police?” Lear struggled to repeat the new word. Then, for the first time since you met him, he laughed. “I don’t really get you, Miss Phaeales, but… I wanna.”

That kid, Jason… is he okay? Did he ever go back home to his parents? You wonder. I used to think I could prove him wrong, that I just needed to grow up faster so I could fix everything. And yet, these past two years have been some of the worst economically.

You grab the rose by its petals and return it to the vase.

The crystal lotus shines beside it, its multiple surfaces flickering between brilliant hues. This gift, while beautiful, never particularly stuck out to you before. It wasn’t until Blade expressed an interest that it stood out more.

You sit in front of your vanity.

Mom… was I a good daughter?

You brush foundation along your face.

I always thought you never understood me, but…

Mascara darkens and thickens your eyelashes.

… I never tried to understand you.

You slam the makeup drawer shut.

It has officially been three months since the IPC instituted its travel ban on Eris with seemingly no end in sight.

Unemployment rates have crept up from 5.3% to a staggering 15%. We reached out to a financial advisor for Metis Mining from Mele, a company that has laid off one-third of its workforce.

“It’s an awful situation,” he said. “Essentially, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. I’ve been in this field for some 150 years — never have I seen anything like this. Thelx is our heart. If it stops pumping, we stop getting the blood we need to live. We need tourism. We need our heart to beat again.”

An advisor for Chrysus, however, is singing a different, more upbeat tune.

“We’re feeling optimistic. The negotiations have been going well. None of us want this to last longer than it has to. We’ve cooperated fully with the IPC’s requests, working endlessly to provide the necessary documentation for them to drop this unfounded charge. We ask that the people of Eris stand together. I will not be accepting questions at this time. Thank you.”

“What is Chrysus doing,” you groan. “The optics on this are terrible. ‘We ask that the people of Eris stand together,’ sounds like a bumper sticker for a spaceship.”

The comment section on the article expresses a similar sentiment. The most upvoted post is a picture of Eris on fire with bottom text that reads, ‘Don’t worry, just keep standing.’ The second is a screenshot of the advisor’s comment with the caption ‘me when i lie.’ To make matters worse, the user’s profile picture is the lead singer for Mushroom Mania but with a flower crown photoshopped onto his head.

You squint at the tiny text beneath it.

Your friend banona69 liked this post.

“Blade, can you cut my phone in half?”

He throws you a disinterested glance.

“Riveting conversation, as usual,” you lean heavily on sarcasm to reel him in.

“You’re working. I won’t interrupt,” he drawls.

Or maybe it didn’t, who knows, he’s as easy to read as an esoteric tome in a lost language. It is true that you’re working. Keeping up with clients, overseeing reimbursements for canceled appointments, apologizing for circumstances you have no control over; the usual. Your latest torment involved your bank’s servers going down when your employees’ paychecks were due. They’re testing out a new customer service android, but yours had a bug that caused it to repeat everything you said.

That predicament came to an end and five more popped up in its place.

You stretch your arms above your head. “If I handed you over to the IPC, do you think they’d lift the travel ban?”

“Find out for yourself.”

“Huh?” You swipe your monitors away so you can gauge him better. “What do you mean by that?”

Blade kicks himself off the wall and uncrosses his arms. “If you can subdue me, you can turn me in.”

That’s one of the biggest ‘ifs’ to ever if. You narrow your eyes, like that’ll help your ability to discern his intentions. He’s standing there, intimidating as ever, his countenance betraying nothing. You decide he has to be joking. It’d be a major inconvenience for Kafka and her cronies to break him out of IPC holding. You know precious little about Blade, but you do know he takes his job seriously.

Regardless, this cycle has raised your blood pressure to unprecedented levels, so you play along. A little fun never hurts.

“Didn’t Nona tell you about my mind-liquifying technique?”

“Screeched it, more like,” Blade dryly recalls. “It’s a bluff.”

You swivel around on your chair and get up. He remains perfectly still as you languidly approach, his burning eyes never leaving yours. An electrifying sensation courses through your body the closer you get. It’s unfair how beautiful he is. His dark hair that shifts into a crimson shade, broad shoulders, narrow waist, his surprisingly soft lips that are almost always drawn in a straight line; the wanted posters don’t do him justice.

You have to crane your head to look up at him, the man’s so ridiculously tall. You’ve never liked it when people look down on you — this must be the lone exception.

“And if it isn’t?” You challenge.

“You would never,” Blade insists. It isn’t your eyes he’s focusing on anymore, it’s your lips. “You’re too…”

On the occasions you can get Blade talking, he’s never at a loss for words. His cadence has a quiet confidence. If he’s in the mood, he’ll have a rebuttal for every possible sentence you could concoct. It’s immediate too, as swift as his bladework. It’s unusual for him to trail off for this long.

“Too…?” You encourage, tilting your head.

“Forget it.”

You don’t have the luxury of pressing the issue. He quite literally sweeps you off your feet, taking long strides to your office’s couch like he owns the place.

“You missed your chance,” Blade lays you down on the cushions and crawls over you. “Unless you’d still like to try.”

You glare at him halfheartedly and prop yourself up on your elbows. This guy must have a thing for manhandling you, because every chance he gets, he goes for it. You splay your hand against his chest and lightly push. He gets the message and moves back, allowing you the space necessary to lift up your blouse. He’s all over you immediately after, kneading your chest and trailing hot kisses down your neck. He stops at the spots with bite marks or bruises, giving them extra attention so they don’t fade.

“Maybe I could, who knows? Perhaps I’ve extended you mercy,” you breathe out.

Blade pins your wrists above your head with one hand, his amusement evident. “You’d be the first.”

He leers at your cleavage like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His lips are back on your skin, starting at your collarbones and then moving down. He lavishes your chest in lovebites, his teeth practically married to your skin. Your low-cut shirts will be collecting dust in your closet at this rate, he’s seen to that. He kisses down your navel and stops shy of your skirt’s waistband.

“Is this for me?” He plays with your skirt’s short hem, raising it to reveal your thighs.

You did choose this risque skirt to see how he’d react, but he doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing this.

“You’re not the only person I ever see,” is your cheeky reply.

He doesn’t look impressed.

“I’m the only one who can fuck you, though,” he says, as plain as someone describing the weather.

You frown and twist your head to the side. He picked up on that, huh? You don’t know if it’s definitive, but you haven’t conducted tests to find out. It is exhilarating to lose yourself in carnality without fearing the repercussions. Still, you don’t want him to believe that gives him an exclusive claim to you. You’ll both enjoy yourselves, he’ll get recalled from this job, and that’ll be the end of it. He’ll be nothing but a story you drunkenly recall to Nona. Nothing more, nothing less.

Possessive men are a turnoff. If they wanted to own the thing they stick their dick in, they could buy a sex android. You’re not a sex android. You don’t run out of battery power in six hours or incur hilarious yet painful-sounding reasons for lawsuits.

“Pouting again?” Blade taunts.

Long, gloved fingers lightly glide against your inner thigh.

“I don’t pout,” you sigh as his hand dips past your waistband. “I brood.”

“Mhm.”

His fingers are quick to find your clit. He rubs the sensitive nub in slow motions, applying minimum pressure. Your breath hitches and you look up at him through lidded eyes. His towering form cages you in. This couch is one of the few surfaces he hasn’t taken you on yet. Your bed, your office chair, your desk, hell, even the wall; he’s fucked you on almost every object with the geometry to permit it.

Your head tilts back as he steadily drags his fingers down the length of your pussy. His ring and middle finger barely slip in before he pulls them out, returning to their previous task of gathering your slick. There’s enough for each swipe to create audible sounds, despite the relaxed rhythm he’s set. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed by him. No, he grins at you, his eyes practically shining.

“Shut up,” you grumble, covering your face with your forearm.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to, it’s written all over your— ah!”

His fingers plunge into you without the slightest resistance, all the way up to his knuckles. You gasp at the abrupt intrusion. Normally, he takes surprising care when pushing anything inside you — whether it be his cock, tongue, or fingers — gauging how your face contorts to ensure you aren’t in pain. He couldn’t have been touching you for more than a minute and yet your body produced enough lubrication to easily suck him in.

“My what?” He probes, lowering his face close enough for your noses to touch. His soft black locks tickle your cheeks.

Blade curls his fingers as if beckoning you toward him, which is exactly what he gets; your back arches and you curl your arms around his neck for purchase. He’s noted this clinging tendency of yours and has taken great pleasure in pointing it out. You mewl as he carries on his ministrations, loving the contrast of the cold leather against your warm insides. He finger fucks you nice and slow. His lips find yours, kissing you in a way that can only be described as tender. You reciprocate, though the lustful haze permeating your mind desires something rougher. This is the sweet kiss of a lover, not a… whatever the two of you are.

Blade pulls back an inch when you run your tongue over the seam of his lips.

“Are you ever satisfied?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you huff. “Do you have any idea how much shipping Plan B to this planet costs?”

He exhales sharply in amusement. “You like when I finish inside.”

Your walls clamp down on him before you can protest this claim.

“Would you look at that,” Blade hums, his voice dropping in volume as if he were sharing a secret. “I can’t even move my fingers, that made you squeeze them so tight.”

You’d like to think he was exaggerating, but it does take a few seconds for him to comfortably slide his fingers in and out again.

“You’re delusional. That’s… an involuntary muscle contraction.”

He quirks an eyebrow.

His fingers abandon their prior creed. He embraces a new tenet — one that seeks to make your lips part in pure pleasure. You writhe beneath him at the unrelenting onslaught. He angles his palm so that it rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers. You’re quick to sync up with his sharp movements. Every time his fingers glide back in, your hips rise to meet him halfway. Soft gasps and moans fill the air as your peak grows closer.

Your walls start to tighten, promising that sweet ecstasy will soon be yours.

The second time it squeezes down, his merciless pace relaxes. He doesn’t stop entirely, he just slows down enough that you aren’t getting the stimulation necessary to come undone. You bite down on your lower lip. He hasn’t deprived you of an orgasm since this feverish passion began; he’s been more interested in seeing how many times he can fuck you to completion. He didn’t even subject you to this cruelty when you made a jab at his age that set him out to prove he doesn’t ‘have the refractory period of an old man.’

You don’t bother trying to move your hips for more friction. One night, during the afterglow of sex, you inquired after his sword. Among other things, he nonchalantly revealed its weight of three thousand pounds. You called his bluff. He was in an agreeable enough mood to summon it, allowing you to test the claim’s validity yourself.

Sure enough, you couldn’t even drag it an inch across the ground…

His breath is hot on your ear as he whispers, “Admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you love it,” he commands, his fingers massaging your walls. “Don’t be shy.”

“I’m anything but shy.”

“Hm. Dishonesty doesn’t suit you.”

You groan in exasperation when his fingers come to a complete halt. Is he really going to make you admit something so embarrassing…? Your face burns as hot as those faraway stars. You examine his expression, searching for some sign that he isn’t being serious. It’s a poor tactic. His countenance is stern, except for the blush on his cheeks from how aroused he is.

“I…” you inhale shakily, your lower lip trembling, “I like… when…”

“Love,” he corrects.

You turn your head to the side and squeeze your eyes shut. “I love when you… cum inside me.”

His clothed cock twitches against your leg.

“I know.”

Blade returns to the heavenly speed that has your mind all but floating away. His palm rubs down hard on your clit, his fingers searching out for that spot you love so much. Inhibitions gone, his name is the only word your tongue can form. Everything else that isn’t Blade has been erased from your lexicon. He makes you feel so good, it’s maddening. He’s addicted to your body and you couldn’t be more grateful.

To be wanted, to be desired… what bliss this brings.

Your muscles tighten and release as waves of pleasure devour you.

Your insides spasm around him, demanding that he doesn’t let up until you’re satiated. He’s happy to oblige. Once your orgasm-induced daze lessons, you yank him down to your lips into an open-mouthed kiss that has you swapping saliva. He swallows a whimper from you while pulling his fingers out, leaving the area he’s become so intimately acquainted with. The arm that he was using to hold himself above you snakes behind your back. You’re made to sit on his lap as he shifts upright, your skirt flaring out.

As always, it’s you who breaks from the heated kiss first.

Blade raises his gloved hand for you to see. You gape at how the onyx-colored leather has lightened, thoroughly coated in you. He parts his middle and ring, allowing dewy threads of your essence to form. Those crimson eyes go from admiring his handiwork to reveling in your embarrassed expression. As if you weren’t flustered enough, he slips his fingers into his mouth. His length hardens and he groans quietly while sucking off your slick.

While savoring your taste, he starts the familiar process of pulling your drenched panties down. You set to work on undoing his belt. He then hits an area that’s difficult to pull them over. He gives it one more try before frustration surges from him, hinting at his solution.

“Stop ripping my undergarments,” you chastise, lifting your leg to make it easier for him. “I’ll have to go shopping at this rate.”

Blade exercises a modicum of decorum and flings the scant fabric aside instead of eviscerating it.

“Quit wearing them.”

“That dream of yours might come true if I have none left. If that happens, I’m stealing your credit card.”

“It’s yours.”

You roll your eyes, focusing on freeing his cock. His length is flushed red and painfully hard. You wrap your hands around the base. Pre-cum leaks from his head in steady streams that flow down, coating him enough that it’s easy to glide your hand up. He hisses out through gritted teeth. Once your hand reaches the top, you rub his smooth tip with the pad of your thumb. The way he leers at you is borderline animalistic. You keep at your task, pumping him up and down.

“Does this count as me subduing you?” You muse, your voice taking a sickeningly sweet cadence, “Should I get handcuffs ready?”

“Watch it, girl.”

You would’ve if he hadn’t teased you so much earlier. But he did, and you must have some compensation. You sink onto the ground. Blade shoots you an inquisitive look, to which you flutter your eyelashes and smile. The realization of your intentions hits him when your lips place an amorous kiss on his leaking tip. The veins running along the length of his cock pulsate from the sight. Such a chaste way of going about a lustful act must do something for him.

“You…” He growls out, clenching his hands into tight fists, “God.”

You suck him gently, swirling your tongue along his slit. Meanwhile, your hand pumps him faster. He thrusts his pelvis forward to force more of his cock into your mouth. He isn’t immediately gratified — no, you take him in at your leisure. His gloved hand entangles itself in your hair and helps guide your head up and down. The wet sound of you sucking him off grows louder from the copious amount of saliva slathered along his cock. You reach for his balls, gently cupping and massaging them. Blade pants above you and throws his head back.

The telltale twitching of his cock starts.

You pull yourself off him. He glares down at you, silently fuming.

You suppress a laugh and climb onto his lap. His hand goes to your shoulder, a sign he intends to push your body down so he can fuck you. Rather than moving aside and complying, you undo your bra’s clasp. His enchantment with your bare tits distracts him enough for your scheme to carry on undetected. You align your entrance with the head of his cock and start sinking down, taking the initiative yourself.

Blade’s large hands fly to either side of your hips from instinct. Inch after inch slides in and stretches you. He maintains unflinching eye contact, the intensity behind his gaze is almost more embarrassing than the act of sex itself. Maybe he’s as pent-up as you are? Whatever the case, the tension in the air begs to be diffused.

“Have I earned your forgiveness?” You ask.

“You’re getting there.”

Your lips part in a silent moan when you fully envelop him. Blade grunts, pulling you down so he can go as deep inside you as possible. His thickness caresses your walls and sets your nerves ablaze. You gyrate your hips in one last little act of revenge. He squeezes your flesh, sending the unspoken warning that you’re truly testing his patience. Thinking it best not to test your luck any further, you rise off him and sink back down.

The legs in your muscles are sore from overexertion but the burden barely falls to you. Blade lifts you off his cock then back down again — you could go completely limp and it wouldn’t make a difference. He must’ve wanted to know you were ready before ruthlessly maneuvering your body for his pleasure.

What a gentleman.

This position has him consistently rubbing against a spot inside you that’s mind-numbing. He fills and stretches you like your body was molded with him in mind. Your gratification isn’t his goal at the moment he’s lost in the pursuit of what you snatched away. He’s greedy because he can be; he’s greedy because you welcome it. You’ve had so much to give and no one to receive it. You aren’t sure how much he’ll take. You’ve decided it’s better to be empty than bursting at the seams with ardor no one can swallow, lest their throat get scorched.

Maybe his premonition is right. Maybe no one will be able to fuck you but him.

So you’ll enjoy it while you can.

The rosy hue on his cheeks, his countenance reflecting the pleasure he derives from your body, the inhuman grip that mars your skin so beautifully; you take everything in. You want it all. You’ll gladly take from him too. You might not like possessive men, but passionate men are a different story. It’s boring if they aren’t a little frenzied.

“Not… going to last long,” he pants out, his voice strained.

Your nipples brush against the fabric of his shirt as you lean in to embrace him, your lips right by his ear.

“Cum in me then,” you whisper, nibbling his earlobe. “Cause I think we both know you love it even more than I do.”

Blade groans out a series of expletives. Some you recognize, some you don’t.

His cock throbs as he empties himself inside you. He thrusts upward in sharp movements, his pelvis hitting yours hard enough to sting. He’s drunk on the high you’ve brought him. Spurts of his cum slide out from your coated walls, an egregious act he remedies by fucking it back into you. By the time he finally stills, you’re both panting, sweat glistening along your bodies. You rest your head on his shoulder to regain yourself. His bandaged hand runs up and down your back, almost soothingly.

In a matter of seconds, his flaccid cock steadily hardens, still snug inside you.

“Who… who’s never satisfied again?” You breathlessly murmur.

His hand finds your clit and lightly brushes over it. You whimper, your walls tightening enough to give you both a jolt of pleasure. The pitch you hit is high enough to stupefy you from mortification. You slap your hand over your mouth, hoping it’ll dissuade any further involuntary infractions. He gingerly grabs your hand and pulls it away.

“Still you,” he says, grazing his lips along the pulse point of your inner wrist.

You don’t get the chance to bite back.

A robotic voice slices through the lustful atmosphere like a scythe.

“Miss Phaeales, incoming call, Miss Phaeales, incoming call,” it intones.

You stifle a groan. “Alright alright, I get that, who is it from?”

“Contact name: Lear.”

Your eyes widen. Though your limbs feel like jelly, you lift yourself off Blade, who doesn’t give much assistance. You mouth the word ‘sorry’ to him, snatch your bra off the floor, and start wobbling over to your desk. After some quick rummaging, you find the device you need.

“Put him through to my in-ears,” you order the virtual assistant.

“[First]? Hello?”

Relief surges through you upon hearing the sound of his voice.

“Lear, it’s been so long since we talked, I started to think you were a figment of my imagination,” you say whilst securing your bra back into place.

“I know, I’m— I’m sorry,” he sounds terribly flustered. You can picture his expression without trying. “It’s just, you’re busy, and then that happened and I—”

“Slow down, I’m only teasing. It’s alright. I get it.”

“Eh… you’re as bad as Nona,” he grumbles. “You just hide it better.”

“Don’t worry, it’s out of my system.”

“I don’t believe you, but I’ll leave it at that,” he’s quiet for a moment, before adding, “You sound like you’re in high spirits, [First]. You don’t know what a relief that is.”

You twirl a pen on your fingers. “I’ve dabbled with the alternative and found it lacking. It does help that some pesky issues have finally been resolved… which reminds me. Your paycheck came through without any issues, correct?”

There’s indistinct murmuring from two voices. Lear’s tone sounds chastising, while the other comes off as petulant.

“Hi Nona,” you greet, to which there’s a faint yet audible ‘Fuck!’ along with rapid footsteps retreating. “How fortunate is it that our paths have crossed like this? I noticed something very interesting. You can’t respond to my texts relating to your studies, but you can like a social media post from a few hours ago?”

Now, rapid footsteps approach.

“I’m taking a break from texting for my mental health,” Nona’s voice reasons.

“... Don’t people normally take a break from social media for that reason?”

“Check the DSM-106. It’s actually a thing.”

“Be that as it may, you’re making good progress. Your scores are consistent enough that you can take a few clients again when we reopen. You need to keep practicing so it stays that way.”

There’s a slight commotion. When it settles, Lear’s the one speaking again. “Sorry, she wanted me to say there’s still an issue with the paycheck coming through.”

In the background, you hear her cry out, “Teacher’s pet!”

“Allow me to once again request that you place aside your bias. Nona, whose birth name is unknown, was born and raised in Arc’s most hostile faction. At the self-reported age of 74, she submitted a request for Thelx citizenship. Your mother, in her benevolence, granted the request due to seeing Nona’s potential as a future Arbiter. Do you deny any of this?”

You quietly take a deep breath.

“... How does Nona seem to you, Lear?”

What should be such a natural question feels like speaking with glue coating your tongue.

“The same as usual. And, no matter what she says, she is studying the notes you sent. She just hates the training program. You were the same way, weren’t you?”

“I was, yes,” A heavy smile finds its way onto your face. “Has anyone been giving her trouble?”

The silence on the other line lasts longer than you’d prefer.

“It hasn’t… been directly at her, per se. There’s just a general atmosphere of unease. Thelx has the highest percentage of citizens integrated from Arc, so things aren’t so bad here. Occasionally, there’ll be a confused kid pointing and asking why her eyes are different, but that’s nothing new.”

The tension in your shoulders relaxes. “Alright, that’s reassuring. Please keep an eye out for her in my stead, okay?”

You refuse to believe Chrysus. Everything with him is a move, some preplanned tactic to achieve a goal that advances his interests. You’ve lived life with Nona; he’s read a few paragraphs about her from a .txt file. There isn’t time to be at war with yourself. If he felt comfortable enough to make an accusation like that, there’s no chance it’ll end there. You’ll need countermeasures set in place.

Countermeasures, countermeasures… there’s Caicias. He loathes ‘secret alliances’ and ‘bloated bureaucracy,’ preferring to keep everything as simple as possible. Depending on your approach, you might be able to sway the former principal. He’s always treated you as an uncle would their niece. While it feels infantilizing now, this soft spot could be an advantage if played correctly.

An in-person meeting would be your best chance.

“Of course,” Lear says, breaking you from your thoughts. Then he’s quiet again. “[First]?”

“Mhm?”

“...”

You hear him sigh.

“It’s nothing. I should let you get back to your work.”

“Hold on, you can’t ‘it’s nothing,’ me!”

A shrill alarm chirps and pierces your unsuspecting ears.

“Oh, shit, Nona set the fire alarm off while cooking again,” Lear sounds more exasperated than worried. “Let’s finish this another time, [First]. I… I promise that I will.”

“Wha— again? How often does this happen?” You demand. “Hello? Hello? Ugh.”

Irate, you tug your in-ears out and toss them on your desk. What could Lear possibly have wanted to discuss? The tone he used made your heart drop. It sounded so firm, so resolute. He’s always been on the more soft-spoken side unless provoked. He did promise that he’d pick it up ‘another time,’ an unintended callous sentencing. Your mind is going to play fill-in-the-blank with the most dreadful words possible until this burden is lifted.

You’re about to return to your office chair when you remember your present condition.

Tousled hair, a hastily put-on bra, a wrinkled skirt, and one of the most sought-after fugitives in the universe’s cum dripping out of you.

Ah. And said fugitive is still behind you.

You spin on your heels. “So, um—”

Blade isn’t anything like when you last saw him. He’s redressed, and composed, his expression a mix between indifference and boredom. He’s returned to his favorite position too. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with one knee slightly bent. Why he favors this stance so much, you’ll never know. You’ve offered him a seat more times than you can count. He comes across as less intimidating when he isn’t at his full height.

He stares at you.

You stare at him.

“I’ll… be getting back to work, I guess?”

He doesn’t so much as nod and he says you’re the pouty one?!

You gather your clothes off the floor for what feels like the umpteenth time, your cheeks burning. It isn’t that you feel ashamed, rather, you think he could at least help instead of standing there like his portrait is getting painted. He’s not trying to hide that he’s watching you. His eyes have always had a physical presence, they weigh on you heavily.

You briefly consider making a snarky comment, but your maturity wins out. You’re above such petty drivel. You finish collecting your garments. Next, you pull up the bra strap that decided to go awol, straighten your skirt, and fuss over your hair. Are you doing this so he knows you’re not embarrassed and in a rush to scamper off like a wounded animal? Maybe. Who could blame you?

You make for your bedroom door, head held high.

Blade speaks your name in that low, dark voice of his, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your body erupts in uncontrollable shivers.

You stiffly turn around like a rusted cog.

“Missed a spot,” is all he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Blade nods to the lower half of your body.

Sure enough, there’s a dribble of his cum caked against your inner left thigh.

…

You hurl your belongings at him, which he catches without so much as batting an eyelash.

Your very short-lived satisfaction dissipates when you recall how much you adore that blouse. The same blouse you just chucked at the immortal sword-wielding Stellaron Hunter who can kill people faster than the afterlife can claim them. He’s still holding it. You get the feeling he will continue to hold it.

“Could I… have… that… back?”

This appeal doesn’t move him in the slightest.

You shift your weight between your legs. “Please?”

“You can,” Blade starts, momentarily filling you with hope, “Come reach for it.”

There is no hope in this universe, you decide. Nihilism is the only plausible option.

Blade dodges all your valiant attempts. When you’re about to give up, he lowers the garment, dangling it in a silent taunt. It then ascends to the heavens the second you dive for it.

He leaves your office that night with a blouse he hadn’t owned hours earlier.

And your cute panties.

Lear

Hello

Lear

Are you awake?

You’ll scold me if I say I am

Lear

Historically, that is true

Lear

You focus on caring for others so much you forget to care for yourself

You make me sound like a better person than I really am I’m just doing my job

Lear

There you go with self-deprecation again…

It isn’t self-deprecation if it’s true >:)c

Lear

That isn’t how that works

Lear

You’ve always been hard on yourself

Lear

I know what you’re going to say so I’ll stop you preemptively

Lear

Anyone could’ve been born in your role and decided not to take it seriously. You didn’t choose the situation but you chose your response to it

Lear

… I swear I didn’t intend for this to become a lecture

I believe you What was your original intention then?

Lear

Our phone call

Lear

Nona decided to try a grilled cheese ‘hack’ she saw on the internet

Lear

She’s lost stove privileges for a week

Is it truly a punishment if she gets to eat your cooking?

Lear

Well

Lear

It’s either that or she starves

Fair point Bring me some leftovers or I’m docking your pay >:)c

Lear

I wish Nona never taught you that face. It brings something primitive out of you

>:)c

Lear

(ง •̀_•́)ง

Oh I forgot about those They’re way better

Lear

Yeah

Lear

ε (*´･ω･) з

Lear

… I got distracted again…

( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴

Lear

Okay okay enough with the emoticons

Lear

I wanted to ask if we could please talk one-on-one

Pick a date and time and I’ll do my best to fit you into my schedule. I make no promises. The current estimated wait list is five Trailblazer Years.

Lear

Do you accept bribes

Naturally. I am a government official.

Lear

I’ll bring you a slice of my galatopita

You’re in

Lear

Actually, I wanted you to pick the time

Lear

I know that person has to be around and I won’t ask about it

Lear

But there is something about him that unsettles me

Lear

Does he ever leave?

He’s always on the LOTUS-EATER’s premises He doesn’t have to be in the room though I can ask him to leave

Lear

You feel comfortable doing that?

Yeah, it’ll be fine

Lear

Even after what happened last time?

You could hit me in the head with a brick and I’d still trust your judgment If you think it’ll be okay I’ll think the same

Lear

(^◇^；)

Lear

What an extreme example

Lear

It’s very you though

I know a backhanded compliment when I see one

Lear

(;° ロ°)

Lear

Hey don’t say that

Lear

[First]? ?????

Lear

… You’re messing with me again, I take it?

>:)c I’ll send you the details

Lear

Thank you

Lear

Want to play a round of Connect Four?

Need you even ask

The break room has changed significantly since you were little. Gone are the sterile, eggshell white walls and beige furniture. The redone interior boasts bold greens and yellows, colors that aren’t commonly seen on Eris. This bright expanse was one of the few suggestions your mother took you up on. You even convinced her to get a terrarium imported that goes through a randomly selected flora’s lifespan in twenty-four hours. A few besmirched it as ‘watching grass grow but slightly sped up,’ until certain flowers got popular. The daisy with petals that burned was a LOTUS-EATER staff favorite. So is the dahlia that spins like a pinwheel.

“Was there something you wanted to ask?”

Lear places his cup of ice water down. “Does it taste alright?”

“It’s delicious,” you hum. “That’s not what I was referring to, though.”

You finish your dessert while Lear mulls over your words. The light, creamy taste of the egg custard, the dash of cinnamon strewn across the browned top; he’d do well if he ever started a dessert business.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask about it, but…” Lear’s sapphire eyes flitter toward the door, the paper-thin barrier dividing you from Blade. “Has everything been alright during this… er…”

“House arrest?”

“That’s a way of putting it,” he sighs. “I know it’s for your safety, but being stuck in this building for weeks on end can’t be good for you.”

“It’s always been this way to an extent. Now it’s just official.”

He grimaces.

“That doesn’t bother you?”

This area utilizes the same technology available in your office or the private rooms. Sound waves cannot travel beyond a set point, or in this case, beyond the breakroom. This safety net allows you to comfortably speak your mind.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t stopped long enough to ask myself that. From my perspective, I have two choices — accept the current situation and carry on, or, get upset and carry on, only with less efficiency.”

Lear struggles to maintain a neutral countenance. It’s why you always beat him at card games.

“... Okay, that sounds a bit bleak. What I’m trying to say is that I can’t dwell on what’s out of my control. I’ll focus on what I can do and work from there.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t brooded at least a little.”

“Ha, I’ve done my fair share of that. I’ve just reduced it from boiling to a nice, tolerable simmer.”

Lear’s grip on his glass tightens. “You’ve matured a lot.”

“Eh? You think so?” You wonder. “If anything, I should’ve been this way to begin with. I had you as the premier example to follow.”

Lear’s smile doesn’t reach his tired eyes.

He inhales sharply. After a moment’s consideration, he comes over, pulls out a chair, and sits facing you. This is the closest you’ve been for a long time. He never wanted you to be afflicted with those visceral headaches, so he maintained his distance. For him to cross the bulwark he painstakingly built cannot be easy.

Slowly, he raises his palm. He stops at the halfway mark between you. You knit your eyebrows. Does he want you to…?

“It might not be a brick, but it’s similar,” Lear says, his voice soft.

His hand is calloused from years of cleaning dishes and tinkering with various contraptions. His fingers tremble, belying the nerves he’s trying to push out of sight. This trepidation isn’t for his sake, it’s for yours. The dire consequences that could be reaped. It’s a gamble where you’re the one forced to go all in.

Your heart pounds and pounds.

You’ll trust him.

You’ve always trusted him.

Lear’s skin is cold yet clammy. His hand overshadows yours, though not by much. They fit together as well as they used to. Unlike then, your touch is more hesitant than his. His fingers sink down and clasp your hand, an action you mirror. Nothing’s happening. Nothing hurts.

You expect a relieved exclamation or expression from Lear, only to receive heavy silence instead.

He squeezes your hand once then pulls away.

“Do you remember the ‘important promise’ you wanted to make when we were kids?”

You nod.

“I did want to make it, actually. I don’t know if I ever mentioned that.”

“It’s been so long, it’s possible I don’t remember, but… I don’t think you ever said that, no.”

“The promise I mentioned was one I made with my mom,” Lear lowers his head. “She made me promise that I’d forgive my father. I never planned on it, not while he was living and breathing at least. I knew that and still… I agreed for her sake. It might seem silly, but that ate at me. She never asked me for anything, and the one time she did, it was something I refused to fulfill.”

You lean forward, hesitate to put your hand on his shoulder, yet ultimately overcome the instinct. “You were just a child, Lear.”

“I know. The reason I’m going into this is that… even when I wasn’t a child, I’d sit there and judge my father. I thought he’d acted cowardly. Instead of acknowledging mom’s declining condition, he’d buy more equipment and supposed miracle cures. He worked nonstop. Mom didn’t want that. She just wanted to be with her family while she could.”

You can hear the lump forming in his throat. You pass him your water, which he gulps down. He gives himself a second and then continues.

“He wasn’t delusional. He knew, and still, he tried so hard to convince himself that he didn’t. There must’ve been some moment of clarity when it hit him,” Lear’s fair eyelashes flutter shut. “What you said to Nona… that was my moment of clarity. My punishment.”

Thoughts swarm through your mind like the Propagation’s reign of terror from eras past.

“‘Punishment?’ Why would you deserve a punishment?” You probe.

Lear doesn’t know how to respond. His lips open and close, words escaping him. What comes out next is interwoven with anguish’s thread.

“Mrs. Phaeales approached me about our relationship. I was so worried, I don’t remember her exact words… it was something along the lines of, ‘If you truly care about her, you need to end this before she gets hurt.’ She wouldn’t go into the specifics. It didn’t come across as a threat, just… a plea, maybe. Eventually, I agreed. It hurt, but I didn’t see any other option. How could I ever willingly do something that’d make you suffer? You, the person who matters to me the most?”

This torrential downpour soaks into your very being.

“It should’ve ended there. I thought it ended there. Then I saw you again, and god. You’re so… so confident, beautiful, and bright; I couldn’t do it. I was at a loss, and… then I had this thought. ‘I want to keep her even if it destroys her.’ I couldn’t shake it. That isn’t love, I-I don’t know what that is.”

“Everyone has thoughts they aren’t proud of.”

“But you didn’t know, because I was too ashamed to tell you,” Lear insists, each word growing quieter. “So instead, you thought you did something to me, right?”

He wouldn’t look you in the eye. His arms remained limp by his side as you unbuttoned his shirt, tense and strained. You pulled back. Something felt terribly wrong. A sharp pang shot through your skull. You ignored it and beseeched him to tell you what was wrong. He wouldn’t. The sharp pang ricocheted. Being close to him hurt. It was as if you were on the same side of a magnet. He repelled you and you couldn’t fight it. You tried to preserve, tried to claw through whatever barrier he’d put up.

… A barrier?

Had he not wanted this? Was the gravity of your desire too intense for an individual who isn’t trained to resist?

“I…” your mouth is dry. “Yes.”

“You didn’t. I knew you didn’t, and like my father, I tried convincing myself otherwise,” he reopens his eyes, revealing a glassy sheen. He wipes it away with his long sleeve. “I ran out of excuses.”

You don’t know how to begin parsing through this information. It undermines the rough understanding you’ve operated on for decades. The foundations haven’t just cracked, they’ve collapsed, and the materials are damaged beyond reuse. Anything you build will require a new blueprint.

“If it isn’t manipulation, what exactly is it?” You murmur, placing a hand on your chin. “You rightfully guessed nothing would happen if we came into contact. What made you think that?”

The direction you’ve chosen to steer this conversation toward surprises him. This must not be the response he braced himself for. Regardless, he’s quick to offer anything he can.

“Something just felt different, I guess? I’m sorry if that isn’t helpful, I can’t think of a better way to describe it.”

Mother must’ve known more than she let on, you think. ‘Before she gets hurt,’ she said. Shouldn’t it have been ‘before Lear gets hurt?’ She cared about him plenty too. So why…?

You pace around the breakroom, your heels clicking throughout the otherwise silent room.

Alister listened when he thought you were taking him to ‘Roze’, a significant other he created in past Synalinks. He tried to kill you after you took him outside and it became evident that wasn’t your intention. No link could be established past that point. Then there’s Blade. You thought you could manipulate him to rescue potential survivors. You were rushed, yes, but you made absolutely no progress.

“My mind has a will of its own,” Blade tells you. “It’s loud. Something about you quiets it down.”

What can psyches roughly be broken down into? Primary, unfiltered instincts; an individual’s rationality, or ability to reason; then their mortality, what lines they will or won’t cross. When properly aligned, the mind operates as a cohesive mechanism. However, if there’s friction, disharmony abounds. The resulting fissure causes strife until it’s plastered back together.

It hits you.

What it is that makes Exalted Arbiters so paramount, why your abilities far surpass others.

You’re a living, breathing conductor, amplifying raw, often questionable instincts. A lightning rod meant to attract the attention of what reason and morality try so valiantly to suppress.

You forgo your pacing and sit back down. “Lear.”

“Y-Yes?”

“All of us are stupid.”

“Eh?”

“Well-meaning and stupid,” you reiterate. “I know what you want from me. You’re not going to get it. You condemned yourself, I condemned myself… what good did that do? Did it change anything? Make it better?”

You shake your head. “We like to torture ourselves; we’re adept at it. Enough. It’s finished.”

“... You don’t need to make me feel better—”

Lear receives a flick on the forehead.

“Idiot, half of that spiel was for me. Maybe three-quarters.”

You grab his hand and give it a hearty squeeze.

He squeezes back.

You both sit there, in this room that’s changed throughout the decades. Where you played make-believe (or, to be more exact, coerced Lear into playing the princess role so you could be the knight), gorged on junk food until you both got sick, plotted how to blow up the IPC with a water gun; you never thought you’d be able to do those things. The dumb, silly things you’d watch in movies or read about in books.

Lear runs the pad of his thumb up and down your hand. “[First].”

“Mhm?”

“Everything you just said — I can tell you believe it.” His breath hitches. “So why… why do you look so sad?”

You force a smile.

“I think I had my moment of clarity,” you tell him. “Like mother, like daughter.”

Whoever coined the term ‘misery loves company’ deserves the 85th spot in the Genius Society.

Blade sits beside you on a sinfully comfortable couch in The Club. His legs are crossed and his arm finds its respite behind you; not touching yet close enough. He’s your perpetual shadow. You steal a glance at his side profile. His jaw’s set and his eyebrows crease inward enough for his otherwise unblemished skin to wrinkle.

“Would you like to talk about your innermost feelings, Mr. 8.13 billion?”

Nothing, not even a halfhearted grunt, which comprises 50% of his vocabulary.

“No? Okay. Let’s focus on mine then,” you motion to the empty bar. “My innermost feelings are telling me to drink until my brain becomes a gray matter slushie. Any recommendations?”

It’s as if you’re trying to communicate with a rock. Which, according to the latest journals published in Geo Elements Organized, might be possible thanks to an artificial intelligence translator who learned how to speak rock. Apparently, pebbles are prone to bigotry. Marble sings operatic arias but each note is flat. These cutting-edge discoveries justify your 10,000 credit monthly subscription no matter what your financial advisor says.

You exaggerate your sigh. “Fine, I’ll pick my own poison.”

“Baijiu,” he eventually says.

“Hm? What’s that?”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot.

“My, my, somebody’s touchy.”

You hop the counter and peruse your establishment’s expansive selection. Hundreds of brands slapped over uniquely shaped bottles line the wall, each displaying information about their inside contents. You squint. What if he just said a random word to get you out of his hair? Your liquor knowledge consists of the basics, you’d be none the wiser if that’s the case.

“Where might I find this— oh, fuck.”

Blade is right beside you in the blink of an eye. Your hand flies to your chest, and while you’re trying to process how someone can move so fast, he finds what must be his intended target. It’s a tall, green bottle with a script you recognize as belonging to the Xianzhou Alliance. How did he ever expect you to find that on your own?

He rummages around and finds little wine-shaped shot glasses. In the meantime, you scan over the various juices and additives available. It’s been rough, but not drinking-alcohol-without-a-fruity-infusion rough. Blade notices your scheming and shakes his head.

“Men are so pretentious about liquor,” you lament.

“You asked.”

“My mistake.”

He ignores you and returns to the couch. You do the same, up until the point where you’re about to sit down. His gaze grows heavier, more concentrated. It took millions of years of evolution to develop complex language and he still chooses to opt out. What a waste. An unofficial staring contest commences. What does he take you for? A mind reader? You technically are, but still, using your abilities for this is beneath you. Especially while you’re in the midst of a crisis that you’d give anything to stop thinking about.

Blade must have a mind-altering epiphany that he has additional motor functions at his disposal. He pats his thigh.

He stares at you.

You stare at him.

You examine your black pencil skirt that stops above your knees. Hopping the counter in this was more of a way to pretend you’re in your early twenties again, not an invitation to test the fabric’s limits. You’ve lost multiple pairs of panties, a nice bra, and a blouse to this bodyguard who took the occupation’s prefix very seriously. This classy skirt isn’t going to be an addition to the clothes necropolis.

“I like this skirt,” you simply state.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

Your vision undergoes an odd change. One moment, you were standing tall and assertive, looking down your nose at him. In the instant that follows, you’re facing the bar, its black marble countertop and gravity adaptive stools coming into focus. What you’re sitting on isn’t a foam cushion that’s as soft as a cloud. It’s rigid and displeases your tailbone. You struggle to balance yourself, an issue that’s solved by Blade’s left arm curving snugly around your waist.

“Did you just—” You cut yourself off, unable to dredge up the energy necessary to get annoyed. He could throw you through the roof for all you care. Sitting you on his lap is forgivable enough. “Whatever, you’re pouring my drink then.”

He’s already in the process of doing so. He pops the lid and fills the specially shaped shot glass with clear liquid. An aromatic fragrance of fruits and spices wafts through the air. It’s a world captured in a bottle; another place you’ll never get to see. You have to settle for admiring pictures and reading firsthand accounts.

Does Blade have an association with the Xianzhou Alliance? It isn’t your place to ask, but you’re curious nonetheless. He’s been a silent spectator of your life for the past few months yet you know nothing about him. It should stay that way — getting involved with him physically is already questionable enough. Especially now that you fully grasp the phenomena that’s been haunting you.

The thought makes you wince.

You lean your head back and down the shot.

It burns as it travels down your throat. You cough, the unexpected strength hitting you with the force of a collapsing star. Maybe you should’ve worked your way up to taking shots. It’s too late to rectify the mistake, your hubris is irreversible. The bastard chuckles at your suffering. It’s the briefest chuckle you’ve ever heard, but it still counts.

“What is the— what is the alcohol content of that?” You rasp out.

“Eighty.”

You crane your neck to glare at him. “If you wanted to kill me, the sword would’ve been faster.”

He rolls his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes at you. He picks you up, sticks a little ribbon on your head, and delivers you to death’s doorstep only to disregard your valid concerns? The 8.13 billion bounty isn’t enough. They need to double it.

“I’d like to see you drink this. Considering your prehistoric age, it might short-circuit your cardiovascular system.”

Blade pilfers your empty shot glass. He refills it, swallows without any fanfare, and then resumes his staring regimen.

You don’t know if you should be impressed or offended that his tolerance is better than yours.

Ultimately, your competitive nature wins out. You manage two more shots before waving the white flag. The flavor itself isn’t that bad once you get past the initial shock, it’s slightly fruity. The alcohol taste packs a punch though. A version with a lower ABV would suit you better.

You sigh, lean into his chest, and try in vain to smooth out your bunched-up skirt.

Your inebriated daze hits fast. There’s no pleasant buzz accompanying it, only exhaustion. The kind that makes the prospect of sleeping for a few years tempting. Those cryogenic pod ads know how to sell their product. It speaks volumes how simple their marketing remains since they’re so high in demand.

You inspect your soulless business. There aren’t any clients traveling to and fro, well-dressed ladies having their fur coats removed by valets, or businessmen celebrating a deal by clinking their glasses together. It’s eerily quiet. There’s nothing but the sound of your slow breathing and the thrum of the oxygen generator.

This planet’s heart remains frozen with you at the epicenter.

“What’s it like to travel across the universe?” You ask.

“It’s just work.”

Just work. You’ve received variations of this response when you’ve used this question on clients. They’ll take your silence as a signal to prattle, complaining about jet lag, getting through customs, finding a hotel that isn’t ridiculously overpriced during busy seasons; on and on they’d go. You’d sit across from them, smiling and nodding along, verbally empathizing with their plight. If they went on too long, you’d temporarily excuse yourself before your agitation spewed forth.

“That’s it?” You murmur.

He’s silent.

You kick your heels off, lay your legs across his lap and the couch, then sling your right arm around his shoulders to hold yourself in place. He observes you with no discernible emotion as you make yourself comfortable.

“Tell me about it,” you implore. “The universe. Please.”

Blade considers your request. You take it as a good sign he hasn’t shut you down immediately. For once, you don’t needle him. You just sit there with high hopes and a pleading expression. A peculiar emotion surges around him. It whispers to you, requesting that you lean in and hear it better. You deny the impulse and swat it away.

This mental exertion almost causes you to miss his frown and pinched-together eyebrows.

It’s fleeting, but there’s no misinterpreting what you saw.

Have you ever seen Blade’s face reveal so much?

It’s a vault he doesn’t leave open long. The doors seal shut before you can catalog the contents inside.

“Nothing I’ve seen is worth telling.”

You part your lips yet no sound comes out. You retract your arms from him and lay on your back, resting your forearm against your head. The LOTUS-EATER’s dark ceiling becomes your latest intrigue. It’s a cool shade of gray, mimicking the joyless sky that hovers outside like a specter deadset on haunting the living. You hate it. Everything’s gray, bland, depressing, an insult to the vibrancy that accompanies sentient beings.

You close your eyes and all goes silent.

After a while, his deep voice rumbles, “Do you want to see it?”

“Hm?”

“The universe,” he clarifies.

“Oh. Of course. But…” you pause, noticing how draining an endeavor it is to string together a coherent thought, “If I could, I wouldn’t. Too much… there’s too much I hafta do… here.”

There’s Nona. You want to help her reach her full potential, she’s brimming with it, a never-ending source of energy and zeal. Then there’s Lear. Why he idolizes you to such a degree, you’ll never understand. He should turn that starry-eyed gaze inward. It’s ironic — he considers you confident, yet you’ve always shied away from ever revealing the fathomless depths of your care.

You were born to be an object and he made you a person.

How can you ever repay a debt like that? Why is it so awkward and awful to express anything you feel without theatrics accompanying them? You have to tell him. You know he loves you, and while the love you hold for him is different, does he know that? How could he, if you’ve been so hesitant to say those three harrowing words?

Man, you think. My head’s killing me.

“Tired?”

After you grumble in the affirmative, he lifts you up. You think you might be floating. Your head lulls to the side and comes into contact with something solid, which proves you aren’t. Gravity hasn’t quit its longstanding tenure. Your blurred journey begins when you’re laid down in a spot more cozy than the couch cushions. It feels familiar and safe. Tension melts from your body, slinking off to loan you a brief solace. The interest is set high, but you’re too blissfully content to care.

That night, you dream of an ocean dutifully guarded by the sun.

The waves rise and fall along the shoreline, the breeze carries the scent of saltwater, and aquatic birds caw from above.

Bright white sand is plentiful beneath your bare feet. It tickles your toes and tricks you into thinking you’ll sink with every tentative step.

As you walk along this esplanade, an object hidden amongst the sand jabs into your sole.

Blood pools from the wound, trickles down a steep slope, and infects the ocean.

The scarlet droplet corrupts and warps it, devouring any color it comes into contact with. It's insatiable, a bloody blight that proliferates until the sea is swallowed whole.

The moon eclipses a dying sun. Driven by vanity, it paints its likeness across red, shimmering waves.

Unknown

I have good news

Unknown

I’ll be recalling Bladie soon

Unknown

I located the party responsible for endangering your life

Unknown

Isn’t that great?

If you’re being honest, then yes

Unknown

Am I not renowned for my honesty?

Unknown

No harm will befall you, so rest easy

Unknown

I hope we can continue our mutually beneficial partnership ♡

If there’s anything your mother’s passing has taught you, it’s that time isn’t guaranteed.

You thought you’d have a lifetime to see eye to eye with her. Over centuries, the layers you cultivated would peel back. You’d then ask her the questions that have lingered on the tip of your tongue.

Did you want to have me, or was it out of obligation?

Is this the way you want to live?

Am I a daughter or a burden?

You don’t know what scared you more. The idea of asking her, or what the answers might be.

None of your blood relations are living, but you still have a family. You refuse to treat something as fickle as time lightly again. Nona’s past, Lear’s present, your future; you can only dance around it for so long. The tempo will inevitably speed up beyond what you can follow. Lear’s confession reaffirmed how dangerous this complacency is. By believing you’re sparing one another pain, you’re only sparing yourself.

Your tea’s gone cold. The remnants swirl down the basin’s drain.

The true nature of your abilities, the shackles it puts you in, you’ll tell them everything.

You shoot them a text, asking them to meet you tonight at the LOTUS-EATER. You then set your phone to Do Not Disturb and place it aside.

Blade won’t be on Eris much longer. Your chances to help him are limited and you still haven’t fulfilled your promise.

You’d like to try and remedy that.

“I may have been a bit prickly when we first met, but I want to express my heartfelt gratitude for all you’ve done. I’m sure you just consider this a job, which is just as well, still, I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. I don’t even want to imagine what would become of this planet in my absence. So please give me one last opportunity to deter your mara.”

Blade gives you a long, hard look.

“You’re talking like that again?”

“I’m trying to be professional.”

He walks over and leers down at you. You return his blank stare unabashedly. Eventually, he readjusts the collar of your ivory blouse.

“What was that for?” You ask.

“I saw something that isn’t very professional.”

Glancing down, you pull the fabric back, revealing a prominent hickey. Your face ignites and you frantically cover it.

You clear your throat. “Is it a contractual obligation for you Stellaron Hunters to get on my nerves?”

The glint in his eye makes you nervous.

“Actually, do me a favor and don’t answer that. Just tell me if you’re interested or not, I’m a busy woman.”

He thinks it over and nods.

Throughout the preparation and rites, you consider what you’ve learned. Individuals exposed to you become more willing to act or dwell on their subconscious desires. The exact metrics aren’t clear, but you can safely assume this effect amplifies the longer they’re around you. These desires have a wide range. It can be as innocent as causing an older brother who ran away from his grief to finally cry over his deceased sister, or fuel for justifying selfish actions.

Blade’s case feels different.

Unprecedented as the other examples are, you can understand them somewhat. If a person acts on their most innate wishes, their behavior will change accordingly. However, what you’re causing here extends beyond psychological — it’s physiological too. Is that even possible? What could he possibly want enough to alter the fabric of his very being?

If you can find out, maybe the revelation will help him.

And so you close your eyes.

“To dream is a sacred thing. Don’t fear it. Welcome it, rejoice in it, and shed no tears when it is finished. We’ve been granted your purest blessing. As you slumber, we find rest in you. Allow us the sweetest of dreams.”

…

Blade’s psyche has changed.

The grayscale composition is gone. Vitality has been crowned the new ruler, overthrowing the morose atmosphere in a successful rebellion. This change brings no alleviation to the undercurrents of grief that hang heavy in the air. Instead, it feels more erratic, like a heart beating wildly after waking from a coma.

The Shackling Prison stands beyond a straight path as if it's been waiting for you.

The first time you entered his mind, it rejected you. Now, it’s pulling you in, its gravity far-reaching.

You hesitate to proceed.

Is it his mara that’s responsible for this? You won’t be able to tell unless you keep going.

The invisible force that expelled you nudges you from behind.

You recall when Blade first appeared before you. Your physical eyes showed you a man while every other sense warned he was a beast. A carnivore that would devour anything, predator or prey alike. You believed it then and you believe it now. His condition has condemned him. Where he walks, destruction follows. It’d make sense for you to abandon him to fate’s whims.

This excruciating hunger digests him too. It’s destined to eat him alive while postponing merciful death.

Fate can be cruel, but you have an opportunity to be kind.

You make your way to the Shackling Prison’s gates.

The seal that’s served as a hindrance halts you. You examine the once bold obstruction. It has faded, its strength depleted, held together by nothing. At its peak, you think it would have pushed you out instantly. Now, as your incorporeal hand presses against it, there’s little it can do. The most it can muster is the resilience to delay you a few more seconds.

After that, it shatters and fades like weeping stardust.

A prismatic shard forms from its ashes, coalescing into a blurred, moving image. Distorted sounds crackle from it, which you soon recognize as garbled speech. The noise becomes clearer. You hear a low thrum in the background. Its timbre matches the oxygen generator standard in Eris’ buildings.

This must be one of Blade’s memories.

“I know you’re impatient, but play nice a while longer,” a saccharine voice hums. “She’ll be here any minute now.”

That voice…

The image sharpens and unveils a grand screen plastered against a wall. It sections off into numerous squares, each dedicated to displaying financial data. It’s bright, obnoxiously so, attesting to the owner’s tacky taste.

Chrysus’ office?

A door creaks. Hastened footsteps approach, ringing throughout the brightly lit room. The pair of eyes you’re viewing this memory from — Blade’s — shift to locate the source. The color they arrive at is familiar. It’s the same shade you see upon viewing your reflection, although the shape differs.

Mom? You wonder, astonishment hitting like pelting hail. What was she doing, meeting with a Stellaron Hunter in Chrysus’ office of all places…?

“Your message surprised me, Exalted Arbiter. Getting you to agree to a face-to-face meeting is normally like pulling a tooth. What’s the occasion?” The honeyed voice, which can only belong to Kafka, greets.

“Don’t play coy with me,” your mother replies. While her words are sharp, they aren’t warped with emotion. This is the demeanor she assumed when conducting business. Her sagacity is a trait you’ve never been able to fully emulate. “That thing’s leaving baubles on my daughter’s balcony. How many times have I told you to tighten your dog’s leash?”

“Oh? I thought I had.”

Your mother smiles thinly. “Should I add incompetent leadership to your list of defects? Deals are meant to be followed. Otherwise, why make them at all?”

“We draw lines to test them. So long as they aren’t crossed, there’s no harm.”

“Spare me your casuistry. I don’t want that thing anywhere near her.”

Your head feels like it’s being stretched in multiple directions at once. This sequence unfolding before you has a dizzying effect. Why is your mother so outwardly hostile to Kafka? The Stellaron Hunter isn’t your favorite person either, but this transcends simple dislike. It’s personal, raw. She’s maneuvered through diatribes that’d make anyone else go red in the face, her poise unruffled. Kafka’s little provocations pale in comparison.

Not to your mother, though. She’s a thinning thread close to snapping.

“As per our original agreement, there’s no harm as long as she doesn’t notice him,” Kafka dismisses. She leisurely sits on Chrysus’ desk, not bothering to move his papers aside. She then crosses her legs and smiles. Her eyes emit an unnatural glow. “On the topic of testing lines… let’s not pretend you’re innocent either.”

Your mother doesn’t so much as flinch. “If you’re going to make accusations, at least have the confidence to be forthright.”

“You’re fascinating to deal with, Exalted Arbiter,” Kafka croons. “This is why I look forward to our chats. You don’t cower or plead for mercy like our friend outside did. It’s a welcome change.”

“I’d rather you don’t compare me to Ophídion.”

Kafka drums her fingers against the table’s surface. For such a simple sound, it’s deeply grating. “Forgive me in advance, then, because I intend to one more time.”

Your mother remains silent, her lips taut.

“Still not afraid, hm? Let’s see if we can change that,” Kafka’s smile widens, which crinkles the skin beneath her eyes. “Chrysus’ shipments of ichor are exact, down to the milliliter. Always delivered on time as well. Comparatively, your end of the bargain is far simpler. You just have to grant Bladie ready access to Miss Phaeales’ vicinity. But, I heard something regrettable through the grapevine.”

Your mother’s eye twitches.

“You’ve been shopping around for a way to sneak [First] off Eris, correct? Tsk, tsk.”

All falls silent save for the generator’s dedicated hum.

Your mother stands unflinching, folding her hands in front of her. The two openly scrutinize each other. Calculating, strategizing. Her posture betrays nothing. There’s no guilt or apprehension, making it impossible for you to determine the credibility of Kafka’s words.

“It’s fear you devils can’t experience, correct?” Your mother queries. “Here’s a suggestion — try having a daughter yourself. You praise me for not caving to intimidation; that’s because I’ve experienced far worse. From their conception to our death, fear is the only thing we mothers know. Fear that they won’t become like us, or, even worse, that they will. What a funny juncture we occupy.”

Mom’s voice doesn’t sound right. It’s so… forlorn.

You don’t want to keep watching.

You can’t pull yourself away — the memory’s weight is heavy enough to pull you back in.

“Is that maternal dedication enough to condemn an entire planet?” Kafka ponders. “I’m not a judge who is eager to sentence. I’ve been lenient with you and would love to keep it that way. Leave Miss Phaeales in my care, no harm will befall her.”

For the first time since entering the room, your mother acknowledges Blade’s existence. Her eyes turn to slits as she scowls at him. Disgust, reprehension, and wrath; it converges in a maelstrom that could sink fleets of ships. You hone in on the emotions Blade experienced at that instant. There’s nothing. It’s hollow, save for blots of mild impatience.

“It wouldn’t be your care, it’d be his.”

Your soul convulses.

“Is that so terrible?” Kafka hums. “Separated, they’re essentially cursed, the poor things. They complement each other well, the more you think about it. One who incites madness and another who has the means to resist it. You of all people should understand that, hm? Or is Mr. Phaeales available to voice his dissent?”

Dad?

Darkness passes over her countenance.

You don’t understand and you’re afraid to. Kafka freely tosses around the most taboo topics as if twirling a poisoned dagger on her fingers.

One who incites madness. Is that what you are? A catastrophe patiently waiting for its chance? That can’t always be the case, but, more often than not, what a person covets most should never be fully realized. There’s a reason the sensible and moral components of one’s psyche stuff this risk down as deep as it’ll go. If everyone did what they wanted, whenever they wanted, civilization itself would cease to exist.

As for Blade’s role in this… Kafka must know whatever he wants would have a value that outweighs the potential drawbacks.

“I won’t let her be reduced to a retractable leash for your attack dog,” she seethes. “Let your Cancer of All Worlds do what it will. My decision is final.”

Electricity crackles in the air.

“It’s this script, then,” Kafka murmurs, more to herself than anything. “So many diverging paths, so many possibilities. To think that out of all futures you’d get to pick out specially for [First]...”

Kafka motions toward Blade, who readies his weapon.

“You chose one of the worst ones.”

some misc author notes for this one:

regarding the reader's condition, i didn't want to include a sigmund freud jumpscare in the story itself, so it gets to be down here instead. for those unfamiliar with his theories, what reader is referring to here:

'What can psyches roughly be broken down into? Primary, unfiltered instincts; an individual’s rationality, or ability to reason; then their mortality, what lines they will or won’t cross. When properly aligned, the mind operates as a cohesive mechanism. However, if there’s friction, disharmony abounds. The resulting fissure causes strife until it’s plastered back together.'

is a more abstract version of freud's concept of the id, ego, and superego respectively. originally, i used this exact terminology, but something about it just felt very immersion breaking to me 😭 all i could do was think about mr freud floating about in the honkai universe. consequently, the unreliable narration of reader trying to understand her condition + not using the widely known terminology made me worry it'd be a bit confusing...

so, in freudian terms, being continually exposed to reader's presence causes an individual's id to dominate their thoughts/actions instead of their ego and superego.

#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #not sfw #nexus #my stuff

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