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pearlywritings · 1 year

Text

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife.

pairings: Alhaitham, Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, a little bit of bullying, a bit of unwelcome drunk flirting, characters are whipped for their wives

word count: 5.4k+ words

a/n: part 2 can be read here!

Alhaitham

Your husband is… Truly something. Honestly, that's the best way to describe this epitome of nonchalance, smugness and sarcasm, sprinkled with sharp glares and served with a smartass sauce. No one would be able to swallow such a nasty pill, yet you somehow managed. But that's what doctors say, right? The medicine might be bitter, but it'll get better. And it did.

Hard to believe, but the Akademiya's Scribe is enamored by you - it took time to realize, many interactions for him to see that you do not rise annoyance in him, multiple times sharing the eye contact and hundreds of hours being your interlocutor to cognize the beauty of you, but when he fell - he fell hard, and the realization didn't make him feel repulsed. On the contrary, it brought him inexplicable peace, and, being an efficient and straightforward man he is, Alhaitham faced you the very next day and asked out on a date.

The rest is history. You dated, you moved in, you got married - the sequence your husband perfected in its briefness to be over with quickly anytime his colleagues or anyone asked about you and your relationship. You, of course, would give a more detailed summary to your friends, speaking of him so tenderly, always witnessing the same reaction - disbelief. And you get it where they come from - after all, your partner is known to not be the most cordial person. He prefers it that way though - he is bothered much less and can dedicate that free time to his lovely wife.

He makes it a point to not leave the house unnecessarily early, just exactly enough to get to his office on time, and same with finishing his work, bluntly rejecting anyone who tries to approach him with stuff. This way he doesn’t waste a second with you, quite on contrary, sometimes a couple of hours can be added, if you visit him during the afternoon to go grab lunch together, or enjoy the one you brought with you, and then rest somewhere in a private spot with your head on his shoulder, holding a bigger hand that is resting on your thigh, while his other one is occupied with a book. This is enough to power you both up to push through the rest of the day, and Alhaitham really appreciates it, never failing to give you a kiss on the lips and murmuring the soft words of reassurance, before parting your ways till the evening.

Today is one of those days when you find yourself in the House of Daena with a home-cooked lunch neatly wrapped and warm in your hands. A couple of librarians greet you on the way, knowing perfectly well who you are, and you smile at them. One older woman, who’s always been fond of your character, informs you that Alhaitham hasn’t left the Grand Sage’s office since the moment he arrived, and you thank her for going out of her way to reassure you that you will not need to search for him.

There’s another exchange of greetings at the bottom of an elevator and just seconds later you start ascending to the above of the huge library. The quiet whirling of mechanisms is calming and you hum softly to yourself, imagining that tender look in those light turquoise eyes, a rare shine in orange-ringed yellow pupils and a slight pull of thin lips upon seeing your figure and catching a whiff of food you brought. A content sigh escapes your chest and you prepare to soon step off the huge round platform.

But instead of catching a glimpse of your husband, you are met with sharp black eyes, staring at you and a scowl present on the face of a person you don't believe you've seen before, at least not long enough to remember. You blink in surprise, eyes darting to look at the man from head to toe - he is wearing the Akademiya’s robes, but there is no indicator to which Darshan he belongs to. A Matra perhaps? But you are used to seeing a completely different face of a scholar Alhaitham appointed as his secretary for the period of time he’d fulfill the role of an Acting Grand Sage. Panah has soft brown eyes, always nodding to you in a greeting and leaving upon your arrival if it is lunch time and his boss doesn’t instruct him to stay and carry on with his job, not minding you two.

This one practically glares at you, arms crossed and posture intimidating. You simply tilt your head in question, waiting for him to say something.

“Who allowed you to enter?”

The tone of his voice is pretty rude, and the gruff voice doesn't add grace to it. You are not one to judge someone by their looks - your husband is the proof of that, so you decide to brush it off and simply answer.

"Shohre of course, as usual."

“...as usual?” His brows furrow, and you get even more confused with the question. Is your husband having some kind of an impromptu inspection? He didn’t tell you anything about it in the morning, and since the Akasha got turned off, there is no simple way to warn you of it.

"Is Alhaitham holding any meeting, perhaps?" You try, knowing it's absurd since he doesn't love his sweet lunch time being interrupted, but right now it's hard to find an explanation for this hostile-acting man's actions.

"You have so little respect for the Acting Great Sage?"

This time the booming edge in his words makes an echo in a pretty vast space and almost makes you flinch. The situation is escalating pretty quickly.

"Sir, I don't know who you are, but I do not believe I ever deserved such treatment from you. Would you be so kind to explain what's going on or at least let me see the Acting Great Sage-"

That must've sounded kind of sarcastic, because the man looks like he is ready to fume akin to a kettle.

"Who even are you!? Who do you think you are? Demanding a meeting like that - you must know his schedule is packed, so don't you assume that your pretty face would get you through-"

"Jahan, what is going on?" The "Jahan" shuts instantly upon hearing a deep, dripping with authority voice behind him. Your face instantly brightens when you spot the tall man approaching you two with his arms crossed and the most nonchalant expression etched in his features.

“We have an intruder, Sir.”

What in the Archon’s name- This is becoming ridiculous.

"An intruder?" He lifts his brow and glances at you, gaze lingering just for a few seconds longer. Then it returns to his subordinate. "I don't see one here."

"This woman," you move just in time not to have his index finger directly point you right in your face, "came here without prior appointment, not stating her purpose, not even stating her name!"

"Is that so?" You almost snort at how little Alhaitham cares for what this man has for an explanation, instead moving directly to you and taking a heavy lunch boxes from your hands, allowing your shoulders and arms to drop in relief.

“Her name is of no matter. All you need to know is that she is my wife.”

The room falls silent. The man stares at his boss with eyes so wide, you worry they’d pop out of his sockets. Your husband though doesn’t show any reaction to the stunned look on the man’s face, balancing all the containers in one hand, offering you the other, which you take with a smile.

"S-she what?"

"My wife. And she, along with the necessary descriptions, is literally the only person on the list of the people who are free to come and leave whenever. On the list Panah passed to you along with other instructions before taking his sick leave. Did you even skip through those?"

The tone of your husband is cold with a mocking edge, rubbing his subordinate’s incompetence in his face, and you don't need to look at the man to sense his panic.

"I-I, no of course I thoroughly looked through every single one, but I do not remember such paper, it must've been lost along the process-"

"It doesn't matter. Now you are aware. But there is one more thing you need to learn about my wife visiting."

"Yes, Sir?"

"You leave the moment she enters."

There is a momentary pause (you know Alhaitham is rolling his eyes inwardly at how slowly the notion seems to reach him), before Jahan snaps out of his stupor, slightly bows, mumbling something and quickly walks off to the elevator.

Not even waiting for the mechanism to start, your husband tugs on your hand and you take the hint, following him to the sofas and a table.

"What an imbecile," is murmured in annoyance and you finally chuckle, covering your mouth with a hand.

Your husband is truly something, but one thing is absolutely certain - his wife is the only person that really worths his nerves and time.

Ayato

Kamisato Ayato is a character of many admirable traits and worth-mentioning accomplishments, a great leader, an amazing big brother, a boss held in high regard, and a loving husband of three years to you. This last, but not the least, is Commissioner's favorite, and he makes sure to show it every opportunity present in his individual mischievous way.

You know he gets away with a lot of things, and for numerous reasons, ranging from being the head of the Yashiro Commission, to him being pretty unknown by face among the commoners due to Ayaka handling all the public affairs. This one in particular is harmless, but there is that little thing which drives you up the wall - he does it only when you are present, leaving you very flustered and with a fast beating heart.

"My name? Oh, I am a husband. This gorgeous woman's husband."

"Lord Kamisato? No need to be so formal with me, just call me her husband."

"'Kamisato Ayato' and all my titles are so long to write down, can't I sign it with 'Y/n's hubby' instead?"

"Kamisato Y/n's husband. That's who I am."

"Ayaka, have you forgotten? No more calling me 'big brother', only 'Y/n's husband- Stop laughing, I am serious!"

The last one is literally happening right before your eyes, with the younger sibling hiding her smile and suppressing her giggles behind her intricately decorated fan, as the older one has taken his glove off, wiggling his fingers to show the glistening golden band wrapped around one of them. You, on the other hand, are trying to cover your heated face with a stack of papers you picked when Ayaka entered the office and addressed her big brother as, well, big brother. Peeking above the filled with reports sheets you catch a sly smile playing on Ayato's lips, while his usually piercing eyes reflect the special kind of adoration he holds for you.

You know why he is doing this - the man fought hard for your heart and then hand in marriage, and since it is now a reality, he absolutely keens on that "I am your husband" notion. Sometimes it's a perfect ice breaker in introducing you two to new people, sometimes it's a reason for an eye roll (yours as well), at times it puts people in stupor which Ayato uses to his advantage, but there is always only one initial thought behind every single one of them - showing the world he is proud to be your partner with a label "husband" on it.

And this sentiment is fully returned! However you never had an opportunity to do the same - he always beats you to it, and leaves bashful long enough for the moment to become wasted. You know you can always talk it through with him and he’d be more than happy to give you a chance, but, after all these times he left you speechless, it’s simply a matter of pride to pay him back. Besides… You really-really want to see his reaction if you told someone important those words.

That you are his wife.

You hear a soft knock on the living room’s door where you and Ayato are sitting next to each other at one side of the low table.

“Lord and Lady Kamisato, the guests have arrived.”

“Wonderful, please let them in.”

The man notices your elation upon hearing those words and smiles to himself - your friends from another nation, whom you haven’t seen properly in ages, finally managed to reach the coasts of Inazuma and seek a meeting to reconnect with you and also meet your mysterious husband you’ve written and praised so much in your letters.

The scene is heartwarming. Two girls around your age are tightly hugging you with excited squeals while the man that came in together with them, patiently waits to be introduced. Ayato follows his example, watching your grinning face, filing away every single detail about it - the sparkles in your eyes, the rosiness of your cheeks, that adorable wrinkling of your nose when the girls say something cheesy, and the pure happiness written all over your visage.

“Oh, Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again after so long! So much happened…”

“Yes! We totally should discuss every single event! But I offer to start by introducing us and our husbands.”

“One of you got married?” You ask surprised. “I know that only one of you got recently engaged-”

“Me! But the wedding is so soon, that I already call him my husband, hehe. Oh, we brought the wedding invitation for you and your husband as well, I hope you two will make it!”

“Girls, girls, let’s calm down,” you laugh, pausing them and gesturing to the two men silently observing you - both pairs of eyes shining with admiration. “Ayato, my dear, I want you to meet my friends I’ve told you so much about…”

Your husband hears familiar names, ones he’s remembered long ago, and nods in recognition, offering each a kiss on the back of their hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet people my beloved holds in high regard.”

“Likewise,” they giggle, giving you teasing looks about how gentlemanly your spouse is, and you roll your eyes, but a smile tugging on your lips doesn’t go unnoticed.

“And I’ll take an opportunity to introduce our companion,” one of the women says, stepping closer to her fiance and offering everyone his name and a slight description of his field of work, to which Ayato hums with interest.

“And these,” your other friend gestures to you and your husband, “are Kamisato Ayato and-”

“Wife.”

Everyone falls silent and looks at you with confusion. You yourself are stunned, eyes slightly widened and heart skipping a beat. The word really just flew out of your mouth faster when you could think about it.

“Excuse me?” Your friend gapes at you, and suddenly it clicks. This spontaneous reaction, caused by your unspoken desire, presents you with a perfect opportunity. You finally can get “revenge” on your husband.

“That’s what I said, sweety,” with a smirk and boosting confidence you glance at Ayato and meet his lilac eyes, staring at you with a hint of amusement. “I am this marvelous man’s wife. You know, 'Kamisato Y/n' is way too long to pronounce. So, maybe just a wife instead?”

The silence reigns again, with the three of your guests clearly being in stupor and your husband observing you with an unreadable expression. But suddenly he laughs. Joyfully and sincerely, it plucks on the strings of your crazily beating heart. Instantly there are arms wrapping around your waist and lips pressed against your temple, and you can feel the smile he hides in your hair.

“Yes, that’s right… This remarkable woman is my wife. Most incredible and lovely wife.”

Turning your head slightly you manage to catch a soft blush dusting his porcelain skin, before he faces away from you. Oh Archons, he loves it and he is bashful!

As you fully turn in his embrace and start teasing him, loud enough for only the man to hear (you are not that cruel to embarrass him in front of people), your guests' existence is forgotten for a moment. Both girls sigh and look at the completely lost man, whose hand his future wife takes and rubs a thumb over his knuckles.

“Ah… Please, don’t mind that. She always had a strange sense of humor, and it seems that her husband only enabled it.”

That is true, but you look genuinely happy, so they can bear a week of occasional cringing.

Diluc

The annual harvest celebration has been a tradition in the Ragnvindr family for as long as the Dawn Winery existed. When Master Crepus was alive, it was hosted in the grand mansion with spacious halls and intricately decorated staircases, the one Diluc used to call his home. Guests would gather, wine bars would be uncorked and red liquid fill dozens of glasses, as he and Kaeya would curiously watch the adults interact, sneaking out of their rooms to spy from the hiding spots they knew so well.

But not anymore. Gone were the days of careless happiness he calls the past now, gone his father, gone the mansion, and gone his desire for active social interaction. It's been some years since his return and the sale of the mansion in attempts to run away from said past. The celebration came to a stop for as long as he was gone and then while he tended to re-establishing the business after arrival.

The Dawn Winery, despite all the maids and winemakers, would become so quiet. And it's not like he stayed there for long too - he was always somewhere, preoccupied by something.

That is until his life was shaken and turned upside down, and all by the hands of one single person. The person, who brought light back to his dark crimson eyes, who made him stop and think about how he can not just exist, but live, and happily so, waiting for every opportunity possible to be in the loving presence; the person who brought out that part of him he buried deep down in his graveyard of a soul, and gave it freedom to be again. The home actually started feeling like one, not a building he had a study and a bedroom in, but a place he could share with another, basking in the long-forgotten sensations, having his heart dance jigs and face soften in a tender gaze.

Many changes occurred, and, with some encouragement, he decided to bring back the tradition his father held in high regard, with only his sons' birthdays being more important to the late wine master.

The Winery is not as big as the family mansion used to be, but it is still enough space, with some of the furniture moved and the floor cleared, it can host many people. Besides, there is always a lovely outside with benches, and tables, and chairs, and it seems that Barbatos is kind to you, sending delightful weather as his gift.

Diluc is not a fan of social gatherings, however, he couldn't help but feel giddy when Adelinde exclaimed in elation at the prospect, be rather content when he saw happy smiles of the citizens - it's been a while since any proper celebration, and the monster rampage last month has been keeping everyone in a gloomy mood, and most importantly - he couldn't betray the trust and confidence his wife put into him.

…right. His wife. The ending to his reputation of the most eligible bachelor (not like he ever cared for the title), and the talk of the town for the past couple of weeks. Diluc Ragnvindr is a rather private man, and upon mutual agreement the wedding was private as well, with only few attending, and those few knew how to keep their mouths shut till the right time came. Or not, since one Cavalry Captain loves getting on the redhead's nerves and spilling some beans to the people who are willing to listen, and then not saying another word to create an intrigue.

So yes, this celebration is also a way to finally introduce the owner of the Dawn Winery's wife to the public, and put an end to all the speculations and maybe seal some lips that spew hatred towards the 'lucky woman', and there are a number of those.

You haven't been taking your eyes off the small group of nobles, standing almost in the middle of the first floor hall, loudly discussing the matter, inevitably drawing the attention of the ones not involved in the conversation, but standing rather close to them.

"I am telling you, she must be some dirty little thing, seducing our poor Master Diluc," the raven-haired tall man claims, elegantly holding a glass of dandelion wine in his long fingers. With his white and black clothes he reminds you of a dalmatian. Barking is almost identical too.

"You are right! She must be some commoner, too ashamed to show her face. If she was of a noble origin, the wedding would be grand and public," ah, and this bear-like looking man… you remember him - he was very active in trying to arrange a marriage of a very uninterested Diluc and his 17-year old daughter. You almost grimace at the thought.

"Oh yes! And we all know, that such well-known and ancient family as Ragnvindrs ought to have one of the noble daughters getting married into it," it is the first time you see this dramatically dressed woman, but even so you would've doubled in boisterous laughter if not the pretty dress Adelinde helped you lace an hour ago, that could potentially be ruined with the drink in your own glass.

You will yourself to tune them off for a moment and check on other guests. It quickly becomes clear that this conversation makes them uncomfortable. Some manage to entertain you though, by making fun of those nobles, parodying the pompous manner of their talking and snickering at that.

Nevertheless, one shall put an end to this idiocy.

"Afternoon, good sirs and ma'ams," the group direct their gazes at you, approaching them with a polite smile and a glass absent from your hand. "I've caught pieces of your conversation earlier, and couldn't help, but feel concerned."

The derogatory gaze the woman throws your way doesn't go unnoticed, but you simply choose to ignore it.

"Is that so?" The 'Dalmatian' hums, as if condescendingly. "Are you worried about Master Diluc as well, young lady? Such compassion is admirable."

"Oh, I hardly worry about Diluc," some eyes widen at your lack of his title acknowledgement, but you once again ignore it. "I am concerned about you. You know it's bad manners to berate a person in their own house? I'd really advise you to stop talking, especially about the matter you seem to know nothing about. Not to make bigger fools of yourselves at least."

"How dare you-" the woman you haven't heard talking before, but saw her nodding a lot, with those huge feathers in her hair waving with each tilt of her head, starts gasping because of your 'insult'. "How dare you speak to us like that! A servant must stay silent until asked to open their mouth!"

"I am not a servant here, nor anywhere else," the assumption doesn't surprise you, since all the maids were allowed to wear pretty outfits even while doing their job - after all it was a celebration honoring them as well, they help the Winery keep running.

"When who in the Archon's name are you-?"

"Y/n Ragnvindr," a deep soothing voice rings behind you, so loud and clear, that it immediately shuts all the sounds in the room.

Your lips curl in a wider smile, all the while holding the bewildered gaze of the woman who decided to pick a fight with you.

"Yes, dear?" His chest is now against your back and a hand, clad in a white glove, reaches for yours. "Are you done with welcoming our partners from Liyue?"

"Of course," the back of your hand is brought to his lips to leave a chaste kiss there, and only then you turn your head and catch a dangerous glint in those blood-colored eyes. He is pissed, but neutral face hardly betrays him. "I see we have a problem here."

"Mhm," you hum, not letting go of his hand and looking back at the tensed individuals, who were bad-mouthing you just minutes ago. "It surely isn't how we planned to reveal our marriage, but the situation called for it, I suppose."

"L-lady Ragnvindr, we didn't know-"

"Can these people be escorted out?" Your question interrupts her harshly, making her flinch. "They disturb other guests, and clearly do not know basic rules of respect."

"My dear wife," you can practically feel menace radiating off of his body, and voice dripping with smugness, "no need to ask me. That's your house as much as it's mine, and you contributed so much into organizing this event. So don't be shy to make your own decision."

"Well then," your smile gets even sweeter, contrary to your eyes that burn holes in their distasteful figures, "Get out."

Kaeya

"Hey pretty tits, hic! Argh, you come here often?"

You wouldn't think that a question like this was addressed to you, if the heavily smelling of alcohol man wasn't occupying the bar stool to your right, leaning forward in your direction. You slightly turn your head and suspiciously watch the swinging glass in his trembling hand, half full and threatening to spill the dark liquid. He really had too much tonight.

"...was that supposed to be a compliment?"

Leaning back to avoid any unfortunate outcome, you give him an unamused look, finished with an arched brow. From the corner of your eye you can't help but notice Charles staring at the man. It is nice to know your good acquaintance doesn't ignore the possible trouble a drunkard can cause another customer.

But you can handle it.

"It was!" He exclaims so happily, childishly proud that you acknowledged the fact. Should you tell him he sucks at it? And that there is only one man whose drunk flirty compliments you'll ever accept, and even in a state like that he would manage to be good, putting a smile on your face? Right now though, the urge to grimace is stronger.

"...thanks," I suppose?. "And yes, I come here often to spend the evening with my partner."

At that his face visibly falls and you turn away, assuming it is enough to cut the conversation short, and concentrate on savoring your first drink of the evening. You ordered it while waiting for one particular Cavalry Captain, and even though it's not strange for him to come later due to astronomically fast piling up paperwork, today he seems to be particularly busy. Maybe you should purchase a bottle and come to his quarters?

Just before you could do just that, there is a hand sliding over your right hip and a hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. You don't even flinch or freeze, recognizing the alluring presence immediately and leaning back into the firmness of his chest.

"You are late, Kaeya."

A soft chuckle and a kiss to the temple make it pretty clear that the azure-haired man cracked your fake rebuke on the spot, knowing that you are not one bit angry at him, but actually really happy to finally have him here.

"I apologize, princess," another kiss, this time to your cheek, "work's been a bit tough. But I am glad to finally be here with my woman."

"Youuurr?"

Ah, you completely forgot about the drunkard to your right.

Turning to look at Kaeya's reaction, you are stricken by the star-shaped pupil gazing right at you - he hasn't even glanced in the other man's direction, instead fixated on you completely. And that is making wonders to your poor heart.

"Who's that, snowflake?" His tone holds curiosity, but you know your lover, and you know when he is ready to be an ass. You shouldn't encourage this, however…

You'd love to see Kaeya Alberich tell the suitor off for you.

"No idea. But he said I have pretty tits."

He hums at that.

"True, but I would've aimed for that delicious butt. I am a simple man, after all."

You barely slap his hand in time, not nearly as drunk to start touching each other right here and right now. At your jab in his ribs he simply laughs heartily, settling his palm back onto your hip and momentarily redirecting his attention to the troublemaker who's been staring at you two throughout the whole exchange.

"You are not from here, are you?"

Only when your lover says that, do you decide to take in the other man's appearance. Indeed, if you were to look longer at him (not like you were interested) it would be easy to guess Fontaine as his land of origin.

"And what?" He straightens his back and puffs his chest as if trying to intimidate. What a rooster. "Does it prevent me from pursuing a pretty woman from another region?"

Oh, so now it's not simply one flirting remark, but a full-blown pursuit? How troublesome.

"Oh no, no, of course not," honey is dripping off those pretty lips, pulled into a smirk. "It's just that otherwise you'd know it's a bad tone to hit on someone's ex-girlfriend."

Confusion appears on the pursuer's face and you look inquiringly at Kaeya as well. The only answer you get is a wink and a mouthed request to order him a drink. Still perplexed, you nevertheless turn to Charles and ask him to make the Cavalry Captain the usual.

Meanwhile the man pulls his thoughts together.

"It's stupid! If she is your ex, then how does it not give me the right to date her? Ridiculous. Why do you even hold her like that!?"

The shouting gathers attention from other patrons - some were invested almost from the beginning, seeing how that unknown man tried to make a move on you, and snickering behind their mugs of alcohol at his unawareness of your relationship.

And Kaeya is all for the show. Many eyes watch as an elegant hand wraps around the glass of his favorite drink and brings it to the silent lips. It feels like everyone stopped breathing and the silence is pressuring, like a string ready to snap and reveal some shocking truth. You, on the other hand, roll your eyes at the male's love for theatrics and put an elbow onto the counter and lean your cheek into your open palm. This is going to be crushing, you almost feel sorry for the guy.

When the Cavalry Captain takes the third sip and sighs in delight - then, and only then, - he looks dead into the other man's eyes, so oppressively that he shrinks under the weight of this cold gaze.

"Maybe because she is my wife?"

If it was physically possible, the drunkard's jaw would hit the floor. The glass, he's been holding just seconds ago, however, follows its destiny, breaking from the impact with floorboards and ruining the prolonged silence and earning a grunt from the barman.

"S-she's what?"

"His wife," you raise your hand and show the ring, getting quite tired and wanting to save at least some of this man's dignity. "So, if you could, please, let us two have our date night. Uninterrupted."

Finally it seems to have him sobered up a little and he starts profusely apologizing to you, to Kaeya, to Charles, to Barbatos and Focalors, while digging his porch with mora out to pay for his drinks and minor damage he caused.

When he stumbles outside and the other patrons stop following the drama, you turn to a contently sipping on his wine Kaeya, who is excelling the nastiest grin on his face.

"Ex-girlfriend? Seriously? That's how you call your wife now?"

"Well, technically I am not wrong, right? Since you are not my girlfriend anymore," he shrugs his shoulders, finishing the last few gulps and putting the glass back onto the counter.

"Then the next time we meet new people I will introduce you as my ex-boyfriend. What? Technically you are," having his own words being thrown into his face makes Kaeya laugh, and he hugs you tightly, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Deal. But only once, to make it even. I enjoy being called your husband way more."

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ktgoodmorning · 11 days

Text

That awkward smile

Alexia Putellas x reader

You return to Barcelona and are faced with having your ex as your captain

Masterlist

“What are you doing here?” you jumped slightly as you heard the one voice you were dreading the most when you transferred to Barcelona, your ex. It was your first day at the training grounds, meeting with different administrative staff to finish paperwork and do your medical assessments. Your transfer hadn’t been announced yet but for some reason you assumed that Alexia would’ve known since she was captain.

You stopped to look up at her. It was the first time you had seen each other in over a year. Of course you had seen pictures online, and seen her in passing at different awards nights, but you hadn’t truly been face to face in a long time. You knew that obviously she would be your captain after you transferred here, but hadn’t mentally prepared to see her so soon, before you had really made it inside.

“I’m transferring here, just finalizing everything today.” There was an awkward tension in the air as you spoke, saying only the bare minimum in hopes of ending the conversation as quickly as possible. You knew it was going to be uncomfortable between you at first but it had been long enough and the two of you were professional enough that you figured it would get better with time.

“Oh!” the blonde looked at you surprised, clearly not having been told this news ahead of time. Although you noticed how the corners of her mouth turned up slightly, definitely not angry about your presence, but still struggling to decide what she wanted to say. “Well… I’m sure you’ll be a good addition to the pitch. Let me know if you need anything while you get settled here.” You gave her a short nod, grateful for her breaking the tension between you and hopefully putting your shared past behind you.

The two of you had dated years ago. You had played together on the Spanish national team for most of your lives before you started dating. You were together for almost two years, most of that time being really great. But once you decided to leave the national team after the 2022 Euros, it was the beginning of the end for your relationship. After you left the national team, the two of you rarely saw each other due to you playing in the WSL. You were both young and busy and the long distance destroyed the connection between you. She was focused on her recovery and you were focused on your career. The stress in your lives and the distance between you led to both of you frequently taking your anger out on each other, eventually putting an end to your relationship.

You loved Alexia. When your relationship was at its best, you were the epitome of a classic football power couple. Everyone was rooting for you, including you. She was so good to you. You both were fiercely independent and made room for that in your relationship, always having the space you needed to continue to develop. You made each other better in almost every way. All your friends and family could see it, you pushed each other in exactly the way you needed, in ways that most people couldn’t.

It was hard to forget the way you loved her, the way she loved you. At some point, you knew you wanted to talk to her, have a real conversation about all of it. Your breakup had been rough, both of you had said things you shouldn’t have, both of you left hurt and without closure. It wasn’t either of your fault’s- you each played a role in your own downfall. You hoped at the very least, you had matured enough to get the closure you needed and put your past behind you, if nothing else, for the success of the team.

You were in the middle of doing media photos when you heard another familiar voice. “Zorri, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming here! I had to find out through Alexia?!”

“Mapi!!!” you took off running towards her, fully abandoning the photographer so you could practically tackle the defender in a hug. “I wanted to surprise you! I missed you!”

Mapi was one of your best friends. You were bonded closely from your similar experiences with the national team and had been there for each other through it all, no matter how far away you were. She was one of the only reasons you still visited Spain frequently, always staying close no matter how far away you lived. Mapi had been there for the breakup between you and Alexia and had seen how hard it had been on both of you. Honestly, she was half the reason you had transferred to Barcelona. Of course you wanted to see her more often, but more than that, she had given you the confidence you needed to trust that you could succeed there amongst some of the greatest players in the world.

“I missed you, it’s been too long since you came to see me.” The Zaragozan gave you a playful glare wrapping her arm around your shoulders to keep you close.

“Well now I don’t have to visit you cause I’ll be living here!”

“It’s about time you did! Ingrid will be happy that she doesn’t have to worry about me hogging the phone when you call.”

“Yeah well now I’ll finally get to talk to Ingrid again, won’t I?” she gave you a little shove as she rolled her eyes while you just laughed at her, happy to finally be back with your best friend.

“Hey I’ll wait for you to finish up your media, then I can take you to go say hi to everyone? We all just finished up on the pitch.” You gave her a nod before going back to the photographer that you had left behind to wrap up the few pictures you had left.

Most of the team you already knew from your time with the national team or through Mapi, but you were still somewhat nervous to officially meet them. Barcelona was known for being a tight knit team and you were nervous to have to come into that. Of course your history with Alexia didn’t help matters- did she tell people about you? Do they know how poorly your breakup went? What if they all hate you because they think you hurt her?

Having Mapi by your side as she led you to the locker room brought you some amount of comfort. At the very least, you knew she and Ingrid would always have your back, no matter what happened with the rest of the team. But even next to your best friend, you were most nervous about facing Alexia again. Even though you had already seen her briefly in the hallway earlier, something about this felt different- more official. Now you had signed all the papers and there was no going back, making it all the more terrifying.

Just in front of the locker room doors, Mapi stopped you to try to give you some encouragement before facing the entire team waiting for you on the other side of the door. She took both of your hands in hers and looked at you closely, “Hey, look at me. You’re gonna be fine. You know most of them already, and we all already love you, you don’t need to be so nervous.” You nodded at her, thankful she could read your thoughts so easily. “Vamos bien?”

The defender pulled you in for a quick hug before leading you through the doors to face the team.

The team seemed to be all smiles as Mapi introduced you, ready to welcome you with open arms. Very few of the girls were new to you and they seemed to all be unaware of your history with their captain, who you had a difficult time tearing your gaze from. The blonde kept her eyes on the ground, barely looking up at you as you made your way around the room to talk with everyone.

Everyone knew how unusual it was for Alexia to be this quiet and shy around the team. With other people, sure, but not with the team. Especially when it involved a new signing, the captain would normally be the first one to greet them and introduce them to everyone. Some people knew that you had dated, anyone who had been on the national team at the time had seen it first hand, but most people knew nothing about your breakup. All of them were used to teammates dating and breaking up so it didn’t phase them. The weird part of all of it was Alexia’s current behavior, and how she suddenly appeared extremely insecure.

As you made your way around the locker room, she finally was able to look up at you when you got closer. You approached her slowly, unsure of what you were supposed to say, noticing the tight lipped smile she gave you. For Alexia, you knew her well enough to know that the awkward half-smile was her attempt at being normal, just not fully sure how to do so. If she was truly mad at you, it’d be much more clear to you, knowing she wouldn’t have made any kind of attempt to be nice.

You gave her a soft smile in return, pulling her into a friendly hug, almost as a thank you for her not holding your past against you. The hug was supposed to be short, just a friendly gesture to show your forgiveness, but apparently the blonde had other plans. She held onto you tightly, much longer than you had anticipated before she pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder and pulled away. Her hands remained on your shoulders so she could talk to you before you moved on to say hello to the next person. “Can we get coffee or something sometime so we can talk?”

“I’d like that, Ale. Are you free after this?” She gave you a big smile, the first you’d seen from her, before nodding. Her large hands gave your shoulders a squeeze before letting go to allow you to keep talking to your new teammates.

The idea of getting to talk to Alexia, finally getting the closure that you never got before, maybe being on good terms again- it all made you excited. Should you try to be friends again? It might be really great for you, you obviously had been close in the past, maybe a friendship would work better. You knew in the back of your head that you still loved her. How could you not? But you’d push that thought down as far as you possibly could, knowing it wasn’t what you needed at the moment. You just wanted to be on good terms again.

The room started to empty out as everyone was tired from the day of training and ready to go home. You slowly made your way back to Alexia’s cubby, waiting for her to finish changing and getting ready after her shower. The blonde made her way back to you, still drying her hair with a towel before looking at you, almost as if she were surprised you actually waited for her. “You know, I always knew you’d look good in some Barca stuff,” she nodded down at the plethora of Barcelona apparel you had been given to wear.

You raised your brow at her, her confidence clearly returning, “Is this your attempt at flirting with me Putellas?”

“That depends, is it working?” The blonde smirked back at you, feeling much more comfortable now that the rest of the time wasn’t around to watch. She just chuckled at the way you rolled your eyes at her, grabbing her bag as she did so. “Ready to go? I can drive you if you want?”

“That sounds perfect, Reina” You knew the nickname always annoyed her, causing you to use it constantly. You giggled as you followed her out, even more hopeful than before for whatever this talk would entail.

The car ride to the cafe was peaceful. There was some light small talk, catching up with each other while also avoiding what you knew you were there to talk about. You talked casually about life, and football, and what your families had been up to in the past year. When she pulled up outside the small cafe, she led you inside and straight to the counter. “Do you still have the same coffee order?”

You were taken aback by her question, shocked that she could possibly still remember your order. Alexia took your silence as confirmation, ordering for you before you could even process it. She just offered you another smile, still humored by your reaction before leading you to her favorite table.

“Thank you, Ale. Seriously. You didn’t need to buy my drink. And thank you for being willing to talk with me.”

She wiped at her mouth softly, “Of course. I wanted to talk to you too,” she paused, “I want to apologize… for how things ended with us.” Her eyes hit the floor again, seemingly embarrassed of her feelings.

“I’m sorry too. We both were just in a bad place, and took it out on each other. The breakup was the right thing at the time.”

“We weren’t ready for it. For any of it. We thought we had life figured out and then it all came crashing down.”

“Do you think we could be ready for it now… maybe?” you basically whispered, not sure what you were trying to get at. You had no intention coming into this conversation with any plan of trying to get back together. It had been over a year since you had talked, you might not even get along anymore, hell she might not even be single anymore. And here you were, already about to ruin everything.

“I think we could be. Maybe if we just take it slow, and don’t rush into anything, we can just see how it goes,” she spoke with more uncertainty than you had ever seen from her before. “I want to treat you how I didn’t before. If you’ll let me.”

You gave her another soft smile, something you’d done a lot with her today, “I think that’s a good idea. I think just taking it easy to see what happens, not forcing anything. No matter what happens though, I don’t want to lose you, Ale. If it doesn’t go well, I need you to promise that we’ll stay friends still. I can’t lose the one person I love, not over some stupid shit.”

The serious look on her face suddenly switched to a smirk, “The one person you love?”

“Yes, Ale, love. Are you really gonna pretend you don’t still love me? I know that weird half-smile at me in the locker room would say otherwise.” you rolled your eyes at her, knowing that you were right. It was clear that you had both pushed away more feelings than you realized in the past year.

“Hmmm you know me too well, amor.” She grabbed your hand and brought it to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it before leaning her head on your joined hands. Your favorite girl just stared at you with a big not awkward smile on her face, excited about your future, and about where your relationship would go from here. Wherever that would be, you both knew it would be good.

I feel like the ending was super rushed, I kinda hate it, so sorry.

Any feedback and requests are totally welcome tho!

Check out part two here!

Masterlist

#barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso imagines #fcb femini #woso one shot #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #espwnt #espwnt x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #wosoreading24/7 #wosoreadingalexia

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pluvialpoet · 6 months

Text

how to disappear

Summary: a reunion ten years in the making serves as a reminder that absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder- especially when history has a tendency to repeat itself

Pairing: dick grayson x fem!vigilante!reader

Requested: no

Warning: nsfw!!! (18+ MDNI), porn with plot, lovers to enemies, unprotected sex, implied breeding kink, choking, angst, minor barbara gordon slander (for the plot, I swear)- do not read if you are not comfortable with the warnings listed above!!!

Word Count: 12,874

masterlist

Light reflects off the crystals that hang from the chandeliers above, and like a moth drawn to a shiny flame, you bask in the warmth of their glow. For as beautiful as the crystalline teardrops twenty-two feet overhead are, they dull in comparison to the- equal parts blinding and mesmerizing, simultaneously gorgeous, yet gaudy- diamonds that dangle from earlobes, rubies that rest against décolletages, and the pearls placed upon dainty fingers in an over the top display of money, power, and status. It’s the epitome of wealth, and though meant to allure, you find yourself disgusted by the flashy exhibitions of greed and corruption.

Every smile is artificial. Every laugh is humorless and diluted. Any feeling beyond complete and utter misery is a hoax. Yet, they play their parts. Each and every one of them continues to mingle, boast, and feign genuineness, but it’s obvious what they are, even beneath their disguises, you recognize the vultures circling the fresh carnage of the innocent- with blood on their talons and a hunger that’s never truly satiated. Do they even know what they’ve done? Do they even care? Given a chance to make amends, would any of them take it?

Revulsion counters amusement as you watch the elite interact with one another. It’s pathetic. In a room full of affluence, not a single person knows pleasure beyond material possessions, and that’s an injustice in itself. Amongst thieves, you’re the honesty that rivals them all- and that’s a scary revelation, all things considered.

Taking advantage of the large crowd, you continue to bump elbows with the rich- literally- as you weave your way through the opulent mass. A tight-lipped smile is granted when you pass an older woman, and an even wider flash of teeth catches your attention from a man around your age. Mimicking the gestures seal your fate, damning you- even if only temporarily- to this game of confusion, a game in which approval and disgust are indiscernible. Having had years to grow accustomed to the tricks of this elitist trade, it’s almost impossible to recall a simpler time. Back when you still thought there might be a modicum of authenticity behind the action, back before you were close enough to spot the invisible strings controlling the marionettes, you believed- and even hoped- that you had it all wrong. There was a time, long, long ago, when you were desperate to believe that there was still some good left in these people, but you grew out of your naivety. Now older, and wiser, you won’t make the same mistakes you once made. Under the influence of optimism, your purpose became convoluted. Not anymore.

Without anyone to dissuade you from reaching out- to challenge you from swiping a few bejeweled tennis bracelets, engagement rings, or even one or two watches and calling it a day- a thrum of urgency spreads through your fingertips. It’s an impulsive electricity you can’t deny. Besides, it’s not like social dynasties would crumble if a few diamonds went missing. If only it were that easy…

Wealth doesn’t doom these poor, unfortunate souls, but their greed- coupled with the blood on their hands- paints a distinguishable target on their backs. If you look closely, it’s impossible to miss that they’re all cut from the same cloth. A hundred different reflections of the same privileged archetype imitate the same gestures, mannerisms, and movements to a tee. An amateur would operate under the guise of distraction- causing a small scene and offering their apologies before making off with their prize- but you’re not an amateur. Not anymore. Not by a long shot.

A few women- four or five, at most- nurse flutes of bubbling booze a few feet away. The sound of their laughter is a little too joyous to be feigned and when one of them waves a manicured hand towards a waiter, signaling another round of drinks, you start to put the pieces together. Perhaps, the ladies in your sights are the most genuine in attendance- even if they’ve lost themselves to their cups. Matching their demeanor is child’s play. Once equipped with a half-empty glass from a server on their way back to the kitchens, you stumble towards the group, plastering on the same elated- intoxicated- grin, and hope that they’re inebriated enough to be welcoming towards a newcomer. Masking the bitter taste of insincerity with a sip of prosecco, a greeting rises from the mix, but it never has the chance to come to fruition because a large hand wraps around your wrist- effectively halting your heist before it even really had a chance to begin.

You should’ve known better.

As you turn to glare at the idiot who dared to put their hands on you, your breath catches.

Two birds die from the blow of one stone, and he takes advantage of your stupor- finding that you’re more pliant in your daze- leading you away from the women you intended to rob, and into the crowd. More witnesses make it less likely for you to cause a scene. At least, that’s his logic, anyway. While it’s not exactly flawed, it’s not all that accurate, either, but for old time's sake, you’ll play along. His hold on you remains firm, and he reaches for the flute in your hand with his other, placing it on a tray and discarding the prop. Your surprise begins to morph into anger- especially when he pulls you closer towards him as the orchestra starts to play a tune. Remembering the steps forced upon you as a child is muscle memory, and you glare daggers up at him- though, they don’t pierce nearly as deeply as the blue of his irises.

“Nice hair,” Dick revels in your obvious frustration of being thwarted, his lips curling into a smirk when your frown deepens, and he asks, “I thought you were blonde, last I saw you?”

“I was,” For the sake of maintaining appearances, you don a phony expression of your own and respond with as much benevolence as you can muster- even though you’re filled with animosity- as he leads you through the steps of the dance. “And you didn’t have a five o’clock shadow,” You note, allowing yourself a split second to take in everything that’s changed since the last time you saw him, before pressing your lips together tightly with a huff.

“Things change.”

As if he needed the reminder…

Chance has never meddled in your relationship. Coincidence doesn’t exist within the realm of precision both you and Dick operate from. Everything has always been on purpose, calculated and planned, never left blindly to fate or possibility- which is why this meeting isn’t an accident. As if he can feel you about to pull away, he flexes his fingers against you, tightening his grip and holding you in place. Ten years later- ten years too late- he’s found you. Not destiny, not a fluke, but with his own intention, and you wish that he would’ve just stayed away.

“What are you doing here, Dick?” As you abandon your costume, your smile falls away to reveal genuine loathing as you force the question from behind gritted teeth. Still, despite your obvious disdain, he doesn’t let you go. “Last I checked, you were in San Francisco- and more recently, Blüdhaven. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You keeping tabs on me?” His amusement contradicts your revulsion, and a shallow breath purges the threat of an outburst. Dick has always had a way of getting under your skin, of pushing your buttons and doing everything he possibly could to make you tick, but the sudden onslaught of such juvenile taunting fills you with a fire not even he can extinguish- not anymore. Despite his charming exterior, the steady flow of his breath, and the easy grin of confidence that was once impossible not to mirror, dampness swells where your palms meet, and you feel the rough, raised reminders that he’s kept busy during your time apart- that he’s evolved into a stranger despite how familiar he still seems- and you wonder if he can feel it too, if he can tell just by touch, that you’re not the same girl he once knew.

“I keep tabs on everyone who might get in my way,” Your eyes narrow accusatorially, and the corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re not special.”

“That’s not what you said the last time we-“

“Yeah, well, the last time was when we were teenagers, and a lot has changed since then.” Any attempt to remain cordial flies out the window when he dares to mention the last time- like it hasn’t plagued you for a decade. Not even he possesses the antidote to the venom your words carry, and he winces slightly as your rebuttal shakes. He clears his throat softly, the sound filling the lull where an apology should sound, and he takes a look over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again.

“Any chance I can convince you not to go through with whatever it is you’re planning?” It brings little joy to watch his smile dissolve into something more serious. His face hardens, and you notice lines and creases that you aren’t well acquainted with- unable to distinguish battle scars from the divots of age- and you quickly shake the thought away. Instead, you stare at him blankly, not revealing an answer. Though, he takes your lack of conversation as a reply, and with a heavy sigh, he shakes his head, “Yeah, I figured.”

He dares to express melancholy. Stunned by his nerve, after everything, not even shame or regret could rattle his courage enough for him to reconsider such a crestfallen expression, and the discouraged twist of his lips and the downcast slant of his eyes are so pronounced and dramatic that you’re unable to discern whether or not this is part of a ruse, or his genuine reaction.

“Did you think that would work?” Your skepticism is muddled with ridicule, a mocking scoff filling the line meant for his counter. It’s almost laughable- the nerve he has to look dejected by your questioning. To be fair, it’s been a while since he’s danced this dance- a routine once familiar, consisting of bite and bark, push and shove, before simultaneous defeat and victory- but he’s smart enough to know that that’s not how this works. “I mean what did you think would happen, birdy? I’d take one look at you, all grown and handsome, and reconsider my plans?”

Even in heels, he’s taller than you remember. He’s always been pretty- all mesmerizing eyes, slightly crooked smile, and sunkissed skin- but not even he was immune to the awkwardness brought forth by puberty. There was a time when he thought his shoulders were too broad, his ears too big, and the angular structure of his face too sharp and strong for a boy. It didn’t look right. Features that were admirable on their own, looked out of place on his face- or so he feared. You always thought he was beautiful- especially when he didn’t know it.

Now, Boy Wonder is all grown up, exuding confidence and oozing charm. He knows he’s attractive, but he doesn’t parade his arrogance- not anymore. His early twenties were a never-ending roller coaster of trying to find himself, his purpose, and where he fit into the grand scheme of things. Conflicted by right and wrong, tempted by lust and surrender, divided by good and evil, he’s had a lot of time to awaken from the grogginess inflicted by nightmares of freedom and liberation. Still, his eyes are just as mesmerizing, his teeth are straight- but his smile is still crooked- and he’s truly grown into himself. The man before you is a boy evolved- still a bird, but with a different set of wings. Robin is an old friend, a fond recollection of a different time, and though the stranger before you mimics the familiarity you’ve longed for, he’s not Robin, anymore- he’s Nightwing.

“Look, they’re anticipating for you to strike,” His warning is low and hushed, but even in whispers you’re able to detect his plea. Call it concern, or at the very least interest in serving justice as quietly as possible, but his timbre urges you to reconsider- if not for his sake, then for the sake of those around you. He really doesn’t want to cause a scene. “Security has been tripled, and you’ve grown sloppy-“

“Did you ever consider that the trail I was leaving behind wasn’t for anyone else but the one person I wanted to find me?” There’s no affection behind the way your fingers thread through the dark tresses at the nape of his neck. Without any fondness, without passion, or care, the action is mindless, meaningless, and merely muscle memory. There’s no repressed feelings you wish to convey, no animosity you’re trying to diffuse. With no hidden agenda, the gesture serves no purpose- except to unintentionally torture you both. Old habits die hard, and something undefined urges you to reach for him. He flushes, and the sight is so droll that you can’t bring yourself to stop. His lips part once, twice, three times, trying to produce an answer, but he’s at a loss. When you cock your head to the side, he tenses. “Of course, you didn’t,” You purr, and he clears his throat softly.

Dick’s no stranger to berating. He knows what it feels like to be chastised, scolded, and reprimanded. This exchange feels similar. The only difference is that you don’t raise your voice, your eyes don’t darken and you don’t threaten him- not with words, at least. If anything, the remark feels like a gentle rebuke, but the sting left from the impact of your insult brands him with shame. You’ve always seen right through him. Easily able to discern real from fake- truth from falsity- under both his domino mask and the hardened mask of his stoic expressions, you’ve always had a knack for exposing his most vulnerable self- welcoming his flaws, humility, and weaknesses to light. Even though he’s not the same kid he was when you first crossed paths, he feels just as naive and guileless as the boy he once once.

“You and the bat were never really known for considering every angle,” Spoken so thoughtfully, he’s almost able to forgive the verbal assault. As intended, the blow lands- precise, heavy, and unforgiving in the center of his chest- and the muscles in his jaw tighten with thinly veiled frustration. It seems, that in the moment he needs his voice the most, it evades him. He swallows consonants and vowels, a jumbled mix of letters that sit heavy atop his palate, and focuses on maintaining his composure- though, his steps are a beat behind and his footing seems, suddenly, unsure. You’ve struck a nerve. Whether or not you intend to wound, the damage is already done. Picking at scabs that should’ve scarred a long time ago cause his insecurities to bleed- a punch more lethal than brute strength and weaponry combined.

Blindsided by the truth, he feels utterly defenseless.

“Can I ask you something, Dick?” Your brows barely pinch together, your voice calm and steady as something softens in your gaze. Dick should know better than to let his guard down- especially when you lean in, and your lips brush against his ear, “If you’re the hero, here to save the day, does that make me the villain?”

“No, you’re not-“

“How about this, which is the lesser of two evils- knowing that you’re protecting a corrupted establishment because it’s what you believe to be morally correct, or taking back what was wrongfully stolen and returning it to its rightful owners?” As you tilt your head to the side, he hates the way that you look up at him through your lashes. It’s not a demure move. You’re demanding an answer, and a look like that- a look meant to allure, tempt, and bait- would have a weaker man spilling his deepest darkest secrets. With a sharp inhale, he reminds himself that the tricks up your sleeve aren’t new. He knows all of the cards you’re going to play- albeit, he’s unaware of the order in which you’re going to play them- and he won’t allow history to repeat itself. Purposely, your thumb caresses the back of his hand- the touch feather-light, but far from hesitant or accidental- and his breath hitches. Dick doesn’t undermine the small, sinister smile that threatens to spread into a victorious grin when he fails to answer your question. Perhaps, he doesn’t know the answer. Or, perhaps, he’s just distracted. Either way, your voice fills the absence of his own. “We’re not on different sides of a playing field, Grayson. You and I aren’t on opposite ends of a spectrum, we’ve always been right in the middle- dancing on a thin line.”

Prompted by the soothing symphony of strings, Dick twirls you- delicately extending his arm and leading you into a spin before pulling you back in- and it’s fitting, the push and pull between you so familiar it almost feels as choreographed as the steps of the waltz you’re dancing.

History repeating itself, just one more time.

“We both know you’re not here to turn me in, because if you were going to, you would’ve done it by now.” Your arrogance causes something to snap within him. Clarity comes rushing back as he breaks free from your spell. Without meaning to, his grip on your hand tightens.

“Look, I understand why you’re doing this, but-“

“No, you don’t.” Like a switch being flipped, your façade shatters- revealing a face so unbridled with emotions that not even a mask could obscure. He’s defensive. Tired of grappling for control over the situation, he tastes power as he parts his lips with a clever retort, but you don’t allow him the space to get a word in. “Did you know that last year, the city council held a vote to refurbish a few run-down parks on the south side of Gotham with the hopes of restoring the communities destroyed by violence, or increasing the GCPD budget?” The heat behind your accusation pokes and prods at his curiosity, coloring him intrigued. Admittedly, he’s not the most up-to-date on Gotham’s politics, but something this large shouldn’t have slipped under his radar- or the watchful eyes of those who swore themselves to protect the beloved city.

It’s deeper than that, though.

Your frustrations, however warranted, seem to extend beyond such an injustice. Between the lines, amongst all the words you haven’t said, there’s a decipher hidden in every twitch, gesture, and glare. From the way your eyes narrow, to the sharp exhale and tightening grip of your fingertips. To sweaty palms and clenched teeth, all the way to flared nostrils- there’s something just beneath the surface that he can’t crack. Too much time has passed for him to unscramble tacitness when he no longer understands the codes in which you speak, and, unfortunately, he needs you to paint a clearer picture than the vague abstract before him.

“When it came down to it, do you think that the citizens of the south side had a say in the matter?” Dick’s smart. He’s not just a pretty face or a nice body- he’s actually got brains to match. You know- deep down- that sooner or later, shapeless pieces will fall into place to reveal the completed puzzle, but you need him to come to the conclusion all on his own. It would be easy to simply reveal your motive, and while a straightforward approach may have been less complicated than the mental gymnastics you’re forcing him to perform, it wouldn’t have been as impactful. Dick needs to understand, and to understand, he needs to feel- the same anger, outrage, and upset you felt. “Do you think the people on the other side of the tracks were given a chance to speak in front of the council?”

“They can’t segregate who speaks publicly-“ The gears are turning- some slower, some faster, and others completely out of control as he struggles to make sense of your elusiveness. When the current song fades out, a scattered round of applause takes its place before a new song begins. Hardly anyone else is dancing, save for a handful of couples who look just about as miserable as you and Dick- without the coordination or grace, the two of you share. It takes him too long to jump to the conclusion, and you tire of waiting for him to put the pieces together on his own. He always did work better with a helping hand- though, the quality of his work declined greatly whenever your hands were involved.

“You’re right,” Your agreement further confuses him, until an additional explanation provides the last bit of clarity he’d been seeking. “But they can change the date, time, and venue of the meeting without alerting the other parties involved, parties that spent weeks building the foundations of a strong claim, and vote on the matter without them being present- subsequently, granting them access to funnel more funds back into their pensions.”

“That’s not possible,” His argument is backed by disbelief instead of reason, denial influencing his refusal to accept such an absurdity, even in spite of proof, and every ugly, undesirable, nasty feeling you’re not supposed to have swirls together in the pit of your stomach at his incredulity.

How can he still be so blind? How, after all of the evil that he’s witnessed, how can he deny the truth in favor of possibility? He may be a man grown, but he still lives in a delusional state of boyhood- where he still clings to hope and the prospect of good intentions even when the jury has already delivered a conviction.

“Why not?” You seethe, simultaneously demanding an answer without allowing him the chance to speak. Unfortunately, whatever’s been brewing amongst your insides finally bubbles over and your own reluctance to accept an outcome where he doesn’t justify your point of view sharpens the words at the tip of your tongue until they’re as lethal as any weapon. “Because good old Commissioner Gordon wouldn’t let that happen?”

It’s resentment- the concoction without a name- but it’s also envy, pain, and perhaps a bit of fear. At the very least, it’s petty, to bring her into this and force him to pick a side, but it’s been corroding your logic- eroding a place in your chest that’s been dormant ever since he last filled it with life and meaning- and you watch his demeanor shift when his lips part to defend her. You can’t bear whatever praise he’s sure to dole out in her defense, especially when she’s just as guilty as the rest of them, as far as you’re concerned. Before he has a chance to tear you to shreds with his ire, you interrupt.

“Look, just because the commissioner has a heart, doesn’t mean that the animals working for the force do.” Without any conviction, you start to claw at the mire on either side of you, closing you in. “It’s always been bad, but it’s gotten a lot worse.” He can’t argue with that. Worse doesn’t even come close to how downright doomed Gotham is now that someone’s poisoned most of the police force. The one group of people who are supposed to remain impartial to power and abide by the laws they’re sworn to uphold, have turned their backs on the people who needed them most, and the people hurting- the ones without flashy jewels or the stomachs for caviar and champagne- don’t have anyone looking out for them.

Not the way they used to, anyway.

“You don’t get to come here and lecture me about what’s right and what’s wrong, just because she asked you to.” Bittersweet tips towards bitter and a sour taste settles in your mouth at the suggestion that she had even the slightest part to play in your reunion. “You’re a few years too late for that, birdy.” This time when the song ends, you take a step back- though, his thumb brushes against the back of your hand before you pull away, the phantom of a silent prospect lingering even when the warmth of him is gone. Once, it was what you sought. He was what you sought. Years of desolation turned your desire for that same heat- tender touches and gentle caresses against skin- into favor of bleakness. You don’t regret pulling away from him, not as much as you did back them. This time, it’s warranted- a choice you make unobstructed by what you’re feeling, now that you know the outcome of what was fated to happen between the two of you.

“I appreciate the dance,” You swallow, your throat tightening with words you won’t allow yourself to say. Instead, a retort finds you, though it feels foreign as you speak it into existence. “Maybe we’ll do it again in a couple of years,”

Without waiting for a reaction, you head off down the same way you came, and this time, without any intervention, he lets you go.

The bathroom door shuts behind you, and the sounds of lively chatter and the hum of instrumentals fade away until you’re consumed by a silence so stark that it buries you. It doesn’t feel real. The soft tapping of your heels against the glossy marble floors cuts through the nothingness- even the slightest echo in the void registering as an alarm, coaxing panic and fear from the rusted, forgotten cells you banished them to long ago- and when you finally take a look in the mirror, you don’t recognize the face that stares back at you.

Your reflection is plagued by guilt, and haunted by ghosts of the past. Well, one ghost, in particular.

Running into Dick Grayson was something you’d prepared for. Since the day you last parted, you always knew that there was a possibility your paths could, and inevitably would, cross again. It was destined to happen, and you were doomed from the start. He makes you reckless. He makes you sloppy and distracted and forgiving. He makes you weak. Back then, before everything that drove a wedge between the two of you, you had a bit of a soft spot for him. He was the only other person in the world who truly understood the life you lived because he was living a different version of the same life. Both protégés, both headstrong and zealous- attributes recognized as both strengths and faults- and both dancing a choreographed routine in the shadows cast by the bat and the cat. The two of you were fated. It was only a matter of time before you started pulling your punches, and he started letting you get away.

The chase was always the best part- second only to the capture.

Still, it’s been years since he left. You’re not the same girl he once knew, and he might as well have been a stranger. More than a decade apart will do that to two people. For everything that’s changed, one thing remains the same- the chase and the capture are unavoidable.

With a shaky exhale, your chest tightens. Resting your palms on either side of the expensive stone washbasin, you attempt to focus on regaining your composure- but another heavy intake of breath punches your lungs. You haven’t come this far just to let him swoop in and gain the upper hand. You’re done pulling your punches. Flipping the golden faucet on, you allow trickling water to interrupt the unbearable silence that surrounds you- a lull so loud it sounds like buzzing static without the interruption of something mundane. With a few more deep breaths, in and out, you begin to fumble with the clasp on your clutch, opening the small bag to retrieve a tube of lipstick. The color has started to fade from your lips, and you use the moment of stillness to touch up your makeup. If nothing else, maybe your reflection will look less distraught with a signature swipe of dark red. You long for a sense of familiarity that you can control.

Above the trickling from the luxurious spout, the door squeaks- or perhaps, it cries- as it’s pushed open, revealing a mirage basked in artificial light and a custom-tailored suit. As your fingertips graze the fixture responsible for the steady stream of distraction, a thud sounds, and seconds later, the unmistakable click of a lock latching into place seals your fate. A wave of emotion- a tsunami of feelings- brings forth a myriad of everything, all at once. Just as you suspected you always would, you’re drowning- caught in a riptide of your past and present, finally merging in a deadly current that threatens to pull you below the depths of your worst fears and direful imagination. You swallow thickly as you close your eyes. It fills your mouth with delusions of saltwater.

This isn’t supposed to happen- at least, not like this, it’s not- but the one thing you’ve been running from has finally caught back up to you. Now’s the time to set the record straight. No more ties. No more draws. Tonight, the victory is yours- regardless of his intervention. He’s taken too much from you to take this too, and you’re done letting him.

“I already told you that this is pointless,” You don’t even look at him. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of meeting his overbearing stare. A swirling sea of darkening blue attempts to sail back to shore- pleading to find refuge within familiar comforts and intimacy- but you cast your gaze back to your reflection, focusing on fixing the corners of your lipstick and leaving him afloat. “You’re not going to stop me.” The promise is backed by conviction- though, you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him, or yourself.

The muscle in Dick’s jaw flexes as he grits his teeth- forcing ivories to clench and grind against each other, creating a perfect, white prison to cage the words he wishes to speak. Stifling his emotions is conventional. It’s a routine he’s perfected through years of reluctant practice. Though uncomfortable and daunting, the void in which he sentences all that’s repressed is secure. It’s safe- if only in the sense that it’s familiar.

You’re familiar- rather, you were once familiar- but he can’t cross a bridge that’s been burned, molten ash still ablaze amongst the rubble, and expect to be welcomed back with open arms. Not after everything that’s changed. Not after everything that’s happened.

Not after what he did.

“I need a list of names,” The determination in Dick’s voice contradicts everything he feels inside. His face hardens- a mask, a shield, protection- and he stands a little taller, fixated on resolving the one problem he could actually solve. “Names of the officers involved in whatever this is,” He clarifies with an uneasy edge to his voice- like he already knows he’s bit off more than he can chew, but he can’t stop himself from going back for seconds, thirds, and fourths.

For all that’s changed, Dick remains the same. A phantom- a spirit, a memory, a ghost- of the boy you once knew disappears just as quickly as your imagination teases familiar red, yellow, and green. He’s not the same. You know it to be true, and yet, you find yourself distracted by glimpses and figments from a different life entirely.

“Grab a pen,” A scoff, an eye roll, and the gentle shake of your head, disbelief and credence existing in tandem- contradicting each other when your eyes finally meet his. “It would be a shorter list if you started with the people who aren’t guilty of committing some type of fraudulent activity.”

You’re not a bad person. Despite varying beliefs, you’re not evil. Mayhem doesn’t bring you joy. Confrontation doesn’t get you off. There’s little pleasure to be found in being the itch that people can’t scratch. You’ve never sought out violence or peril, and you seldom plan on causing either. Just like Dick- just like Bruce- you operate under a different moral code, but a moral code, nevertheless. Even if the only thing it provides is an excuse to justify why you do what you do, you still hold yourself to a standard. Unlike the vile, chaos-thirsty cravens that would happily light the match and watch the world burn, you’re selfless- bound to your morals, if nothing else.

What you do, the sacrifices you make- everything that you’ve lost and everything you’ve fought for- is fueled by benevolence. You’re in a position to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves, to speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves. The power to defend those who have had their rights stripped from them- those who have had their power stolen by greed corruption and profit- is in your hands. You’ll be damned if you let anyone stand in your way and prevent you from doing what you know is right.

Through the reflection in the mirror, you recognize the face that stares back at you. Gone is the fear and doubt that mangled your features unrecognizable. With a heavy sigh, you unclip the earrings that dangle from your earlobes- and the buzzing sound of static fades away completely.

You know what you have to do.

The sound of your heels against the tile might as well have been deafening in contrast to the silence that follows your remark. As you cross the room, your resolve sharpens. Dick Grayson has taken so much from you, you won’t let him take this, too.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me-“ You feign saccharine, your tone phony and filled with counterfeit regret, as you reach for the locked door handle, but Dick blocks the latch, stepping in front of you before you have a chance to wrap your hand around the lever. He knows exactly what buttons to press and genuine annoyance, anger, and frustration fill the space where your poor imitation of remorse once occupied. Through gritted teeth, you command him, lowly, “Move, Dick.”

“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart,” He says it so easily, with a sorrowful sigh and undisputed repentance, that you almost buy the sincerity he’s trying to sell. Unfortunately, for him, you’re not in the market for his misery. He’s a few years too late. Dick can turn his charm up to ten thousand- he can say all the right things and plead with his perfect crystalline eyes- but you won’t risk everything you’ve fought for for a few crocodile tears. You know, now, that you’re better than that. One way or another, you’re getting out of this bathroom- and if you have to go through him to do so, then so be it.

“And you know I’m not above fighting you, right?” He’s entirely unprepared for your snark, the bite that fuels your reply nearly nipping his sense of control straight from the palm of his hand. It’s obvious that this isn’t the same game that it once was, but something much more dangerous. “The dance wasn’t enough?” With your arms across your chest, you challenge, and he hates the way you’re looking at him- like your eyes are piercing straight through him instead of actually looking at him. If you bothered to look closely enough, you’d be able to decipher all of the blatant emotions he’s never been the greatest at hiding. One look and you’d see him- and his heart beating proudly on his sleeve. It’s why you don’t spare him a glance. “You still feeling nostalgic for old times? Because this feels awfully familiar, doesn’t it?”

“What are you going to do with the money?” He asks, fighting to keep his voice stern. His poker face was never the best- or, maybe you could just read him better than most people could. Still, as he stands before you, he grapples with his devotion to whatever this competition is. This clash will never see a winner- only two losers- and he knows it. You do, too- but unlike him, you’re not willing to back down without a fight.

“Give it back to those who rightfully deserve it.” He doesn’t deserve your honesty. He has no right to the truth, but you don’t have it in you to scheme an elaborate lie. However gratifying it might’ve been to feed him false information and watch him fly in circles, you’re too exhausted for mental gymnastics. Like clockwork, you give, and he takes- his stare narrowing, almost accusatorially.

“And who are you to decide who rightfully deserves it?” There’s an edge to his question- like he can’t fathom justice without his divine intervention- and it’s grating, the way he can make you feel so small, and worthless with a single sentence. His arrogance is astounding. Who was he to seek vengeance against Slade Wilson? Who was he to target Heartless? Who was he to sentence Tony Zucco to his death- by placing him behind bars, and granting other enemies easy access to the crime lord, which ultimately led to his demise? The self-righteous guilt trip nearly gives you whiplash from how fast it makes your head spin. He’s no different than you are- no better or worse, since you operate on the same playing field. He doesn’t get to act like he is. Someone needs to knock him down a few pegs, and you’re happily up for the challenge.

“Who are you to try to stop me?”

“Someone who knows you,” He replies, instinctively. “Someone who’s a friend, not a foe.”

“Hmm,” With a bitter laugh, your stomach churns- twisting, clenching, and swirling with swells of irritation, regret, and sorrow- and although it’s a familiar discomfort, it’s been years since you’ve felt the threat of splintering cracks, chipping away at the stone-cold facade of your exterior. Come to think of it, the last time you felt this way was when Selina had told you that Dick left for San Francisco. The reminder fills you with a bitterness you’ve long tried to suppress, and as it bubbles to the surface, so do all of the repressed thoughts and emotions that’ve haunted you for years.

For a moment, you ache- chasing forgotten remembrance plagued by wistfulness. Then, you burn.

“Friends call every once in a while, and if they can’t make it to a phone, they send a postcard to let you know that they’re still alive and well.” Vexation forces your eyes to narrow, the color of your eyes morphing into something much more bleak. With a heavy exhale- filled with frustration and a semblance of humility- you remind him, “Friends don’t disappear into thin fucking air without letting you know why- especially, after those friends, were always a little more than just friends.” There’s a darkness behind your eyes that Dick’s not familiar with, and a weight settles in the hollow emptiness of his chest before sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach. His jaw clenches and he swallows thickly- the tastes of bile, rue, and shame all indiscernible from one another as he forces them back down.

He knows you’re right.

While his absence was abrupt, it had nothing to do with any ill will towards you. There was never a falling out- no crossing a line of no return or being pushed past a point that shattered a shared fantasy. Though the bullet posed no real threat of death by passing through his arm- beyond the phantom agony of lead tearing through flesh, and the hot, wet feeling of crimson pouring from the wound- a part of Dick Grayson did, in fact, die that night, at the hands of the Joker. The Clown Prince of Crime set off a domino effect when he fired at the young Boy Wonder, inevitably altering the course of his life forever. Acts of violent intent seldom harm a single soul, and as if it were fated, you became another casualty from an attack that was never meant for you.

When Bruce fired Dick, he was angry. Back then, thoughts of hanging up the cape never, ever, crossed his mind. Back then, he was content with fighting crime alongside his mentor, and never really considered what would happen next- or if there’d even be a next, or an after. He felt betrayed, abandoned, and filled with cynicism. As selfish as it was, you weren’t even really an afterthought in the downfall of his life caving in and swallowing him whole. He needed time to heal- time to rebuild- and prioritize who he was when he wasn’t hiding in the shadows left behind by a cape and cowl. Years passed, and with time to reflect, Dick’s bitter resentment morphed into a new kind of devotion to himself, and the few that started to look to him for guidance.

Before the Titans, he never really considered himself to be a leader. He spent most of his life abiding by rules and plans- roles and paths- that were set for him by another. Had he been hungry for control before, his first real taste solidified an insatiable appetite for the very thing he felt himself deprived of for too many years. Though, he’d come to learn that there was an ugly side to the power he wielded. Some days, the responsibility felt like a burden, and others, he felt like his guilt and uncertainty would swallow him whole. He bottled up all of his doubts, packed them somewhere deep inside the closed-off caverns in his heart where darker demons haunted, and forced them elsewhere- out of sight, and out of mind, but never truly gone.

It’s not fair that, somehow, you’ve come to possess the key that matches the lock on his Pandora’s box. Every emotion, every feeling, and every thought meant to be suppressed and banished to a place where they couldn’t torment or harm him, refuses to go gently when one simple, magnetic look threatens to release them from their cages of skin and bone. The most daunting realization of all, however, is that he’s the one to blame- for everything.

For all of it.

Selfishly, he’s hoped for an ember amongst the carnage he’s created. He’s held onto some convoluted idea of hope that whatever was once alight could be reignited again if he fully committed himself to an apology, but he failed to acknowledge the amount of ashes he’d have to sift through for a hint of a spark. There’s too much disappointment, too much duplicity, regret, and time passed between the two of you for things to ever revert back to even a semblance of what they once were.

He looks to you now, and he sees it- your anger is a mask for your pain. It’s so faint he almost misses it, but your lip threatens to wobble. Beyond the wrath you try to convey with the narrowed glare of your eyes, he watches as thinly veiled yearning mingles with what’s left of the color of your irises- simultaneously faint, yet prominent to the only other person who knows what it’s like to push away the person you love. What Dick and you shared wasn’t love, but it could’ve been and that’s what you’re both mourning- what could’ve been.

“You and I aren’t friends, Dick.” He hates the finality behind your conviction. It’s so cold, and void of the warmth he associated with you once upon a time. A split second threatens to expose the façade, and you blink back tears instead of allowing them to fall- swallowing emotion and banishing it elsewhere. Feelings have no place here. Instead, you grit your teeth, clenching them together so tightly that your jaw begins to ache. He watches you struggle to commit to the act- because that’s what your rage is, an outlet for your passions- and as you take a step closer toward him, his breath hitches. “Now, get out of my way,”

Toe to toe, you meet his gaze, and no matter how hard you try to fight it, despite your best efforts to disguise what you truly feel, Dick sees right through you- recognizing the parts of you that you try to mold and shape into something else. After all, he’s your greatest weakness- and you’re his. You always have been, and he always will be.

He dares to move. This close, he resists the urge to reach out for you and never let you go again, but this isn’t about him. It’s about you. Hesitantly, he raises his hand, his eyes never leaving yours as the shaky tips of his fingers graze your chin with a tenderness you’ve sought since the last time you felt it. The air is tense, passed back and forth by sharp breaths and thundering pulses- intimate with warmth and affection that mimics that of a simpler time- and when his palm rests against your cheek, cradling it with such gentle endearment in the face of betrayal, you let him. Dick’s throat bobs, and he pours everything he can’t bring himself to say into such a delicate touch. Every apology he wishes he had the courage to speak aloud, every declaration of devotion he was too afraid to voice, and every inevitable truth he attempted to ignore lingers, and you can feel it- in every shy stroke of his thumb across your cheek.

“You’re not going to distract me,” A single tear merges with the pad of his thumb- a testament to your resilience, but no match for the broken, battered, beaten bond you share with the man before you- and your certainty begins to dwindle. There’s a string that ties you to him- an invisible thread strong enough to stitch the two of you back together when you should remain apart- but you’re destined for him, the same way he’s always been destined for you.

It was foolish to believe any differently.

“I’m not trying to distract you,” Barely above a whisper, he pleads, desperate to make you understand, “I’m trying to apologize.”

He hangs his head with defeat, his shoulder slumping forward as he peers down at you. He’s never known such cruel torture. Such sick and twisted suffering is self-inflicted. The past erodes his future, but he can’t stop himself from resurrecting his demons. Foolishly, he invites them to haunt him further- and you’re no exception. His tightrope is stretched taut, and it’s a long way down. How much longer can he balance between anemoia and actuality before tipping one way or the other? It’s insanity- repeating the same act and hoping for a different outcome- but Dick can’t bring himself to accept that this time won’t be different. If nothing else, the possibility that this never-ending game could crown two winners is enough for him to play the martyr, and suffer whatever repercussions might follow after barring himself whole. What more does he have to lose, if not everything he’s already lost, again?

It would be so easy to reach past him and turn the lock in your favor, granting your escape. Hell, with the way he’s looking at you now, you know that he wouldn’t even put up a fight. He’d let you waltz right past him, slipping through his fingers for the umpteenth time because he knows that this time won’t be the last. It never is. Visions blurred by uncertainty flash before your eyes- infinite possibilities, each with consequences and punishments, rewards and sacrifices- but the unknown doesn’t elicit the same adrenaline-filled excitement that it once did. Maybe because this time, Dick isn’t fighting back. Surrendering his shield, he abandons resistance- instead, entrusting you with the vulnerability that spills from his heart, blood crimson against his fingers as he squeezes it with each thump and thud- crumbling before you, and submitting everything he has to give to you. Even if he can’t bring himself to support your cause.

You lean in closer, drawn to him- the same way you always have been, and likely, always will be- and your palm hovers over his chest. For a second, it’s unclear whether or not you’re going to reach out for him or push him away, but when your hand meets the fabric that covers hard muscle, you know you’re done for- because in the same ways he’s willing to fall before you, you’re willing to fall before him, too. Over and over again. Repeatedly and infinitely.

“Well, you have impeccable timing,” Your reproach is close enough for him to taste. It wavers against his lips and slips past his tongue, allowing him to savor parts of you he hasn’t been allowed to indulge in for so long. There’s no mistaking the invitation of your reprover, and Dick’s palm rests against your lower back, coaxing you closer towards him as his nose brushes against yours. It’s dizzying, and your arms find their way around his neck to steady yourself when he rests his forehead against yours with a soft sigh. The irony of the situation isn’t lost upon you- even when the two of you have ceded to one another, you’re still fighting to see who will give in first. As if he’s come to the realization at the same time, a large hand- rough and callused, but soft and tender in the way that it trembles against your cheek with anticipation- encourages you to tilt your head back, and you follow his lead. You hold your breath as your lips part, and Dick surges forward, slotting his mouth against yours in a kiss that’s fueled by the release of years of pent-up longing, need, and want. The gesture is foreign, yet familiar. Reminiscent of the past, yet entirely new. Everything you remember and everything you’ve ever dreamed of merge together in this moment and bring life to what had only ever been fantasy before his lips found yours once more.

It’s exhilarating.

“I missed you,” The affirmation rumbles against your skin, warm with fervor and urgency, and it’s completely unnecessary- considering that each movement acts as a balm to soothe wounds of time, fear, and doubt- but he vows with each breath, relying on words to convey what his actions can not, and vice versa. Masks are off. Shields have been abandoned. Capes remain long forgotten at the door. This is no longer about duty or morality. No, this moment is about two people seeking confirmation for what they’ve always known to be true- that a love unspoken, but never absent has always existed between them. Two people- not vigilantes or heroes- two hearts, beating to guide the other back, are bare, open, honest, and raw without the theatrics of a chase or the pretense of a game. Surrender invites you to balance on the edge of a precipice, and you’re the first to lose your footing.

Desperation is an influence, and his lapels wrinkle with the severity of your hold. Through the haze of everything unknown, he’s the only thing that’s clear, and you reach for him- blindly, but intentionally- clawing at the fabric that keeps him from you. Clashing teeth and bruising grips don’t elicit pain, not when real suffering exists in the absence of the other, and you allow him to paint you violet, blue, green, and red with desire, becoming the embodiment of his want. Your only regret is that the evidence of this divine crime will eventually fade away to nothing more than a memory- another ache that will never dull, a moment so unique that it can never be replicated. As you rejoice, you mourn.

“Sure you did.” His blazer drops to the floor as you follow your script, hardly taking a moment to realize that the page you’re reading from is blank- without word or direction- as you venture into unknown territory. Even when you don’t mean to be, you’re combative. Even when you don’t want to be, you’re still on edge. This is different. This already feels different than before, and maybe it’s because there’s a lot more at stake now that both of you have already lost one another, but for as overdue as this homecoming is, something subconsciously prolongs it further.

“No, really, I-“ He begins, ready to mold rhetoric and force it to take on a form that would allow you to see just how much you mean to him, but that would make this real, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for this to be real yet- because if this is real, if this isn’t just a cruel imitation of memory like so many variations before or a concocted fantasy so vivid you can feel yourself shaking, then that means you can lose it all, again. Just like last time. Within your grip, one minute, slipping through your fingers the next.

“Don’t.” Fear sounds different when there’s a bite to it. It could almost pass as annoyance, if you’re able to keep your voice just steady enough, and he mistakes the command for irritation, rather than the timidity it actually is. Whatever you’ve intended and he’s interpreted gets lost along the way, and he takes a hesitant step back. It’s impossible not to lunge for him as he retreats, but you remain still- your breath hitching when he holds both hands out to you, surrendering his palms while he shows he meant no harm.

“Can I…”

“You don’t have to ask,” You silence his fears quickly, closing the space between you before you even realize that you’ve taken a step. This self-sacrificial eagerness to light yourself on fire just to keep him warm has always been one of your greatest downfalls, but a most ardent gesture, and with ash on your tongue and soot in your lungs, you strike a match the minute he begins to second guess himself. “Just pretend it’s like before.” The suggestion sounds just as unsure as you are, but with a heavy breath, you encourage, “Pretend that nothing’s changed…pretend that we’re still…” You can’t even bring yourself to say it, because the kids you were back then are gone. They’re never coming back. You can’t avenge them or try to seek vengeance for what they’ve lost. It’s over for them, but this is just the start of this new beginning for the two of you. “Just for tonight.”

He moves promptly, gathering the skirts of your dress in one hand, fisting the fabric- a blue so dark he mistook it for black, or perhaps it was, until his fingertips were close enough to paint the illusion with light, making it appear different than it was- without any regard for creases or lingering proof of your affair. Support rests at your back, his chest firm and protective as you lean into the rippling muscle, and Dick continues to illuminate shadows of the past with each touch- eager to help you forget all of the agonies suffered at his hands in favor of remembering glimpses of peace. He’s ready to give you more than just a taste. Now, he wants to gorge you with the pleasure he’s reserved.

His hands shake- not with hesitancy, but anticipation, and when you catch his eye in the mirror, you shiver. You’ve never seen a blue so dark it looks black- until now. Without warning, he mouths at your neck- kissing, sucking, biting, any part of you he can get his lips on- reacquainting himself with parts of you that were once so familiar, and you allow him to explore. Blindly, you reach for one of his hands, taking it in your own, and he begins to intertwine his fingers with yours, but you gently guide his hand where you want it most- and he lets you, following your lead just as impulsively. You jolt at the first brush of his fingertips between your legs, even though you were expecting it, and he lets out a few ragged breaths against the back of your neck. It’s paradoxical, the chills that contradict the flush of your skin, but this relationship has never really made sense before. Why should that change now?

Almost as if he’s in a trance, Dick is overwhelmed by the twists and turns of the evening, but the whiplash is starting to subside in favor of something much more exhilarating. He never thought he’d have this again. He believed moments like these to be lost to time, and he wasted years grieving memories he could never replicate, only to feel the weight of your body against his once more. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s everything he never knew he wanted or needed until it was stolen from him, swiped right out from under his nose by his own negligence. He won’t make the same mistakes this time. No, this time, he’s going to do it right. He’s going to-

“Fuck,” When you grow tired of his stalling, you force his hand, again. This time, when your fingers meet his wrist, you press your palm on top of his- coercing him to mimic the shape- and maybe you’re the one in control, or maybe he finally rises to the occasion, but with a newfound determination, he cups your cunt- a choked sound catching in his throat when he feels how wet you are. You briefly wonder how something so vulgar can sound so pretty, but you already know the answer- it’s him. It’s always been him. Had it been anyone else, the effect would cease to exist, but it’s Dick, and that desire- that pull that you can’t ever deny- will always bind you to him.

You can’t help yourself from rutting against his palm, and he presses himself further into your back, allowing you to feel the hard outline of his cock against your ass. The hand that isn’t between your legs rests on your arm, and when he tries to hold your hand, you don’t deny him. There’s just too much fabric for you to hold in just one hand and some of it drapes over his forearm, but you manage to keep most of it from obscuring his movements. It’s a strange angle, and both of you are fumbling to make it work, but you crane your neck in search of him, and he answers your call with an eager kiss. Your tongue caresses his, savoring the feeling and committing it to memory, just in case-

He swallows your surprised gasp when he nudges your panties aside and begins to circle your clit. With just a bit of pressure, a crease forms where your eyebrows pull together, and you untangle your hand from his hold to brace yourself against the counter. It’s been a while since someone else has touched you, and it’s been even longer since the last time Dick had, but it’s so much better than evocations of pleasure. You swear figments are tangible. Spurred on by the reaction his touch has coaxed from you, he’s torn between making the moment last as long as possible or picking up the pace. He settles on the latter, considering that if this is heading the way he hopes it’s heading, he’ll have all the time in the world to make it up to you, but right now, he’s on borrowed time. You both are. With the reminder looming overhead, he adjusts his hand so that he can continue to work your clit while lining up a finger with your pussy. You’re so wet, and warm when he curls his middle finger inside, and he can’t remember why he ever left in the first place. What persuaded him away from Gotham when you were always right here? Would you have waited for him? Would you have followed him if he asked you to? He supposes none of that matters now, but he can’t help but wonder…

He adds a second finger, and even though your body gives little resistance to the intrusion, you groan at the feeling. His fingers are so long, reaching that spot inside of you that your fingers are just too short to reach, and they’re thick enough for you to feel yourself stretching around him with each thrust- not enough to cause pain, but an ache that serves as a reminder that it’s been too long since the last time you’ve had him like this. You vow not to let another ten years pass before you let him have you, again.

He continues a steady pace, curling his fingers in such a way that sweat begins to glisten across your chest, and when a third finger threatens to join his others, you wrap your hand around his wrist- abruptly halting his movements.

“N-not enough time,” He doesn’t even get the chance to ask before you supply him with an answer, but he nods in understanding once you offer an explanation. He’s already reaching for his belt, unbuckling the clasp and roughly shoving his slacks down before you have a chance to catch your breath, and you’re grateful- if the speed in which he undresses is any indication of his own eagerness- that he’s just as desperate for you, as you are for him. Taking a moment to adjust your skirts so that you don’t have to hold them, you bunch them above your hips and lean forward, resting your forearms against the counter while Dick frees himself from his boxers, and when you look back in the mirror and catch sight of his cock behind you, you can’t help but swallow thickly.

He strokes himself a few times, smearing the pre-cum beading from his slit down his shaft as he prepares to take you. This doesn’t feel like last time. As he reaches for your waist and lines himself up with your cunt, this doesn’t feel like last time at all. This is new, and different and everything he’s wanted ever since the last time he had you in his grasp. This time, he won’t let you get away. With as much self-restraint as he can manage, you feel the tip of his cock against your opening, slowly splitting you open, and your back arches. Your own strangled cry prompts a groan from him he sinks into you, inch by inch until his hips are flush against you. You’re so full that you’re not sure if it’s too much or not enough.

“I’ve got you,” Dick assures, his grip on your hip tightening when he feels you struggling to accommodate him. He tries to be a gentleman. He tries to give you a few minutes to adjust- even though he wants nothing more than to take what’s right under his nose, what’s always been his- but his restraint snaps when he feels you begin to rock back against him.

“Move,” You command, and he doesn’t have to be told twice. With your permission, he’s happy to follow orders and obliges with a sharp thrust upwards. The sound you make is a mix between a sob and a moan, and his fingers flex against your hip as he repeats the action.

“I forgot…” Through clenched teeth, he confesses, and you don’t think anything of the admission, too lost within your own feelings to attempt to decipher his. Instead, he wraps an arm around your waist, offering thick muscle to serve as a buffer between your body and the stone he has you pressed up against- relying on intimate gestures to make up for words lost in translation. Even now, when you’re not on the same page, you still know. Somehow, you know, and he does, too. Every time. Without fail. Always. Your head rolls back to meet his shoulder, and your fingertips claw at the back of his neck awkwardly, with transparent desperation to pull him closer. Within reach isn’t close enough. Near is too far. With a muted gasp, you push back to meet his next thrust, and he hisses softly before elaborating, “I’m so sorry if I made you forget.”

“Dick-“ Realization begins to splinter the mirage of bliss, and you manage to say his name with enough caution to serve as a warning. You don’t want to think about the past. Not right now. Not when you can see your future so clearly in the foggy reflection of the vanity. He wraps his hand around your neck, encouraging you to bare your throat to him and he licks at the vein that calls out to him.

“I won’t let you forget, not this time.” He vows, bucking his hips faster and faster as you whine in his hold. In some sick twisted way, he loves that he’s the only one who has this power over you- that he’s the only one who could ever elicit such a reaction- and it’s a testament to how much the two of you care for one another; the influence both of you have over one another. “This time, I want to remember.”

It’s going to be impossible not to.

“I-“ He can barely get a word out with how good you feel around him, and he takes a breath before trying again. “I know you want to pretend, but fuck…I can’t.” Dick wraps his arm around you, guiding your back to rest against his chest, and one of his large hands splays across your stomach, where he can feel himself inside of you. “I really did miss you,” Somehow he manages to find his voice. “Not just like this, either,”

“I-I missed you, too.” You don’t seem certain, not with the way you stutter, but your reply is genuine. It only appears dubious because Dick’s palm begins to press against you, and you all but choke on your confession. He can’t help himself, but neither can you.

“I’m close,” He rasps, brokenly. “Shit,” His thrusts begin to falter, and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Are you-“

“Yes!” You yelp when his fingers start circling your clit, and he doesn’t relent, even when he feels you start to tremble beneath him. You’re overwhelmed by him, in the best way possible, and as eager as you are to chance your release, a part of you never wants this moment to end. “Dick, please d-don’t stop,” Your muscles grow taut, and when his thrusts lose their precision, you know that he’s almost there. “Just like before,” You encourage him, clenching hard when he bites your shoulder and your orgasm washes over you. “J-just like before.”

He knows what you’re asking for. He understands what you’re practically begging for, and in a fleeting moment of clarity, he catches a glimpse of the faded scar on your arm- his only regret being the fact that an implant still stands in the way of what he truly wants with you- but the thought disappears as quickly as it materializes.

A few seconds more and he grunts against your neck, pulling your hips to meet his and spilling himself inside of you. It’s even better than you remember and your body shakes with aftershocks of pleasure. Luckily, he’s there to keep you upright. Your vision starts to blur and the only sound you’re able to make out is both of you struggling to catch your breaths. With a heavy sigh, he pulls out, and you can feel his cum start to leak from you, but you’re too disoriented to clean it up. Instead, you lean forward, relying on the countertop for support as you hang your head and try to come back to your senses.

Dick leaves a trail of soft kisses down the back of your neck and his forehead is both warm and damp when it meets your shoulder, resting comfortably against your skin while he takes a minute to catch his breath, and these sensations- these tiny little reminders that he’s here, this moment is present and real- ground you. Where your mind is a mess, reeling with indecision, emotions, and thoughts you can’t yet process, your body is at ease.

As your eyes flutter shut, greedy gulps of air fail to satisfy your lungs, and you swallow thickly, allowing pressure to build up in your chest until you simply can’t take it anymore. Darkness saturates all that you can see, and you’re caught in a void- trapped, without any light to guide you back home. The gentle caress of his touch along your arm brands you, flush enough to make you burn with reminders of this fleeting moment- when embers of devotion inevitably fade into ashes- and you stiffen in his hold, not that he’s coherent enough to notice.

He seems to be in his little world as he tucks himself back into his pants and presses another gentle kiss to your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you. Violent delights really do have violent ends and it’s not fair that you let it get this far without thinking about the consequences of your actions. None of this would’ve happened if you just let yourself love him- without fear, without judgment, without regret- and if you had just been honest with yourself all those years ago, this mess would’ve never spiraled so far out of your control.

Whatever repercussion await you, you’ll brave. Regardless of what happens next, you know that you have to tell him the truth- even if it kills you. The thought is often more daunting than the action itself, but as you turn yourself around in his arms so that you’re facing him, you’re petrified.

“I’m sorry,” The magnitude of your apology isn’t supported by the handful of letters that arrange themselves as they slip past your tongue. There has to be a better way to express your remorse, but if one exists it evades you. Over and over again, the same words come to mind and it’s not fair that you know exactly what you want to say, but you just can’t find the right words to absolve your shame. At your inability to voice your regret, frustration overwhelms you. Your lips part, ready to divulge your sins, but only a pathetic, meek sigh comes out. Why is this so difficult? You know the answer, and yet, you play the part of the fool- leaning on ignorance as a crutch for what you can’t bring yourself to brave. He deserves it, doesn’t he? The truth- not something partial, but whole. Transparency is the only piece left of a nearly complete puzzle, the only thing keeping this tragic tale of two lovers who break each other’s hearts only to stitch them back together again from reaching its inevitably doomed end. When your lip begins to tremble, Dick reaches for you, pulling you into his chest and embracing you in a hold that’s absolutely suffocating. You don’t deserve his kindness. You don’t deserve his love or affection- his tenderness or his forgiveness.

You don’t deserve him.

“Me too,” He sighs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head before resting his head on top of yours. You can hear his heart- how steady it beats- and the sound rivals the racing of your own where it threatens to burst straight from your chest, and your eyes flutter shut, savoring the gentle lull of his own serenity before you poison his relief with your own disruption. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how difficult it may be, you know that you have to tell him. With a breath, you prepare for carnage.

“No, Dick, I-“

“Dick? Are you in here?” Barbara’s voice seeps through the wooden barrier that separates the two of you from the rest of the world- from reality- and as soon as she calls out to him, the illusion of tranquility is broken. Of course, it’s her. Of course, she’d be the one to interrupt you before you had the chance to speak, and of course, it would be her that drives a wedge further between the two of you with one simple revelation, “They’re getting away!”

It’s almost impossible to miss the sounds of commotion that follow her declaration. Faint screams and chaos replace the background of symphony strings and he turns to you then, a divot dividing the smooth skin of his forehead while his eyes narrow. Blue is black. Dark, and unmistakable. The muscle in his jaw looks like it’s about to burst with the severity of his clenching and his nostrils flare with a shallow exhale. It’s excruciating to watch him slip back into consciousness after being caught up in a dream, but a nightmare unfolds before you, twisting your stomach into knots so intricate they threaten to snap. You can’t breathe, and when you gather enough courage to finally take a step forward, he takes a step back. He’s never looked at you with so much hostility before, and you open your mouth to explain, to shower him with honesty and desperate pleas to make him understand that this wasn’t meant to happen like this, but no sound comes out. Not even a sigh. Not even a huff. Not even a pathetic, broken whimper. Nothing.

Unfortunately, Dick’s left to draw his own conclusions- to fill in the gaps in which your silence fails to atone for your crimes- and he paints a picture so drastically different from the truth, relying on his interpretation to establish a story so vivid he believes it to be real- even if it’s a figment of his own imagination, a product of his own devastation. Dispelled doubts come rushing back, and he allows them to influence the narrative- since you still can’t seem to find your voice- and everything left unsaid becomes louder in the silence. He mistakes your tears for guilt, instead of recognizing the regret and shame that mingle with saltwater. As gutted as he is, he looks to you for an explanation, but you can’t bring yourself to justify what you’ve done- even if it wasn’t your intention. Distracting him was part of the plan. Keeping him occupied was your mission, but confessing your true feelings and allowing yourself to fall back in love with him- not just the idea of what it would be like to love him- wasn’t part of your job description.

The second your paths crossed again, you were done for. It was never about seeking vengeance or getting even for the hurt that he caused you, because the minute that Dick waltzed back into your life, you knew you were doomed- because he makes you reckless. He makes you sloppy and distracted and forgiving. He makes you weak- and you let him. Every single time. Always and forever. Infinitely.

When he looks at you, he looks past you and towards your belongings on the counter. No. You shake your head, vehemently encouraging him to look away. If his eyes would just meet yours, if only for a second, you know you could save this. If not for the sake of putting broken pieces back together you could at least salvage fragments amongst the wreckage, but he doesn’t spare you a glance. No, no, no. His attention is solely on the expensive stone behind you, and when you reach out for him, your fingertips shaking as you grasp his bicep with all of the strength you can muster, he shakes you off of him.

Everything splinters.

When he reaches for your earring, you know that this is the end. It’s all over. A new moment will erase everything you thought you knew about pain, heartbreak, suffering, and betrayal. This moment, as it unfolds before you, will plague you until you meet your demise, because the second that he dares to bring the jewel up to his own ear, the exact moment that he hears Selina’s command through the gravely static of the earpiece you discarded earlier in the evening, you know that any hope for a future together vanishes- ripped straight from your fingers before you even had the chance to hold onto it and guard it with your life.

Even with his back towards you, you can see his face harden in the reflection of the mirror. Through the thin material of his crumbled dress shirt his shoulders tense and when he finally looks up to meet your stare through the glass, all traces of red, green, and yellow are gone. A piece of him- the piece of him that you’re most familiar with- dies, sprawled out and oozing across the marble. It’s too late to try to revive him. All that’s left in the wake of his slaughter is blue and black.

Blue and black, forevermore.

There’s nothing left for either of you here. Not anymore. Hope begins to decay, and the hollow hole in your chest that only he could ever fill begins to die from rot. Nothing will ever be the same. Not after this. Perhaps the final thought passed back and forth between a glare is the last thing you’ll ever share- beyond moments of destruction and beautiful chaos- but it’s clear to you both, that not all ghosts are meant to be resurrected.

Some ghosts should just stay ghosts.

a/n: hey, I’m raen and I’m down bad for this man lol…anyway, I’ve been working on this story for months. I literally poured bits and pieces of my soul into this (so if you wouldn’t mind interacting or providing feedback I’d be forever grateful) but I just wanted to write a tale of doomed lovers who care about each other in such a way that it leads to their downfall. I wanted this to hurt, and I hope it did- in the best way possible! I’m not above begging, so please, please, please feel free to send some feedback- as this is my first time writing for Dick and I would love to hear what people think! that being said, requests are also open! check out my request guidelines before submitting! and if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

everyone who requested to be tagged: @js-favnanadoongi @kalulakunundrum @1lellykins @octodog17 @novelizt @nesta-houseofwindfantasy @corgiqween576 @whiteglovemanor @godcreatoreli @lassmich1 @consternat1on @deffnotnia @haloney @iananiko @noodlesketchbook @thescarletcryptid @obsessedwthdilfs @vanice-e @taintedmaroon @holybatflapexpert @whatismypurpos @heylookwhoitis @corpseflower6 @heavenlym0chi @lokiwannacry @boywondergrayson @tetzoro @oiztsy @naf3211

tagging a few of my favorite accounts: @becauseicantthinkwritings @dxckgrxsonx @lightwing-s @makethatelevenrings @littleredwing89 @bat-writer @wingbcrn @rebelbluerobin @idyllcy @dick-nightwing-grayson @damiansgrayson @gone-batty-fics @graysonspet @graysonswonder @angry-nightwing

Send me some feedback, or request to be added to my taglist! (please specify which taglist you’d like to be added to- character or general) !Requests: OPEN!

buy me a ko-fi!

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theozgnomian · 2 months

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Added in Edit: Having had this up for a while, I have to say that it truly amazes me just how many of the religious (most of them in fact) are the epitome of the Dunning-Kruger Effect. Not just stupid, but dangerously stupid. So I'm adding a couple of tags to the blog, just for them.

Barnum was right. "There's a sucker born every minute." If you can believe in a god (or gods), an invisible, all knowing, all powerful being, based on nothing but your feelings and some moldy manuscript written before modern medicine and electricity, then you'll believe anything at all, no matter how ludicrous. And the evidence of that is in front of us every damn day. Trump. Republicans. Anti-vax. Anti-science. Climate-denial. Anti-abortion. Flat Earth. Steal from the poor and give to the rich.

Added it Edit on 04/02: Just had a porn pusher call on me to repent. Typical of the breed. Hypocrites, all of them. ROTFLMAO!

#atheism #christianity #judaism #islam #catholicism #mormonism #baptist #jehovah witness #scientology #religion #theocracy #idiocracy

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shadowystan · 6 months

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YANDERE! celebrity x f!reader – he's so pretty, so popular (you really don't wanna be his sweetheart)

No but YANDERE!celebrity with a toxic fanbase.

It's not him you should be scared of. Not his bodyguards or his influential family; not his obsessive ex or crushing best friend.

The fanbase.

Jealous fans would cloud your life. If you have social media, you'd be hacked a few thousand times a week. If you block them, turn off your comments and go private, you'd get doxxed. Plain and simple.

It's upsetting. It's suffocating. And it's downright terrifying whenever you're out in public. Death threats at your face, stalkers outside your door. No peace of mind, none whatsoever.

But of course if you're pretty enough...

YANDERE!fans who want nothing but the best for their idol. Only someone as dazzling as you could deserve him.

(It's set in stone. You have no choice.)

YANDERE!fans who're the epitome of degeneracy. Writing dirty, smutty fanfiction on the side while making ship edits with you and their celebrity. It doesn't matter how many times you've streamed live, asking them to quit it because the both of you weren't official or how much it makes you uncomfortable.

YANDERE!fans who instead of agreeing and respecting your wishes, go as far as to send you everything. Gone are the rules of RPF. They're spiteful, they're overbearing and most of all, they want you to know you have no power.

YANDERE!fans who litter whoever you try to date with messages of "kill yourself <3" or "jump off a roof. respectfully." on their social media comments or DMs.

YANDERE!fans who spread elaborate rumors about you when you do something that remotely doesn't meet their standards.

The air was soothing. The atmosphere lively. You heard the chatter of the birds, the laughs of the couples, the giggles of the teen girls-

"-Let's say she assaulted someone!"

What?

Leaning slightly to the left, you nonchalantly readjusted the dark spectacles framing your eyes. Hoodie pulled over your face and a lone piece of lettuce peeking out of your lips, the thought that someone might recognize you left your mind for the briefest of times.

And you focused on the task at hand. Eavesdropping on the conversation happening two tables to your side.

They were being rather loud. And concerning. Quite concerning.

"-That's too much, Sana." A puff of air left your mouth, a reassured smile curling in it's stead. At least Sana had wise friends-

"I mean how bad would it look for Iseul's reputation? He can't be dating an assaulter!"

You froze.

Iseul. Iseul. Iseul. Iseul Iseul Iseul Iseul-

That damned name.

A bunch of collective "oohs" and "aahs" splattered. The teenagers nodded in agreement, being particularly vocal.

"Let's say she bullied one of us!"

"Or that she has been to prison!"

"We caught her shoplifting?"

"Boring!"

A fry was thrown at whoever said the last word. Useless bickering followed by rolls of their eyes, the girls easily overcame the little hindrance and got back to brainstorming.

You sucked in a breath, spoon limply hanging off your fingers.

They were definitely talking about you.

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. It's not a big deal. This is normal-

"We should break into her house or something. The address is leaked anyway."

The table screeched, you stood up.

Legs having a brain of their own, you paced out of the restaurant, the memories of the girls fibbing and bickering and planning like no tomorrow kept echoing through your mind. Like a broken record. Since when had your life turned to such shambles?

God. Why were things like this for you?

Releasing a shaky breath, you gulped, burying the insecurity deep inside of you. Whipping the lopsided glasses away, you stop caring for a moment.

You don't care. For sure. But then your hands are moving and they're looking through your pockets, seeking for something and my goodness, since when did your phone start feeling so heavy?

Unfamiliar and hesitant, you went through your contact list, heart beating so fast that you felt like it'll rip right out of your chest. Your lips quivered, flushed skin feeling hotter and hotter by the second. A fever? Or was this anger?

You shivered, ignoring the tears and the salt and the aching, aching feel of your soul. You fiddled for a moment – just a moment – but then you're harshly pressing the call button and wiping snot off your nose before placing the phone to your ear and waiting like a madwoman. Impatient and uncalm and-

"My love! You called!"

Him.

Him. Him. Him. Him.

How you hate him.

"I'll-I'll do it,-" You spluttered, very much on the verge of choking on your own spit and mumbling strings of curses at him and them and every single person who's so, SO mean to you- "I-i'll make it official. We.. we will! Just..- just please.."

You've perished. You've perished until this second, this moment and you'll continue perishing but-

"J-just.. make them stop."

Don't you deserve a break too? With everything he puts you through?

A tsk from his side was heard. Iseul sounded amused, almost cross with you. Almost pouty. Almost smiling.

"Really now? This easy? Things were only just getting fun."

You wanted to gut YANDERE!celebrity. Brutally.

#yandere x darling #yandere x female reader #yandere!male #yandere #yandere x f!reader #yandere!celebrity #yandere!fans #yandere x reader

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kaltacore · 3 months

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no but essek's abnormal behaviours in the last arc and especially in episode 140 are my roman empire. which is ironic because aeor is something of a roman empire itself. but in all seriousness, it was the episode that made me realise i love essek and his development so much and it kinda summarised it even before caleb's epilogue.

and i mean the "it's not fair" scene specifically. it's like, an epitome of his whole character progression from a person who put An Objectively Important Goal above all else without hesitation to someone who can't help but care for people around even more than his goal, no matter how big and relevant it is.

the mighty nein - and he alongside them - pretty much saved the world and freed an ancient city from thousand-year-long suffering. they defeated nine extremely powerful menacing entities who managed to stay out of everyone's sight for years and were so close to achieving their goal and dooming exandria in the process. they did the impossible and became heroes and somehow, they survived, even though they had bidden farewells a couple of hours ago because they had already understood what they had been facing. and nevertheless. they made it.

and none of them was celebrating.

mighty nein are basically essek's only friends. he knew them to be very unusual people, to put it lightly, loud and stubborn and completely inescapable once they consider you to be one of their own. and they showed him so much kindness and put so much faith in him, they were here playing the most atrocious music ever and digging clay in his backyard for a spell they invented just to help one of theirs and asking him if he could bring them pastries the day after they found out he was lying to them and had started a war. they were chaotic and weird and sometimes unbearable but most importantly they were carrying so much hope with them all this time - a hope they could end the war, a hope they could stop the angel of irons cult, a hope they could get better, a hope he could get better, and now, finally, that they could save their lost friend.

and that hope shattered, just like that, the moments after they'd already made the impossible. they saved so many souls - and then could not get back just that one.

for essek "my intentions were never good they were important" thelyss it just. shouldn't have mattered. they won. it could have been worse. people die and when they die they rarely come back. they should've been happy everyone else barely made it alive.

but for some reason, mighty nein being so defeated after they saved the world exposed him to that overwhelming feeling of injustice and unfairness. and i mean, there were many things essek considered to be unfair, but when i watched his first appearance and his interactions with mighty nein later on til their reunion in aeor arc, i wouldn't dare to guess that one of the things on that list would be something that personal. and personal not even to him.

the thing is, essek didn't even know who that guy was. why mighty nein cared about him so much. he had an idea, i guess, that he was their friend once, or someone in that body was. it was also a person who wanted to unleash a terrifying horrific aberration onto the material plane. it was a person very dedicated to killing essek and his friends - and they still didn't take any pleasure in fighting him. essek didn't feel strongly about lucien or molly, because he never knew them.

i don't think he mourned his death and failed resurrection. he mourned mighty nein's hope, the one they put in him when they had no reason to, the one they offered yasha in the cathedral and the one they kept after the spell for veth failed and the one they carried til the very end because they wanted it to reach molly. they had saved people with this hope. they had saved nations. they had saved the world. but they ended up feeling like it hadn't even been worth anything.

how desperate would it feel, witnessing people who for some reason always saw good in you when they absolutely shouldn't, who made literal miracles out of nothing, who ended wars and fought gods and tricked the hags and freed cities from horrors beyond anyone's comprehension purely because they thought it was the right thing to do and also loved their friends this much, silently crying over a dead body they couldn't bring back to life? how desperate would it feel to realise that with all your knowledge about time you dedicated your life to and threw away any principles for, you can't undo this? no one can. some things are left to fate alone and this time it wasn't kind to them. no matter how much good they did, they still got slapped in the face.

and it was, i think, such a genuine moment of empathy. like, essek is the character who prefers to put up a facade and act distant and self-composed but this time he just. walked away unable to watch this. the could only say to fjord that it wasn't fair. even when he was caught off guard in nicodranas he was able to explain himself and his motives to an extent even though he was a nervous wreck whose extra important plan went to hell the second the only people he cared about appeared. this time he had nothing to elaborate on. it just wasn't fair. it wasn't fair his friends didn't get what they wanted the most. it wasn't fair he couldn't do anything to make it right.

it is such a sad and beautiful and even cathartic scene because it is about person who started a war that destroyed so many lives - and then met this ragtag group of weirdos who saw a lonely stand-offish guy and said "hey, let's be friends!" and didn't even wait for him to answer. he saw them being serious and calculated and he saw them being ridiculous and extremely stupid, he saw their mistrust to outsiders and their loyalty to each other, he made spells with them and paid a visit to their hot tub, he ate their stale pastries and drank their hot chocolate mixed with whiskey, he was welcomed amongst them and in their wonderful home, both in xhorhas before they even found out what he had done and in the tower when they already knew - and then, he saw them mourning their loss, defeated and helpless, and he, a person who believed there were things more important than whole nations, let alone just one life, couldn't help but share the pain they felt. a pure display of compassion from someone who detached himself from it, who didn't believe he could grow into a better person capable of it again, but became one nonetheless without even realising it

#sorry. i cannot shut up about this. this scene stuck with me the moment i saw it and i just couldn't get it out of my head #i mean. i liked essek well enough. i just got attached to other characters more. but then 'it's not fair' happened and it sealed the deal #it was just. so beautiful. so sincere. so important for a character who just started to learn how to care about people #his reaction wasn't intentional. it didn't change anything. but it showed how humane he had become. how deeply he cared #mighty nein are no joke pal #they're gonna make you feel all these unknown emotions like sympathy and love and affection even when they're incredibly painful #essek experiencing closeness and attachment in all their forms. as something beautiful and something aching. is so important to me #they saved him because they had good hearts! and these good hearts sparked so much joy around them!#but if a good heart grants you an ability to experience joy so profoundly. it makes everything else feel like that #you get it. i hope you get it. anyway e140 did so much psychic damage on me i probably will never recover #in a good way mostly <3 but yeah. yeah. it makes me feel a little insane #the mighty nein #essek thelyss #critical role

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yorsgirl · 26 days

Text

A Fairytale Wedding

Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You can't have everything, she said. Well, time for her to follow her own advice.

Tropes: Drama, Smut, mild Angst

Warnings: Infidelity/cheating, Explicit smut, drinking, fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex, kissing, missionary, mating press, toxic!reader, slight possessive!Gojo, hateable characters, slight Gojo x OC, toxic relationship dynamics, toxic friends.

General Warnings: No curse AU, Modern AU, usage of vulgar terms in narration, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

MDNI - Minors do not interact

Disclaimer: In no circumstance is cheating justifiable. I do not support the act of infidelity/extramarital affair, this is a work of fiction and in no way it is meant to influence anyone in real life. This drabble is only written for entertainment purposes.

Word count: 4.2k

"Satoru Gojo, do you take this beautiful lady as your wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better and for worse, in sickness or in health, to love, cherish and honour her till death do you apart?"

Cerulean blue eyes gleaming under artificial lights, holding such tenderness while he looks at her like she's the only woman in the world. With a breathy sigh, the words escaps his mouth.

"I do."

A pleased smile forms on the priest's lips as he nods, "With the power bestowed upon me by thy lord, holding the almighty and everyone present here as witnesses for this holy matrimony, I pronounce you both as Husband and wife." He walked over to the side and finished, "You may kiss the bride."

The ivory haired man stepped up, pulling up her veil as another gentle smile graces his lips. A tender grip on her chin with his thumb and forefinger as he urges her to look at him.

Blush dusted on her pale cheeks, eyes drifting away to hide her shyness which ends as soon as his lips touches hers. Long slender fingers intertwined with his, naturally full red lips pressing against her husband. His left hand tugging on her long, dark hair as he pulls her close; deepening the kiss.

The church bell rings followed by randomized claps of all the guests. The bridesmaid and the groom's men cheer on as the melodious music plays on the background.

A union is made.

Another couple tied into this sacred bond of marriage. With a whole life ahead to walk together, to love and cherish each other till the end of time. Making promises to stay together no matter the circumstance, promise to create a family and grow old together and promise to always be truthful to one another.

Another fairytale wedding - A happy ending.

While everyone forgets that fairytales are derived from horror stories.

You snort looking at the aforementioned couple sitting together with their family. You tilt your glass of champagne, taking a sip of it as the sweet flavour burns your throat. Your eyes flicker to the bride - Kazumi Gojo, your best friend. You can't help but think how much she resembles a champagne.

The epitome of sweetness and innocence with erratic bursts of the hidden flame in her heart, similar to the random spiciness of the drink.

You see how her husband makes her laugh, and she gracefully places a hand over her lips - an act of elegance. That's the thing, Kazumi is the woman every man wants and whom every woman aspire to be. The touch of innocence with the fiery spirit, generous and selfless, elegance radiating with every move; a beauty sculpted by the God himself. Maybe he was creating his bride but for some miscalculation, she was sent to the mortal world.

Wonder what the miscalculation could be? Oh you know very well what that is… she is your best friend after all. Wouldn't be nice if you didn't know her flaws now, would it?

A smirk forms on your lips as you watch the new couple interact amongst each other. To any on-looker, they look like the IT couple. The COO of the Gojo Corporation, wedded to the daughter of the CEO of Tech domain.

Elites marrying elites.

Nothing new, they live in their own world after all. A world in which you'll never belong. A world whose residents would look down on you like you are some street rat. A world where conversations would never suit your taste nor your style.

Nothing to fret your head over or throw a tantrum though, you already have everything you want. A high paying job in a good company, a three bedroom apartment in a modest neighbourhood, a good circle of friends and…

"Need some company?" You are broken out of your reverie of thoughts as a voice cuts through. Suguru Geto - the best man of this wedding, he stands before you in his black tuxedo. Instead of the usual smile on his lips, its formed in a straight line; neutrality isn't his best take, to be honest.

You offer him a lazy smile, sipping on your drink, "Ah- lovely to see you here, Suguru." You cross your legs one over another as Suguru steps up, turning his back to the bar counter, leaning on it. "I thought you'd be accompanying Satoru."

"Would have but he is busy with his wife," He says after ordering some whiskey for himself.

"What a boomer," You suck in your cheeks, humming at nothing. "I would have expected for you and him to get married, honestly."

He raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his whiskey, "You think so?"

"I do, you both would look good as a couple."

He snorts, "Well… that's a compliment if you say it." He glances at the couple before settling his eyes back on you. "You look calm."

"Hmm," Your smile broadens as you face him, "How else am I supposed to look, huh?"

He stares at you wordlessly, shaking his head as he gets rid of the particular thought. "Nothing, you look fine. You are fine."

"Did you expect some sort of retort? Tantrums, perhaps?" You raise an eyebrow.

"I know you enough…" Certainty clear in his voice and he shrugs. "Enough to know that you wouldn't resort to those reactions."

A sly smirk curves into your lips, "Well… I wouldn't expect anything less from my friend now, would I?"

The ghost of a smile falls on his face is not missed by you. You chuckle at his silence, pushing the glass of champagne against your lips. Gulping the remaining drink in one go, your red matte lipstick stained the brim red; wiping it away with your thumb.

You order yourself another when Suguru speaks again, "Do you really think alcohol will make it easier for you?"

You snicker, "Absolutely not, but…" You pause glancing at the smiling couple surrounded by guests offering them their blessings and wishes. "But it does give me a kick, makes things interesting." You finish as the bartender arrives with your drink.

"Feelings aren't that easily buried."

"Hmm… you must know a lot about feelings then."

His eyes flicker to a certain brunette woman across the room before returning to you. "Maybe." He gulps down a shot of whiskey. Throwing his head back, he sighs loudly and asks, "How long do you want to continue this?"

"Don't know," You run your fingers through your hair, "as long as I can."

"You are just looking for trouble. Do you even know what will happen if anyone finds out?" He straightens up, gazing at you with an worried expression.

"You know everything," You state with a shrug.

"Aside me." He sighs, "Just let this charade drop already. He's married now, why go after him?"

"Now, now, Suguru…" A playful yet innocent expression falling on your features. "Is it really me who is going after him?" His eyes narrow as you motion for him to take a peek aside as Satoru and Kazumi walked towards you both. "Just watch and enjoy the show like always."

You turn to them, a bright, fake smile stretching on your lips as you get down from the barstool, "Congratulations to the new couple."

"Right, congratulations!" Suguru chimes in.

As soon as the pleasantries end, Kazumi spends no time in engulfing you in a hug as she whispers near your ear, "I still can't believe it. I married him finally, he's mine." There's obvious excitement in her voice, she pulls away and gazes at you with so many emotions that you almost feel pity towards her. Keyword: almost.

Concealing your actual thoughts you grip her shoulders, "Why not? He is all yours now, isn't it?" You move your eyes to said man. He does understand the motive and direction of your statement, he has played this game with you; more times than he can count. A jab at him to accept your statement. But will he?

"He is," Kazumi beams stepping back and wrapping her arm around her husband's. Satoru smiles while gazing at her lovingly.

There's a show unwrapping before the crowd but they still choose to remain ignorant.

If you were just another friend of theirs, you'd assume that the affectionate gaze lingering of her is real. Only that you aren't just a friend. The silence of Satoru even after your question just makes the gears turn in your brain. You need to play your cards right, after all there's a man beside, who you got to entertain.

"You both look really good together," There's a look of fury which momentarily escapes the groom's façade. "I never thought this day would come when I watch my best friend getting married."

She grins, tightening her grip on Satoru's arm, "Neither did I but… here we are now."

"We sure are, dear." Satoru replies, placing his hand over hers.

"You are truly the one for Satoru, the only one."

"I know, I love him and he loves me back." Kazumi’s doe eyes fill with tenderness as she takes a glimpse at you, “That’s a beautiful blue dress you are wearing.” She tilts her head, looking at you from head to toe. “Its designer isn’t it?”

“A designer would know designs anywhere,” You mirror her movement, running your thumb over the fabric near your waist, “It is designer, yes. Someone… gifted it to me.”

You gasp, "Someone? Your boyfriend?"

“Well…” You lean back on the counter, “No not my boyfriend, but yeah… we are close.” You could feel Satoru’s glare on you even without looking and that just surged the fire burning inside you.

You loved playing this game and from the light snickers that reaches your ears, belonging to the man beside you - you know you are doing it right. Just as always.

“He seems special if he gifts you such expensive dresses.” Satoru speaks, catching both your and Suguru’s attention as both of your eyes partially widen. Well, two can play this game.

He takes a step towards you. "I can say that both of you are indeed close."

Suguru hides the audible snort by a cough as he looks away.

At times, he has found himself wondering why his best friend didn’t take up acting instead of his family business. He sure had the looks and skills for it but… that’s a topic for another day. He almost finds himself pitying Kazumi, a part of him urges him to tell her the truth but the twisted part of his mind overpowers, telling – No. Besides, he enjoys this back and forth drama once in a while.

Why would he take away his source of entertainment?

“He is special… very special.” You found yourself answering. This game just gets good every passing second and the twisted part of you hopes that it never ends.

"Say are you meeting with him, tonight?"

You hum, taking a look at Kazumi. You click your tongue at her annoying expression before letting your eyes meet his blue ones. "I don't know… its up to him Though from what I assume he would be busy tonight."

"Not as busy to keep a gorgeous woman like you waiting."

You raise an eyebrow, "You mean it?"

"I do." His voice is a hushed whisper, the smirk playing on his lips.

A silence befalls over the four of you, the background noises being of the guests still a tension prevails. For a second, you think that Kazumi might be on the same page as the three of you but then your eyes falls on her smiling expression. You hear Suguru curse under his breath and you have to stop yourself from snorting.

You take a step away from them, as you gaze at Kazumi "I am kind of tired, would excuse myself to my suite for the rest of the night."

"What? So soon? I wanted you to be one of the last ones leaving," Her eyebrows scrunch up, a whine on her tone.

"Sorry," You pause, "You can't have everything you want."

Her frown deepens but before she can speak, you wish her and her husband; marking it the end of your night.

You walk away from the designated reception hall as the cold air of the corridors hits your face.

Liberating.

You didn't know you were suffocating yourself until you stepped away. You don't belong among those elites - that's a thing you'll never defy.

Pushing past a strand of hair behind your ear, you step into the elevator and click your room floor. A part of you wonders if he'd really meet you tonight or he said that to only play your game. From your last encounter - the previous night, he'd said he was done playing this stupid game with you.

Stupid, you scoff. As if he wasn't the one who came up to you in the first place?

You sigh, leaning back on the elevator wall as you run a hand over your face. Tiring… truly it is. You walk out of the elevator and into your room - just closing the door without the lock. Taking a peek at the time, you decide on twenty minutes. If in the next twenty minutes he doesn't come to you then you'd take it that he's adamant on ending things for once and for all. Even though the thought claws at your heart as the seething envy towards your best friend skyrockets, a tear slids down your eye. Harshly you wipe it away.

There's no point in spilling tears over a man who doesn't love you

You aren't dumb, you know Satoru harbours no genuine feelings for you. It’s just a game for him, a game he has recently found himself interested. Oh and look… he found you.

You - an interesting partner to play with. You keep him on your toes, your witty retorts just keeps him on the edge and you can get by with openly flirting with him.

You know falling for such a man brings nothing but trouble.

But what can you do? You are just another helpless girl who’s affected by his charms. You can’t have him, you know that. Knew that from the first day you went behind your best friend’s back and slept with him. You knew he’d never be yours completely. You still want him.

You can’t have everything you want.

The annoying voice rings through and you have to force your second thoughts to shut up. Yes, you know you can’t have him. But you want him, so you’ll just take whatever little amount of him that you can have and be done with it. If that makes you a fool, so you are.

After all, only fools can love.

Your train of thoughts are broken as strong arm wraps around your waist, you are pulled as a muscular chest hits your back. The familiar smell of cedar and pine fills your nostrils as a relieved sigh escapes your lips. Satoru grins at the sound, running his nose on your neck as he takes in your fragrance.

“Missed me?”

“Hah!” You scoff, “As if…”

“Ouch- that hurts my feelings, darling.” He pushes your hair to one side, pressing a kiss on your back. He can’t help but smirk at the way you shiver under his touch. He was right to think you’d look stunning when he got this backless dress for you. And, you did.

“Deserved,” You roll your eyes, “For a second, I thought you were actually ending things with me.”

He turns you around, and the look on his face makes you weak on your knees. “I would have,” He states, his smirk broadening, “Then you show up wearing this, I can’t help myself.”

You raise your eyebrow, slightly smirking, “Can’t help yourself? Is that right?” You chuckle, “Do I have the great Satoru Gojo weak just by wearing a dress?”

His finger trace your spine, he leans down near your lips, “I would let it slide this time just cause you look so gorgeous.”

With that, his lips fall on yours, tongue invading your mouth he takes a taste of you. You instantly kiss him back, tugging on his collar. Both of his hands slides down to your ass and he holds you up. Your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to your bed. You could feel his bulge pressing against your clothed core. You almost feel yourself getting wet just from the thought of his cock stretching you out.

His lips leaves yours, attacking on your chin and down your neck. You can’t help the moan escaping your lips as his sinfully skilled hands rubs on your clit through the fabric of your panties. He smirks against your neck as he leaves a hickey on your collar bone. You’ll have a hard time trying to hide that, tomorrow. In the back of his mind, he hopes you’d not use your concealer.

“Wa-wait… the door-"

“Locked.” He shuts you up with a kiss, pulling on the strap of your dress. You groan as you hear a rip which just makes him kiss you more deeply. His hand reaches down to your ass and he gives it a squeeze. Your mouth opens wide as he pushes his tongue inside.

He doesn’t even understand why you are even protesting. He bought you that dress, he can rip it whenever he wants. And he wanted to do that from the time he saw you sitting among the guests. The twisted part of him urged him to go on, rip that dress from you and take you right in front of everyone. Well, that would have been a way to keep those other guys from ogling at you.

A rage settles in him when he remembers the very obvious looks you received from the men around. You belong to him. What gave them any right to even look at you in that way?

He pressed onto your clit harder as you moan into his mouth. He takes the wet splotch on your panties as a step towards victory. He wastes no time in tearing that piece of fabric away as he runs a finger over your wet slit. He enters one finger in you, cursing at the feeling of tightened walls. He adds another finger and another. Your pussy sucks in all three of his fingers.

"Tell me, princess," He whispers near your ear, nipping on your earlobe. "Tell me, can anyone else can make you feel like this?"

Breathy moans escapes your lips, face painting red from the stimulation. You close your eyes as beads of sweat drip down your forehead.

"Answer me," He urges you, as he slows down the pace of his fingers causing you to whine as you jerk your hips towards him.

"Ugh.. Satoru," You groan, glaring at the man above you.

"Does any of the guys you were flirting with could ever touch you like this?" He raised an eyebrow, drawing circles on your clit. "Can they make you cum the way I can?"

Flirting? You want to scoff at the audacity of assuming you were flirting with others when its him who got married to another woman. He's acting possessive and it drives you mad on how can he be such an asshole and still- still it has you aroused. You are too far down the line to think straight so you give him just what he wants.

"No one," You answer quietly, "No one but you."

You gasp when Satoru’s mouth latches on your erected nipples and he increases the pace again. You tug on his hair as he groans with your nipple in mouth, as he gropes the other one. He could feel precum leaking from his tip as he presses down on your thigh.

“Ah- fuck! Sato-ru… need you.” You manage to say in between your moans, “Please.”

You were just asking him to fuck you dumb and who was he to deny you of that when you asked so nicely. He discards his pants, taking off his shirt and pulls down his briefs, his rock, hard cock springs out, he rubs the tip down on your slit, getting himself wet as you whimper. With one thrust, he is inside you till the hilt.

The pain mixed with pleasure has your eyes rolling back, a piercing scream resonates through your room. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close; mouth meeting hiss again in a heated kiss. He pulls out before plunging himself into you again. You walls tighten around his length and you could feel yourself shivering as he hits all the right spots.

Moans, whimpers and skin slapping against each other are the only sounds filling the room. He picks up the pace as his hands intertwine with yours, pushing you back on the bed. He has his mouth hanging open, from the way you suck him in. He can never defy, your body is the best one against his. He can never say any fuck with you was disappointing. He slides his hand under your thighs, pushing them against your chest in a mating press.

His cock hits your cervix as you are chanting his name like a mantra. Your walls twitch against him as you near your release.

“Fuck- gonna cum soon.” He could feel his cock prodding inside you, he is nearing his climax too. He rubs circles on your clit, mouth latching on your neck as he nibbles on there.

The feel of his thumb on your clit and his cock hitting your cervix has you over the edge. You shudder under him, milking his cock with your release. After a few thrusts, and a grunt he releases inside you, painting your walls white.

He hovers on top of you, shakily; trying to catch his breath just like you. A sheen of sweat glistens on both of your bodies as you stare right in his eyes. You know the look in his eyes. The affectionate and tender look which he always casts her. The look you wished was for you instead.

He kisses you again. Instead of the heated kisses you shared until then, this was gentle. A soft, passionate kiss shared among two lovers.

The only problem? There are no lovers here.

You both are interrupted by the ring of Satoru’s phone. He clicks his tongue as he pushes himself off the bed and answers it. You can’t hear the conversation, just low grumbles and hushed whispers. You check the time from your phone but your eyes fall on your wallpaper.

A picture of you, Satoru, Suguru and Kazumi.

You found yourself wondering, what would happen if this Goddess of a woman were to find out that her husband has already broken his wedding vows?

What if she were to find out that her best friend wasn't a good friend she claimed her to be?

What if she were to find out that her husband's best friend, someone she considered her brother hid something so grave from her?

What if she were to find out that she can't have everything?

You glare at her picture, turning off your phone as your head falls back on your pillow. You don't have the time thinking about her and how this will affect her. Too far down the line to give two shits about her.

You can't have everything you want.

You snort, she was the first one to tell you that when you professed your passion for your dreams. And it wasn't once. It repeated time and time again. Everytime you brought up something you loved, you were shunned down by her.

Well then, now you are sleeping with her husband.

Did she want him? Yes. Did she want him for her and her alone? Yes. Can she have him? Yes. Can she have him as hers alone? No.

You did follow her advice though. To share, to adjust, to not want everything for yourself, to not be selfish. Time for her to follow the same advice too.

Adjust, settle, compromise. You can't have everything you want.

She was the first one to say that to you. Now you'd say it to her back if she ever finds out. Does that make you shallow? Spiteful even? A bad friend? Yes, it does.

But do you care? No.

This friendship was long been discarded by you. She may think of you still as her good little best friend but you don't. All you see when you look at her is another face in the crowd.

You let out a deep breath as you hear shifting beside you. Satoru slides in, as he presses a kiss on your forehead.

You hum at the act of affection as you lazily ask him, “You haven’t left yet?”

“Where should I go?”

“I don’t know…” You whisper. “Like to your wife? Its your first night with her.”

“I took care of that,” He says nonchalantly. You don’t understand what he means by that, confusion engulfs your face but you don’t question further.

“Besides…” A sly smirk forms on his lips as he pulls you close by the waist, “I can’t leave now. I am not done with you.”

You return the same smirk, as you pull him down via his collar; kissing him deep and he returns it with equal fervour.

While this night is spend with intricacies of lust and spite in a room, a wife sits alone on her marriage bed awaiting her husband's arrival; unaware of how her fairytale was never one in the first place.

A/N: If any old reader is by chance re-reading then for them, I'd like to mention that I've tweaked a bit of this part (only at the end). As at first I didn't plan on making a part 2 and the altered lines were necessary.

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xcrust · 6 months

Text

The beginning

“How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations.”

They said he was beautiful. The image that God had put all his values.

“Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor.”

Knowledge, strength, and status that he started to yearn for the honor and glory that belonged to only God. He was God's favorite son and the second of the four archangels he made. The highest of gods creations. But then came the existence of humanity which challenged the place of where he stands. Being told to bow down towards the weak.

This Angel refused both out of jealousy and wounded pride over being commanded to bow to what he saw as a broken, flawed, and murderous species and no longer feeling he was God's favorite creation.

He is the first fallen angel as well as an archangel who has fallen. He is the first king of Hell and the one who created demons; they regard him as their father and god. The fallen angel had created the known thing called sin. -------------

Despite the fact that this angel hated the way humanity acts he was the closest thing towards what humanity represents. People are flawed and imperfect, as much as he was compared to be the epitome of the heavens. It is shown that even if you are perfect on the outside it can be so easy to be corrupted by the seven deadly sins.

The betrayal that God gave him had been the reason that he grew to be bitter to all life on earth. So since he still had the power of the angels he was more than happy to take out the mortals that stepped into his underworld. So it created the Prince of Pride

Lucifer Magne

…

Thump, thump, thump

Two children ran around a plush room. No thoughts are present other than the joy and warmth that they are feeling in that moment. The phrase two peas in a pod could be a massive understatement. The likeness of these children could be comparable to the gods. However, that is to be expected especially since they were literally two connections away. "Charlie! shhh! we might get caught!" a weak voice exclaimed while running.

"Don't even worry about it. Everyone is out for the day. We have all of eternity for ourselves." The older one of the two laughed out while running out of the room. The current goal of the kids was to get to the library. Specifically a section that was extremely forbidden to the two. There was a specific book that described life on earth that described what humanity was truly about. Something that their father truly frowned upon in all ways possible. On that note, who were these two curious children? Why did the father so deeply frown upon this text?

Why, dear traveler, this is the story of the descendants of the mighty couple of hell. Lucifer and Lilith Magne. The eldest child being such a peppy child. Embracing compassion and empathy towards all those that are around her. However, almost holding a more idealist way of guiding her through life. Her name is Charlie Morningstar. Meanwhile, the younger counterpart held a more stressed and practical view on life. Y/n was a pessimistic child but that's what you have to grow into when the only ones that you have look at life with rose colored glasses. "woah this place is so big" "Well no duh, it took us like 10 minutes to get to the library annnnnnnd we are in the same building" the youngest breathed out while still trying to catch up. As they got deeper into the large room it seemed that time stopped. There were so many books dedicated to life and death. Different things ranging to the mighty Ars Goetia to the imps of the lower lands.

"Come on! I want to see what is here!" So it continued running around to discover what the world had to offer. This book was created by the people of earth on others around the world. It was hours that were spent in there trying to look for the book only for them to both fall onto some seats in the corner of a room. A long dramatic sigh came out of the youngest followed by a yawn. Both clearly done with looking any longer. Seconds later sounds of steps inside the library were heard.

"Shit." The siblings jumped up and looked at each other. "Y/n, be prepared to hide or run as far from this room as possible?" Charlie whispered out. Meanwhile the thumps of steps were getting louder by the second. The only response that she got was a panicked look given by the younger half.

thump. tHump. Thump.

"Now what do we have here?" a large voice boomed through. thump. thump. thump. "Seems that perfection has fallen into the wrong place." Lucifer emerged from the corner of the book shelf. If it were any other moment the siblings would be delighted to hear the pet name. However, now both were frozen looking up at their father. "Charlie? you know what I said about this area." Slowly his gaze loomed over her. "We already let you stray too far; we don't need to be corrupting Y/n onto the wrong path now do we?" A silent hiss came from her mouth hearing that. In Y/n's view, they were stressed. No words came out anyways. This has happened time and time again. Charlie and Y/n would go out, do something for fun. Something new. Get reprimanded once or twice. Although, before it was always light hearted compared to now. The king of hell was contained in pure rage considering the circumstances. "yeah... sorry" "sorry? is that seriously all you have to say to this? I never want to see you here ever again." a pause with silence so incredibly tense was presented. "Go to your rooms" In a flash, the three found themselves in their own respective rooms. It's the easiest to guess that the two now alone were sat distraught because they never experienced such a reaction from their dad. Y/n got up from sitting on the floor of their room to the desk to see a new note on the desk by the door.

Y/n. You are in closest resemblance to the so-called people of the earth. Beauty incarnate. Perfection. Sympathy to the scum of humanity isn't needed.

Even as a young kid, they could tell that what was written on that note was utter bullshit. From early years in life they gave up on taking information from their so-called guardians. Lilith and Lucifer were completely in love with each other. The only thing that they loved more than each other was themselves. Any takes that they had was never taken seriously when the only person Y/n ever looked up to was Charlie. Their older sister. Seeing how much disdain that she gave their parents gave a tremendous amount of joy. If anything that is only further proof that Y/n is not what perfection is and in fact encourages the sin that Lucifer hates so much.

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #charlie magne #lilith magne #lucifer magne #stolas x reader

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jkslipppiercing · 8 months

Text

Bumblebee 04 | jjk

• summary: Jeon Jungkook was your high school bully. What are you gonna do when your parents are forcing you to marry him as the country's most well-known CEO?

• pairing: ceo!jk x reader, high school bully!jk, dom!jk.

• genre: enemies to lovers, slowburn, high school bully to lover, arranged marriage, CEO/billionare romance, marriage of convenience.

• warnings: choking, humiliating (kinda idk), close proximity, cursing, miscommunication.

• WC: 2.1K aprox. (she's a little baby)

• taglist form

• index

• previous/next

A single tear runs down your cheek.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You've never cried over a guy. Is that going to change now?

Possibly.

Jungkook has already left for work at about 9:00, leaving you to your thoughts. He said you're due to show up at his office at 12:00, considering him being free for the day. He claims he needs to use his rare vacant hours to talk you over the basic dos and don’ts of working for him.

You agreed, acting like you've met him two days ago over a work interview.

“Y/N, I went to a gentlemen’s club yesterday.”

You run his words on repeat in your mind, like a jammed tape that's just running through your head. His voice refuses to back down, growing louder at your conscience. He's basically screaming the sentence at you now, overwhelming you.

“A strip club.”

Shit.

Another tear escapes.

In all honesty, you have no idea how to feel. One minute you’re fuming at how he didn’t care enough to show up to dinner yesterday, and the other you’re miserable; because you don’t want to be mad at him.

Every time your feelings are brought to the matter, you spiral. You truly don’t know how to feel. You want to understand him, but you’d be tossing your pride in the trash for you to forgive him for what he did. It was a mistake, you know how badly he knows he’s fucked up, but you still haven’t heard an apology. All it takes is one fucking apology, just good enough to show he cares.

You blocked your feelings out and wore a cold mask, in disguise of your true emotions. You expected him to be mad at that reaction, because you basically gave him nothing to work with, but he reciprocated it. He’s playing your game. Now, you’re going to play his.

You look at your reflection, wiping away at the stray tears of utter confusion. You plaster a satisfied smile as you appreciate the effort you put into the outfit you’re wearing.

You’re wearing a mini-dress.

In basic work attire ethics, wearing a mini-dress to work is inappropriate. It’s the epitome of unprofessionalism, and you’re wearing it purely to provoke Jungkook. He said you’re going to start working for him, but the poor man doesn’t know how you operate.

He’s giving you the secretary job only to show you who holds the true power, thinking it’s him who does.

He’s so gullible to think you can simply agree to work for him.

Soon, when you’re married to Mr. Jeon and you’re officially declared as his wife, you’re also officially a partner of the company. The company of which HG and Jeon Agencies will merge to form. So, in actuality, you're soon due to be working with him.

If you wore a mini dress to work as Jungkook’s future wife, who will dare to speak a word about it?

An off-shoulder, tight black mini dress- at that.

•••

You strut through the company like it’s your own, endless gaping faces staring your way.

Your head is held high, your hips swaying with every step in such an authoritative manner. It’s impressive- to say the least- the amount of confidence you’re radiating through every stride.

As you enter the elevator, you catch a rather cute employee- the quirky type with glasses- staring at youwith her jaw to the floor. You make sure to send her a rather flirty wink just before the elevator doors close and you’re taken up to Mr. Jeon’s office. You catch a glimpse of her swooning over the action with rosy cheeks, a victorious smile pulling the corners of your lips up.

A couple of minutes later, you’re in front of the secretary’s desk, Yoona staring up at you in bewilderment.

You smile at her half-heartedly, getting straight to the point; “Is Mr. Jeon alone in his office? Does he have anyone scheduled to meet him anytime soon?” Your voice drips in professionalism, cutting straight to the point.

Yoona takes quite a bit of time before she stutters a semi-coherent answer. “U-uh n-no. He’s alone.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement as your don’t waste your time any more, heading for Jungkook’s office door.

You don’t knock. Why would you?

Holy heavens.

Jungkook is leaning back on his desk as if awaiting your arrival. He has a glass of what seems to be whiskey in his hand. The tie around his neck loosened as his suit’s blazer was forgotten on the couch.

He has 2 leather chairs on either side in front of his desk and a wide couch in the center, in addition to an aesthetic coffee table; seemingly creating a lounge in the middle of his office.

He has a couple buttons of his shirt undone, as the sleeves of it are rolled up on his forearms. His hair tousled like he’d run his hand through it a million times, which he does before he smirks. He tucks one of his hands in his trousers’ pocket, using the second to bring the glass up to his lips. He smirks through it at you, all the while maintaining eye contact between you two. His watch glints in the sun, grabbing your attention.

You've always had a thing for men and watches, and goddamn is it a weakness.

The sun rays shine through the tall floor to ceiling glass windows, illuminating his figure and complimenting its height and the lean muscle that hides beneath the sheer material of the shirt.

The sight knocks the breath right out of your lungs and skyrockets your heartbeat to over one hundred and ten per minute.

Whoa.

His eyes rack over your body, starting from your toes and making their way up to your head. He takes his time taking you in, a glint of lust- maybe even hunger- swirling in his chocolate eyes. He takes another sip of whiskey.

“Mr. Jeon.”

“Mrs. Jeon.”

The name escapes his lips in an amused manner.

What?

Last time you checked, you were still Ms. Y/L/N.

“Excuse you?” You raise a brow as you approach him. You place your purse on the couch, joining his blazer as you strut towards him, your head held high.

“You better get used to being addressed by that, Y/N.” He stays leaned back on the desk, speaking as if he has not a care in the world. “You are my future wife, after all.” He smirks.

God damn that smirk of his.

Oh how much you want to kiss it off his face.

You continue your stride toward him, betraying no emotion when your face stays neutral.

You stop right in front of him, only to take the glass from between his fingers and cradle it in yours. “I can still say no, you know.”

You shrug casually, bringing the glass up to your lips to take a tantalizingly slow sip. You make sure to drink from the side he had drunk from, licking your lips after you let the sensation of the alcohol burn your throat.

His expression stays unreadable, so you make sure he understands what you mean: “To the marriage. I still have an option.”

As you go to set the glass back on the desk where he’s leaned on, you almost stumble causing him to hold you by your hips. You straighten, your nose touching his in the process.

He leans in further, his lips brushing against yours as he looks into your eyes. It feels like he’s staring deeper into your soul, and the thought scares you.

What if he finds things better left untouched?

What if he reads in between the lines of your emotions?

“What makes you think I’d let you?” He whispers to you, eliciting goosebumps on your skin. His hands are still glued to your waist the same way they always are, driving you absolutely mad in every way possible.

“This isn’t very professional now, is it, Mr. Jeon?” You place your hands on his chest as you push him away, solely to put distance between the both of you. A rosy blush kisses your cheeks as his hands find their home on your waist again, only for him to pull you closer.

His tone turns cold, speaking as if he hates the thoughts of you running through his head.

“You think you’re slick, huh?” He chuckles, but it comes out rather evil than lighthearted. You almost flinch.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” He stares deep into your eyes again, making your head swim. Your mind is too lost in his eyes to register the position you’re in. You don’t know what to do.

“Showing up to work in a mini-dress, Y/N?” His hand snakes up to rest on your jaw, but it’s a threat. It feels like a threat. You fail to move.

“That’s not very good now, is it?” He smiles, but it’s void of emotion. It’s scary. “Trying to provoke me?” His body is flush against yours now, with him no longer leaning against the desk, but handling your body in a way that makes it impossible for you to move; you don't even know if you want to. He’s taller than you- by far- his frame all too consuming the entirety of your thinking by towering over you.

His hand moves from your jaw to your neck, resting there. You struggle to appear unaffected, knowing very well how miserably you seem to be failing. The way he's looking at you almost seems like he's belittling you, making you doubt yourself every time you look at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You breathe out a response, surprising yourself. Why does he have such a great effect on you?

“Playing dumb now, are we?” He coos, mocking you in the way he smiles. His dimple laughs at you.

The hand on your neck flexes, barely cutting off your air suply.

You stay rooted to your spot. Your mind is going in so many different directions that it makes it harder to stay focused. Not that you are- by any means- focused. Your breaths are turning more shallow by the minute, but you love it.

You trust Jungkook, and he knows you do.

You'd trust him with your life, no matter how mad you are at him.

He's sure of it.

“Hm?” His tone grows irritated at your lack of response, so you simply shake your head no- as much as his grip allows you to- at least.

“I already taught you how to use your words, Y/N.” You can’t breathe. Your heart beats in your throat and you just can’t- breathe.

But still, you push through. “Why would I want to provoke you?” You ask instead.

“Don’t you feel betrayed?” Jungkook looks at you now. Fully looks at you. No playfulness, no amusement whatsoever. His hand falls from your neck, coming to rest at your waist.

The question catches you off guard. Where did this suddenly come from?

“Aren’t you hurt?” His eyes turn to ones so deep in feeling, it sets you off. Is he talking about the prior night?

“About?” You mask the emotions struggling to stay veiled by trying to sound as calm as possible.

Don’t show weakness. Your mind screams at you, a desperate attempt to keep you collected.

Of course you feel betrayed. Of course, you feel hurt. How dare he ask when it’s him that’s causing you to feel this way in the first place. All you crave in this particular moment is to unleash. Unleash the anger you’ve been trying so hard to bottle in. Although you crave that from deep within your bones, you stay cool- calm.

All the haze from the earlier teasing dissipates into thin air, and you take the time to properly look at the man before you.

Jungkook looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. He has dark purplish eye bags under his currently heavy lidded eyes; the most beautiful ones you’ve ever been graced to see. Even in the exhaustion clearly evident in them, his eyes hold infinite depths of beauty. They captivate your whole being, leaving you intoxicated by their effect.

“I’m tired, Y/N.” He looks like he’s seconds away from collapsing. He’s angry again, his face fully expressing anger and frustration. But you have the right to be angry, too. Doesn't he think so?

You don’t give a shit if it means you’re being petty. You deserve an apology.

Your eyes squint in defiance at him, and you see his muscles tense further as a response to the action.

“You humiliated me.” You scoff, staring at him in disbelief. “You think you deserve the right to be fucking angry, Mr. Jeon?” You jab a finger to his chest.

The formality aims straight for his heart, while the coldness laced in your velvety voice stabs at it further. He stays silent, looks at the floor as his hands fall from your waist, only to hang helplessly on either side of his body. He clenches them into fists, only to unclench them right after. He repeats the action, in hopes of focusing on it instead of you. He doesn’t want to talk about it. About this. He’s thought about it too much, where it’s gotten him to a dead end. He doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t understand what he feels towards you; it’s a feeling that catches him off-guard.

A feeling he isn’t familiar with. A feeling nobody taught him how to deal with.

You jab a finger to his chest again, “Pick me up at 9, we’re going to the club you suggested the other day.”

Your tone comes out void of emotion- another stab to the heart. His eyes don’t betray the floor he appears to be so fascinated in.

You step away from him, turning away. Just like that, you’ve left the office, leaving Jungkook to drown in the confusion that’s slowly eating away at his mind- little by little, piece by piece.

Little did you know, Jungkook was angry at himself.

@hoseokteardrop @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring@bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @nochuel @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdoll @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotz @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime

#bumblebee #jungkook x you #bts jungkook #jeon jk #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook ff #jungkook #enemies to lovers #bts fanfiction

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mewtwo24 · 4 months

Text

I finally finished reading the fourth volume of svsss in full, and thing is--the first time through I only read the bingqiu content because I was ravenous for more of their happy ending.

Turns out that was a perilous mistake.

Because I started reading the airplane extras. And I swear to god. MXTX is trying to kill me

What do you MEAN demon lord Binghe was sitting on his big fucking throne. All stoic and forbidding. Surrounded by his demon generals who don't know shit about human courtship. Asking them what he should do, fully demoralized by constant rejections from sqq, only to have airplane tell him to act more pathetic and needy. Which is already hysterically funny and insane, UNTIL LBH'S RESPONSE IS THIS, KILLING ME INSTANTLY:

LUO BINGHE. WHY DOES HE SAY IT LIKE: "I already tried that, didn't work--nothing works :/ not mean, not maidenly, not housewife, not spicy, not capable disciple. Is doubling down on clingy really all it will take? What's a born hater with only one love in his life to do????"

The dichotomy of him sitting there like 'how can I reach the unfathomable depths of shizun's heart?' A HEART HE'S ALREADY WON OVER, MIND and then in the Holy Mausoleum solving the puzzle without blinking and being like 'oh yeah you just have to hit the acupoints, no sweat.' Literally the comedy writes itself I'm so--

How am I supposed to be normal about this. MXTX understands the juicy quintessential queer joy of a person with the world's power at their fingertips wishing only for love. Willing to do anything to earn that love, when unbeknownst to them it's already been freely given. Totally not screaming and yelling and clawing at the walls

And that's not even touching airplane's uproarious account of events. The way he's like 'lol what's next, lbh and sqq are best friends now? smfh' only to see lbh TACKLE SQQ LOVINGLY. FOR SQQ TO BE BASHFUL ABOUT IT BUT SO SO FOND OF THE LITTLE SCAMP. This when we've been experiencing sqq's constant inner monologue of 'I'm so cool and so dignified about my role, truly the epitome of propriety and poser-level fortitude.' Meanwhile, in their universe:

Airplane constantly flaming???? Sqq and lbh in his observations????? His absolute bewilderment and confusion????? Legendary. No notes every single second of this shit was hilarious.

Airplane's comment that sqq + older adolescent lbh traveling together was just watching a couple in their honeymoon phase. OR the fact that lbh is exceedingly petty and refuses to share their food in the wake of airplane's interruption of their time together, until sqq relents sheepishly and insists airplane eat what's left (ONLY AFTER PLACATING LBH WITH MORE FOOD FROM HIS PLATE, SOBBING)

Watching airplane salivate over Mobei-Jun and acting like that's totally normal behavior. Finding out mbj and airplane got together first. Finding out sqq encouraged airplane. LIKE THIS. WHILE HE IS STILL IN DENIAL ABOUT HIS OWN FEELINGS:

Mobei-jun clearly thinking their arrangement is a forever thing, heartbroken his human abandoned him with all the hapless fury of a scorned wife swept away by false promises of fidelity. Airplane writing demons to be the type to beat up their crush lovingly and still unable to connect the dots about mbj's feelings. Mbj letting him go and respecting his wishes, only relenting when there's indication airplane was poorly processing his own feelings and didn't actually want to leave. Mbj caring for him and listening to him as soon as airplane voices what he needs directly and with clarity. None of these gays are functional and it's everything to me

Unrelated, but I physically can't hold this information in anymore:

I'm still reeling from younger lbh having his sexual awakening from the image of sqq wrapped in the immortal binding cables. Condemn me as you like he was so, so real for that.

And no I will not be taking any comments about how luo bingge couldn't bear to see luo binghe cherished in ways he never got to have and all the haunting implications of that. I will also not be taking any comments about luo binghe's instinct to look for sqq in that alternate universe, only to be shaken to the very core to be unable to find his shizun anywhere. The unspeakable and latent horror of his relentless mind likely piecing together what happened, but unable to say it; to suspect what is true, and live with the harrowing confusion of his double's actions. To blame himself, to assume that he had let his anger get the better of him in that world and result in unspeakable folly...

I also refuse to talk about how heartrending it is to hear Tianlang-jun weakly say "In the end, I really can't bring myself to hate humans." The implication that the foolishness of that hope and bright-eyed fondness--the very thing that put him through such unspeakable agony--couldn't be beaten out of him entirely. To discover that his faith in Su Xiyan hadn't been misplaced, to the contrary: his beloved hadn't scorned him at all, but rather fought to the miserable end to protect the fruition of their genuine feelings of love when she couldn't protect tlj or herself.

How MXTX has sqq deliberately draw parallels between their situation and that of ygy+sj and tlj+sx; desperately wishing it might not be too late for them. The concept of breaking cycles of abuse and harm pervasive throughout the newly devised story, how it evolves for the better only when love takes the place of power, pride, and domination. How the moment sqq chooses vulnerability instead of saving face, the genre shifts to the so-called "cringe" girly genre where most if not every character is more fulfilled, more true to themselves. How the "male-oriented" former genre was aimlessly sensationalized and sexualized, how it was a sustained performance of aspirational toxic masculinity. How men objectify other men without end. All of the unspoken gendered implications that come with that.

Anyways. Going to go put my head in a sandbox and try to process everything I just witnessed because even a second reading is not enough to find a modicum of closure.

#svsss #bingqiu #moshang #i swear to god this series is just 'gay man who doesn't know shit inflicting his delusional reality on everyone else and inciting chaos'#and literally it's slapstick levels of hilarious every single time; mxtx never change #also i fully agree that we did not get NEARLY enough mobei-jun and sqh/airplane content #the amount of mental illness to mental illness communication going on there was astonishing #mobei-jun being afraid of his uncle and bringing sqh because that's the only person he trusts fully (WAILING NOISES)#sqh having a tantrum but running away because for the first time he was honest about his needs + his dissatisfaction with catering to other #how that reflects his narrative compulsions and how he felt forced to warp more creative story paths for the sake of survival as a writer #how sqq's restoration of much of his original intent--as well as mobei-jun's acceptance of his needs--helps airplane begin to heal #how his happiness begins; how just like sqq he wanders in such confusion and denial before he's forced to realize what truly matters to him #SHREK VOICE: STORIES HAVE. L A Y E R S #it feels like modern day shakespeare and when i say that i don't mean it in a hollow elevating sense i mean it more like #mxtx just hits that perfect balance of poignance but also hilarious concentric circles of botched communication and brainworms #okay but real talk for a minute? .........;-;#the way lbh constantly struggles with such a crushing feeling that he'll be abandoned over any little mishap/thing/problem #really hit me where it hurts??? if only because its so clearly an anxiety that stems from original goods' upbringing #the way it becomes even more heartrending when you think back to all the sect leaders clamoring that he should have been killed as an infan #that he should have been aborted as a fetus--insisting right in front of him that his birth was a mistake and a disgrace #over having demon blood in his veins. like my god that scene is so viscerally upsetting i struggle to read it #the way its so easy to see the demons as a manifestation of otherness in precipitated form #how both sqq and sqh are influenced by human rhetoric without evening meaning to--assuming the worst against their better judgment #how both sqq and sqh both struggle with their own otherness in different ways and only find solace when they begin to accept who they are #how their lovers (lbh and mbj respectively) both are willing to navigate those confusing waters with them #how both demons love them as they are--accept them as they are despite how difficult forgiveness of perceived betrayal is for them #ty mxtx for changing my brain chemistry #as i get older i have such a fondness for the messiness of thematic queer self-discovery and growth into self-acceptance #that and how youth can so easily be defined by perfectionistic self-harm and the violence of repression

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 4 months

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Gay wrongs tournament, semifinals of the minor bracket

Propaganda:

For Lord Hater and Commander Peepers :

Lord Hater is the self-proclaimed "universe's awesomest evil-doer", an immature, attention-seeking manchild with electric powers and a short temper. He rules the Hater Empire with Commander Peepers as his second-in-command (technically third, after his beloved pet spider-xenomorph, but who's counting), however it soon becomes *very* clear that the cunning, remorseless, hardworking Peepers is the *real* brains behind the empire. Peepers might be frustrated at Hater's incompetence at times and isn't above manipulating him to reach an end goal, but he'd never dream of usurping him because, well, he's really gay and in love with him (as much as he can be in an early-10s Disney cartoon, anyways). Hater might take Peepers for granted a lot of times, but as his oldest friend and closest confidante he's the one who Hater is closest to. Whether it's invading other planets or kicking puppies for fun, these two are *delightfully* terrible jerks and the epitome of gay wrongs.

Commander Peepers is both Lord Hater's right hand man in villainy AND his jilted stay-at-home-wife-guy (Also in villainy. Hater is really good at getting distracted from productive and efficient villaining.) Lord Hater was the greatest villain in the galaxy thanks to how well he and Commander Peepers worked as an evil team to run the Hater Empire!

Lord Hater conquers planets and is such an edgy bastard. Peepers is the actual brains behind the operation. Peepers is often pushed aside by Hater, they are besties and yet Peepers is always pining for this guy who will never notice. Peepers is so horribly gay for him if you watch the show he wants his stupid boss so bad. Peepers is so scared of him season 1 but then starts yelling BACK in season 2 and has to deal with him like a babysitter or something and yet STILL idolizes him and that’s just such a fun dynamic. His password is H8RNP33PRS43VR (Hater and Peepers forever). They are so evil and everyone fears them and they are villains and they are gay and the side of the fandom that draws them as a married couple that needs counseling is absolutely correct. The fanart of Hater openly liking him back is wonderful but I swear you don’t even need that. They are so gay and villain you have to love them they are

Villains that conquer planets and do evil stuff, my favourite characters, not really canon but they are the best :)

For Wu Zetian x Gao Yizhi x Li Shimin: (propaganda from previous poll here)

They are in a poly and are so morally gray and I love em. The triangle really is the strongest shape

They're gay because they're all bi (literally in Shimin and Yizhi's cases, kinda more implied for Zetian). Zetian and Shimin tortured a man for information (and also because he tortured them first) while Yizhi cooked back in their apartment. They made a plan to destroy their government and take over instead. Yizhi killed his dad because he was talking shit about Zetian and trying to sway his trust in her (it didn't work lmao). Instead of a love triangle (it REALLY seemed like that was what it was heading towards) they all love each other and would (and have) committed atrocities for each other. There's a whole thing about how they're stronger together (like, metaphorically and on the battlefield (Shimin and Zetian pilot a giant mecha together and Yizhi balances them))

They're a canon polyship who are all a bit deranged and down to kill for their goals and/or to protect bae. Two have tortured a man to death together and came home to the third making celebratory cookies for them.

What's more gay wrongs than trying to take over your country and torturing a man together

#minor bracket semifinals #iron widow #wander over yonder #gao yizhi #li shimin #wu zetian #commander peepers #lord hater

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hotvinimon · 4 months

Text

The Meet

Yandere gym bro x reader

Plot : First encounter with the yandere gym bro

Author’s note : The images are not mine. I don not support this kind of behaviour and highly condemn these activities. This kind of behaviour is not tolerated in actual life.

Warnings : MDNI. The images are not mine.

Join my taglist - Here

As the new year began, you were all set to tackle your resolutions head-on. You had achieved "Glass Skin" and landed a "Good Job." The final item on your list: attain that classic "thin and built figure."

You've embraced your curves your entire life – the envy of many! Your figure boasted a petite waist, a cherubic face, bouncy tits and hips that danced with every step. But, much like everyone else, you also longed for something you lacked: muscles.

And so, here you are, signing up for an annual gym membership. "This is a fabulous health leap you're making, ma'am," chirped the receptionist, selling the benefits of the gym like hotcakes. "When do we expect you?" she asked eagerly. "I'm thinking 6 AM," you gleefully replied. "Oh, splendid! Few souls at that hour," she exclaimed. "You can start tomorrow. Cheers to your fitness journey!" she concluded, flashing that professional smile and tone.

Next day rolled by, and here you were starting your fitness journey with a set new gym clothes. A sports bra and sports shorts, that sat just below your ass.

True to the receptionist's assurance, the gym was deserted at that early hour, save for a single individual, a strapping lad, bulging with muscles as if they were molded from solid granite was working out. With each sinewy movement, his muscles rippled and flexed beneath his skin, showcasing an impressive display of power and strength.

He strides through the gym, his broad shoulders squared, exuding an air of confidence that commands attention. The veins in his arms pop with every curl of the weight, his biceps swelling and contracting with controlled precision. His chest, a wall of carved steel, expands with each deep breath as he conquers the bench press effortlessly.

The sweat glistens on his chiseled physique, accentuating the definition of every muscle group - from the sculpted abs that resemble a washboard, to the powerful thighs that propel him through each exercise. His dedication to fitness is evident in the way he attacks every set, pushing his limits with an unwavering determination.

As he moves from one machine to another, the gym seems to revolve around him. His intense focus, coupled with the raw power he emits, inspires a sense of awe among those around him. He is the epitome of strength and fitness, a living testament to the results of hard work, discipline, and dedication in the gym.

"Enjoying the view, young miss?" a deep voice growled beside you, causing a startled reaction. You turned towards the voice, wide-eyed and flustered. It was the very Greek god-like figure you'd been daydreaming about. He chuckled at your reaction, and you fumbled for words, blurting out a classic “N-No No… uhh.. actually I wasn’t able to open my water bottle.” You blurted out and patted yourself in your dreams for coming up with such a nice excuse. Corporate does benefit sometimes. “And I suppose you want me to open up that for you ?” The man asked. “I would really appreciate that”, you chirped happily.

After the encounter you made sure to not let your gaze wander and do what you were here for.

And oh sweetheart, Little did you know that someone had their keen eyes on you, imagining all the things with your bouncy assets in the slutty gym dress, that wasn’t supposed to be worn in gym which could have been filled with testosterones but luckily you chose the very wrong right time.

After two hours of grinding, you were relaxing on the bench, where your ‘bottle opener’ came. “Are you new here miss ?”, he asked. “It’s y/n and yes. I joined yesterday” you replied with a cheery voice. “I’m Casper, and that’s great tho. How about a coffee down the street ?” He offered.

" Sure Caz~ "

V-Chan’s Dilly Dally

My exams are finally over. And here is the first masterpeice after exams. I really hope you guys like it. Please tell me the next steps. Also comment to join the taglist.

#yandere boy #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere community #yandere oc #male yandere #tw yandere #yandere gym bro #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere stories #yandere x darling

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thecapodomme · 23 days

Text

THE MUSE 🎨🖌️

Paired Up: DOM! Trevante Rhodes As Zyair Malloy x SUB! Black Fem/Plus size Reader!

Background Music/ Song Inspired by @kittehkwrites

Word Count: 4,390 (Yikes, but not counting the lyrics)

WARNINGS: Mature Audiences: 18+, Minors DNI -(HEAVY Daddy kink, BDSM, SMUT, SMUT, MORE SMUT! PROFANITY!, Established Relationship, , Some use of AAVE, The N word, light Bondage, Breeding kink, Tease and Denial, Wax play ,Choking, Grabbing, Hair Pulling, spanking, Praise, Smacking of the face ,Fingering (F), unprotected sex , A BIT OF A LONG READ, Some grammatical errors because IDK WTF i'm doing! (Capo say sike..Right now. lol But Im deadass) ... and all over Nastiness. Did I miss anything?

DISCLAIMERS:

-DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK.

-DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.

Synopsis: In the glitzy world of art and indulgence, Zyair and Y/N reign as the epitome of a power couple, their magnetic connection sizzling with untamed desire. Their love story ignites from the ashes of Zyair's artistic stagnation, sparked by the fateful encounter at a decadent sex party. From that moment, their lives intertwine, fueled by passion and creativity, leaving behind a trail of whispered rumors and envious glances.

As their anniversary dawns, Zyair prepares for his long-awaited art show, his first since meeting Y/N. Yet, his thoughts stray not to the gallery's pristine walls but to the allure of his beloved, whose presence electrifies every inch of his being. The clock ticks away as Zyair's anticipation grows, his yearning for Y/N eclipsing all other distractions as he finally comes home.

But time slips away in the tender embrace of their love, their passion threatening to consume them whole. As the hours blur into a haze of whispered promises and heated caresses, Zyair and Y/N find themselves ensnared in each other's arms, oblivious to the outside world. They are late for the grand affair, yet in the realm of their intimacy, time holds no dominion.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @henneseyhoe @browngirldominion @melaninpov @hwadam-stories @spaceslutsworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @skvrpion @westside-rot @tvchi @kittehkwrites @kindofaintrovert

A/N: first off ... I'M RUSTY OK. Also I'm a bit upset because my older brother was like "who writes fan fics anymore they're so passé." 🥹 I said am I not a writer? Did I not get a journalism degree? Did my teachers not push me to do this and saw something? He didn't have anything to say back. But anyway! Is this self indulgent? YES. Are you still going to enjoy it? YES! BRAIN ROT....? YEAH IM GLITCHIN'! Be easy this is my first Fan fic/Smut I'm nervous. I love yall! It's real nasty because... I want him to do this to all of us! Do you hear me?! Slight delay because I was transfixed with the dialogue. I was really trying to get the essence of Zyair. If this gets positive feedback There may be a Prologue, a part 2 , and a part 3 if y'all feelin' this! Like, comment, reblog.... if your heart so desires! 🫶🏽

It's been four years since Zyair's trial, and it was his first art show since then. Mea was long gone and probably still with her pinhead ass husband, and to think he really wanted to like her. He was breathing new life into his art, his name was cleared, and he was getting into his first real relationship. He found his ONE.

Touring London and France during the summer months. His nights were long, and his days were short. You missed him whenever you hung up from talking with him all night or if he sent you a cute text. You knew he was premiering his new pieces from home tonight, and anything was possible with you on his arm.

Daddy: I'll be home later than usual. The show starts soon. Be dressed, be ready, and wear those heels I like. I'll come to collect you. You've been such a good girl. I can't wait to see you! This tour has been hectic.

You: Yes, Sir! I miss you more. Come home to me. ❤️🥺

Daddy: That's my Big Girl. I'm on the way.

You gently placed your phone beside the claw foot bathtub on the vanity chair you'd drug over. The plush afghan carpet ruffled as you moved it to where you wanted it. The master bathroom on the first floor was spacious yet cozy.

An open shower in the back is made of dark marble and granite, and Zyair's closet is off to the left, surrounded by suits, ties, and his wardrobe. Although the loft was Gargantuan, unlike most places in Chicago, it had a makeshift industrial vibe that made it mysterious enough, you thought to yourself.

'It really needs a woman's touch.'

Drums and soft piano flooded your ears from the huge vinyl and Bluetooth sound system; you rifled through Zyairs' music collection all day. It was impressive, spanning from 70s soul to 90s R&B, which was very prized to his heart and his favorite genre. As you prepare to get ready as instructed by the love of your life, it always helps soothe your soul and set the mood for a night in the city.

You peeled out of your I murdered my husband's robes, Pinned up your waist-length Goddess locs, and began to run a bubble bath. Candles illuminated the floor, glinting your umber skin into the floor-length mirror beside the vanity.

You carefully sluiced a toe into the roaring torrent to test its temperature. With a satisfied grin, you plunged into its warmth and shut off the water; the suds were cloud-like and steamy, clinging to every part of you, and the scent of damask roses filled the air. Toni's contralto caressed you.

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh Oh-oh oh-ooh Whoa-oh, whoa-oh Oh-oh oh-ooh Baby...

Relaxation couldn't even begin to explain the euphoria encircling you. You've bagged the hottest artist in Chicago, are engaged to be married, and have much to look forward to as you start life with Zyair.

You hum along with the song as you grab your pink African exfoliating net, scrubbing from top to bottom. Occasionally, you slump your hand out to hold your phone in case he calls, or any texts from his art assistant flash across your dimly lit iPhone 15.

Head Bopping along to the beat and your legs kicking water onto the floor as you half danced in the tub. You were so bewitched by your daydreaming and bathtub concert that you couldn't hear a pin drop.

Arriving into the lot and slowly turning the corner, shined chrome and black wheels approached the entrance and parked, with a thud from the door to the Range Rover, where his driver let him off.

Since you been gone I been hanging 'round here lately With my mind messed up

Zyair stepped out of the vehicle in all black as usual; A pin stripped, short sleeved, button down shirt, noir wife beater, Prada slacks, and matching boots.

He quickly approaches the gate to the elevator, which was now broken. He shook his head in annoyance, and a frown curled at his lips when he realized. "Always on some bullshit," he scoffed.

A flick of his wrist, he checked the time. The gold bracelet draped on his wrist, twinkling in the light from the cars going in and out. He began descending up the inside stairwell to the third floor toward the loft.

With solid traces, he rose from the staircase. Slowly, he closed the exit door, hoping you didn't hear it squeaking to lock. Crossing the downstairs living room floor, he passed leather chairs, scattered and unfinished art pieces, and an acrylic-adorned curtain. He crept behind the curtain and into the room.

Jumped in my car Tried to clear my mind, didn't help me I guess I'm all messed up now, baby

His gait was slow yet boisterous. His hand behind his back, and he bounced a little with one foot pointed firmly in front of the other, walking straight and tall. His presence was always known in a room. He held a box of two dozen long-stem roses and a rounded, substantially sized jewelry box.

---

Meanwhile, you'd already gotten out of the tub as the first verse goes into the chorus. The Whirl of the water rushing out of the tub feels loud against the empty room. You check your messages once more and check the time yourself: 8:30 p.m.

As soon as I jumped into my ride Those memories start to play, yeah A song comes on, on the radio And there you are, baby Once again!

Rubbing your body in Fenty butta drop lotion for an unforgivable glow, you look into the long-length mirror to the side of your makeshift vanity.

You pull on your raven-colored thigh-high stockings, bra, and Lacey panties with the corseted back, putting your talons into your mouth as you turn and take in yourself. The finishing touch is a generous dab of merlot lipstick and a flick or two of eyeliner and mascara after setting your foundation.

Nodding as if to say, 'Im that bitch.' You slipped on your coveted Dior patent calfskin sling backs, carefully lifting each foot to get each one on. Admiring your supple breasts, hips, and bountiful assets. From all angles.

It's just another sad love song Racking my brain like crazy Guess I'm all torn up And be it fast or slow It doesn't let go Or shake me And it's all because of you...Hoo!

Zyair's panther-like proximity took you by surprise. He cocked his head to the side while taking in the sight of you setting down his gifts for you on the counter of the bathroom.

You didn't hear him stride up behind you. His hands gliding up your hips, and his luscious beard cuddling into the crook of your neck. Taking in your scent and his full lips, kissing your clavicle.

It made your heart palpitate. You felt his hands snake up past your bra as you relaxed into his embrace, letting your tensions melt into him. That familiar cologne of sandalwood and pimento that you adored wafted into your nasal cavities as his hand gripped your neck ever so gently but slightly, applying pressure.

"You look incredible, Y/N. Stay just like this." Zyair says in his full-bodied baritone, sounding like heaven to you after so long. Nibbling your ear into his mouth with a playful bite.

He was watching you in the mirror, hunched over you a bit as he towered above because of how short you were compared to his six-foot stature, hugging you to his manhood.

Your ass pressed against his inky slacks. You turned around out of his grip and held his high cheekbones into your manicured, blood-red nails, Sucking his bottom lip into your mouth as he gripped and massaged your ass from above, making you stand on your tip toes and your breasts heaving into his Adonis-like abdomen.

Since you been gone I keep thinkin' about you, baby It gets me all choked up This heart of mine keeps dreamin' of you And it's crazy, babe

"I missed you. You were gone all month. I thought we'd never have alone time."You sighed into his parted lips, trailing butterfly kisses from the pronounced girth of his neck down to his Aureate-colored chains that sat right on his sternum.

Zyair respired, and his massive pectorals flexed in unison with your smacking lips as you kissed every inch of his chest through his open-collared shirt. Looking at you in the mirror, he stopped your assault of smooches by holding your hand.

"I know I miss you when I'm gone too,Baby girl. A nigga can't stop thinkin' bout you." He gently pulled you towards him, giving you that boyish grin and a flash of those to-die-for ivories as he clasped your lower back.

His bulging frame surrounded you as he stood back with your hand in the air, making you twirl like a Princess.

Before he sat down causally onto the vanity chair and embraced you in a hug between his thighs and a gentle kiss on the forehead, he bent over to grab the things he'd laid on the counter, brandishing them before you. He gave you the rounded jewelry box first.

Sitting back, his posture was relaxed and confident to the side, and his right foot bore the weight as he man spread all alpha, chocolate, and delicious.

You'd think I'd had enough, yeah Soon as I get you out my head I'm in my car again, ooh darling Just one request from the radio I'm back in love, sugar Once again!

"Mmh, Look at you girl. "He breathed in satisfaction, looking as if he could eat you right then and there. His tongue glides over his bottom lip, and his eyes darken with lust. You giggled and rubbed his thigh as you looked into his face.

You squealed with excitement and vigorously shook the box, dancing in place. "What is it!?" touching it to your ear as if you could guess from the sound.

Zyair huffed a chuckle and looked at you, shaking his head. "You goofy lil' mama." he stroked his hand down his beard while looking at you.

Once you were done playing the guessing game, you unwrapped the thing like it was Christmas and you were the luckiest girl on the planet.

Wrapping paper, bows, and cards with the company name on them flew up in the air and scattered onto the bathroom floor. You got to the gilded piece.

It's just another sad love song Racking my brain like crazy Guess I'm all torn up And be it fast or slow It doesn't let go Or shake me

"You like it, Baby?" Zyair cooed, his voice deepening.

"Baby, I don't need this. I have so much alr- "He stopped you before you finished.

"Nah... nah... this is totally different. Unique even. You've earn't it, haven't you? "He says with a slight Louisiana drawl, his shoulders moving as he laughed.

"Y—You're going to collar me, Daddy? "You flung your hands around his thick neck and embraced him. Your eyes watered from his compassionate actions.

"You're the only one I think about and want to be with. I said why the hell not? " He smiled and played with your hair, twirling it between his nimble fingers.

Zyair took the collar from your hands, holding it carefully in the box. He took out the skinny key and unlocked the seamless hinge to open it. You stood in front of him, back turned toward him so that he could put it around your neck.

His hands gently placed the jewelry around your neck and shut it closed using the same key. Tracing it with his finger and mouthing "Mine" while you both look in the mirror.

You looked into his dark eyes with love, facing him as he leaned in to lick your lips and kiss you.

His fingertips turned white as he gripped onto your curvaceous hips, picked you up, and set you atop the stand-alone double sink vanity. You pull him into you by his belt loop and wrap your thighs around his muscular waist.

And it's all because of you It's just another sad love song Racking my brain like crazy (Like crazy, babe) Guess I'm all torn up And be it fast or slow It doesn't let go Or shake me (Whoa, baby)

The both of you all tongues and slobber each other down until you feel his long fingers curling under the silky crotch of the fabric of your lingerie.

You felt the sting of his teeth latch under your jaw as he bites into your neck. You hiss in want.

"Ahh, Zyair..." You breathe into his neck, rubbing down his back.

"Take this shit off. You ain't gonna need it."

He growled as you heard the sharp rip and crack of the cloth coming away as he tugged them off of your body.

His hands fondle and squeeze you until he finds your clit; your body bows from his encircling rhythm as he massages your nub with the fingertips of his index and middle fingers.

The cold from his ring on that finger makes you tense up and sigh. He licked from head to toe with his enormous tongue covering you.

He stops suddenly at your waist. You whine and squirm, but he's holding your arms above your head and looking straight into your eyes.

He licks his lips and winks at you, curling them in that bad boy fashion as he unbuckles his pants achingly slow with one hand, standing up slowly.

You watch, sitting straight up as he holds you, watching him pull pleasure from your inner depths against with your back against the tile of the wall.

His dick threatened to poke you through his Black and Gold PSD briefs. He moaned as he pressed against you. You moaned and purred back at him.

Here come the strings Then somebody sings Only takes a beat And then it starts killin' me, darling Only takes one note, I tell ya From that radio It's just another lonely love song

"Let me take it out, Daddy... please..." you said through gritted teeth, never breaking eye contact. Your breath hitched in your throat and went dry from his persistent teasing.

"Beg for it, and don't waste no time." He looks down at his growing and tenting hard-on, bites his lip, and raises his brow at you, looking back at you with the same taunting look.

You looked confused and in need as you ached for him. Smirking and pressing his lips to your ear as you struggled.

"Use your words. Or we're going to be late."

You begin to break into a cold sweat as droplets appear on your forehead. Trying to comprehend how to get out of this predicament, you slowly open your mouth to say something.

Still, by that time, Zyair was already bringing you down to your knees and grabbing your Goddess locs while ordering you to keep your hands behind your back.

He didn't hesitate as he stood over you, his slacks and boxers down his muscular physique. All you could do was look up at him, mouth drooling at the sight of him.

"Gon' come over here and Suck me," he said mercilessly in a dangerous tone. His voice echoed through the bathroom and made your chest vibrate. You did what you were told.

The way he only emphasized SUCK with feeling made your lower limbs thump with elation. You were already dripping but tried to hold out.

Your breathing increased with each moment that you realized you weren't filled up with his dick. Veiny, beautiful, and thick. You lick your lips in anticipation.

"Mmh, that's my BIG GIRL. What you gonna do with it?" His moans send you shock waves as he insists on teasing you. You use both hands to wrap them around his thick member not sure if it's a rhetorical question or if he was using it as a mind fuck.

Damn.

Zyair snaps your head back against the marble of the vanity. "I can't hear you, Bitch. "He snarls. "I asked you a question."

You squeal at the force and nearly yell from your tummy. " What Daddy told me to!!!!"

He chuckles that deep, devilish laugh again as he releases your hair. Your breathing becomes even more ragged, and you shudder at the sound.

Before he's even done, he grabs the back of your head and forces his hard length deep into your throat. The mere shock causes you to sputter and choke.

With no room to run or breathe, he fucked into it, fisting your hair, making you bend over on all fours as he leaned down over you, smacking your ass precisely on your cheek, leaving it fiery, making it ache and jiggle, gripping your supple flesh as he went to trace a finger down your drenched slit at the same time. He moans, watching the recoil.

You gently swayed your hips from side to side as he played in your wetness, not wanting him to stop as you tried to keep up the pace. He was enjoying being sadistic with you, but it was a first that he hadn't been gentle before.

"Take it all, Mama. Don't stop."

Sucking in a sharp breath at your failed attempts to come up for air.

Coaching you as you did so, using your hair like a lever, tugging at it to make you go deeper and deeper by the inch.

Your legs automatically closed onto his wrist as he sucked his fingers and dipped a few inside you, your essence pooling around your opening.

He dipped his middle finger, then the second finger, taking his sweet time alternating. Making you writhe below him. Soaked and needy was the name of the game.

He twisted and pumped his fingers inside, leaving you leaking around them.

You glucked and gagged on his dick and hissed as he inscribed you just enough to make you whine.

Your gurgling and moans echoed throughout the bathroom, and he wouldn't let up. Looking down at you, biting his lip in pure bliss.

"That's it...Just. Like. That." eliciting a low moan from his lips. You looked into his eyes as your eyeliner smeared down your face from the tears. Making it hard for you to see.

The constant smacking, gagging, and slurping made you close your eyes tight.

The twinkling flames of the candles melting onto the floor and his chiseled face coming in and out as you tried to stay alert. The noises turned you on more than the act. Until you felt a welting smack to the face.

"Look at me. I don't want you focusing on nothin' else." his breath shuddered, and he kept up the same pace until he got tired.

You whimpered from the sudden flush of pain. But kept going, your hands still behind your back. His strokes became less frequent as he slowly slid his dick out of your mouth to the tip.

He was done using your mouth for now. Removing his fingers from your pussy, sucking them clean like he hadn't eaten in days, and cupping a hand under your chin as he stood up at his full height, looking intensely into your eyes like he'd never seen you before.

A soft kiss to your mouth, and You popped him out with a plopping noise and began to jerk and stroke him. A chain of spit latched from your crimson lips to his thick manhood.

"Hold that thought, Princess." He smiled as he walked to the other side of the bathroom. You watched, still in the same position he left you, as he gathered up a slow-burning candle from the floor.

Walking back over to you, he tested the temperature on his inner arm. Nodding and pleased with the degree, he approached you.

"Down." He commanded gruffly.

You used your hands to lower yourself onto the floor on your stomach and breathed in nervously as Zyair stood above your head.

Looking up, he looked even more Godly as you viewed his body from this view below.

You settle, and he crouches beginning to pour some wax onto the middle of your back.

You groan in pain, but as the sting settles into a numbing puddle, your senses begin to awaken.

Some beads down into your ass cheek. He waits to pour more onto the back of your neck and shoulders. You flinch with each interaction.

"Mmmh... " You softly moan; you fidget with anticipation of the next drip.

"You Aight Pretty? " He asks.

"Oh, that feels so good. Daddy," your eyes closed, and your mouth slung open.

"It's been a minute." He says with amusement. "I knew you'd like it."

He pours two more burning spots onto your ass cheeks, stands, and blows the candle out, placing it onto the vanity.

Turning his head so as not to blow any ash or soot into your face, and gently pulls you up.

He sat you back into the plush red and gold vanity chair, his lips meeting yours once more, kissing you down your body, and His tongue engraving tiny circles over your neck and down your breasts. slipping off your bra down your shoulders. You trembled from his touch.

His hands cupping one after the other, his skilled tongue lapping and suckling onto each as he goes from one to the other. You groaned as he bit down and tugged with his front teeth.

"Mmh... Fuck.." you shuddered and gasped at him playing with your body in this way.

Suddenly he lifts you up into the air and parts your legs, holding your weight onto his broad shoulders, suckling and licking your clit into his mouth and greedily scooping his tongue over your soaked folds.

Shoving his tongue in between, you yelped from the sudden waves of pleasure hitting you, and just when it started to get good. He denies you yet again.

Sitting you back down in the chair, he pauses as he lifts each leg and purposely slings your thighs over his shoulders.

Anchoring you by holding the chair, leaving wet kisses down your ankles, and spreading your inner thighs to give them some love, too.

Your eyes closed again, and you rubbed the back of his burst fade as you yearned for him to be inside you.

Reaching out to touch his stomach, his dick poking that triangle made between your legs. You subconsciously thought about shoving his dick inside you. But knew better than to try him.

"Oh fuck baby... Please." You tried to stop him from toying with you, but he only glared at you.

"Please, what? PLEASE WHO?" He asked with a flair of arrogance, tipping your chin up.

" ooouuue.. Daddy..." You whispered.

"Yeah, Be a good girl, Y/N, and be still fo' me." With fervor, he lined himself up at your entrance, stroking himself a bit, holding your head from above to make you watch him slide into you.

"Sssss.... Fuck I missed this pussy, and I missed you so much." He entered you tip first. Forcing himself out and plunging in again profoundly, making your head go back.

"Z-ZYAIR!" you cried out in response to his torture.

Repeatedly dipping himself into you again and again… he was halfway in and hadn't even begun to bottom out this time.

He wrapped his large hand around your neck, and both of you groaned in unison. as he made one swift pump into your creamy nectar.

"Mhm, You feel allat baby? "He coaxed.

You grimaced and blurted out, "Fuck, just fuck me....!" you said, almost screaming. You couldn't take much more as you needed him like water.

smugly looking into your soul he swooped up the chair with you in it, and your body went limp as he slammed into you, filling you up like never before. Leaning into you just enough at an easy tilt that was nothing for him.

The man pressed 350 pounds or more, and this was light work. Your walls clenched down in unison with his pounding strokes, your calves flailing out from over his inner elbows but holding you in place just the same while he kept you right where he wanted you by the seat.

A gut-wrenching moan came from the depths of your stomach as you held onto his shoulders; you leaned into him, the chair leaving the floor as he powerfully thrust into you at the same time.

"You so fuckin' pretty like this." He grunted and praised you as all life had left your body, and nothing was left but the room spinning. You gave way to him, and moans started to escape you.

"Yes, Daddy. Fuck! Daddy! YES," You pleaded and panted in pleasure as he bounced into you non-stop. Through hooded eyes, he watched you getting so close.

Zyair being the pleasure Dom he was is paying attention to how your body heaved and pulsated around him. He slowed, pounded, and roughly used his hips to kiss your cervix as he continued to try to break into your walls.

With calculated potency, he taunted you as you pushed him away, scratching at his abs.

"Na, this is what you wanted, right? Take it," He whispers.

hitting your hands away with one hand. He bucked his hips, going upwards and faster by the second.

In a swift motion he's putting you down on the floor in the chair as your body convulsed in complete surrender.

Your juices gushing in a splash of release. He grunted as your walls cradled his length, still deftly stroking into you, But he wasn't done with you yet.

Zyair moved you from the chair and bent you over in front of him while clutching your neck, his fingers curling on your throat. Dog walking you around the bathroom while pinning your ass to his hips.

He kisses your cheek lovingly as your moans echo throughout the room.

"This shit is mine, Hm?" He asked.

"FUC- FUCK!..."

Your gaze followed Zyair's as you looked back and moved around the bathroom.

You mewed and tried to hold onto anything your hands could find. Rough, long, and hard thrusts make your thighs quake with ecstasy.

You felt his hard abs and balls hit against your clit as he dug into you. His hands squeezing yours comforted you yet made you weak for him as he took control once more.

The squelching and wetness from you only fueled him as he tried to fuck the shit out of you.

"Look atchu creamin' all down my dick and enjoyin' this shit, little girl."

Your eyes fluttered as his words did something to you. You saw stars behind your eyes as you felt wobbly and tense. Your orgasm growing near.

You found the wall to hold yourself up with, looking out into the living room, your claws digging marks into his palm as you grunted.

He chased you with his own release by going harder, pounding, swiveling his hips, and moving his hand to the back of your head, keeping your makeup-stained cheek pressed against the cool cement of the wall.

"SAY IT! " He hummed in your ear.

"ZYAIR! " You came instantly.

You screamed as you squirted all over the floor of the bathroom, making it hard for both of you to stand. Inaudible cursing and degrading remarks flew from his mouth as he nodded in gratification.

You felt warmth rush over you as he sprayed your walls with his seed. He purposely fucked it into you as you tried to squirm away. Removed his hand from your face to open your ass and watch as he made you take all of his kids.

His strokes slowed as the last of your leaking subsided. Both sigh in relief, Holding you by your hips and kissing over your neck as if he couldn't breathe without you. He smiles, holding you against the wall.

"I guess we're late ain't we." He laughs through a smile, his eyes crinkled at the ends as he looks at you.

"Aht, Aht! Fashionably." You taunted.

"You've been in my collection again?" He says with amusement.

"AND WHAT ABOUT IT!? " you rolled your neck in a comical attitude.

"I told you what that does to me, girl. You know nothing about that. My momma gave me those albums. "

"Let's shower before we miss our anniversary party".

With a hard smack on your ass as he grabs towels from the hooks on the walls running playfully after you, your laughing excitedly getting a head start as the last notes of the song come to a staccato.

So sad So sad, so sad (Sad, darling) So sad, sad love song Ooh, I heard it on the radio last night So sad So sad, so sad (Sad, baby) So sad, sad love song (Ooh) You got me singin' another love song all night, darling...

P/C: If you'd like to be added to my Tag list just say so it's MAD OPEN! i'll be glad to add you. I really do hope ya'll enjoyed it. Lord knows I had a time writing it for ya'll!

Special Shout out and a thank you to: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @melaninpov @browngirldominion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes For bullying me..... (Nah just kiddin!) For making me see this through. all inspirational to me and incredible moots!

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ms-potato · 7 months

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Hindu goddess as students in school ; another modern(ish) au

disclaimer: there are as many as thousand avataras of lakshmi devi and I can definitely not add all of them <\3

✿ Lakshmi

• rich girl™

• she loves to take care of her friends

• "wanna go out girls? My treat!"

• her love language is obv giving gifts to her girls

• she and vishnu are the IT couple of the school.

✿ Parvati

• Feminist™

• a girl's girl

• a great dancer

• really kind and nice but everyone is scared to talk to her because that shiva dude is always following her 🙄

• power couple tbh.

✿ Saraswati

• epitome of studious™

• always shares her notes and explains topics if someone needs help (our savior fr)

• she plays veena. beautifully.

• she and brahma are the parent friends.

• every one calls for her one day before the exam 😃

✿ Sita

• Girl boss™

• done with everyone. she is just wants to go home 😭

• she reminds everyone to stay hydrated and eat properly everyday, she even shares her lunch with everyone

• she somehow became the class representative btw.

• so she hangs out with Rama a lot because of their work.

✿ Padmavati

• cottage core girly™

• really really shy

• spends most of the time in the school garden taking care of the plants and trees.

• likes to wear flowers (mostly lotus) and tulsi on her braid

• venkat once accidentally confessed to her and then ran away.

✿ Durga

• fierce™

• "is someone bothering you Padma? 🤨"

• she loves the color red

• cat person (she wanted a lion/tiger but due to legal reasons, she got a cat)

• please don't piss her off

#desiblr #incorrect hindu mythology #hindu mythology memes #hindu mythology #desi girlies #hindu gods #hindublr

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dmitriene · 8 months

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— divine temptations.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌«things on your chest» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌«you need to confess» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «i will deliver» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ «you know i'm a forgiver»

summary: Leon Kennedy is a beautiful personification of the holy father — and you are a beautiful personification of his main weakness for sin. content: priest re6 leon kennedy x fem reader tags: fluff, comfort, maybe a bit of possesivness, nsfw, smut, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, marking, little communication, mentions of sin and sensitive topics for theists. author's note: well, hello there! i've seen couple of work's about priest leon but didn't actually think that someday i'll come with an writing about this topic too, but here i am, thanks to the one of the many best writing's that belong to @lipglossanon and that inspired me, hope you'll like this work! enjoy your reading) ⛪ (18+ warning)

Leon Kennedy was the epitome of an exemplary priest, with an aura of unwavering devotion and honesty.

Tall and majestic, he had a striking appearance that immediately aroused the respect of others, his dark hair was always neatly combed, framing a face that carried both the burden of responsibility and the kindness of a benevolent soul.

There was a depth in his cerulean eyes that seemed to reflect the vastness of heaven itself, as he spoke, whether from the pulpit or in private council, his words carried the weight of wisdom gained from years of unwavering dedication, his voice, rich and sonorous — had a reassuring effect, like the gentle reassurance that comes from knowing someone who has found their purpose and lived it to the fullest.

He wore his priestly robes with grace that spoke of his devotion to his calling, the white collar of his cassock was a symbol of his sacred duty, connection with the divine, which he wore with humility and pride, the dark fabric of his clothes absorbed the cares of those who sought his guidance, as if he willingly carried their burden on his shoulders.

Leon's actions were evidence of his unwavering commitment to his convictions, he tirelessly cared for the needs of his flock, providing both spiritual comfort and practical help to those in need, his days were often filled with visiting the sick, comforting the mourners and listening to those who sought advice, his hands, accustomed to to the weight of the Bible and the touch of the rosary, carried a gentle power that left an indelible mark on the lives he touched.

In the sacred walls of the church, his presence radiated a sense of holiness, as he led the faithful in prayer and delivered sermons that spoke of the human condition, his sincerity shone, he was a beacon of hope, a guiding star for those who overcome the difficulties of life's problems.

Respected and recognized by the community, Leon's reputation was built on a foundation of unwavering ethics, he never shied away from difficult conversations, addressing the complexities of faith and morality with a balanced approach that encouraged thoughtful introspection, his openness to discussion and willingness to meet people where they were. contributed to a sense of trust and inclusion within the congregation in their spiritual journey.

In a world that often seemed uncertain, Leon remained an unshakable pillar of faith, his life was a living embodiment of his convictions, an example of how to overcome the difficulties of the modern world while remaining true to eternal principles, he was more than a priest — he was a mentor, a confidant and source of inspiration for those who have searched for meaning in their lives.

The church has always exuded an air of eternal reverence and holiness, a quiet silence reigned in the air, as if the walls themselves held the echoes of centuries of whispered prayers and solemn vows, sunlight filtered through intricate stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns of colored light on polished marble floors, the air was saturated with a delicate aroma aged wood, candle wax and a lingering scent of incense, creating a sensual symphony that transports visitors to the realm of devotion.

High vaulted ceilings rose overhead like evidence of the divine, adorned with intricate frescoes depicting biblical scenes in vivid detail, soft choral music played softly in the background, its soothing melodies floating in the air like a gentle embrace, rows of benches lined the nave, each was decorated with intricate designs, their austere beauty offering both comfort and a sense of the sacred.

Candles flickered on ornate candelabra, casting dancing shadows on the walls and creating a serene atmosphere contemplating, rows of prayer candles stood guard, their gentle flames representing the hopes, fears and aspirations of those who came in search of solace.

The altar, bathed in warm golden light, was the center of the church, its elaborate decorations and ornate crucifix a reminder of the sacrifice and grace at the heart of faith, and the scent of incense hung in the air, a fragrant offering that rose to the heavens with every slight rise and fall of the censer.

As you walked through the church you could almost feel the weight of history in the very stones under your feet, the atmosphere was filled with reverence and quiet introspection, a space where the burdens of the world could be cast aside and the connection with the divine felt palpably, it was a refuge where souls could find respite from the restless outside. a world where prayers whispered in the shadows met with a sense of understanding and acceptance.

In this sacred space of the church, the stories of generations were preserved, imprinted on every pew, stained glass windows and carved reliefs, it was a place where people sought guidance, redemption and the comfort that comes from knowing that they are not alone on their spiritual path, the atmosphere embraced all who entered , inviting them to find their connection to the divine and explore the depths of their faith in a haven of calm and serenity.

And just at the moment you entered Leon's field of vision, there seemed to be a change in the atmosphere, the very air was filled with an energy that was both inspiring and unsettling, but as you stood there, dressed in the sacred robe of a nun, a soft, unearthly fabric seemed to shimmer with its own light, casting an otherworldly glow around you.

Your presence was a mesmerizing contrast to the solemnity of the church, like an enchanting angel descending to Earth, your appearance evoked a sense of wonder that seemed to go beyond the ordinary, the pure white color of your clothes was a canvas on which innocence and faith were painted, a visual representation of devotion that you kept deep in your heart.

But it was your eyes that really caught his attention, wide and bright, they shone with a hint of childlike innocence, in their depths he could see the source of unshakable faith, faith in something more that radiated out like a beacon, those eyes carried wisdom that contradicted your youthful appearance, as if you were in touch with the divine, which was unique to you.

A soft smile played on your lips as you approached, and his thoughts seemed to scatter like leaves caught in a gust of wind, as if your presence had the power to silence the cacophony of his mind, leaving only a quiet, gentle resonance that echoed with your closeness, the weight of his duties and convictions suddenly seemed distant to him, replaced by a strange longing which he never allowed himself to acknowledge.

He devoted his whole life to his faith, unwaveringly adhering to his convictions, the idea of crossing certain boundaries never visited him, he never allowed his thoughts to be distracted by the desires of the flesh, kisses, hugs or the warmth of soft touches.

But you, with your innocence and intimacy, broke down those carefully built walls.

Your soft smiles and innocent questions about how his day went shook his composure, your chirping voice is like a sweet melody, shattered the facade of restraint that he so diligently maintained, as if your very presence was an irresistible temptation testing the limits of his composure.

And then, in the moments when his patience wore thin, he found himself struggling to maintain his priestly detachment, your closeness became a magnet that drew him, his fingers yearning to touch, to hold, to feel the warmth of your presence — your skin next to his.

A struggle raged within him between vows he had taken and desires he had never allowed himself to acknowledge.

A dichotomy unfolded in your mere existence — the embodiment of purity and faith that you represented, and the turbulent whirlwind of emotion that your presence aroused within him.

The atmosphere has changed with you — the subtle dance of innocence and desire has left both his beliefs and his heart in a state of conflict he never expected.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ━━━━✙━━━━

There was a palpable tension in the quiet solitude of the empty church, a palpable tension in the air, the blazing candlelight casting dancing shadows across the polished marble floors — creating an intimate atmosphere of breathless anticipation as you stood at the pulpit, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of cloth as Leon approached and gazed at you.

— «Forgive me» he began, his voice a low murmur that carried the weight of his inner struggle — «I must confess that my thoughts were occupied with the most undesirable distraction»

Your eyes met his, the innocence in your gaze contrasting sharply with the turmoil that simmered beneath his calm exterior — «Father Leon» you whispered, and here was both understanding and a bold hint of something more in your voice — «Do you believe that God has created desires in us?»

Vulnerability flickered in his azure eyes, a crack in his armor revealing the inner conflict he was fighting — «I believe that our desires can sometimes lead us astray from the path of righteousness» he replied, his tone laced with a mixture of restraint and anguish.

Your smile was both knowing and gentle, soothing enough to make his heart tremble — «But isn't it possible that God also created these desires so that we could experience the fullness of our humanity?»

He hesitated, caught between the teachings he held dear and the feelings you awakened in him — «My child» he muttered in a fragile thread of voice — «This is the fine line we walk between the sacred and the profane»

In the midst of this delicate conversation, his resolve crumbled right before your eyes, the distance between you evaporated and you were at the podium, your breath mixing in a tense atmosphere.

His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out and touched your cheek gently, his touch as fragile as a whispered prayer.

— «Maybe..» he admitted in a heavy from surrender voice — «There are times when the divine and the earthly intersect»

The air seemed to vibrate with tension pulsing between you, his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, the struggle within him was evident in every wrinkle of his brows, and then, as if driven by forces beyond his control, his lips met yours in a kiss that contained in himself a deep anguish, which he had denied himself for so long.

For a moment, time seemed to stop, as the boundaries separating him from the desires of the flesh blurred and became insignificant, his arms hugged you, pulling you closer, his touch was a paradox of tenderness and perseverance.

The sacred space of the church witnessed this intimate communion, the union of souls that transcends the physical world.

In that stolen moment when his lips met yours, Leon's attachment to God and his devotion to his vows faded into the background, the dichotomy between the sacred and the profane, the spiritual and the carnal dissolved in the face of a common passion that flared up like a flame, long contained, in a silent sanctuary in an empty church, he indulged in the depths of desire he had denied for so long and found a connection that seemed both forbidden and divine.

You feel a wave of desire coursing through your body, fueled by the forbidden nature of your connection, despite your shared devotion to your faith, you find yourself unable to resist the charm of each other's touch, and you return his kiss with the same fervor, your lips meeting his with a hunger that matches your own.

As his hands slide over your body, you feel a shiver of excitement run down your spine, even though you're still dressed in a modest nun's robe, his touch lights a fire in you, your body reacts instinctively, pressing closer to him, craving more of his intoxicating presence.

Your hands gliding over his broad shoulders, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscular body, the tension between you intensifies as you explore each other's bodies through the fabric of your clothes, the anticipation of what lies ahead intensifies with each passing moment.

Leon's hands, driven by his insatiable desire, penetrate the folds of your monastic robe, the touch of his fingertips on your skin is electrifying, his explorations are careful, but at the same time filled with the desire to explore every inch of your body.

As his hands move, he breaks the connection between your lips, his lips greedily rest on the soft skin of your neck, his breath passionately touches your skin and he leaves a trail of kisses and nibbles, marking you as his own in a fit of desire.

The combination of his hands caressing your body and his lips teasing your sensitive skin causes waves of pleasure to run through you, your breath hitching and a low moan escapes your lips as you succumb to the intoxicating sensation.

Leon continued to pay attention to your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of teasing sensations, he enjoys the quiet moans and whimpers escaping from your lips, his desire is fueled by the sounds of your pleasure.

As his fingers find their way to your clothed cunt he feels warmth and wetness betraying your arousal, a mixture of anticipation and lust coursing through his veins as he gently presses at the cloth, teasingly exploring your most intimate area.

Your reaction is immediate — a sharp sigh escapes your lips as you bury your face in his shoulder, looking for comfort and a place to drown out your moans, the combination of his skillful manipulation on your neck and the teasing touch of his fingers on your clothed cunt threatens to undermine your self control.

Leon finds in himself the pleasure of the power he has over you, the control he has, pushing the boundaries of your desires, in this moment you are lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and sin, unable to resist the intoxicating charm of his touch.

— «P-please, father… m-more» your voice is a desperate plea among the quiet walls of the temple where only your sighs are heard.

He grins into your neck, his lips touch your skin and he listens to your plea for more, he enjoys the sound, enjoying his power over your desires, Leon lifts his head slightly and kisses your cheek gently, his breath passionately against your skin.

He takes your request as a signal to move on, to sink deeper into the sinful passion that consumes you both, with a deliberate and calculated movement, he bends down and pushes your panties aside, exposing your smooth folds.

His fingers, slippery with your arousal, slide over your wetness, teasingly probing your tender entrance, and with a slight pressure he slowly but firmly inserts one finger and bends it to find the point that makes you sigh of pleasure.

The feel of his finger inside you, combined with the constant attention he pays to your neck, sends waves of pleasure through your body, you find yourself indulging in sinful pleasure, your moans grow louder and desire reaches its climax.

Leon feels your body tremble at his touch, your grip on his shoulders tighter as you struggle to gain a foothold in the consuming pleasure, the feel of your nails scratching his shoulders through the fabric of his robe only heightens the tension of the moment.

As he inserts another finger, your walls instinctively tighten around his fingers, seeking to pull him even deeper into the depths of your cunt, the combination of his skillful movements and your heightened arousal brings you to the abyss of ecstasy.

A scream of pleasure escaped your lips as your orgasm engulfed you, your body trembling in his embrace, the intensity of your release engulfing you, leaving you breathless and completely lost in the sinful pleasure that none other than Leon awakened in you.

He enjoys the sight and sound of your pleasure, enjoying the control and dominance he holds over your desires in this moment, and in this moment of vulnerability and ecstasy you are both consumed by the depth of your sinful connection.

Leon's fingers on another hand is slide gently through your hair, a touch of tenderness amidst the tension surrounding both of you, his actions dramatically displaying a fleeting moment of complete softness.

But the respite is short lived as he leads you closer to the pulpit, forcing you to hold on to it for support, he moves behind you, his strong presence radiating as he takes control of the situation.

His hands slide along the edge of your monk's robe, slowly lifting it up, exposing the seductive curves of your body and grabbing your panties with his fingers, the fabric falling off, piling up around your legs, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

With a deliberate and measured movement, he leans down and unbuckles the belt on his trousers, anticipation soars in the air, the sound of unbuckling the belt echoes through the quiet church, reminding you of the forbidden nature of your meeting.

As the belt falls to the ground, Leon's desire takes over again, his eyes filled with lustful hunger, the intensity of his gaze leaving no doubt about his intentions as he steps closer, ready to fully accept the sinful pleasure that awaits both of you.

His desires are at their peak as he steps behind you, his throbbing cock pressing against wet lips of your cunt, anticipation palpable in the air as he teases your clit, causing you to whimper in pleasure.

With a slow, deliberate push, he begins to penetrate, his powerful form filling you completely, the feeling of his cock's firmness stretching you, causing a mixture of pleasure and painful desire to flow through your body.

The sinful act when he entered you in the sacred walls of the church only increases the tension of the moment, the air is heavy from the weight of your desires, the echo of your whines is mixed with the quiet silence of the holy place.

Leon, driven by his primal urges, sets a relentless pace, his movements are firm and commanding, each push brings you closer to the edge of pleasure, your body reacts to his every touch, to every blow of his hardened cock.

In this moment of undisguised, forbidden passion, you surrender completely to the sinful pleasure that Leon delivers, getting lost in the overwhelming sensations that consume you.

As Leon continues to sink into you, your body arches towards him in search of deeper connection and pleasure, endless moans escaping your lips filling the air with your symphony of ecstasy, your walls clenching around him, squeezing him tight as you lose yourself in sensation.

Your nails scratch at the pulpit, a desperate attempt to gain a foothold amid the all consuming pleasure, and sensing your need for restraint, Leon gently intertwines the fingers of his hand with yours, providing a tether to prevent any unintentional harm.

He gently slows down, his movements become more controlled and gentle, he treasures the vulnerability that you have entrusted to him, making sure that every touch and stroke is filled with care and attention.

The intensity of your connection remains, but Leon adjusts his rhythm according to your desires, he seeks to prolong the pleasure, to enjoy the moments of intimacy shared between you, in this moment you both find comfort and release, embracing passion.

Leon feels a tremble in your body as your knees buckle slightly, all consuming pleasure threatening to consume you completely, light sobs escape your lips — a mixture of pleasure and the impending release that awaits you.

He leans in and kisses your cheek gently, his lips giving a brief respite from the intensity of the moment, his touch soft and soothing, a reminder that even in this sinful act there is a moment of comfort.

He understands the power of your impending orgasm, the power that will soon overwhelm you, he enjoys the knowledge that he has led you to this abyss, that he has kindled a fire of pleasure within you.

As your walls clench around him, the stranglehold of your orgasm grows, Leon remains steadfast, his movements become more measured and precise, he wants to witness your orgasm, to feel your body convulsing as you surrender to an consuming ecstasy.

At that moment, you are both teetering on the edge, your desires intertwined in an intricate dance, and Leon is here, ready to take you through the waves of pleasure, to catch you as you fall into the abyss of your orgasmic release.

And then your body reaches its peak, the tension inside you subsides and you emit a final whine of pleasure, your legs trembling, threatening to give way as the waves of orgasm hit you, leaving you feeling sluggish and empty for a moment.

Feeling your orgasm, Leon continues his powerful thrusts, rapidly approaching his climax, the combination of your walls squeezing him tightly and the abrupt intensity of the moment pushing him over the edge.

With a guttural moan, he finds his way out inside you, his hot cum spilling deep into your cunt, the intimate connection as he fills you only enhances the sinful pleasure that runs through your bodies.

Both of you remain trapped in this moment of shared bliss, bodies trembling and hearts pounding, your joint orgasms echoing through the empty church, the air scented with the passion and consequences of your union.

At this moment, you gain a temporary respite from the chaos and darkness that often surrounds you, holding your breath, tangled in each other's arms, you both understand that this forbidden meeting has left an indelible mark on your souls.

As Leon's feelings return to him, his attention shifts to the aftermath of your passionate encounter, he zips up his pants with his usual neatness, regaining his composure and with a gentle touch he straightens your disheveled clothes to make you look as collected as possible.

Gently he lifts you up in his arms, carrying you to his office with purposeful but soft steps, walking, he steps over drops of cum on the floor, acknowledging the evidence of your mutual intimacy, and showing attention, he picks up your discarded panties from the floor and discreetly puts them in his pocket not to be left behind.

A thought crosses his mind, reminding him that he must mop the floor to erase all traces of your meeting, he makes a mental note to do this task later, making sure no trace of your forbidden connection remains.

Before entering his office Leon pauses, and his eyes reflect a mixture of desire and affection as he leans down and kisses the top of your head gently, a quiet gesture of comfort and connection, at which point he acknowledges the complexity of your relationship and the importance of the choices you both made.

With confident yet gentle determination, he carries you into his office, ready to face the consequences and walk the uncertain path that may lie ahead, while he enjoys the weight of your warm body in his arms.

Now he has his own angel.

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#[ ✒️july writing ]#resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy comfort #leon kennedy fluff #leon fluff #leon fanfic #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy re6

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