#I just do not know how much longer I can keep doing this and being alive

[gangplanksorenji]

Her (Risky) Invitation.

Pairing: Chuu x Male Reader

Word Count: 4,432

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! This fic was supposed to be out as a BFH but I got busy so whatever haha. I feel like this should out in the draft hell since my folder's getting stacked and dusted (rip) but anyways, hope you guys like this pretty quick bit.

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The ebullient sounds of the audience roars around the stadium, and you contribute to it with a single percentile. The match is getting exciting at this moment, considering how a single home run changed the course of the game yet someone isn’t in the same boat as you.

“This is pretty boring, argh—” The girl is unfiltered, not giving a care on who may hear her despite her opening pitch earlier that made the crowd erupt in cheers.

“Don’t say that—a wrong word that comes out of your mouth could get you in trouble, Chuu.”

“So?” She raises an eyebrow, following a coy smile as you sigh in little disbelief.

She doesn’t care, and you couldn't care less—her pettiness is something you despise, an attitude worth removing with teaching her a lesson but that won’t even make her learn anything.

“What do you mean ‘so’?”

She brushes you off, looking at the distance, reeking with boredom, and with nothing much for Chuu to say right after, you just avert your attention back to the game where it’s getting spicy.

“You know what—whatever, I’ll go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” You couldn’t care less even if she leaves the stadium (metaphorically, you do, yet realistically, you won’t let her) knowing how you’re getting more hooked with the game in front of you.

Letting Chuu by, you nod to her as she just looks at you and flashes out of your sight, through the door, then averted your attention towards the possible climax of this stupendous game.

“Hope this delivers an exciting ending.” You hope it does, and you’re looking forward to what happens in the next minutes.

---

Almost a home run, and the waves of cheers erupt as the pitcher poises himself to throw the ball until a buzz in your phone piques your attention.

jiwooya__ at 5:58 PM - “come at the restroom rn plsss”

You at 5:59 PM - “why am i gonna go there with u?? something wrong?”

jiwooya__ at 5:58 PM - “yeah, just come over pls pls”

The ephemeral conversation sums up: her needing your help on something, an immediate call for you, and possibly another game from her—you know how this can end and whatever the outcome may be, you would welcome it with open arms because it’s Chuu and you can’t resist her.

You’re quick to get off your seat and excuse yourself, not giving a damn if the game’s getting spicy or not.

“This better not be a waste of my time...” You’re optimistic it won’t be, rather suggestive or not, you’re in positive spirits with what trick she may have up her sleeve.

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You’re an easy bait and no one can blame you for that—like earlier, you can’t resist Chuu, not even in public places like this and you doubt anyone would care if something may happen here, the eruption of cheers that quakes the stadium says otherwise.

“It’s pretty compact here, don’t you think?”

“It doesn’t look like it—” Chuu’s eyes wander around the bathroom, sensing possible dangers to unveil such profanities. “Besides, this is the perfect place.”

It was all part of your plan, and hers—it was all an act out there, because deep inside, the both of you want to discover the thrill of the underlying threat of being observed, but you’d love to keep all of what’s bound to happen for you and you only.

You’d make it clandestine, a secret that will be locked just between the both of you.

“Can’t wait any longer~” Chuu’s tone teases you, legs uneasy as you could sense her wetness beneath such a hot pair of jeans that accentuates the fine build of her ass. You can’t let yourself die out of impatience, a cruel death that’s not worth as your hands did an audacious move—gripping her ass and pulling her closer to you.

“Me neither.” It’s simple, enough for Chuu to receive the message with clarity as your lips lock hers. An entangled mess comes right after, hungrily exchanging torrid kisses with tongues dancing around gracefully with the aim to taste each other.

She’s insatiable and you can’t wait to just do the unthinkable. Knowing her patience is running low too, she knows this isn’t the reason why the both of you are alone together in a restroom.

“Been wanting this for a while.” Her breath blesses your face, just inches away as her seductive barrage of words comes after, not without her hand finding its way onto your clothed bulge that’s growing with every second that passes.

“Elaborate, Chuu.”

“Huh, you wanna hear the things I want to do with your cock?” She chuckles as you nod, Chuu then fixing her hair and tucking it behind her ear just to whisper these words: I want to stroke your cock until it leaks all over my fingers, then, I’ll suck it sloppily just like you always wanted, and then, you’ll cum all over my face, and it’s not just going to end there, because you’re going to pound me in front of this mirror until you drain your balls into me.

You’re fucked, and you love it. Chuu doesn’t just say it all because she wants to, because she’ll mark her words and she’ll fulfill her needs whatever it takes.

“So, you in?” Simples words as a smirk paints your face, then nodded knowing how much you fucking liked the dirty talk she’s escaped.

She doesn’t need to be commanded, because it’s in her nature to know what she’s an expert at, and she’ll show you why you won’t find a girl like her—she’s just that type of girl. She drops down to her knees, dexterous fingers coming right after, unbuckling your belt and undressing what fabric that just hinders her to her deserved reward. She can undress you with her eyes closed, and with just your boxers as the last bit of defense, she exhales and drops it down with one, swift motion.

Her eyes glimmer in lust and admiration, your erect shaft in sight for her to savor for the umpteenth time. She places her hand around it and brings shivers down in you, the coldness of her hand rivaling the emanating heat of your cock.

She strokes it, you wincing with that hint of pain until she spats on her hand and continues her expertise. “Just want it slow? Give you some room?”

As much as you want to tell her to pacen up her strokes, you want to savor every second of her dexterous talent, a pleasurable drive that’s downright commendable. “Like t-that, Chuu—god, your hands are a blessing.”

“Already stuttering? Oh my, I really did turn you on, hm?” Those doe-eyes that only have innocence as its façade, begs for your answer as she continues her work until the base of your shaft.

“What do you think, hm?” It’s rhetorical and you know it as her laugh says otherwise. She averts her eyes onto your already throbbing cock, leaking such a minuscule amount on the slit where her tongue laps the gifts, making your knees weak.

“I fucking love you—and this cock, god.” Her handjobs are just the side dish, because the main course is being delivered immediately, lips enveloping on a tight snug that earns a moan out of your lips. Her strokes on your base are continuous, massaging the hardness where it stands tall yet you crumble, and it's evident with her lips venturing deeper, almost taking half of your shaft to really test you.

If she’s not careful, she’ll knock down the architecture of your legs, and she’ll pick up the pieces once she’s done. 

She just swirls around your sensitive crown, dethroning your attempts to resist her utter control. She licks with passion unwavering, moreso, her lips sucking you off like a lollipop with a suction that rivals even a vacuum. It doesn’t end there, because she’s just starting this, and she’s not even bobbing her head frantically to the point where the both of you become a mess.

Well, speaking of that, she’s fulfilling her promises, one by one.

“Shit—that feels good, Chuu.” You’re hissing, a hand cradles her head, then your fingers running through her locks as she bobs with a pace that’s moderate, yet her experience shows evidently—her absence of gag reflex, her tongue licking wherever it lands, her hands fondling your balls and her lips that’s wringing out the best bits of pleasure from you. Her bobs are in this recurring pattern to die out the inevitable building inside you—slow, fast, slow—and it’s just perfect, because you’re moaning like you mean and encouraging her that she’s doing great.

“Keep sucking—shit, you’re really a filthy cocksucker, aren’t you?” You taunt her but it falls deaf onto her ears, continuous with her pace and what she’s great at.

Saliva seeps out of her mouth, dripping onto your balls that she’s taking care of, until such a hot pursuit was hindered, ejecting out and looking at you with delight. “I am your filthy cocksucker.”

Then she continues, only this time, she’s locking eyes with you as down she goes, relentless with her oral pursuit of greatness.

Her nails are digging deeper, gripping your thighs harshly yet not enough to mark you, as she’s bobbing more furiously, the saliva staining her orange top and the puddle of worthless clothing of yours—rather rendered as worthless, the intention of the commotion says otherwise. She’s slobbering all over your length, gawking with the succulence as her actions are repeatedly dangerous and rightfully audacious—she doesn’t care if her mascara runs rivulets onto her cheeks or she messes the clothing full of saliva, because all that matters is the fulfillment of the need.

She’s just bringing you down slowly, piece by piece until you break as she’s relentless, but she knows what her limits are, and releases such warmth out with a loud pop.

“Are you close? You’ve been throbbing more than before—like my mouth that much?” She’s igniting you, words that unlock a safe that’s your reservoir, slowly filling in and nearing the end. You’re not going to be under her spell, not this time, and as much as she thinks you’re lying, there will be a single answer to her rhetorical question.

“No and yes, Chuu.”

She’s stroking, wringing it out leisurely and you inevitably grunt as she does so, a mischievous smile directed towards you as she seems appalled with your answer. “Elaborate, please?”

She knows she’s fucking you up, barely got any space to genuinely articulate a sentence, what more about a simple elaboration? Well, it doesn’t matter whether you answer or not, because your earlier reply is enough to stroke her ego, and she’s giving it all, stopping the feverish pumps and letting her mouth do the job.

Let’s be honest, with the suction Chuu provides, the plumpness of her lips and her mouth complementing the shape of your cock, you’re not going anywhere far as the inevitable builds up quick on par with her pace. Albeit the lower ground, she keeps your lower body in check, ultimately powerless to move as all you can do is embrace the warmth she brings. You’re gripping those dark locks as a leverage, not restraint and decelerating her pace because this is the outlet you have to combat the pleasure she delivers.

You want to thrust and fuck her throat just to suffice the filthiness that’s orchestrated at your end, and with those doe-eyes glimmering with lust, she’s quick to assess the situation and nods as her lips just puckers at the tip of your cock.

“Do it—” She laps the drool that dribbles onto your underside, licking fervently as she continues her verbal approval. “—fuck my face—I know you’re dying to do that.” 

With her disheveled look begging to get your job done, you know it’s the green light. She doesn’t need a breather even if you ask her to have one, because she is that addicted to your taste that she can’t bear the vision of being depraved by it even for just a second. Your pace is immediately ruthless, and you wouldn’t give such an introductory act considering how she slobbered all over your length earlier without giving a damn with the mess she can make.

The pace dictated didn’t render herself useless, being used like a toy, but instead battled against your roughness as she bobs repeatedly alongside your thrusts, which makes her falter a little, gagging onto the rapid actions of filth. Your thrust, do a couple and she gags—it’s beautiful, all that pretty countenance just to be ruined within minutes as your control dominates her. Chasing the nearing high, your hands grip a handful of her hair, a leverage to muster greater pace, skin clapping and her repeated gags reverberating around the restroom. 

At this point, someone may suspect something suspicious between the both of you, and thank god her mouth is shut thanks to you because you know how much noise she can create in such a filthy session with you.

“Fucking like t-that, hm?” You tug her hair as she looks up at you with glee beneath the dishevelment, nodding with just those eyes as you continue your assault, yet she never resisted, only carving more.

You’re dying to paint her body with your cum, you really do—nobody can blame you for that, not when her outfit perfectly accentuates a godly figure. Despite that, you can’t just do that immediately when she’s still all dressed but just a mess.

Just a mess. Well, you should really fulfill her needs and add up to the monstrosity.

You pull out as the saliva-sheathed cock is throbbing relentlessly, as Chuu catches her breath but her words contradict her visible struggles.

“Hah—hah, I c-can—can take more of it—fuck me more, please.”

Her grip on your thighs weaken and ultimately, you’ll do what you need to do. 

“But I can’t, Chuu.” Your hand raises her chin, as she smiles and anticipates what you’re about to do. What she had in mind might be right, and you’d know it’s imminent. “Stay fucking there and make me cum.”

She does what she’s told to and does it with eagerness. You’re on your wit’s end as Chuu’s fingers wrap around them and muster a velocity unparalleled, slick with her drool and messing her up. She closes her eyes as she knows what’s about to come, and she embraces it.

White, pearlescent streaks paint her porcelain skin, splattering and coating almost every feature of her face as her awaiting mouth receives plenty of her reward. She hums in satisfaction with what you’ve given her, the warmth complementing the hotness the both of you are in and the succulent taste that she’s been yearning for quite some time.

This is far from over and she knows it, but for now, you marvel at the fruit you bear—an outstanding sight, her face covered with your cum and it’s filthy in all of the right places.

She parts her lips, hitches a breath and opens her eyes just to meet yours painted with utter satisfaction. Sweat forms on your forehead and it’s worth effort, ruining her in a space where risk lingers around the corner.

Even with the marvelous sight, you’re still not done with her, and she knows that.

“Get up.”

“Why?”

“You know why.” You didn’t hesitate to outpower her, grabbing her by the wrists and flipping her over, facing the mirror. “And I’m fucking you up to get the job done.”

You meant it, and she gets herself ready.

Your eyes just darts onto her fine ass accentuated by those tight jeans (thankfully), its scrumptious volume allowing you to really test its integrity with a single, harsh spank that makes her yelp, and bite her lip. You see it in the mirror, a clear vision that she’s genuinely enjoying this and so you did another until you know to yourself that you shouldn’t play with your food.

You tug, she wiggles and you spank. It repeats for another time as the lust emanates the air the second that inviting face of hers exactly points out her reasons to fuck her—it doesn’t get any better than this and you know it, you’re damn impatient as much as she is. You undress her pants slowly, down to its ankles as your cock throbbed to the sight of a monumental wonder of nature and you’re glad to see it firsthand, nobody being blessed as much as you are. 

“Red ones, hm?”

“Like what you’re seeing? It’s your favorite shade.” Chuu knows you well, and you can’t lie. You just can’t help the fact that this looks like she orchestrated herself for you to fuck her publicly, anticipating with the right moment of the possible embarrassment to come and risk of being caught.

“You’re really a fucking slut—you did this intentionally, didn’t you? You wanted me to fuck you at this very day, hm?” More spanks wrings out cries at her end, a sweet disposal of the masked pleasure. She laughs and kept that gleeful face on hers, nodding because you debunking her sole reasons was just a piece of cake.

“You alwa—o–oh! Fuck, t-that’s great…” She grows weak, the second finger teasing the cameltoe formed onto those panties, feeling her wetness evident as her hands grasp the concrete of the sink and close her eyes.

“Keep d-doing that—oh!” 

“Grab the sink, Chuu.”

“What—ow!” You spank as your command renders deaf on her ears, the pleasure finally getting into her and she’s submitting slowly to you faster than you’ve expected.

“I’m fucking you with my fingers—be ready. Grab the fucking sink.” She does what she’s told to, gripping tighter as you plunge a finger, half with its depth and she moans in reply—that alone is the driving force to tease her, plunging another just to elicit that same, sexy moan you love hearing. 

You thrust in and out, a repeated process that orchestrates sounds in such a rhythmical and discordant pattern even with such a benign way of introducing yourself into her clit. You swipe and slowly make her descend down to her carnal desires, and your eyes sparkle with each passing second that passes, drooling with the fact how much it turns you on to see her dripping, glistening under the lights and her legs shuddering due to your own actions.

Guess you need to really start the show, for the better for both worlds.

Chuu knows you can’t contain it anymore, unleashing the beast, setting up the pace and going to “home-run” all over her backside—

“Fuck!” She swears at you, laced in goodness of what she’s feeling as your exposed lengths envelops another eventful paradise, plunging in deep and withdrawing with just the tip resting in it. The pace is sluggish, much intended for your comfort rather than hers, getting accustomed to her tightness that still surprises you until this day. You hold her hips and she holds the side of the sink tighter as your thrusts grow harsher and deeper, the profoundness driving you into insanity as Chuu spews profanities that reverberate around the puny restroom. It’s not just her dulcet tone that is an ear-candy, but also the clapping of your bodies against each other, a sound that adds to the erotic soundtrack that’s purely an abomination, your greatest creation.

She grows louder and it alerts you, so with an immediate action against it, the domination truly shows and it starts with you reprimanding her. “Shut y-yourself or we’re going to be fucked and you’re not gonna like it—do you understand?”

It’s surprising how articulate you could still be even with thrusts nigh-unbearable. Your other hand is occupied shutting her mouth up, letting her muffled screams vibrate on your hand as her eyes portray the sight of being satisfied, and it’s all shown in the mirror just to fuel you to take it into the extremes. It will be, but you’re still having the semblance of humanity left to just fuck her in a pace that she can take but if she talk right now,  you know that she’ll beg for more and she won’t break—the former, an absolute chant yet the latter can be debatable.

Thank god the cheers and the sounds outside rivals the absolute sinful cacophonies the both of you muster, and you’re thanking the blessing in disguise with that. With the climax of the game being evident outside thanks to the sounds of the audience, now brings the opportunity to bring spanks onto her butt that makes her grit her teeth in pain and pleasure.

You let go of your hand on her mouth to let those beautiful moans out for your ears to be blessed again, and she wails in pleasure with your pace and the harshness your hand makes contact with her ass. The sight of a rosy hue is the fruit of your efforts, and the events occurring in such a stingful session is a sight to see—a jiggle of her ass was enough to make you riled up even more.

You’re gripping her hips and you can foresee what can be her—

“Shit! Fuck, more, more! G-god, just fuck me real g-good…” Chuu is utterly fucked and she’ll thank you for it. She snapped and there she goes, you reading her like a book—she’s going to beg for more and with her numerous pleas that isn’t even registering in her head totally, you fulfill it anyways knowing it’s the route that you’ll inevitably pass.

“Fuck m-me—my ass—shit, more!” Your hips muster a velocity that is uncertain, but ultimately frantic and in for no-return. Her juices just stain the tiles and thank god you still have some time to discard her pants away to the sinful scene where her nectar will fall into, and at that point you know you’re breaking her apart slowly. At this point, Chuu is just blabbering with nonsensical jumbled pieces of existing words that will soon be more incoherent when you put the final in the coffin.

“You fucking like that, huh?” She nods in the mirror, those cum-glazed lips smiling after as she closes her eyes, savoring whatever that’s stimulating her and the pleasure you’re bringing all over her body.

“God, fuck! Ah, you’re crazy!” You pull her hair and make it as a leverage for you to fuck her truly. The pain stings but is translated as pleasure the second she feels it, and it’s evident because she’s been secretly talking about it and with the live reaction, oh, it’s all right there for you to hear.

You spank her and she bites her lip, you hissing at her remarks. “What did I say? Shut your fucking mouth.”

You’re vulgar and she didn’t care, even dropping the honorifics when you’re dropping her pants. You thrust repeatedly until burying it deep in her, making her moan so sultry and cry in pleasure, as lean towards her and whispered, “You want my cum again, hm?”

You slowly oscillate your hips, kissing her nape and ear as she replies an audible yes that enables the green light for the denouement of this spectacular show—spoiler: you did this before and you’ll never get tired of doing it again.

You pull yourself back, grab Chuu’s waist and run your hands towards her clothed tits, caressing it as she moans with your actions and cries once you return to your original pace. It went for possibly twenty seconds that felt like minutes on how heavenly she feels until you lean towards her again, this time, announcing the very thing she wants to hear again.

“I’m going to fucking cum, Chuu.”

You’re nearing the end and it won’t be in her pussy.

Well, here are the reasons why: firstly, you don’t want people to see your reward marked onto her pants and that would be unhygienic; second, she haven’t earned that luxury yet as per the situation the both of you are in; third, it’s a damn risk to it knowing it’s a sudden invitation by Chuu because you don’t want to risk these things; and lastly, you might just need to add up to the mess on her face you plastered all over her earlier.

Reasonable arguments, and it’s easier to be done than being said.

She doesn’t argue with your principles and wants, but eagerly obliges as she brings herself down to her knees again, stares at you with anticipation and her mouth agape. You know she really does know what she’s doing when she’s initiating the actions, stroking your cock frantically as your knees shake a little due to the pleasure her hands bring.

“Come on—cum on my face, right he—” She doesn’t need to finish her sentence when yours does, spurting strings and strings of cum on her already disheveled face, flinching whenever it gets on her forehead and savors with her hums when it gets on her tongue and lips. With the final orgasm that possibly lasted about ten seconds, she still wrings out the leftover cum in your slit, even licking it clean to savor your succulence, then smiling towards you because of the gratification.

“God, you still came a lot…” She still grips your length, admiring it as she slowly strokes it for good measure as an ending.

“It’s all your fault, Chuu.” You reply back, chuckling as the both of you exchange smiles. Chuu licks her lips and wipes her face full of your cum, the messy liquid being tasted by hers and she commends that taste, and you roll your eyes because of that.

Now, with the adrenaline diminishing slowly, the both of you are grasping the situation as the both of you get dressed up quickly, and Chuu is cleaning up the mess you’ve made on her face.

“Shit—I’m sorry, Chuu—was I too rough? Sorry if I came too much—”

“No, no, it’s fine—I can retouch and reason with them later. You got me pretty sore though.” Her bubbly smile takes effect and reassures you, and you trust what she can do to reason herself out of this mess. You got her ready and you know it’s still a risk even going out, even with the busy atmosphere around the stadium.

Chuu just smiles at you, smirking even with a single sentence that follows. “We should do these things again, I never knew it would be this fun…”

You’d be truly damned if it was to be fulfilled but you’re foreseeing the inevitable, and it’s just about when would be the next time such sin would happen.

[moonstruckme]

hiii bb

first off all GURL YOUR WRITING IS LITERALLY TOP TIER I CANNOT WITH IT—

and second, i saw you had your requests open and while i’ve never done this before i really, really would love it if you could write a poly!wolfstar with reader coming from a pretty similar family background as sirius and gets triggered by loud noises and remus is in a bad headspace because it’s just a few days before full moon and he accidently yells at her and reader just shuts down and tries to brush it off because she thinks she’s being dramatic and tries to act unruffled but sirius sees through it and overall just hurt/comfort, pretty please? ILY

Awe thank you lovely! For both the sweetness and the request <3

cw: migraine, reader panics because of shouting/aggression

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Remus has told you to leave him alone more than once. You know that you should, that you really ought to make yourself scarce because these moods before the full moon almost never yield good things. The issue is that you care about Remus more than consequences, and as a result you’re not very good at doing what you should. 

“Hey,” you say gently, when he passes you by on his way back to his desk with another cup of tea. “That’s too much caffeine, lovely. You’ll make your headache worse.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Remus grunts. He continues on his way, and, despite Sirius’ look, despite knowing better yourself, you give chase. 

“You’ll regret it if you have another,” you reason, following him to his work-cluttered desk, which has been shoved temporarily into the darkest corner of your bedroom. “I know some caffeine helps, but too much—”

“I know how it works.” Remus’ voice is low. Low, but not thin. He doesn’t look at you as he sits down. “I need it, alright?” 

You take a breath. Yes, you can see how you explaining Remus’ own migraines to him might not be well received. But it’s not easy to watch your boyfriend act against his own self-interest. 

Remus has described the feelings leading up to a full moon to you before. He said it feels like something sizzling under his skin, or crackling. It’s not entirely pleasant, but it gives him more energy than he ever has otherwise. Makes him restless, productive, lively. Eventually, though, that energy builds into something he can barely tolerate—that’s when the migraines usually start. Remus gets irritable, his joints ache, it’s like his body is trying to hold something no human can, waiting for the full moon and the chance for Remus’ not-human body to expel it all. 

When you think about how much energy he’s storing, that electric sizzle under his skin, caffeine hardly seems necessary. Until you take into account that Remus has hardly slept for the past three nights. Then you wonder if perhaps his brain can no longer keep up with the tireless dynamism of the rest of him. 

“Maybe you should rest for a while instead,” you try. 

“I have work to do.” 

“It’ll still be there after a nap.”

“And I suppose I may as well just wait until after the full, then, yeah?” 

“I mean, maybe.” You pick up on Remus’ sarcasm, but you don’t disagree. “You can’t be expected to just power through when you’re having such a hard time.” 

“Really?” There’s bite in your boyfriend’s voice now. Enough that you retract the hand you were about to set on his shoulder. “I can’t be expected to? That’s exactly what’s expected of me. I don’t just get a week off every month.” 

You push out a frustrated breath. “I know, and that’s not fair—” 

“None of this is fair.” Remus turns in his seat, glowering with such virulence it shocks you despite the argument you’d thought you were prepared for. “There aren’t allowances made for lycanthropy. If I told my boss that I need a lighter workload and he made the connection, he could report me to the ministry. I can’t afford to complain about how my head hurts or indulge in naps and breaks when everyone else keeps working.” 

His voice rises, and he’s suddenly taller than you, looking down on you. He stood up. Your ears are ringing. 

“If everyone else is able to handle their workload during the full, I have to, too. Do you understand that?” 

You find you can’t speak. There’s a horrible ache sitting in the base of your throat which won’t let anything out. You nod. 

“Do you?” Remus seems exasperated. Baffled by your naïveté. “I don’t want to be told that I shouldn’t be working. I don’t want to be told that I can’t have caffeine to get through it, because I know what I have to do, and that’s not something you can understand. Alright?”

“Alright,” you choke out. 

“Do you get that?” 

“Yes.” 

“Remus,” says another voice. You don’t turn, but you don’t need to; Sirius always follows the sound of shouting. It’s habit for him. “That’s enough, love.” 

“I was done,” Remus snaps. 

Sirius’ hand wraps around your elbow. His fingers feel cool, or maybe you’re only hot. You feel very, very hot. 

“Hey,” he prompts softly. Now you look at him. Sirius’ expression is all tenderness, and it feels like whiplash. “You okay?” 

You dismiss the question with a shake of your head. Your ears are still ringing. “Yeah.” 

You look back to Remus. You can’t help it. You want to fix, and to leave, and to dissolve. But Remus is the epicenter of everything, and you feel as though taking your eyes off him even temporarily is a danger. 

“Let’s be done squabbling for now,” Sirius says, his voice unnaturally light. “We’ve all said our piece, yeah?” He gives your arm a gentle tug, and you take a step back. You’d been nearly right up against Remus, you realize. Frozen to the spot where you’d gone to rest your hand on his shoulder. Sirius runs his thumb over your skin before asking again, “Are you okay?” 

Tears invade your eyes without warning. Your face burns, and you feel it screw up in an attempt to keep them from falling. “Yeah,” you say unsteadily. “I’m just—so—sorry.” 

Two things happen seemingly at once: your voice fractures, and Sirius crushes you to him. 

Remus exhales. You hear the creak of his chair taking his weight again. “Shit.” 

“Shh, I know,” Sirius murmurs, petting your head while your tears spill over to wet his jumper—Remus’ jumper, which smells like both of them and probably also you. “I know, baby, it’s okay. You’re safe here.” 

“I’m sorry,” Remus says. His voice sounds muffled, as though he’s speaking into his hands. 

“No, it’s—I’m sorry.” You sniff, trying to wipe under your eyes. Sirius keeps you held to his front. “It’s not your fault.” 

“It is my fault.” 

“I believe I said we were done with the squabbling.” Sirius kisses your head firmly. “What do you need, sweetness? Some quiet? Time to breathe?” 

“I’m okay. Really, I’m fine.” You give Sirius a grateful squeeze before letting him go. He lets you, but watches you concernedly as you swipe a knuckle underneath your eyes. The ringing in your ears has faded to near nothing, aftershocks trembling through your fingers in its wake.  “I’m fine. I just—needed a second. Sorry.” 

Sirius makes a quiet sound. “Stop that. You don’t have to be sorry.” 

Remus nods his agreement. His head is in his hands, you can see now, but he lifts it up to look you in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.” 

You shake your head. “You were right. I was insensitive. And I don’t know why I reacted like that, I’m just being dramatic.” 

“Oi,” Sirius cuts in sternly, though half as stern as he’d usually be even to tease you. “I’m dramatic. Get your own personality.” 

That gets your lips to twitch a little. You watch as Remus sends him one of his fond, exasperated looks. 

“You weren’t being dramatic,” Remus says to you. “I shouted at you. However angry I was, that’s not alright. I’m sorry I scared you.” 

“You didn’t scare me.” Your eyes are beginning to burn again. You try to blink through it. “It was just—it was—” 

“I understand,” he says, softly. His expression is still taut with pain, but some of the harsher lines have melted away. “I’m sorry anyway. Do you want to come here?” 

Sirius hums satisfiedly when you go sit across Remus’ lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He draws his hand up and down your back slowly, with enough pressure to ease away any lingering tension coiled around your spine. You breathe out. Sirius doesn’t hold out long before he’s there too, curled around the two of you and squeezing heartily. 

“You two aren’t allowed to fight,” he mutters, kissing your head and Remus’ in turn. “In order for me to be petty and vain, I need you to be the sensible ones, understand? This is a delicate ecosystem.” 

“I don’t know,” you hum. “I think Remus should get breaks some way or another around the full moon. Can’t you take a sensible shift once a month?” 

Sirius lets out a sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, but you hear the gentle sound of him pressing another kiss to Remus’ head. “Suppose so. Only once a month, though.” 

[draculasintern]

♡ You can be the Boss ♡

CEO!Bruce Wayne x Chubby/Plus sized!secretary!fem!reader Oneshot (?)

Cw: AFAB reader, office AU, power imbalance, age gap but not mentioned much, dominant!Bruce, “sir” kink, Pet names (Sweetheart, pretty, pretty thing), desk sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation, light D/s, possessive!Bruce, he's a bit condescending then soft, aftercare, unspoken feelings, mutual pining, this is so inappropriate, freaky ass boss

Intern Note: Wrote this under candlelight while Dracula yelled about taxes. He doesn’t know I have Docs open..

He doesn’t touch you. He hasn’t—not once. But he watches.

And when he’s alone in that glass-walled office with only the hum of fluorescent lighting and the soft tap of your heels across the floor—he thinks.

Not about work. Not about the board. Not about Gotham.

No.

He thinks about how your blouse clings when you lean. How your pencil skirt always rides high on your thighs when you walk too fast. How your lipstick matches your nails. How your necklace dips into the crease of your cleavage when you tilt forward to hand him papers. And how oblivious you are to all of it. You’re not trying to flirt. You’re not playing innocent. You’re just… you.

Sweet. Competent. Tired. Always tired lately. You stay late when no one else does. Bring him coffee without being asked. Speak softly when his jaw is clenched.

You’re the only person in the building who doesn’t flinch when he raises his voice. You’re the only one who sees him when the rest of the city only sees the suit.

He hates it. He wants more of it.

The couch in the shared office is worn at the seams. You sit there after hours now—blouse unbuttoned just one button more than usual, like you’d loosened it without thinking. Your skirt tonight is different. Not the usual pencil fit. This one’s looser, longer. Falls past your knees in clean, soft lines.

It hugs the swell of your hips when you sit.

You’ve kicked off your heels. Set them politely beside the couch. Your legs are crossed, but not primly. You’re too tired for that. There’s a crease at your waist from sitting too long. A little smudge in your lipstick where you’d bitten your bottom lip.

He notices everything. Every. Single. Thing.

You look up suddenly, sensing something—maybe his gaze lingering too long—and give a quiet little smile.

“Everything okay, Mr. Wayne?”

He doesn’t answer. Not right away.

Because no. Nothing is okay. Not when you’re sitting there, looking like that. Not when he’s been fantasizing about tearing that skirt off with his teeth for weeks.

He clears his throat. Shifts behind the desk. You don’t notice. Of course you don’t.

He watches your eyes drop back to your notes, lashes low, and for a second, he can see it— You. Bent over his desk. Your necklace pooled on the floor. That sweet mouth of yours parted, moaning his name. You, ruined. Undone. All for him.

His cock throbs in his slacks. And he breathes out hard through his nose.

Control.

He still doesn’t speak. Just stands, walking slowly toward the couch. You don’t look up this time.

He stops just a few feet away. And then, finally— He says it. Low. Rough. Measured.

“You have no idea, do you?”

You blink. Look up.

Confused. “Sir?”

“The way you sit. The way you dress. The way you lean across my desk like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

Your lips part.

And for the first time tonight—maybe ever—you don’t speak. The air is heavy. Still. You’re staring at him, wide-eyed. Not offended. Not frightened. Just… processing.

Your thighs shift. The fabric of your skirt pulls. He watches it.

“You keep looking like that,” he says, voice quiet, dangerous, “and I’ll stop pretending to be a better man.”

Your breath hitches. But you still don’t move. You just watch him. And maybe now—finally—you know.

He doesn’t touch you. He still doesn’t touch you.

But when he turns back toward his desk, his hands are shaking. You go home with his voice still echoing in your head.

You shouldn’t. It should’ve faded in the cab, or in the elevator, or somewhere between unlocking your front door and kicking off your shoes. But it doesn’t.

You keep looking like that…

You unzip your skirt, toss it over the back of a chair. Your blouse is half open. You don’t remember unbuttoning it. You sit down on the edge of your bed like you’re waiting for something, hands limp in your lap. Your necklace presses warm into your chest. You reach up. Touch it. Slowly.

His eyes had followed it. Had tracked every sway and shift and little accidental show of skin.

He had looked at you like you were something he could taste. Like he’d been holding back for far too long. And he’d meant it.

He didn’t say it like a man trying to flatter his secretary. He said it like a man fighting every part of himself not to ruin her.

You breathe in, deep. Then out.

Your hand is still at your collar. Thumb brushing the edge of your necklace. Your pulse is louder than the city outside your window.

You lie awake most of the night.

Not because you’re in love. Not because you want him to sweep you into his arms and confess something tender.

But because you can still feel his stare. Because for one solid moment, you felt like prey. And you liked it.

And you know—if he ever stops holding back? You’ll let him.

You arrive the next morning five minutes early.

Lipstick reapplied. Skirt tighter. Necklace tucked just a little lower.

You don’t speak of the night before. Neither does he. But when you hand him his coffee, and your fingers brush—he looks at you. And smiles. Just barely. But it’s the kind of smile you’ll think about for days. Not soft. Not kind. More like a secret. Like he knows something you don’t.

You straighten the files in your arms even though they don’t need it. Your fingers tremble only a little. You don’t speak. You don’t have to.

Because everything feels different now. The air. The carpet under your heels. The faint smell of his cologne already clinging to the hallway before you even reach his door.

You sit at your desk. You type. You file.

You feel his gaze more than you ever did before. Not constant. Not indulgent. Just… present. Taut. Pulled like wire. Like he’s holding back.

And that’s what kills you the most. He hasn’t said anything else. He hasn’t done anything. But every moment, every quiet interaction— The brush of his hand when he gives you a folder. The pause when you glance over your shoulder. The way his voice drops half a step lower when he says your name— It all tastes like something that already happened.

Even though it hasn’t. Yet.

You don’t know when the line will be crossed. Maybe it never will.

But when the sun sets again—when the others go home and the floor empties out and the silence returns—he’s still there. And so are you.

But you’re not soft tonight. Not tired. Not gently fading into the couch like before. You’re busy. And furious.

Your jaw is clenched, a little muscle ticking near your cheek. Your eyes scan the reports on your screen like they’ve personally offended you. And your nails—painted in that same muted, perfect shade—are digging into the palm of your off-hand hard enough to leave little arcs of red.

Someone didn’t format their department files. Someone else duplicated a data pull with wrong timestamps. Someone signed off on a quarterly draft you now have to fix before the board sees it tomorrow.

It’s all coming down on you. And you should’ve gone home. Should’ve had time to think about the look he gave you yesterday. The low rasp of his voice when he told you not to wear that skirt again. The weight of your name in his mouth. But no. You’re stuck here. Grinding your teeth.

Because no one does their goddamn job.

And he hears it. From the other room. The tight typing. The sharp shuffling of folders. The little curse you whisper when a spreadsheet crashes and doesn’t autosave. He doesn’t come out right away. He waits.

He tells himself it’s to give you space. But really—he’s just watching. From his office doorway, tie loosened, jaw set.

He’s watching the way your shoulders tense under your blouse. The way your skirt rides up slightly when you shift in your seat. The way your hand rubs the stress out of your own wrist like it hurts to even exist in this building tonight.

He should offer help. He doesn’t. He just listens. Watches. And wonders if you’re as worked up about him as you are about the files.

You don’t notice he’s watching until you stand to grab another folder—fast, too fast—and drop a pen from behind your ear.

You bend to grab it. And he’s there.

“Don’t.”

You freeze, hand outstretched toward the pen. Your fingers brush the floor, then curl back. You straighten slowly.

Bruce is in the doorway. Tie loosened, eyes dark. He’s looking at you like you’ve just crossed a line. Like he’s trying not to follow.

“Don’t bend over like that,” he says quietly. “Not when I’m standing here.”

Your breath catches. His voice isn’t harsh. It’s low. Flat. Controlled. Like there’s something behind it he’s keeping caged.

You blink at him. “It’s just a pen.”

“It’s never just anything with you.”

Your mouth goes dry. He doesn’t move. He just stands there—tension in his jaw, hands in his pockets, gaze pinned to you like he’s memorizing every part of this moment for later.

And then, like it costs him, he tears his eyes away.

“Leave it,” he says, voice tighter now. “Get it later.”

He doesn’t walk away. Doesn’t look at you again. Just returns to his side of the room. The same one you share. You stand there.

Jaw tense. Breathing shallow. And something inside you just tips. You speak. Stepping back a bit.

“I’m not trying to bother you,” you mutter, not even looking at him. “I just—god, I’m frustrated.”

You’re still holding a folder—creased now in your grip. He steps closer with you noticing, you're too busy rambling to notice he's backing you against your desk.

“It’s like everyone clocked out early and left me with their unfinished trash. And now I’m the one stuck cleaning it up, again, because no one else knows how to follow a format. I was supposed to go home. I was supposed to unwind. I was gonna eat something that wasn’t coffee and fantasize about—”

You cut yourself off. Jaw flexing. Hand curling into a fist. “I’m tired. I’m so tired. And I know that’s not your problem, I just—”

You pause. You feel it before you hear it. The air changes. The weight of the room shifts. He’s in front of you. Close.

You hadn’t heard him move. Your voice falters—but you keep going, like momentum will protect you.

“I’m trying not to be dramatic, I just—I’m doing everything. Everything they don’t. And I’m not asking for praise or anything, I just—I don’t think I can keep doing this if I’m the only one who—”

You stop. Because you can feel him now. Standing right there. His chest barely brushing yours. His heat soaking into your chest.

And then—

“Yeah?” His voice is low. Against your ear. Just one word. “I'll fix that.”

You gasp. He doesn’t give you time to think. He leans in. Kisses the cuff of your ear. Then lower.

A soft, deliberate press of his mouth beneath it—where your neck curves into your shoulder. Warm. Hot. Careful. Like a secret he’s finally allowing himself to tell.

You inhale sharply, lips parting. “Mr. Wayne, what are—”

But you don’t finish. Because his teeth graze the edge of your jaw—just enough to make your knees lock. And still—he hasn’t touched anything else. Not your waist. Not your hands. Just his mouth. And the sharp, electric silence between you.

His teeth catch the sharp line of your jaw—lightly, deliberately. You breathe in. Fast. Shallow.

“Sir, I don’t—” Your voice cracks. “W...wait…”

But your legs are already pressed together. You’re not pulling away. You’re breathing hard, like he’s the one who backed you against the desk (he did)—like he’s the one chasing you (he is), even though you’re the one who led yourself here (gaslighting you right now). He doesn’t say anything. Just leans lower.

His breath is hot against your skin. You feel it first—then the drag of his mouth along the base of your throat. Slower now. Unforgiving.

And then—his lips part. Teeth. Tongue. Pressure. He bites. Not hard—but deep enough to leave a mark. Right at the base of your neck. Where no one will see it until you change. Until you’re home. Until you’re alone again, staring in the mirror and pretending this didn’t happen.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It shakes on the way out. Your hand clenches the edge of the desk behind you. Your head tilts back just slightly—inviting, even though your mouth says the opposite.

“We can’t—” But you don’t move. And neither does he. His lips linger over the bruise. Warm. Possessive.

His voice is barely a whisper: “You should’ve gone home an hour ago then, sweetheart.”

His lips drag lower, slower this time—like he’s tasting the skin he just bruised. Like it’s his now. You can’t think. Can’t breathe right. Your body is hot and tense and aching in all the wrong ways, and still—you don’t push him back.

Your head tips farther. Your hand tightens on the desk. The words we shouldn’t die in your throat, drowned by the heat curling in your stomach. You squeeze your thighs together. He notices. Of course he does.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice like crushed velvet. “You’re trembling.”

You are. You don’t answer. You can’t. Because his mouth is back—just beneath your jaw now, soft and slow and dizzying. Your breath hitches. Your lips part.

“We shouldn’t…” you whisper, uselessly.

But it doesn’t even sound like you believe it. He huffs a quiet laugh against your skin—dark, satisfied. And his hand finally finds your waist.

It’s firm. Warm. Spanning your side like he’s meant to be there. You don’t flinch. You melt.

Bruce exhales through his nose, slow—like he’s holding something back. And then—he leans in again. Lips ghosting along your jaw. A kiss. Hot. Precise. One second too long.

“If you really don’t want this…” Another kiss—closer to your ear. “Tell me to stop.”

You don’t. You can’t. You just look at him.

Those wide, soft eyes—fuck, those eyes. All hesitant and glassy, like you’re about to cry but don’t know why. Your breath stutters. Your thighs clench tighter. He can see it. He can feel it in the way your hips shift, just slightly—like your body’s already aching for pressure.

And your mouth?

“Sir…” A whisper. A whimper. “Don’t stop…”

Your chin tips higher. Your neck tilts—offering him more. Giving him room. Like you want him to bite again. His grip on your waist tightens.

God. His thoughts are a mess. Vile. Addicted.

She’s probably soaked under that skirt. Soaked and trembling and standing here like she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. Cute little secretary, all pretty and sweet, probably ruined already from a few fucking kisses. Thighs pressed together like that’s going to help. Like she doesn’t want me to reach down and see what she’s hiding.

His hand flexes against your waist—thumb brushing over the soft curve of your belly. Fuck. You’re trembling.

“This is so…” you breathe. But your voice is barely there. And you don’t pull back.

Your plush stomach rises and falls with every shallow breath. He can feel the flutter of butterflies beneath it. The tension. The need. And all he wants is to see if you're as soft under your skirt as you are under his hands.

That spot—just beneath your ear, delicate and warm—and he mouths at it like he’s been dreaming of it. And when his lips drag over that exact place—

You whimper. Soft. Uncontrolled.

Your hand flies up to your mouth, eyes wide in horror.

But he’s already heard it. Already felt the way your thighs tensed. Already hard at the thought that he pulled that sound from you. He huffs—low and wrecked.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your throat. “That’s how I want you.”

His hand rises, sliding along your waist—fingertips brushing your ribs, up, up—until he presses a kiss to the swell of your chest, right above your neckline. Then another, lower, near the center. Right where your necklace rests against your skin.

“Pretty thing,” he whispers, voice dark. “Shaking like I haven’t already made you mine.”

You gasp. But you don’t stop him.

And when his hands shift—gripping your hips now—you barely have time to breathe before he lifts you. Effortless.

Like your softness means nothing to him. Or rather—like it means everything.

He sets you on the edge of the desk, lips still on your skin, kissing up the curve of your chest. And then—he drops to his knees.

His hands find the hem of your skirt. Your breath catches.

“Let me see,” he murmurs. Not a question. Not a command. A need.

He lifts the fabric slowly—palms gliding up the soft skin of your thighs, kissing every inch as he reveals it.

The plush give of your legs. The way they tremble. He kisses above your knee. Then higher. Again. Your thighs twitch. He presses another kiss—closer now.

“So soft,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’ve been hiding all this from me?” Another kiss. Higher.

“You think I haven’t noticed? Every curve. Every step you take in those skirts that ride too high on your thighs.”

You’re breathless now. Flushed hot. Soaked. And he’s still kissing. Not your core. Not yet. Just your thighs—soft, plush, trembling beneath his mouth.

He starts at your knee, lips parting over the skin with obscene slowness. One kiss. Then another. Then a trail of heat dragged upward, like he’s mapping you out inch by inch.

You twitch when he reaches the tender inner part. You can’t help it.

Bruce groans—quiet, but deep—and presses his thumbs into the crease where thigh meets hip, parting your legs just enough to make you gasp.

“You’re already shaking,” he mutters against your skin.

You cover your mouth, trying to keep the whine in.

“Sir…” you breathe. Barely audible. But it makes him pause.

He lifts his head slightly, breath grazing over the front of your panties. “Say that again.”

You hesitate—swallowing hard—because he hasn’t even touched you properly, and your body’s already betraying you.

“Sir,” you whisper.

Bruce groans like he’s the one falling apart. And then he mouths over the fabric. Not removing it. Not yet. Just pressing his tongue through the soaked lace—tasting the heat, the slick.

“God…” His hands squeeze your thighs, thumbs brushing the edge of your panties like he’s contemplating tearing them. “You’re soaked through, sweetheart.”

You try to respond—try to say something coherent—but his mouth is back, pressing in, lips dragging along the soaked seam like he’s savoring the fact that you’re already ruined and still dressed.

“These are in the way.”

And with that—he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties and pulls them down, slow.

Dragging the damp fabric down your soft thighs, watching how the slick clings, watching it stretch before snapping back—leaving you bare and glistening. He stares like it’s the first light he’s seen in years.

“Fuck…” he swears. “Look at you.”

Then—he leans in. And licks one long, deep stripe through your folds. Your whole body jolts. A breath caught in your throat.

“Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” he rasps. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

And then he’s gone—mouth sealed, tongue working, hands pinning your thighs open. He doesn’t ease you into it. He dives in.

Tongue curling. Lips dragging. Nose brushing your clit with every groan he lets out against your soaking core. He eats like he means it—like he’s starving. Like this isn’t just something he wants—it’s something he needs. You let out a sound—half gasp, half whimper—and slap a hand over your mouth, cheeks flushing hot. You’ve never had this before. Not even close.

No one’s ever been down there for you—let alone a man like him. With his mouth greedy, his grip bruising, his voice hoarse from how much he wants to stay between your legs.

“Sir,” you whisper, but it’s shaky—like you're falling apart just trying to say it.

Bruce groans into you. The sound vibrates right through your clit. Your thighs twitch, instinct pulling your knees inward—but his grip tightens, holding you open with one large hand as his other smooths slowly over your trembling belly.

“First time?” he murmurs, voice wrecked, lips brushing against your soaked folds.

You nod, eyes glassy, thighs trembling harder.

“Thought so,” he growls, pressing a kiss right over your clit.

Then another.

Then his tongue slides deep again, slower now—but more intentional. More possessive.

“You’re too sweet not to have been touched like this,” he mutters against you. “Too fucking soft.”

You’re whimpering now. Not because it hurts. Because it doesn’t.

It feels too good.

“W..we shouldn’t—” you gasp, but your hips roll toward his mouth like they know better. “Not here–”

He chuckles. Dark. Muffled. "Yes, here.."

And then—he sucks.

Mouth wrapping around your clit, tongue flicking until your hand is gripping his hair, thighs pressed to his jaw, your whole body tense and fluttering.

“Sir—ah—Sir, I—”

But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow.

He groans again—filthy and full—like he’s tasting every single noise that falls out of you.

“That’s it,” he pants, breath hot, lips dragging over your slick skin. “Cum on my tongue, sweetheart. Let me feel it.”

And you do.

You fall apart with a sharp cry, hand still over your mouth, legs shaking, soaked and ruined and barely keeping it together as he rides you through it, licking up every drop like it’s his prize.

He pulls back slowly, tongue heavy in his mouth, lips slick and red from where he’s just been. You’re still panting. Shaking. He doesn’t move far—just enough to look at you.

Your skirt is bunched around your waist. Your blouse clings to your chest. And your thighs are still parted, trembling, the inside of them wet with him.

“I can—” you start, voice quiet, “I can return the favor, Sir.”

He breathes hard through his nose. The way you say Sir nearly breaks him.

“No,” he says. A little too fast. A little too raw. “Don’t.”

He presses one hand to your knee. The other slides up—slow, firm—until his fingers trace the heat between your legs. You jolt. Breath catching.

“This isn’t about me,” he murmurs. “Not tonight.”

And he doesn’t stop touching you.

Even after you’ve come on his tongue—hard, ruined—he stays there, face still between your thighs, fingers dragging through the slick mess he’s made.

He watches it. Watches how it glistens between your folds. Watches the way you twitch every time he brushes too close to your clit.

You’re still in your blouse. Still in your skirt.

Your thighs are bare now, trembling under the heat of his breath.

And Bruce? Bruce is still on his knees. Still in that expensive suit. Still hard behind his zipper, jaw tight like he’s holding something back.

His fingers are slow at first. Sliding over your slit. One thick finger pressing just enough to feel how soft you are inside.

“You ever been touched like this?” he murmurs—not teasing. Just curious. Just ruined.

You nod slowly, breath stuttering. “Yeah… just not like this.”

He hums. Dark. Low. His fingers stroke again, dragging slick over your entrance.

“Figures,” he mutters. “You’re used to boys, huh?”

You don’t answer. Not when he’s already pushing a single finger inside—steady, controlled. You gasp, hips twitching forward. His mouth presses to your thigh.

“You feel that?” he breathes. “How easy you open up for me?”

You nod again. Barely. His name trembles on your tongue, but you can’t form it.

He curls the finger once, then again—deep—and your whole body jolts. He kisses your other thigh. A little harder this time. Closer to where his finger is moving. His mouth is warm. Wet.

“So fucking tight,” he mutters. “Can’t stop thinking about how you’re gonna feel around my cock.”

Your breath stutters. “Sir—”

His tongue drags a line up the inside of your thigh. His finger doesn’t stop. If anything, he adds another—thick, smooth, stretching you open until your knees shake. You feel full—not overwhelmed, just aware. Like he’s studying how your body reacts to every thrust, every curl, every filthy flick of his wrist.

“They didn’t take their time with you, did they?”

You don’t answer.

Because he’s right. You’ve had sex. But not like this. No one’s ever knelt for you. No one’s ever worked their fingers this deep, this slow. Kissed your thighs like they meant it. Like they wanted to. Like they couldn’t help it.

You’ve been touched. But not like this. Not like he’s savoring you. Not like he’s grateful to be on his knees between your legs, with your skirt hitched up and your body flushed, trembling, real.

And maybe that’s what hits you hardest. Because you’ve always been soft. And you know what the world does with softness—it tolerates it. Avoids it. Looks past it.

But Bruce? Bruce is looking.

His mouth presses another kiss to your thigh. His hand, large and warm, spreads across your waist like it fits there. Like it belongs. Not clutching. Not pawing. Just holding—firm, steady.

“You have no idea,” he mutters, voice wrecked, “how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this.”

You almost laugh—but your breath hitches instead. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Your skin. Between your legs.

“I’m not—” you start.

But the words vanish when his fingers move again, deep and slow.

“Not what?” he murmurs. His lips ghost up your thigh. “Not like the girls you think I’ve had?”

Your chest rises. Your hands grip the edge of the desk behind you.

“You think I’d be on my knees for anyone else?” He curls his fingers inside you—just right—and your whole body jolts.

“No. Just you.”

He leaves a few marks on your inner thighs.

“The way you sound, the way you feel—fuck, the way you look in these skirts…”

You moan softly, and he eats it up. Kisses the crease of your thigh. Moves his hand from your waist to your hip, grounding you.

“You’re not some fantasy. You’re real. And you’re gorgeous.”

Your thighs tremble.

He doesn’t let up. Doesn’t give you time to hide or deflect or turn your face away. Because he’s not worshipping the idea of you.

He’s touching you.

And wanting you.

Two fingers, deep, curling just right. His thumb strokes lazy circles over your clit. Not fast. Just enough. Just perfect.

Your thighs are shaking now. Your grip on the desk is white-knuckled.

“That’s it,” he murmurs behind you. “Just like that.”

Your skirt’s still bunched up at your hips. Your blouse still clings to your back. You’re mostly dressed, but it doesn’t matter—because you’re coming apart anyway.

You moan—soft, sweet, wrecked. And Bruce watches every second of it.

“So good for me,” he breathes, voice tight. “Letting me feel you like this…”

You choke on a sound—his name maybe—but your body does the rest for you. Your walls clench around his fingers, trembling through it, hips twitching as your orgasm hits hard and helpless.

“That’s it. Just like that. Let me have it, pretty.”

He works you through it, slow and patient, fingers never leaving you until you’re whimpering from the aftershocks.

And when he finally pulls them out—slick and glistening—he doesn’t speak for a moment. He just looks.

Then, quietly: “Can you take me?”

You blink stars in your vision, still catching your breath, hand over your mouth.

“Are you up for it?” His voice is lower now. Rough. Like he’s asking, not assuming. Like this is the moment he’ll stop if you ask him to.

You turn your head, breathless and hot. “Please, Sir…”

It breaks something in him. You hear it—in the low groan that leaves his chest. In the clink of his belt coming undone. In the way he swears under his breath like he’s been waiting years to hear you say it.

“Fuck…”

His trousers slide down. His hand wraps around himself once—just to take the edge off. And then—he steps closer.

“I’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, cock dragging through your slick folds. “Gonna fuck you nice, I promise.”

You feel the head of him press against your entrance—thick, hot, aching.

“Still so soft,” he whispers against your cheek. “Still so wet for me.”

He slides in slow. Thick. Heavy.

Stretching you inch by inch, so full you can barely think—barely breathe. Your soft thighs twitch against his sides. Your fingers dig into the muscled skin of his arms, holding tight.

“Fuck,” you whisper—half-shocked, half-wrecked.

Bruce groans low in his throat, forehead nearly pressed to yours.

“Yeah?” he breathes. “You feel it, don’t you…”

And god, do you.

He’s so thick. He’s not even moving yet, and it already feels like he’s splitting you open—dragging along every nerve, pressing deep where no one’s ever reached.

His hands settle at your waist, sinking into the soft give there—not just steadying you, but grabbing you. Like he needs the feel of your body under his palms just to stay grounded.

You let out a shaky breath. Your arms reach up, instinctive, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer—needing the weight of his chest, the warmth of his breath against your mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he exhales, broken.

You moan in his ear when he grinds in just a little deeper, adjusting the angle. He groans again—this time lower, rougher, like he’s biting back a curse.

“You’re—fuck—you’re wrapped around me so tight,” he mutters, almost to himself. “So goddamn wet.”

He pulls back—not far—and then pushes in again, slower this time, letting you feel the entire stroke.

Your jaw drops. Your breath stutters. His grip shifts lower, kneading at your thighs now—thick, plush, spreading just for him.

“That’s it…” he coos, lips brushing your cheek. “You take me so fucking well.”

You feel everything. The press. The weight. The stretch. And he’s deep. So deep.

You whimper into his neck, and he keeps going—praising you, rambling, sounding like he’s drunk on every squeeze of your cunt.

“You’re made for this, you know that?”

“Sitting at your little desk every day looking so sweet—so soft—had me fucking aching.”

“You don’t even know what you’ve been doing to me…”

You clutch at his shirt now, pulling him flush to you—skin to fabric. Your blouse-covered tummy soft against his stomach, his shirt riding up just a bit. Your thighs bracket his hips, needy and open.

“Sir—”

That nearly breaks him. His hips stutter forward and he groans, face buried at your throat, his hands tightening on your waist like you’re the only thing holding him to earth.

“God, you feel so good,” he grits. “So warm—so fucking perfect.”

You’re soaked around him. Still fluttering. Still stretched and trembling and so full. He fucks in deeper, slower—like he’s trying to savor every slick squeeze, every flutter of your soft body wrapped around his cock.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he breathes into your neck. “Coming into this office every goddamn day wanting to ruin you.”

His hips roll again.

You can feel him everywhere. Your tummy flutters with every slow thrust, and your moans shake as you cling tighter to him—your nose buried near his ear.

“I’m never gonna forget how this feels,” he whispers. “You, like this—around me.”

He rasps out, breath trembling. “Fuck, sweetheart—you’re gonna break me.”

You’re close. He can feel it—your body fluttering around him, tighter, warmer, soaked with every slow roll of his hips.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice ragged. “That’s it, baby…”

He draws back and thrusts deep again, hips grinding into yours, the soft curve of your belly pressing flush to his abdomen. His hands grip at your thighs, your waist—anywhere he can touch—sinking into the warmth, the give of your body, pulling you down onto him like he wants you to stay there.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he breathes, nose brushing your cheek. “Gonna fall apart just like this?”

Your walls clamp down around him and Bruce grunts—deep in his chest—still holding your hips, still fucking you through it like he can’t stop, won’t stop until he’s wrung every last flutter out of you. His cock twitches inside you, hot and thick.

“That’s it,” he pants. “That’s my girl. Just like that.”

Your body trembles—legs shaking, thighs pressing to his sides—and he groans at the way your cunt tightens around him. He barely slows—just enough to lock his hips deep, deep inside you—his voice breaking on a moan as he buries his face against your cheek.

“You’re gonna make me—fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum—”

His hips stutter against yours, thick inside you. He angles deeper, hitting that soft spot again, and your body arches, a gasp ripping from your throat. The heat bubbling in your lower stomach coils tighter—white and pulsing, about to detonate.

You’re a babbling mess. “Sir—Mr. Wayne—” Another gasp hits you like a wave. “Bruce—”

That does it.

A guttural groan tears from him. His fingers, probably leaving bruises on your plush hips, thrust deeper. Your hands bury in his hair. His name spills from your lips over and over. And it absolutely undoes him.

His hips stutter again, slower now, dragging out every last flicker of sensation from you. And when he presses into that spot one more time, it breaks you.

Your body tightens around him. The orgasm hits—hard—white heat pulsing through your veins, your back arching, thighs clenching around his waist. A breathless cry escapes you as you fall apart completely.

He groans as you squeeze around him, his own release chasing yours. A low, wrecked sound spills from his throat as he buries himself to the hilt, pulsing deep, warmth spilling inside you. His forehead drops to yours, damp hair sticking to his skin, chest heaving.

For a while, it’s just the sound of your breathing. Both of you wrecked. Sweaty. Trembling. Tangled in sheets and each other. You close your eyes, still catching your breath, and feel his hand brush over your thigh—gentle, almost absent-minded.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough from use.

You nod against him, soft. “Yeah.”

Bruce exhales slowly, like something in him loosens at your answer. His forehead stays pressed to yours for a moment longer, eyes closed, before he finally shifts—carefully. He draws back, pulling out of you with a hiss between his teeth. He stills the moment your body jolts at the sensitivity, a large hand cupping the back of your thigh to ground you.

“Easy,” he murmurs.

You breathe out a shaky laugh, eyelids fluttering. “I’m fine.”

“Still,” he mutters.

He slips off his suit jacket—crumpled somewhere on the floor—and grabs a clean handkerchief from the inside pocket. It’s monogrammed. Of course it is. He’s quiet as he cleans you up—not rushed, not clinical. Just… gentle. Attentive in a way that makes your throat tighten.

When he’s done, he reaches for your underwear, sliding it back up your legs slowly, then smooths your skirt down, fingers lingering more than they need to. He doesn’t say anything. But there’s something reverent in the way he does it. Like this is more than just habit. Like you’re more than just a distraction.

He stands, tucks himself back into his slacks, fastens his belt with a sharp click, then glances down at you—still half-draped over your desk, body spent.

“Come on,” he says, offering his hand. “I’m taking you home.”

You blink. “But I still have to finish—”

“No.”

His voice leaves no room for argument, but it’s not unkind. “You’re done for today. You’re off tomorrow. I’ll handle everything else.”

“Bruce—”

He leans down, kisses your forehead like it’s something he’s wanted to do for a long time. His hand smooths your hair back, eyes searching yours.

“Let me take care of you.”

And for once… you let him.

So...how we feeling..? First time writing for Dc.. hopefully I dont get a stake to the heart for this.. Also dont tell me if its bad, let me cringe later.

-The Intern

[twstedwonders]

SFW Alphabet - Malleus Draconia

A/N: First Post! I do eventually want to do this with all the boys, this just took an unbelievable about of time to write.

I still can't tell when to properly use a comma, semicolon, or hyphen. Pls help.

Warnings: Mention of hair in "Q". Reader may or may not be M/C, up to you, hon.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

In public, Malleus is a little more reserved with his affections. Being the heir to Briar Valley, he does have to be conscious of public opinion. A kiss to the back of your hand, guiding you through a crowd with a hand on your back, walking around with your arm looped around his. Almost a classy type of affection.

In private, he's constantly touching you. Hand holding as he reads with you doing your own thing beside him, your legs dangling over his lap as you share a pot of tea- his hand caressing your calf, he presses kisses to your head often- even in passing if there aren't too many witnesses. He enjoys your presence and soaking in your warmth.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You would have to approach him first. Malleus is often regarded with caution and met with distance from his peers, and to an extent- even his citizens. Once you show him you're interested in knowing him and don't have that trepidation, he's ecstatic and will seek you out, the friendship growing with time.

As his best friend, you have an incredible privilege many others don't get. You see his genuine enjoyment in life. You see the spark in his eyes as he speaks of his passions, you get to hear his laughter as you regale him with silly tales about your day.

He often will gift you little trinkets he finds, and for your birthday, he gives you a replica of your favorite gargoyle he handcrafted himself. You're a very dear person to him, and he holds your opinions very high.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

At the start of your relationship, he's very stiff during any type of cuddling. The Fae has incredible strength, physically and magically. He's overly cautious when handling your much more frail in comparison form.

Once he gets over his fear, and learns to trust himself, he's a cuddlebug. Mentioned in 'Affection', Malleus enjoys being in constant contact with you. Cuddling is a way to relax and have yourself wrapped around him, being as close as possible. He enjoys you laying across his chest, getting to stroke your head and back, and in a way, it feels like he is protecting you from anything and everything the world can throw at you when you're in his arms.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Malleus does wish to marry you one day. You're the perfect partner for him, and he knows with time you can grow to be a wonderful leader beside him. Ideally, a child or 2 (or more) would be included.

Malleus is competent at cooking and cleaning, but he doesn't have to do it much. He was privileged enough to have attendants do those things for him growing up, but he is more than capable at cooking something for you two and keeping a tidy space.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It's hard to imagine Malleus choosing to get romantically involved with someone who isn't completely compatible with him. I kinda feel once he is romantically involved with someone, you are his forever. But let's imagine otherwise, for the sake of writing.

He would take you out for a stroll around the castle at night, enjoying your presence for one last time before he would grab ahold of your hands and turn to face you. With a heavy heart, he would confess how although he still adores you, he believes it to be best if you two were no longer romantically involved. He would likely still keep track of you through life, with how important of a person you were to him.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Malleus is not the type of Fae who would enter a relationship if he didn't imagine the possibility of marriage one day. As the heir to the throne, it is encouraged he find a life partner one day. And incredibly enough, he's found you.

Once you two reach a stage of comfortable affection and mutual understanding, he imagines you're already bound for life. It would likely be a few years after that first moment together that you would marry, when he ascends the throne and is proud to have you beside him as his (queen/king).

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, Malleus is incredibly gentle with you. As stated before, he has incredible strength and fears hurting you, no matter how strong and durable you may be. Even with time, when his touches grow more confident, they're still very gentle. Malleus for all his power and wisdom, is gentle for you. Gentle with you.

Emotionally, he may have some hurdles as he's never been emotionally open with anyone before like this, but he still tries his best to be gentle. You may have to speak up if he is ever unintentionally harsh in his wording- and this usually comes from his isolated upbringing, never from a place of animosity.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Similar to 'Cuddles', Malleus loves having you in his arms. It's a way to feel like he can protect you from the world and its harshness. He also just enjoys holding you, embracing your form and breathing in your scent. His hugs are secure, but of course, gentle. He wraps his arms around you, and cradles your head into him. His chest, his neck, wherever you can comfortably reach. And if you're somehow even larger than he is, he would like to bury his head in your neck, but is worried about his horns.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

You know his love for you long before he actually states it. He likely even needs assistance from Lilia to recognize the actual term for it before he tells you. He shows his love for you practically everyday, in both subtle and major ways. He always wishes to be with you, he shares his hobbies with you, he's always mindful of your state of being, checking in on you and how you're doing. He's affectionate with you, when he's usually a reserved person, and he finds solace with you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Now in the beginning, Malleus is rather jealous. He's jealous when you spend time with others, wishing to spend and experience moments together. He's jealous when he hears your laughter across the hall, wishing to be the one bringing you such joy. He's jealous when you touch another person, even in the most innocent ways, wanting to be the one who feels your touch. He's very.. pouty when jealous, as his jealousy is a more innocent and pure form. He's not insecure, he just wishes to be the one experiencing these things with you instead of others. With time, he learns to control his silly jealousy, and grows confident in his status as your one and only.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

As most things are when involving Malleus, his kisses are often soft, but consuming. When he kisses you, it's easy to get lost in them, get lost in him. He will delicately press his lips to yours, tilting your head to the side as he cups your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb. He merely loves kissing you. Placing a kiss to your forehead as you part ways for the day, or to your hand if you're in a crowded place. He kisses your neck when he's feeling a bit cheeky and wants a little more attention from you. He kisses your head often when you cuddle, merely getting the urge to press his lips to you and acting on it. In the same vein, he just enjoys getting kisses from you, but his favorite kiss is when you come up to him as he's sitting, sweeping aside the bangs covering his forehead and placing your soft lips to his scales that rest there. You pull away with a smile and gaze into his eyes, such warmth and love reflected in them he feels like he will combust.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Now as someone so reserved and elegant, Malleus can be awkward around the more rambunctious and energetic children. But those quiet ones? The ones who perhaps are off by themselves enjoying the peace, or are a little shy? He's a sight to behold. He will lower himself to their height with a small smile and speak to them in a soft voice. Asking them "what do you have there little one?", and "my, what a lovely spot you've found. Can I join you?" Somehow, he can make even the most shy child come out of their shell and watching their interaction makes you melt.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

While attending the College, you and Malleus may have completely different daily schedules, so mornings and nights are very dear to you two. You wake up to the ceaseless motion of a hand trailing along your back, Malleus waking you slowly and softly. He is almost always awake before you, as a Dragon Fae, he doesn't require as much sleep as others. You spend a serene few moments encased in each other's arms, enjoying the rays of light trailing in through the window before you have to separate and get ready for the day. He will try to walk you to your first destination, but if he cannot, he bestows upon you a sweet and tender kiss.

Once you move into the castle with him, not much changes. He still wakes you softly, wrapped up in his arms, but this time you two get to enjoy a cup of tea together, speaking about your plans for the day. If it's a day off or responsibilities are later in the day, you two will have some pastries with your tea and enjoy a slow morning before changing into appropriate attire and moving on to the dining room to have breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Regardless whether you're at the College, or the castle, nights are almost always the same. Its the biggest routine you establish within your relationship, spending nights together.

You two will go for a stroll, whether it be around the college, the castle, some ruins, or old architecture. You speak of your day if it was spent apart, or merely what comes to mind. Sharing worries, fears, or concerns to see the others opinion on a bothersome subject, eventually trailing off into a comfortable silence as you enjoy the brisk night air and stars twinkling in the sky.

On days when the weather is too chilly, you spend nights by the fire, cuddled up with a warm drink and reading or doing some simple paperwork. Malleus will always try his best to ensure you fall asleep beside the other, and very rarely has he ever broken his promise.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Most of what you learn about Malleus happens slowly, starting during the stages of your friendship. Malleus can be an open book for those he trusts, but it takes a lot to get there. Once you two take a more romantic turn, he will reveal things of his past that may not be entirely pleasant to remember. The loneliness, his fears, the pain of losing his parents, things that will tear your heart apart now- knowing what he's been through. Things he may hide from many others, or refuses to be vulnerable with anyone other than you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With all his years of life and being secluded, Malleus has gained incredible patience. He doesn't get frustrated or irritated easily. But the rare times he is angered? Its a terrifying sight. You can feel his anger as it's practically radiating off him. Green lightning flashes across the sky as thunder booms nearby. His words are sharp, voice strong, leaving no place for discussion. He has never been angry at you, hardly ever does he raise his voice at you. Only when he is very passionate about what he's saying will his voice grow louder, and often it is a pleasant thing to see. You're far too precious to Malleus for him to ever grow irate with you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Malleus is the kind of lover who will remember the tiniest details about you. You're wearing a new perfume/cologne? You've changed how you style your hair? New cozy clothing item you practically live in? He's mentioning and complimenting it within seconds of seeing you. If you're out viewing shops, he will observe everything your eyes linger on and will buy it or something similar at a later date. He always listens intently when you're speaking, and if you mention even the slightest preference for something it's being saved in his memory forever.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Oh, there are so many moments Malleus remembers fondly. The first time he made you laugh so hard you practically crumbled over with tears in your eyes, the first time you laid your head upon his shoulder, when you invited him to spend time with you, your first embrace, first kiss.

But his favorite moment may have to be the time you both were spending time with Silver, Sebek, and Lilia at the dorm and Sebek was telling an obviously hyped up tale trying to impress Malleus and Lilia, whereas Silver was dozing off and Lilia was fondly watching on as you humored Sebek. He felt so complete. This little family was missing something before you, and now with you here, it's perfect.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Malleus is so very protective over you. Perhaps even a little excessively so. He hasn't had a lot in life he's treasured as much as you, and certainly nothing as frail, so he's a little extreme at times.

He hates to see any sort of harm come to you, he would heal a simple bruise in the beginning of your relationship, and Seven forbid anything made you bleed or cry.

He tries his best to shield you from the cruelty of the world, something he knows all too well. He thinks you're safest beside him-another reason he wishes to spend so much time with you, to protect you from everything. And if somehow he fails that, well, he'll fix it and do more in the future.

As one of the most powerful magi in the world, it's a little unnecessary to protect him. At least, that's what he thinks. You often try to protect him emotionally. You know he gets upset when he is forgotten, and when other students give him a wide berth. You try your best to invite him to school functions, and distract him from other students by getting him to focus on you, something that is very easy to do, with how much he loves you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dates are often simple with you two. You consider your nightly strolls as a date of sorts. Merely enjoying one another's presence in solitude, getting to be affectionate without prying eyes.

Anniversaries, he tries to do something special if your schedules are willing. In the very least, he gifts you something extravagant that you've had your eye on.

For gifts, its been previously mentioned hes very attentive to what your likes are, and he enjoys giving you little things that remind you of his love.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

A bad habit of his is how protective and cautious he is, especially in the beginning. It comes from a good place, but you often have to remind him you're not made of glass and won't break if he's a little more firm in his touches.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Malleus has to be well kept, due to his high status. He's not overly concerned, as he has a well refined and elegant style, and he has been gifted with gorgeous looks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Before he met you, he often felt something was missing, but was unaware of what that thing was. Once he befriended you, he knew you were someone important to him, and he felt a bit saddened when you spent long times apart. Now, as lovers, he knows he can't be without you. You've become so ingrained in his being, if he were to ever lose you, he would lose a part of himself. He hates to think of how long Dragon Fae lifespans can be compared to others. It's something he tries to push aside.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

You learned early on about Malleus' dislike for whole cakes from Lilia, and already knew by spending time with him that he likes ice cream. For a big celebration of his, you got him a mini ice cream cake. He was hesitant when you revealed the tiny cake, but it was adorable just how excited he got once he cut into it and discovered the ice cream, unaware that the delicacy existed. It was one of the first times you saw genuine elation from him, and you knew you were in deep.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In a partner, he wouldn't like someone who is petty or seeks out sympathy. Being the heir to the throne, his partner will have to rule beside him, and you need to have a certain maturity to you. You will have eyes from around the world on you, and need to act a certain way. Malleus isn't expecting perfection from you, and he's very willing to help you grow into a person fit for the crown, but there are some personality traits that are very unattractive, and many that are childish and immature are turn offs.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Before you began to share a bed, he almost dreaded going to sleep. Although he may not need as much rest as most, it's very easy for him to get lost in his thoughts and dwell on unfavorable things as he tries to drift off to sleep. With you- he focuses instead on you. He absentmindedly trails his fingers along your spine as he soaks in your warmth, your scent. He focuses on your breathing and is able to eventually fall asleep to pleasant thoughts of you and your future together.

[bewitched-hours]

So umm I had an idea of reader being like a deity in the past before being forsaken. They knew Telamon and were really good friends and they both meet back in the cabin but not as gods (right because Telamon is now Shedletsky and reader is in their human form or idk how to explain that).

I don't really have a scenario in my head so write whatever you think of :D

And thank you for erlier!

Dear anon, thank you for this delicious meal- If you want, I'll make more of this but then I want to know if you want it platonic or romantic-

Reader's getting She/They, we need more goddesses-

You still remembered...

A past that made your feathers shiver.

Back when you were a goddess... Much too similar to Telamon...

But he eventually disappeared, leaving you to cover for him until you were finally taken in your mortal form.

In a way, you were even grateful to get away from it all. To start anew and make yourself less important.

You even made a couple of friends in this hellish realm! Some better, some worse.

But among your closest was Shedletsky. You saw him as just some silly guy who could bring up the mood with a simple joke and you two seemed to click pretty quickly through your similarities in humour.

You also both had wings. Neat!

It even got to the point where you'd help other take care of your wings further down, where it was hard to see by oneself.

You couldn't count on both hands how many times you've helped Shed out and vice versa. Hell, you memorized which spots make him jump the most if you ever just wanted to mess with him.

But you eventually decided to open up about your past...

"Shed... I gotta confess something but promise you won't be mad..." You began quietly, looking at the ground in front of you as he was working on your wings.

He was still all smiles, not showing a shred of concern as he nodded. "Of course! You can tell me anything!" He said cheerfully, as though you could do no wrong in his eyes.

So, you swallowed your anxiety and with a deep breath, the words simply slipped out. "I used to be a god... A cruel one..." You could feel him stop for a short while but he continued on, thanking him under your breath for not leaving right then and there.

"I regret who I was back then... I thought I was above everyone else and could do whatever. Didn't help that I managed to befriend Telamon back then..." Another pause, this time longer, but he hesitantly continued letting you talk. "Only when he disappeared did I gradually start to understand how wrong I was... I wasn't above anyone and I didn't have the spine to own up to what I did."

Silence. For seconds, minutes, and then...

"I know what you mean... Old friend."

Silence. For seconds, minutes...

"Tel?" Your voice sounded louder in the silence, staring ahead as tears pushed themselves out of your eyes.

More silence. Seconds, minutes...

"Guess we never really grow apart, do we?" He chuckled, causing a smile to form on your lips as you nodded along. "Yeah... We just keep following the same route in life..."

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[luvelola]

Heyy girly pop! So I was wondering if you could do a rafe x reader, where reader gets into a fight(after giving a few warnings) cause someone kept disrespecting her. And rage has to pull reader off of the girl but instead of being pissed he’s all proud. And maybe a little smutty at the end???👀 anyways totally love you and your writing🩵💋

hey!!! thank you so much for the compliment and request, i hope this is to your liking. this can also be in honor of me hitting 300 followers, love you guys. also i didn’t know if you wanted this in the military!rafe au but i added it anyways😭

masterlist !

cw: very mild dirty talk, fluff, praise, hurt/comfort. military themes. rafe calls reader “mama” (i still can’t be stopped), explicit sexual content (18+), oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), mild blood mention (from hand scrape). and rafe is so country in this for some reason idk what i was doing😭

the air in the farmer’s market is thick with the smell of peaches. you’re standing beside a crate of tomatoes with zara on your hip and miles bouncing by rafe’s leg, tugging at the belt loop on his jeans.

everything about the day has been slow and good. a light breeze. baby laughter. rafe with his hand spread warm on the small of your back, grinning like it’s his second job.

he’s been like that since deployment — like he can’t get enough of touching you, having you close. keeps calling you mama in that low voice, even in public, even now as he leans down and kisses your temple.

“think we got everything, baby?” he asks, lifting the basket.

you nod. “eggs, butter, bacon, apples. yeah.”

but just as you shift zara to your other hip, a voice behind you cuts through the easy rhythm of the morning.

“some of us don’t bring the whole damn circus to shop.”

you freeze. for a split second you wonder if you misheard. but rafe’s spine straightens, and his fingers close around miles’s hand just a little tighter.

you turn, slow, your hair brushing your shoulders as you look behind you.

she’s standing there — tight ponytail, cheap sunglasses, brittle-looking mouth twisted in something bitter. the woman from the town over. you’ve seen her before at feed stores and gas stations. always staring. never speaking.

until now.

rafe shifts, but you touch his wrist without looking away from her. “it’s okay,” you murmur, soft, mostly for him.

the woman keeps going.

“all this yelling, kid noise, your dogs in the truck barking their heads off. you really think the rest of us came out here to listen to your family drama?”

your jaw tightens.

zara stirs against you and miles looks up, confused, at the way the energy around him has changed.

you crouch down. “miles, can you go to the truck with daddy and get your juice?”

he hesitates.

“go ahead,” you say, stroking his curls. “i’ll just be a minute.”

rafe starts to speak but you look up at him and there must be something in your eyes that he respects — not fear. not passivity. just calm, sure warning.

“go on,” you say.

he stares at you a beat longer, then exhales through his nose and nods. “you got five minutes. i ain’t lettin’ you get blood on your favorite shoes.”

you straighten and set zara in the crook of the truck bed before stepping back toward the market stand, toward the woman who still hasn’t stopped muttering.

you keep your voice level.

“you got something else to say, you can say it to my face.”

her eyes narrow. “i already said it. y’all act like you own this whole place with your loud-ass kids. nobody cares how many flags you wave when he’s got his tongue down your throat every saturday like a damn teenager.”

you blink once.

then you smile. “you had two chances to walk away,” you say quietly. “and i let you.”

you step forward.

“you don’t talk about my babies. you don’t talk about my man. and you sure as hell don’t open your crusty-ass mouth about what we do.”

the woman scoffs, looks around, maybe expecting someone to step in. but the older couple nearby is already pretending they don’t see it, and rafe is at the truck, arms crossed, watching silently like a lion at a distance.

“you’re just some farm wife with delusions,” the woman sneers.

you let that be the last thing she says.

your knuckles hit her cheekbone hard enough to make her stagger.

it’s one clean swing, just one — but it drops her into a crate of onions and her glasses fly off, clattering to the concrete.

for a moment the air is silent.

then—

“that’s enough, baby.”

rafe’s arms are around you fast. pulling you back gently but firmly, even as your chest heaves. his palm smooths down your side, grounding you.

you’re not yelling. you’re not screaming. just breathing hard, staring down at the woman who tried the wrong one.

“you okay?” rafe says low, brushing your curls off your forehead.

you nod.

he looks down at your hand. your knuckles are red. maybe split.

he kisses them.

“my tough girl,” he murmurs. “my goddamn wife.”

you look up at him. “you mad?”

“mad?” he grins, boyish and proud. “baby, i’ve never been more turned on in my life.”

you laugh, but it’s breathless. you can feel the adrenaline still buzzing under your skin.

“let’s get home,” rafe says. “i got some things i need to thank you for.”

the house is still when you pull up the drive.

biscuit barks once from the back of the truck before jumping out, big paws thumping the dirt. rafe ruffles his ears while shadow stays curled beneath the steps, tail twitching once.

“miles, take zara inside so you guys can wash up before dinner,” rafe says before shutting the door.

the second the door shuts behind you, rafe turns the lock and turns to you.

“let me see your hand again.”

you lift your fingers wordlessly. your knuckles are scraped, a little swollen. rafe brings them to his lips, soft like reverence.

“gotdamn,” he mutters against your skin, “you been holdin’ all that in and didn’t say a word.”

you shrug a little, exhausted from the adrenaline now, the adrenaline and heat and sharpness of what was. you feel it in your legs.

but rafe sees it. he always sees it.

he pulls you in slowly, lets your head rest against his chest.

“you got me, baby,” he says, quiet and sure. “i got you.”

his voice rumbles through his body, pressed to yours. you nod against him.

“was that too much?” you ask, not sure why..

he leans back and cups your face, eyes locked on yours.

“you were everything,” he says. “she should’ve never opened her mouth. and you swung like it was your job to protect what’s yours.”

his thumb slides down your cheek.

“ain’t nothin’ sexier than you lookin’ out for us like that.”

your throat tightens.

he kisses your forehead, then your lips — long and slow — and you can already feel the shift in the air.

because his hands don’t leave you. because his body has been on edge since the second he heard that woman’s voice and even more so after watching you land that punch.

“mama,” he says low, a little out of breath already, “you gotta let me love on you proper now. you don’t know what you do to me when you get like that.”

you nod again. whisper, “i want it, rafe.”

and then he lifts you into his arms, bridal style, and carries you to the bedroom.

he’s not in a rush.

he kisses your hand again first, then each finger, kneeling at the edge of the bed as he lays you back.

he kisses your bare thigh, your knee, up the inside of your leg. eyes watching yours like he needs to see your every breath.

“my girl,” he murmurs. “my strong, soft girl. always protectin’ what’s hers. always makin’ me feel like the luckiest sonofabitch on this whole earth.”

you reach down and thread your fingers into his hair. “come here,” you whisper.

he kisses you again, hot and full and reverent. and when he slides down between your thighs, you already feel the warmth building.

his mouth is like worship. you forget the ache in your knuckles, the voice of that woman, the tightness in your chest. you forget everything.

he eats like it’s his last meal — slow, dirty, perfect. tongue lazy against your clit, one hand under your thigh and the other gripping your hip like he owns it.

you arch, sob a little, and he moans right into you.

“that’s it,” he breathes. “let me hear it. give it to me, baby.”

you do. again and again. until you’re trembling, nails in his shoulders.

when he finally pulls back, his lips are slick and swollen. he kisses the inside of your knee again, then your belly, your throat.

“my turn,” you whisper against his jaw.

you take care of him the same way — gentle hands first, then firmer. he leans back on the headboard, his abs twitching as you slide down slow, mouth around him.

he groans like he’s unraveling.

“god, baby, fuck. always so good. so sweet. so nasty when it’s just us.”

you hum around him and he grips the sheets, other hand tangled in your hair.

“look at you,” he pants. “jesus. suckin’ the soul outta me like i ain’t just watched you knock a woman into a pile of onions. my girl.”

you both laugh but it’s breathless — dizzy.

by the time he flips you back beneath him and slides in, it’s like all the tension of the day bursts.

he moves slow, then faster. he’s half groaning, half praising you through it all.

“my sweet thing,” he breathes into your neck, “so damn tight. fuck, i love bein’ inside you. love the way you hold me like this.”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “don’t stop, rafe.”

“never could.”

he pulls your leg over his hip and pushes deeper, harder — just like you beg him to.

it’s headboard-thumping, breath-stealing, soul-deep kind of love.

you come with your fingers digging into his back and his name half-sobbed on your tongue.

he finishes not long after, face buried in your neck, calling you baby, baby, baby, over and over.

when he finally collapses beside you, he’s still panting. pulling you into his arms.

“we don’t ever need to go to that market again,” he says, half laughing.

“nah,” you murmur, still breathless. “we’ll grow our own onions.”

rafe laughs harder, kisses your cheek. “god, i love you.”

“love you more.”

his arms tighten around you.

“mama,” he says, and it’s soft, a little teasing. “i ever piss you off in public, you gonna swing on me too?”

you roll your eyes. “i’d never do that.”

he grins. “but if i did need it…”

you smack his chest lightly.

“okay, okay,” he laughs. “but damn. you got hands, baby. real hands.”

you smile against his skin, warm and wrapped up in the best kind of peace.

the kind only earned after a long day, a soft man, and a kiss that says you’re mine.

a/n: again, i’m sorry that this is so country😭 and if you want a version outside of military!rafe pls let me know!!

©luvelola. do not plagiarize or repost any of my work as your own.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Fan translation only. Accuracy not 100%. Please expect grammatical errors. Creative liberties are taken. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere, claim them as your own, or use them without my permission. Thank you for your support! ☾.

We couldn’t catch a carriage after work, so we were walking down the street at night.

(The moon’s so pretty tonight…..)

Reflecting on the Thames, the moon is a perfectly round, soft, creamy color.

The cool night breeze paired with the lovely moon made me feel both refreshed, and my steps lighter.

Not long after, I was walking a step ahead of Jude.

Jude: Ain’t helpin’ ya if take a tumble.

Kate: Pff- Yes, I know.

Having said that, I know that if I really do fall, he’ll help me.

Jude: ……Kate.

Kate: Yeah? Oh!

When I turned at my name being called, something was suddenly tossed to me.

The character for “to thow” is used. However, it can also mean “to toss.” Given the distance from each other and the setting, I feel like toss is more appropriate than throw.

Kate: What’s with the random box?

Jude looked more serious than usual.

Jude: Just open it.

Sensing that something was out of the ordinary, I gingerly opened the box given to me, and found a silver ring inside—

Kate: Jude, what is this….

When I looked up in shock, he appeared exasperated.

Jude: Daft princess, dont’cha get what it means?

Kate: Huh?

Jude: Guess not. Yer a perverted masochist who doesn’t know when to quit, who keep’s comin’ at me, ‘n who’s so foolish it makes me wanna weep.

Kate: Why are you saying mean things about me?!

However, he was looking straight at me, so his insults didn’t even register.

Jude: But yer the only one I have.

The night breeze passes between us, leaving space for one person.

Jude: Ya didn’t ridicule my dream about goin’ to the moon, ‘n ya accepted us cursin’ each other.

Jude: Yer the only woman who can laugh like an idiot, ‘n keep her resolve.

The moonlight shone upon us like we were the only ones in the universe.

Jude: My mind’s been made up since the day I started goin’ steady with ya.

Jude: To give ya my last name. Marry me, Kate.

His words strike my heart, warming my entire being and causing tears to well up in my eyes.

While I was unable to contain my sobs any longer, Jude gave me the most gentle smile I’d ever seen.

Jude: S’what’s it gonna be, Kate.

I nodded repeatedly as I wiped away my tears.

Still, they start pouring again as I clutched the ring and cried out.

Kate: Please make me your wife, Jude!

He laughed at my weepy reply.

Jude: That’s damn fine answer.

He hugged me, smiled as he wiped away my tears and kissed me—

The morning after the happy proposal, I was taking a walk while staring at the engagement ring when Ellis appeared.

Ellis: Oh, that’s...

Kate: Oh, this is...

Ellis smiled before bringing up Jude.

The line literally reads, “Ellis smiled before speaking to Jude.” However, Jude isn’t present at the time as you’ll see in the line below, and he never directly speaks to Jude, so I opted to translate the line this way.

Ellis: Jude finally gave it to you. Congratulations, Kate.

Kate: ….Finally?

As I tilt my head, Ellis whispers.

Ellis: Jude’s been preparing to give you a ring for a long time now Kate.

Kate: What…..

In astonishment I try to look at the ring again, but a hand reaches out from behind and hugs me.

Jude: The hell ya blabberin’ on about.

When Jude appeared, Ellis grinned and silently waved his hand as he walked away.

(So he’s been getting this ready for a long time….)

Jude: What’cha smilin’ fer?

Kate: Heh…..

As I smiled at the surprising fact I just learned, he grabbed my cheeks and forced me to look up.

His amethyst eyes were annoyed, but still looked at me lovingly.

(Yeah….I’m so hopelessly in love with this guy.)

I wanted to tell him just how much I love him.

Kate: Jude, I love you.

Kate: I’ll love you forever.

In both lines, Kate uses “大好き” (Daisuki), which means to “like very much.” It is holds a lot of affection, and is more commonly used to express love.

He blinked in surprise at my declaration and then instantly changed his expression.

Jude: I love you.

Jude uses the kanji “愛” (Ai). If you don’t know this is a HUGE thing to say….especially for him. It also means "I love you", but it's used very rarely. Typically only for special occasions such as proposals, weddings, deathbeds, that sort of thing. It carries the weight of unconditional or sacrificial love, and loving for the other person’s sake.

Smiling softly, he kissed my lips.

To fulfill our promise to curse each other until the very end—

I will live with you.

[Event Master List]

If you are 18+ years old and wish to be added to my tags list, please feel free to comment or dm me. Please specify if you want to be tagged in all translations or a specific suitor. If you wish to be removed from the list, please feel free to comment or dm me as well.

Tag list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @barellorkilaam @goustmilk @aceuuuuu @yamaguchisaori @hiphiphooray4val @mika797 @spectraphobic-blog @kiyomizuki @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway @czechmatee7

[hellspawnmotel]

you've been saying your analysis about ralsei has gotten disproven/become irrelevant after the new chapters - im curious as to why you think that cause personally i still think everything you've said holds up (esp since we still havent gotten to the reveal of ralsei knowing about the player or his origins)

it’s mostly to do with the fact that I was ascribing a high level of intent to ralsei’s actions that further the romantic coding between him and kris, which to me seems pretty disproven at this point. based on his insistence that he doesn’t deserve to be loved or cared for, and how guilty he feels for making kris and susie get attached to him, it seems really unlikely that his goal is to get the player to fall in love with him, unless he’s playing a really long game.

there’s also the fact that kris seems much more open to giving or receiving affection from ralsei- it feels like kris really does like him. maybe not romantically, but there’s a level of care that felt forced before but now seems genuine. kris is the one who chose to hug and comfort ralsei at the end of chapter 4, we didn’t tell them to make that action. and kris is repeatedly insistent that ralsei does NOT look like asriel, to the point they seem pretty uncomfortable with the idea. there’s a lot of ways you can interpret that, but if they were trying to keep the player from shipping them with ralsei it would be counterproductive.

also there’s this

pretty inconsistent if kris and ralsei are the “intended” couple!

I still have a lot of questions too of course. ralsei without a doubt knows about the player, which colors his relationship with kris in a shady light no matter what. he knows most of kris’s choices are ours, not theirs, and idk if he can tell which are which. but ralsei reacting by being bashful and cute now reads much more as him experiencing real joy and desire rather than as any kind of manipulation tactic, so it’s probably just something he guiltily indulges in.

with all that, I no longer think the prophecy dictates that ralsei and kris, or ralsei and the player, have to end up together. ralsei seems to hate the prophecy anyway and is just resigned to his fate, and trying to make it easier for everyone else. if there’s any kind of influence on the romantic angle with him, it’s something that’s coming from an even further outside layer, and it seems like ralsei is totally unaware of it. I think parts of my analysis still apply on a strictly metatextual level but I doubt that it will become textual in the way I predicted.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello!!! Could you write Caine, Kinger and Pomni x Reader who's been there longer than anyone else? Instead of absolutely losing it, they have managed to just become incredibly calm and just generally used to it and Caines shenanigans.

Caine Kinger and Pomni x reader who's been around the longest but isnt insane

i kind of really want chai cookies rn. and vanilla cupcakes. and lemon drizzle cake. not sure if its like a cue or what because ive been CARNALLY wanting sweet stuff lately but... i dont usually have a sweet tooth.. grrgrr... i hate being on a deficit and meds. messes with my hormones but alas i need my meds notes: gn reader, short and sweet, written on computer, youre actually pretty chill to be around all things considered cws: none

CAINE

you... intrigue him... its not that he wants you to abstract- honestly im on the side of "caine doesnt really mean any genuine harm," for the time being- hes got a lot of feelings for you. curious to see how much longer you can last- not that he wants to see you fold-, and a sense of odd admiration. youve seen a lot of stuff

he feels an attachment to you too, youve been around for so so so long now that youve just become a normal part of the circus at this point, youre like... a part of the coding now- even though youre a real person... youre like.. his buddy! his pal! his partner in crime- not that hes committing any crimes! because crimes are.. crimes! as hed say at least

sometimes you can use this to your advantage to tone him down a little when he gets a little into making his adventures. make him... calmer... reasonable. hes still chaotic and a bit all over the place but you anchor him down just a bit. its probably going to get real weird when you do abstract though

KINGER

honestly... seeing him spiral into his current state was hard to watch. youve seen first hand how he went from this kind and intelligent man to this paranoid mess. not that he isnt kind anymore. he still is, and he tries his best but god- that knowledge of what he used to be sits heavy on you

he instinctively clings onto you because he knows youre familiar even if his memories are all jumbled up. in his eyes youre a safe person so of course hes going to seek you out when he can during adventures- and when its just leisure time in the circus

youre calmer demeanor helps him relax a bit, even without being in the pillow fort. if youre patient enough you can convince him to take a break and spend some time with the others on his worse days

POMNI

her introduction to kinger- assuming this is pre halloween episode- made her think you were going to be a bit... scrambled... too... but shes a bit taken aback at how calm and put together you are. and shes silently thanking you for that- its nice having someone she can actually talk to.. ragathas nice... but you know a little more than her thanks to your time here

though... the fact youve been here for so long does make her feel sick. i dont think shes fully given up on escaping- its just not her main focus right now, save her own mental health or whatever... but you being here for so long does dampen her spirits a bit. so she really is just stuck here, huh?

theres only so much you can do to comfort her, but youve seen so many people come and go in the circus that youve probably got a few ideas on how to tackle her and keep her emotionally anchored long enough to change the subject

[winter-soldier-buck]

heart by heart ♡ b.b

pt. 2

pairing: thunderbolts!bucky barnes x singlemom!fem!reader

warning: uhhhh no new ones i can think of tbh

word count: 3.4k

author’s note: ahhh this took longer to write than i intended, my writer's block was BAD... also... shark week. iykyk. anyways, please let me know what you think of pt. 2 🥹 any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 🫶🏻

series masterlist

New York City, USA - August 2024

Tears streamed down your face as you lay in a fetal position on the cold tile floor of your kitchen, wondering where the hell you went wrong in life that would’ve meant leading to that exact predicament. On the bright side, though, you weren’t hyperventilating anymore and were pretty sure the panic attack had passed.

Slowly, you took another deep, calming breath and pushed yourself up from the ground so you could sit with your back against a cupboard door, resting your left hand gently on top of your 25-week-along baby bump.

Dealing with an unexpected pregnancy alone because your partner of over eight years left, well, less if counting the blip, went zero-contact as a way to keep you ‘safe’ before you even knew you were expecting was one thing. Being told that bed rest was required for the remainder of said pregnancy because of severe pre-eclampsia difficulties, while having no family in the city anymore to help keep your mind at ease during an already strenuous time, was another.

You’d never felt more alone in your life.

The evening had started fine. You got home from your doctor’s appointment half an hour prior, still processing the news that you’d have to spend the last almost three months of your pregnancy on strict bed rest. You were lucky when it came to work because switching to working from home wasn’t a problem. No more site visits were required for your most recent architectural projects, and you were in the early design stages of others. The timing couldn’t have been more right in that sense, and you tried convincing yourself that you could make do with your bed rest prescription.

What you didn’t take into account was how heavy life had already been feeling. That, since Bucky left and you discovered you were pregnant, you’d done an excellent job at pretending everything was fine when, in actuality, it felt like your life was tearing apart at the seams.

Bed rest was the unrealized icing on your already crumbling cake, which you didn’t realize until you got home from the doctor’s and accidentally dropped one of the strawberries you’d just washed to have for a snack onto the floor. Once you heard the berry hit the tile, you crouched down to pick it up. However, given how such a simple task became more difficult over time with your growing baby bump, you lost your balance and toppled over onto the ground, too.

You weren’t hurt, which you were thankful for, but you felt embarrassed and frustrated, which ultimately was the tipping point of the pent-up emotions you already had. The panic attack started shortly after.

It wasn’t until then that you finally accepted that you were not doing well. You still felt claustrophobic even as you worked to calm your pounding heart with more calming breaths and wiped away your tears with the back of your hand.

You felt trapped. It wasn’t just your apartment making you feel so confined anymore; it was New York City as a whole. You moved to the city with Bucky and created a life together. Now you had nowhere to go with so much going wrong, despite everything, including your pregnancy, reminding you of him. How the hell were you going to improve your state while being on bed rest alone for another three months?

To you, everything that could go wrong was doing just that. However, you needed to calm down. Hyperventilating on the kitchen floor wasn’t going to make the overall situation better for you or your baby.

“What am I going to do?” You whispered to yourself, voice cracking with another sob.

That’s when it hit you. You weren’t so alone after all, and you did indeed have somewhere you could go. It was somewhere that had been a place of solace for you years ago, and had people who welcomed you with open arms. It was a location that would forever be a safe haven where you were always welcome.

Quickly, you scrambled to get up off the floor and grab your phone from where it sat on the counter. Once it was unlocked, you scrolled through your contacts but paused when you clicked the name of the person you knew you could reach out to. Part of you didn’t want to bother them, but another part knew it wouldn’t be a bad thing to reach out. So, with another shaky breath, you hit the call button.

They picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, my friend,” the familiar female voice greeted, making you let out a cry of relief. You hadn’t realized how much you missed her. “Is everything alright?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see.

“It will be,” you said, mainly to convince yourself as you sniffled. “But, right now, I need help.”

The Princess of Wakanda fell silent for a moment, worrying you when all you could hear from the other end was shuffling around, along with a series of beeps and clicks.

“Shuri?”

“Sorry, I needed to get comfortable and was pulling up your location. Tell me everything.”

~*~

New York City, USA - Late 2027

“Piggies or bunnies?” You asked from where you stood behind your daughter as you finished brushing her deep brown hair, then looked at her reflection in the large vanity mirror, since she hadn’t answered your question. However, she was too distracted by looking at your various skincare products that lay on the counter nearby to pay any attention to what you were saying. “Penny.”

She blinked, then immediately moved her blue-eyed gaze to meet yours in the mirror. The same eyes she inherited from her father that hit you like a truck each time you took a good look at them.

“Yeah, mommy?” She questioned innocently.

God, she was cute and she knew it too.

“How do you want me to do your hair today, babe? I can do piggies or bunnies. Oh! Or, if you’d like, we can keep your hair down and pull the front back in braids so it stays out of your face. What do you think?”

Penny looked at herself in the mirror, then pursed her lips in deep contemplation, acting as though it were the most important decision she’d ever have to make. It blew your mind that she was just weeks away from being a threenager, even though the attitude was already there.

“Braids!”

“You got it, darlin’,” you replied, then leaned forward to place a quick peck on her cheek before getting to work.

Once Penny’s hair was done, you helped her down off the bathroom counter, and the two of you headed to her bedroom together.

Laid out on the papasan chair that resided in her room was the collection of clothes she wanted to wear that day, but couldn’t decide which ones. Her indecisiveness was a trait you knew she inherited from you. Still, it made you chuckle as you ultimately combined a New York Rangers t-shirt with the pair of black denim jeans she selected since they were the only options that were remotely suitable for a casual day out in the city. After some convincing, she finally agreed to wear a cream-coloured cardigan as well since you reminded her of the crisp Autumn air that’d taken over NYC in typical late-November fashion.

When it was time to head out, you looked over Penny’s bedroom once more to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything, and then your gaze landed on the top of her dresser. Amongst the collection of hair accessories and play jewelry, tucked back against the wall, were two items that never moved from their safe spots on the tall surface, mainly because Penny couldn’t reach them yet.

The first item was a beautiful, small, hand-carved and painted wooden flag of Wakanda with the words “Little Wolf” etched onto its back. That, along with the white wolf plushie Penny slept with every night, was gifted to you for her from Shuri, Okoye and Ayo when she was born.

The second item was a framed picture of Bucky, which you took years ago of him smiling and unsuspecting that his photo was being snapped. It was one of your favourite photos of him, which was why you chose it to reside in Penny’s room when you first brought her home.

Since then, from time to time, you would show her the picture and tell her who it was. She knew the man in that image was her dad, but she didn’t know him or what Bucky being her dad meant. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t around and never asked either. Given that Penny wasn’t quite three years old yet, she was accustomed to life being her and her mom against the world.

Which was why you grew more anxious about going out with each passing second. However, you forced a brave face.

“Pen,” you started, moving your stare back to the toddler. “Do you remember what we’re doing today?”

“Ice cream!” She exclaimed and looked up at you with a big smile as you moved toward her, then crouched so you’d be closer to eye level.

“Yes, we are going to get ice cream. But, do you remember what else we’re gonna do?”

Her eyes widened.

“The park!”

You giggled at how excited she was getting.

“Heck yeah, we are,” you told her, unable to stop smiling as you observed her. “While we’re at the park, though, someone is going to meet us there. He’s an old friend of Mommy’s. Is that ok with you if he joins?”

“Sure, Mama,” Penny nodded, still grinning at you before she crashed into you for a hug.

Your heart swelled so much it felt like it could burst. You wasted no time returning her hug, holding her tight against your chest while you kissed the top of her head.

“Perfect. I love you, Bubba.”

“Love you too, Mommy.”

~*~

Being a true New Yorker, you knew all the hidden gems the city had to offer. However, you couldn’t deny that tourists were onto something when it came to certain spots.

Central Park, despite being a major tourist attraction, was one of your favourite spots in NYC, and Penny inherited that love for the park too. It was a special spot for both of you, a love you shared.

This was why you felt indifferent about it being where Penny would meet Bucky, even though she didn’t understand the significance of him being the ‘old friend’ of yours she was meeting. However, Central Park was one of her safe spaces, which was why you agreed for their inevitable meeting to be there.

It’d been over two weeks since you reconnected with Bucky in that coffee shop. Since then, he’d given you plenty of space. He kept in contact with you, which took some getting used to, but you liked it. You missed him, which was a flurry of emotions you weren’t ready to address just yet.

One thing that really got you during those two weeks was how Bucky didn’t press you about meeting Penny once. You had set a boundary, promising him that meeting Penny would happen when you were ready, which Bucky respected. When he reached out to you, he’d ask little things like how your day was going, which, in the long run, meant a lot and complicated that array of emotions you were already feeling when it came to him.

But, at the same time, you expected nothing less from him. It was Bucky who set the standard you had for men to be set so high. It was part of the reason you hadn’t moved on with anyone romantically after he left. Not because you were holding out, hoping he’d come back, but because he made you realize how very few men there truly were in this world of boys.

Because of how deferential Bucky was about meeting Penny, you started feeling guilty for dragging it out. After some consideration, the night prior, you reached out to him asking if he was free to meet you and Penny the following day. Bucky jumped at the opportunity.

You both agreed on convening at Central Park in the afternoon, which was why you planned a little Mommy/Penny date day out of it.

Penny held your hand as the two of you strolled around Bethesda Terrace, one of her favourite spots in the entire park. She thought the terrace was beautiful, and the architect in you couldn’t agree more. It was a place you’d both people watch, while just enjoying each other’s company.

However, you already knew this day in your spot with Penny wasn’t going to be as peaceful, but it still would’ve been impossible to predict what was to come as the two of you sat down by the fountain together.

“So,” you started, smiling while tucking a stray piece of hair behind Penny’s ear. “Do you know what kind of ice cream you’re going to get, little miss?”

She glanced up at you with an unimpressed expression, as if asking you why you were asking stupid questions.

“Mommy,” Penny replied and raised an eyebrow at you. She knew that you knew what her favourite was.

You chuckled.

“Ah. Chocolate, right?”

Penny scowled.

“Nilla.”

“Of course,” you responded, still laughing at the pout she continued staring at you with. “You know I’m just messing. I’ll get your Vanilla ice cream, don’t you worry.”

Penny nodded in approval, then went back to people-watching.

After a moment of observing her, you shook your head at the little diva you were raising, then pulled your phone from your coat pocket, knowing it had to be nearing the time Bucky said he’d meet you both. Sure enough, there was a missed text from him. However, there was another missed text and seeing their name had you feeling hit by a wave of guilt.

It was Caleb, the guy you’d been talking to for just over two months.

Caleb was great. He was kind, charismatic and genuinely seemed so into you. You liked him a lot, too. He was the only guy that you’ve really felt anything for since Bucky left. Any others just consisted of miserable first dates that didn’t evolve into anything else.

But Caleb was different. However, you’d unintentionally put him on a bit of a back burner once Bucky showed back up in your life again, which had you feeling terrible.

You stared at his text thread in your phone for a moment but ultimately decided not to open it. He deserved a proper response from you, and your mind was too scattered because of what was about to happen, to give that to him.

Exhaling, you put your phone back in your pocket, not responding to either man as you joined Penny in observing the people nearby.

Immediately, your gaze fell on a man standing about 20 feet away who was dressed head to toe in black. Normally, seeing someone wearing such an outfit in a place like New York wouldn’t faze you, but for some reason, this man was staring right at you. Unmoving amongst the swarm of people that buzzed past him.

Nothing about the man seemed familiar to you, so you glanced over your shoulder to see if he was looking at someone else behind you. There was no one there, which made you feel on edge.

You whipped your head forward again to look at the man, but suddenly, he was gone, as if you’d imagined him being there in the first place.

“You ok, Mama?” Penny asked, snapping you out of your daze as she looked up at you with a concerned expression.

“Yes, baby, I’m fine-,” you started, but cut yourself when a familiar voice sounded nearby, immediately pulling your attention to them.

“I really don’t know why you’re still following me,” Bucky grumbled as he weaved through the bystanders on the other side of the fountain, looking handsome as hell in his dark grey button-down jacket. “I said I was fine and wanted to be alone.”

“You were weird today,” a woman with short blonde hair and a thick accent replied, keeping up with him effortlessly. “I want to know what’s wrong with you. Would you rather me follow you in secret?”

“I’d rather you didn’t follow me at all. I have a life outside of you guys, you know?”

“No, you don’t, Bucky. You love us. We’re a team, we should-.”

“Bucky, hi,” you greeted, standing up as the two approached. You felt awkward interrupting them, but if you didn’t say anything, they would’ve walked right past.

“Y/N,” Bucky said, coming to a stop. His hard expression softened once he laid eyes on you. Then, his gaze moved to Penny, and you could see the flurry of emotions flashing in those beautiful blues. However, before he could say anything more, the woman he was with cleared her throat, making him jump. “Right, uh, Y/N, this is Yelena. We’re coworkers. She wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Teammates,” Yelena corrected, rolling her eyes at Bucky before she surveyed you. “Y/N, that name sounds familiar.”

“Oh, well, I knew Nat quite well,” you told her, smiling softly. “That could be why. She told me a lot about you.”

Yelena nodded, smiling back.

“You knew my sister. How you knew her, I’m assuming, has to do with how you know Bucky.”

“Yeah, something like that. Bucky and I have known each other for a long time.”

“We used to date,” Bucky stated firmly.

“Used to?” Yelena asked. “She must’ve come to her senses.”

You chuckled, shrugging as you looked back down at Penny, who was observing the other two unsurely as she partially hid behind your leg from where she stood next to you.

“And this is my daughter, Penelope,” you continued, reaching down to grab Penny’s hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Penny, this is Bucky and Yelena. Bucky is the friend I was telling you about. Can you say hi?”

Penny was silent for a moment, her eyes locked on Bucky. She blinked a few times, not looking away from him as she studied his features. You wondered if she recognized him from the picture in her bedroom, but was unable to connect that it was the same person.

“Hi,” Penny replied meekly, then inched closer to you. She was so incredibly shy.

Squeezing her hand again, you looked back at Bucky and Yelena.

Your knees almost gave out at the way Bucky looked at Penny. He studied her as though he thought she might disappear on him at any second, but looked completely mesmerized by her as he did so. Acting like he needed to memorize every perfect little thing about her as though his life depended on it. He was in complete awe of her, and it showed.

“Cute kid,” Yelena said, kind of ruining the moment.

“Hi, Penny,” Bucky spoke in a soft, gentle voice. The slightest bit of tears welled in his eyes as he smiled widely. “I’m so happy to meet you.”

You remained silent as you observed Bucky, but became distracted when Yelena noticeably kept looking between him and Penny.

“She kind of looks like you,” Yelena started, then gasped, eyes widening as realization washed over her. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait a minute.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed at her.

“Yelena,” he warned.

“You two used to… is she? You have a kid!?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Yelena asked incredulously. “No way. This is GREAT news. I can’t wait to tell the others. But, why are you acting like you just met her for the first time?”

“That’s because he just met her for the first time,” you chimed in, not missing the way Bucky nodded at you in thanks. “It’s a really long story.”

Yelena looked flabbergasted.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Bucky responded, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he refused to make eye contact with Yelena. However, his stare fell back onto Penny, making him noticeably relaxed. “Not exactly how I imagined this going.”

“It’s ok, we just-,” you started but cut yourself again when footsteps stopped behind you and someone spoke.

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” a man said, making you freeze.

Slowly, you turned around, once again wondering where the hell you went wrong in life and how it could’ve led you to this exact moment. Because, on top of everything else going on, there stood Caleb.

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[chrisbabydoll]

ꪆ ׂ ִ 📃 ❝ messy boy ❞ ⋆ . 𝜗ৎ 🐰 ˚

featuring . . . c.sturniolo .ᐟ

. . . this will contain sub!chris, piss kink, light humiliation, non-penetrative touch, light overstimulation, shame comfort, soft praise, etc.

he was already clingy by the time you left the party. warm in that perfect, soft way—the kind of warm that made your skin itch to touch him, but also to hold him close. his cheeks were flushed pink, eyes heavy-lidded and glassy with the kind of tired sweetness that only a few drinks could bring.

you could tell he was a little off balance, but in that adorable, helpless way that made your heart tug. he kept falling into your side as you walked toward the parking lot, one hand tangled in the loose strings of your hoodie like he was trying to anchor himself to you, to something solid.

you hadn't even reached the car before he was leaning fully against you, his body melting into yours like you were the only thing keeping him upright. his voice was rough when he murmured low in your ear, "you're not too drunk to drive, right? 'cause i don't think i can handle this much longer."

you glanced at him, eyes twinkling with amusement. you'd had just enough to feel relaxed, light on your feet but still in control—definitely steady enough to drive. you smiled softly and told him yeah, you'd drive. told him to buckle his seatbelt, sit still, and stop being dramatic when he groaned at the pinch of the strap digging into his side.

he laughed at himself, a little breathless, and sank into the passenger seat like he belonged there. his head fell back against the headrest, and he closed his eyes for a moment, humming along to the music you'd put on, soft and low through the speakers.

but maybe ten minutes into the drive, you noticed the way he kept shifting in his seat. subtle, but there—a tension in the way his legs squeezed together, the restless movement of his hands clutching at his lap like he was fighting an invisible battle. he stopped humming, stopped talking, and just stared out the window with lips pressed tight and jaw clenched.

"you good?" you asked casually, still focused on the road but curious enough to glance over.

he hesitated, swallowing hard like he was holding something back. then, in a voice barely above a whisper—

"i have to pee."

you smirked quietly, that playful spark lighting up behind your eyes. "how bad?"

he shot you a look, embarrassed and desperate all at once. "really bad." the words stumbled out in a rushed breath. "like—i didn't go before we left, and now s'just… building."

you bit back a laugh. "so, what? it's my fault you forgot to pee?"

"kind of, yeah." his voice was low, guilty.

you hummed thoughtfully, letting your hand trail from the steering wheel to rest on his thigh. your touch was gentle at first, a casual caress above his jeans, but you could feel the instant reaction—how his muscles tensed, how his breath hitched. without warning, your fingers pressed firmly against the front of his jeans, right over the spot where his bladder sat swollen and tight beneath the denim.

he gasped sharply, hips jerking away, his hands flying up to grip your wrist like he was trying to break free.

"fuck—don't," he begged, voice shaky. "m'serious."

"i know," you purred, tracing lazy circles that made him squirm. "i just wanna feel how full you are."

he whimpered, jaw tightening like he was trying to hold back more than just words. "please, stop—if you keep touchin' me there, i won't make it."

you didn't relent. you pressed harder, sliding your palm up and down in slow, teasing strokes that left him trembling beneath your touch.

his thighs shook as he tried to pull away, his body betraying him in the most delicious way. "m'gonna piss myself," he warned again, voice rising with panic. "pull over or i swear i'll do it right here."

you laughed softly, amusement curling your lips. "no you won't."

"you don't know that," he snapped back, voice breaking. "m'leaking, ma—please."

your eyes stayed locked on the road, but your voice was calm, teasing, and utterly in control. "then be a good boy and hold it."

he let out a breathless sound, half frustration and half desperation. his head tipped back, eyes fluttering closed as he clenched his fists in his lap, like physically holding himself together was the only thing stopping him from losing control entirely.

you let the silence stretch between you, the weight of it thick and electric. you let him squirm under your gaze, let the tension build until it was almost unbearable. then, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper—

"slide down your pants."

he blinked, shocked. "what?"

"you heard me," you said firmly, voice steady and patient.

he shook his head frantically. "no—no, i can't. if i do that, m'gonna—fuck, please don't make me."

"slide them down," you repeated, your tone leaving no room for argument. "or you won't get to pee at all. not even when we get home."

his whole body froze, every muscle taut with conflict. then, hands trembling, he fumbled with the button of his jeans, pulling the fabric down inch by slow inch until they sat low on his thighs. you caught a glimpse of black calvin kleins, stretched tight over the outline of his dick and the unmistakable dark stain that betrayed just how full he already was.

you sighed, a mix of satisfaction and tenderness. "soaked already."

he turned his face away, cheeks burning with shame. "m'trying,” he breathed. "m'trying so hard."

your hand moved with deliberate slowness, sliding beneath his boxers to cup the heat pulsing through the fabric. you felt his dick twitch under your touch, hard and needy despite himself, the wetness making your palm slick.

he groaned low, trying to pull away but not really meaning it. "don't—don't rub it. i can't—mama, please, i can't hold it."

"then don't," you whispered, leaning closer so your breath ghosted over his ear. "just let go."

he shook his head again, biting his lip until it bled a little. "please. please not like this."

your fingers slowed to a teasing stroke, dragging lightly down the length of him as you watched the battle in his eyes—the shame, the want, the helpless need for release tangled together in a mess you wanted to untangle one kiss, one touch at a time.

his body trembled violently now, thighs shaking as he clutched at the armrest like it was the last thing holding him up. his breath hitched, breaking free in little gasps, and his lashes fluttered as tears threatened to spill.

"it's okay," you murmured, voice thick with something softer than lust. "let it happen. be messy for me."

and then—

he exhaled sharply, all the tension in his body unraveling in one long shuddering release. his frame slumped slightly against the seat, hands dropping away from yours as if surrendering to the moment.

you felt it first—the sudden rush of heat spreading across your palm, warm and slick. then came the quiet hiss, muffled by the layer of fabric, the sound of him letting go, soaking through his boxers, wetting your hand as it dripped down his thigh to his jeans.

he moaned softly, a broken, humiliated sound, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying to hide from his own helplessness.

"fuck," he whispered, voice raw and trembling. "fuck, m'sorry. i didn't mean to. i really didn't."

you didn'tpull your hand away. instead, you held him there—warm and soaked, vulnerable beneath your touch. your voice dropped to a low, tender murmur.

"you did so good, baby."

he shook his head, shame flooding his features. "no i didn't."

"yes, you did," you said, stroking him gently now, the slow rhythm a balm to his frayed nerves. "you held it for so long. you did everything i asked. you were perfect."

his breath hitched, lips trembling, and you could see the wet shine in his eyes as he struggled to hold back the tears. his hips twitched involuntarily, desperate for comfort, and the weight of his shame melted into something softer under your fingers.

"you're not mad?" he asked, voice cracking on the question.

"never," you promised. "i loved watching you lose control."

he whimpered again, but this time the sound was almost relief. his head tipped back against the seat, lashes fluttering shut as your hand slid up to rest just above the waistband of his boxers.

"we'll get you out of those when we get home," you whispered. "clean you up properly. maybe reward you for being such a good boy."

he nodded slowly, body still trembling, but the tightness in his chest easing.

༘࿐ note from babydoll . . . this was rushed if you can't tell already.

ˇ ⋆ ╱ 🔖 ❛ @angvl3tears @anisturniolox @bernardsbendystraws

tap here to be added onto the taglist !! :)

© chrisbabydoll please do not copy, rewrite, or translate my works on tumblr or any other platform.

[monkebearness]

Our Story, Like a Romance Novel [Chapter 2: Speed Love]

Chapter 0, Chapter 1

Tags: angst, fluff, slice of life, coming-of-age

Word count: 5k

a/n: there's gonna be a scene that may or may not be uncomfortable for some readers, but the angst tag is already there. but yeah, I gotta keep the story moving, so I hope you like it.

Having connected through SNS for a while, Nien and Junghoon hit it off to say the least. Getting to know each other through texting, even though they have already been hanging out in the same club four to five times a week, sometimes a little more, within the last three to four months since he was invited into the Mad Money Club.

Within that spam to lf time, Junghoon would often find the woman somewhere near his or her department building, if not at the club’s hangout room. At first, he expected this, considering their meetings mere chance encounters… But every time Nien catches his eyes, his heart keeps thumping louder, especially as their proximities close.

A wallflower since his early adolescence, never has he felt a sensation this fluttering and intrusive. His mind would spiral all over the place, and not even his sense of reason can try and make any excuse towards his inquisitive yearning to stay with her the chance he gets.

“Hey, Junghoon-ssi…” she walks to him in her backpack. “You done with your classes?”

Sometimes, those flutters make him nervous. Another time, they elevate his patience, interest, and determination with someone. In those moments, he turns into someone he’s usually not—yet he simply couldn't care less. Not even the lovey-dovey teases of Yubin, Dahyun, and Sohyun bothered him. In fact, they somewhat encouraged the butterflies flourishing in his stomach to push himself and do something—anything, to get himself out of his comfort zone, if it meant prolonging his moment with Nien.

The only problem is, he can’t come up with anything when he’s in front of her. “Yeah?”

“You’re not sure?” The left corner of her lips slightly raise in amusement.

There are perhaps millions, if not more ways to describe how he was feeling whenever he’s around Nien. Yet that’s also what often hindered him from expressing himself.

“I mean—yeah!” He clears his throat. “It just finished, actually… But, how about you?”

“We were done about three hours ago,” she informs him in a somewhat aloof tone.

“Wait…” He wiggles his head in confusion. “Don’t tell me, you waited there—”

“What do you think?”

One thing was for sure, mainly because of how his heart keeps on racing around her.

“Mianhaeyo!” Junghoon exclaims as he rapidly bows to her out of guilt.

“Oh, no, no, no! Please, Junghoon… I’m just kidding.”

“Oh… Well, I might as well apologize for keeping a lady waiting here for a long time.”

He likes this woman very much, and he’s not letting this new opportunity slide.

“Yah…” she folds her lips, even as they curve upwards, turning her eyes away from him. “I’m just here to fetch you before the girls meet, you know?”

“So you didn’t just wait here, under the sun, for how-long…”

“What if I was? Is that a problem with you?”

He interlocks his fingers. “It’s the opposite of that… You know, I wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with you. Outside the club hangouts and all that.”

 “Oh…” Her eyes slowly grew as her smile slowly showed her crystal white teeth.

“That is,” he quickly backtracks. “If you’re not uncomfortable with it, then we can—”

“Of course, of course, not!” she almost panicked. “I’m comfortable with it, Junghoon.”

Unbeknownst to him, their encounters would end up leading them to have a small date. A meeting at the cafe and like most encounters, there’s a waiting game for one’s arrival.

Not knowing anything about flirting and talking to women he’d liked, Junghoon rushed to his friends for advice right after Sohyun gave him Nien’s number. Of course he would come to ignite brighter sparks with her by simply being himself, a certain trait that Nien herself had found to be quite enticing, even fascinating, the longer they got to know each other. But unbeknownst to him, their texts and hangouts on campus. This date came to a fruition just happened to be brought by Nien on a whim and of course, it freaked him out from his side of the screen, but instead of making his panics obvious, he expressed his glee. Nien tends to be playful most of the time. It's a part of her charm that entices Junghoon. However, when she's serious about something, she will commit to it.

[Nien: I guess we’re both set for Saturday!]

{Junghoon: We are.} {I can’t wait, Nien!}

[Nien: Neither can I, Junghoon-ah (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)]

He didn’t want to mess it up, especially since she’s the one who made the move to meet. Once more, he knows nothing about dating, until now. Hence, from a newer hairstyle and perfume to fancier clothing, he asked his buddies about their recommendations. Even if such a request was a burden that he owed them, he reiterated to them and to himself, “I know it’s too much to ask, but I can’t mess this up. Not for her.”

“Don’t you dare explain yourself or apologize for anything,” Yeonghwan welcomes him with open arms, placing his arm on his shoulder. “We got you on this bud!”

“Yeah, dude,” Kotone shakes his other shoulder with excitement. “We’ll make sure you’ll have the night of our life with Nien-sunbaenim!”

“Oh, he will!” Honggi insinuates her remark with a grin, patting his palms on his back. “You’ve grown up, man!”

“What do you mean?” Junghoon turns his head in confusion.

“Don’t mind him,” Myungsoo chuckles at his innocence. “But, you’ll understand what he means eventually.”

The whole day was spent on their trip to the mall. Junghoon’s earnings from Mad Money Club were more than enough to buy himself a new set of clothes suggested by his friends. Surprisingly enough, this was one of the few special moments he had spent on something and anything outside his priorities.

He learned the mannerisms, he bought the items he never even knew he needed. Now it’s time for the meetup he’s been preparing for in the last few days. It’s a Saturday afternoon when they finally meet at a restaurant. Nothing too pretentious. A cozy place where a few young couples like them are also dining in due to either their locality or Insta popularity.

He rushes to Nien’s table while trying to keep his calm. “Sorry if I was late.”

She smiles at his presence. “You’re right on time. Don’t sweat about it.”

He notices her attire. Wow, is all he can think about meeting her in person, outside campus. She herself must’ve also prepared for this. Of course she would, since she suggested going on a date with him. “You look really lovely tonight, Nien-ssi.”

“Just tonight?” her tone sounds intimidating, though he knew her enough. She’s teasing.

He almost panics. “I mean, you did, too… You’re always beautiful.” Just until he saves it.

Letting out a giggle, Nien looks down and curls up her hair to the side of her right ear.  She’s still taken aback at his remark, even though she has heard similar things before.

“Yah… You look great too, Junghoon-ssi,” she tells him. “I thought you’d wear some suit and tie, but that’d be too much for this occasion. Even in that, you look pretty fancy.”

“I guess this occasion is just special enough for me, so I even thought I overdressed.”

Her eyes grow for a second, as is her smile. “It is? Does it mean this is your first date?”

An itch strikes the right side of Junghoon’s hair, prompting him to scratch it on sight. His reaction made Nien chuckle. Despite his feeling of embarrassment, she keeps her eyes leveled to him with adoration.

“Cute,” she whispers under her breath, before facing him. “I’m not judging you. I’m just… Curious.”

“Well,” he musters up, slowly straightening his back. “It is. Is that a turn-off for you?”

“No,” she smiles. “It’s kind of the opposite.” Her eyes and smile always gets him. That remark from her alone makes him feel things up his mind, in his heart, and down his–

Don’t mess this up. Don’t mess this up! Junghoon warns himself in his mind while he faces her from his seat.

But it’s a first date, which means that mess-ups are not out of the realm of possibility. It could be an awkward interaction that goes to hell, or someone bumping into a waiter as it trickles down a domino effect that breaks every plate and glass they were serving. For these two, a worse situation would strike their moment like lightning on a summer day.

Yet thirty minutes have passed since they met. Is he really gonna have the night of his life, just like what his friends had teased him? He doesn’t know how the night will end, but with how it’s been going well, Junghoon is already feeling like it, to say the least.

Nien finds herself more allured as the man in front of her takes a bite and describes each of the steaming appetizers that just arrived, as if she’s listening to a gourmet who’s been enhancing her dining experience. Down their table, each snicker and giggle from Nien triggers a few tantalizing movements from her feet as they give his ankle light footsies, one that almost made him choke on his water the first time he felt her movements.

Surprisingly, it was thanks to his conscious mind, Junghoon’s years of locking eyes at the television, watching dramas, has reminded him of some things either to follow or ignore. A couple exchanges of jokes and compliments were the start, but receiving a handful of light, playful touches.

He senses this is something else. Something more.

Then Junghoon receives a call, and the words that follow has him paralyzed for seconds.

His sudden expression concerns her. “Junghoon-ah, what’s the matter? Who was it?”

“I–I’m sorry, Nien-ssi,” his voice trembling, just his face submitting to unimaginable fear at what he just learned. She reaches her hand to him as her daydreams drain out, his words snapping her to this unexpected reality. “Something came up. I’m so sorry.”

Junghoon gets up from his seat and leaves the cafe. Outside, he runs and runs with no care and shame about the bystanders looking at him strange or worried. Seconds have passed and he is nowhere to be seen on the street. Nien stares outside, devastated that the man she likes has now left her without any reason, although not a single reason will ever undo the damage that’s been done.

She accepts the truth unfolding in front of her. The night is already over.

Having taken a taxi and spending more of his earnings from the club, he finally makes it to the hospital after ten minutes of an anxiety-filled ride throughout Seoul. Despite his shortness of breath, he rushes straight to the receptionist and asks her about the room of a woman in her mid-eighties, named Kim Byeolyi.

As soon as she answers, he takes a few turns across the corridor until he reaches the emergency room, as fright and relief fight over his lungs—letting out “Halmeoni!”

= = =

Monday morning. Students return to class. Piles and piles of papers were returned as results were announced, alongside new ones. Yet guilt remains anchored on his mind and heart.

Junghoon did his best avoiding the Mad Money Club for a couple of days since then. He imagines how they’ll react if they see him after that night. And he wouldn’t blame them if they feel that way towards him. Or if they end up kicking him out of the club later on. For now, he had to pay more attention to his only family, despite his pitiful regret for leaving the woman he's more than willing to spend the night with.

As the clock strikes twelve noon, he could only confide in the people who he has known the longest, meeting them on the empty stands next to the campus’ football field.

“How are you holding up, man?” Yeonghwan looks at him with sympathy.

“Oh, you know… I messed it up,” Junghoon sighs. “But halmeoni is stable again.”

“We’re glad that halmeoni is doing better,” Kotone can only pat him on the back.

“Besides, I’m sure Nien will understand, man,” Myungsoo considers. “Does she know about what happened?”

“Did you tell any of them?” Honggi chimes in, emanating with worry, instead of the usual curiosity or intrigue he always brings to their hangouts. Realizing that all of his closest friends have shown and voiced their concern towards him. “I mean your club.”

“I, uhh…” Junghoon clears his throat. “I didn’t tell them…”

Outside his closest friends, no one else knew. Not even the person he trusts the most. Yet, he kept receiving texts from them. Message notifications would keep popping up, and he can longer ignore the club. Not after realizing that they became his friends too.

[Yubin: Junghoon-oppa!] [Where the hell are you?]

[Dahyun: Junghoon… We’re worried about you.] [You must have a reason why you left, but you gotta tell us about it.]

[Seoyeon: Why aren’t you answering our messages, Junghoon-ah?][What happened?]

[Sohyun: Answer your phone, Junghoon.] [Please.] [Talk to me about it.]

[Nien: Whatever happened that night…] [I just hope you’re doing okay, Junghoon-ah.] [The club wants to know if you’re okay.] [I want to know if you’re okay.]

“I'm feeling much better, Junghoon-ie,” his grandmother assures him from the couch as she lets out a cackle at the variety show on the television, later that afternoon.

He walks to her, handing her a tablet with one hand, and a glass of island on the other. “I know, but you're gonna need to drink your medicine regularly, okay halmeoni?”

“Of course, honey, I know your worries won’t go away—” she looks up, swallowing down the tablet, before taking the glass from him. “—if I don't take them.”

“Halmeoni,” he sighs. Despite knowing her intentions to lift his spirits, she can feel her grandson’s hand clenching with concern. “That’ll be for the whole month… Please.”

She chuckles lightheartedly, softly rubbing his back. “Arasseo, arasseo… I’ll drink the next one after we eat. I remember what the doctor prescribed me, too, you know?”

He sighs heavily, showing her a smile of relief. “Yeah…”

The next morning arrived… When he finally listened to his grandmother's words, also remembering what she told him a few days earlier. Despite what happened, he knows that he's always been stronger than he thinks.

He enters the club’s room. Room 238. Just as he always remembers it. The atmosphere is not the same as when he usually enters. As much as it pains him, he looks at everyone as they stare at him in silence. Most of them look at him with disquiet and concern, even though he feels he doesn’t deserve such a gaze. At least, one of the girls is staring at him the way he believes he should be treated. Xinyu must be killing him over and over again in her mind. I deserve it. After I left her best friend alone. I deserve worse. At least my halmeoni is doing better. At least my friends understand. That’s what matters more right now. Whatever happens now… That’s their reaction.

“Should I not be here today?” He breaks the silence, keeping his tense breath slow. “I can just stay out—”

“No, no…” Dahyun comes closer, emanating with concern. “Come in, Junghoon-ah.”

“We’re glad you’re okay, oppa,” comforts Yubin, rubbing his arm as he walks by.

But as he looks around, Nien is nowhere to be found among the club members. Junghoon immediately worries for her, still guilt-ridden. “Where is—”

“Don’t go anywhere near Nien-ah,” Xinyu pierces his soul with her stare of death.

Junghoon silently bows to her with regret, but her glare towards him remains merciless.

Beside her, Sohyun slowly holds Xinyu’s hands a little tighter with eyes that plead to her. “Xinyu-yah, please don’t be harsh on him.”

“Why not?” She tilts her head at her girlfriend, before looking back at him. “He doesn’t even need to be here! Not after what you did to Nien!”

“I know, sunbae…” Junghoon keeps his composure. “But I need to know where she is.”

“Not until you tell us first, Junghoon,” Sohyun pleads to him with a somber tone. Letting go of Xinyu’s hand, she takes a few steps forward. “Or at least… tell me what happened.”

Junghoon takes a deep breath, enough to push himself to explain everything to her.

After several minutes, Junghoon would find Nien at the gardens, as Sohyun briefed him. He takes a seat next to each other at a bench in the midst of the afternoon spring breeze. Not as anything more than friends who want to clear the air about what happened that night. But for both of them, that’s all that matters for now.

“I’m so sorry for standing you up like that,” he looks at her. “You don’t deserve it.”

“No. Kotone-hoobae actually told me what happened on my way here… Junghoon-ssi, I just wished you told me sooner.” She looks at Junghoon with eyes of solace and reaches his shoulder softly, pulling him in an embrace, hoping to comfort him through the only way she can in this situation. “It must’ve been hard for you, finding it out so suddenly.”

“Yeah, I should’ve,” Junghoon mutters, still feeling remorseful for his actions that day. “I’m really sorry, Nien-sunbaenim.”

They slowly break the hug. “Does anyone else in the club know about what happened?”

He nods. “I first told Sohyun-noona… The others know it was a family emergency.”

“How is she now?” Her hands still lie on top of his. “Your grandmother…”

“She’s feeling better now, but the doctor advised her to drink her medicine, so I’m gonna have to work overtime in my late shifts to earn enough to buy her those meds.”

“Don’t worry about the money too much. We can help you out with that, arasseo? Take care of her by staying close with her… I’m just glad that your halmeoni’s doing okay.”

“I feared I would mess things up. I did everything I could, but it just happened when I got the call from the neighbors and—”

“Junghoon-ah,” she stops him with a calm demeanor. “You didn't mess everything up. Your grandmother's well-being matters more. It should... You made the right call, okay? Like I said, focus on taking care of her right now. We got your back.”

“Thank you, sunbae,” he can feel his heart beating slower, as his breathing feels easier.

Nien can’t help but let out a snicker. “You gotta stop calling me that, Junghoon-ah.”

“Why not? It’s a fact that you are my sunbae, and you’re a year older than me.”

“And..? It’s been months since you joined the club. At least stop calling me sunbae.”

“Yeah, I’m a part of Mad Money, but as your ‘part-time assistant.’ Other sunbaes and students would think it’s weird that I just started calling you too casually.”

“Who cares about what others think? You gotta drop the honorifics with me. It’s the least you can do… If you truly want to stay friends with me… Unless you don’t?” She darts her eyes at him. They still get him every time, even if she’s messing around with him, even if she’s simply lifting his spirits.

“I do want to stay friends!” He raises his hands, following an instinct. One that aims not to disappoint her. “I’ll try my best not to call you that, noona—”

“Ah, ah!” she interrupts him, pointing her index finger at him like it’s a blade. “Not that one either. You may have convinced unnie and Soda-yah for you to call them that, but not me. I’m not gonna let that slide. The whole ‘noona’ thing doesn’t vibe with me.”

Junghoon laughs. Her reasoning seems well-thought-out. “So, Nien-ssi then? I mean, that’s what I called you last time and you didn’t seem to mind it.”

“Fine!” Nien finally settles with his proposal. “I’m guessing you’re not that comfortable with me just yet… And by the way, you better let me treat you to lunch. Between friends, of course. I can’t let that dinner be the end of us hanging out.”

“Well, if that makes things better for us…” He offers his hand, signaling a handshake. “I’d love to have a ‘friendly lunch’ with you some time, Nien-ssi.”

“Kol!” The woman stands up with a burst of optimism, reciprocating Junghoon’s offer without hesitation. “And by ‘some time,’ you better mean like soon, all right? The way you described those dishes on the restaurant’s menu was mouth-watering!”

“Maybe we can order them for real next time,” he suggests. Nien nods with anticipation.

Nien and Junghoon stopped treating their relationship as romantic, or anything close to that. But maybe that’s for the best, as they’d grow into something that would last longer. Nien would realize that she’s not too fond of being in a committed relationship just yet. And as for Junghoon… Time will tell. As they say, after all, there is always someone for everyone, even if they don’t hope or expect it to come to them. With their conciliation, Junghoon returns to Room 238 with Nien to face the rest of his clubmates once again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, yeoreobun,” he bows to the rest of the club members.

“God, oppa… You know you had us worried for days,” Yubin frets further. “We thought something happened because you weren’t answering our texts! Even our calls.”

Junghoon bows to them. “I’m sorry. It just happened and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s okay, Junghoon-ah,” Dahyun reassures him. “Now that you told us, we’re just glad that your grandma’s feeling better.”

“Well, it can’t be helped if you had a personal emergency. I hope she has a fast recovery,” Xinyu’s tone sounds more neutral, making Junghoon feel that the misunderstanding he had caused to Nien will not be easily forgiven by everyone. Even if Nien herself forgave him. “But you left Nien without saying why... I won’t forget that.” And he won’t, either.

“I did,” Junghoon remains hesitant to answer her. “And it won’t happen again, sunbae.”

“But Sohyun-ah trusted you enough to lend your services to us,” Xinyu sounds more logical than sympathetic to his response, yet a hint of hostility remains in her tone. Perhaps still grudgeful of his fault. “Just be transparent next time, Junghoon.”

“Unnie…” Seoyeon steps up, sensing Xinyu’s passive aggression. “I trust Junghoon, too. So does Soda and Yubin-ah. I understand if you’re still not too trusting of him, but the fact is, Nien and him have already made up outside. Besides, their date last week isn’t some kind of assignment that he had to do for her.”

Xinyu feels like she’s backed into a corner. “I know that, Seoyeon-ie… I’m just saying—”

“I don’t want anyone harboring ill feelings for anyone in this room,” Seoyeon continues. “This isn't why we formed this club. We know that you have issues with trusting anyone else, but whether you like it or not, Junghoon is still a part of our club.”

“I don't hate him!” exclaims Xinyu. “I warned him so nothing like this happens again.”

“That’s enough,” Nien disrupts the feud between her sisters. “Seoyeon-ah’s right, and I can’t force you to like him. But we went out on a date because I wanted to, Xinyu-unnie. He happened to have an emergency concerning his grandma, so he left me to deal with it and he apologized for not telling me sooner.” A breath of relief leaves her body. “Unnie… Yeorobun… It’s alright now.”

Xinyu becomes swarmed with guilt, but she can’t say anything any further, otherwise the situation gets worse when it starts to be mended. She knows that she said enough. “I’m sorry Seoyeon-ah and Nien-ah…” she stammers. “And I’m sorry for my behavior just now, Junghoon-ssi.”

“It's okay, Xinyu-sunbae… I'm just thankful that I've told you girls the truth. Whatever you think of me after this, I don't mind it. I understand if you don't want me to still be around, but I'll come by and help out if you need me with anything.”

= = =

Later that afternoon, Junghoon would meet with his close friends at their usual campus hangout, a bench near the grass fields, during their dismissal. They continue to console their friend about the aftermath of his unfortunate incident and emergency last week.

“Did you finally tell Nien about your halmeoni's condition?” Yeonghwan asks him.

“I did, hyung,” Junghoon sighs in relief. “I told everyone else in the club, too. They understood, so the misunderstanding has been cleared up, to say the least.”

“Does that mean you’ll be having another date with Nien-sunbaenim?” Honggi wonders.

“Well, not exactly. We’ll have something better, though.”

“What is it?” Myungsoo cannot help but spew his questions. “You two going somewhere outside for another dinner? Maybe a stroll to the park?”

“Just friends going out for lunch,” he delivers nonchalantly.

“Friends for lunch?” Honggi’s confused at what he just heard. “What happened to the girl who you hit off with that night? I thought she was even flirting with you non-stop?”

“That’s kinda what I’m wondering too, man,” Yeonghwan chimes in. “Why didn’t you talk things out with her a little more? Maybe there’s a little more misunderstanding?”

Why didn’t he push it through? Took a little more initiative, ask her to spend more time with him, despite already making up, instead of chickening—

= = =

“I’m sorry I ruined your special night, dear,” mutters his grandmother, Kim Byeolyi. It had only been a few minutes since she woke up from the hospital bed.

“No, no… Why are you apologizing? Come on, it was nothing, halmeoni.”

She places her other hand on top of his. “It’s not just nothing for you, Junghoon-ie.”

“I’m just happy that you’re doing better, okay? Besides… We don’t have anyone else.”

“We still got our neighbors,” she reminds him with a cheerful tone, but he’s unmoved by his own coldness. Junghoon found out that her friends next door called the ambulance when she was hanging out at their market. The possibility of ‘if no one else was there,’ scares him more, but the warmth of his grandmother’s hands only makes him sigh.

He looks down on her wrinkly palms, both in despair and gratitude. Despair for what could’ve been, if no one got there in time. Gratitude that things haven’t gotten worse.

“Don’t beat yourself up… Now, go talk to that wonderful girl you just left and apologize to her, okay? Buy her a bouquet from the shop outside, if you have to… Maybe cook her what food she likes, if you want! Just don’t leave her hanging like before.”

As a couple of hours would pass, Junghoon had to wait with his own thoughts while the physicians took her through a few more tests. Despite his grandma’s sincere advice, he didn’t know how else to deal with such a nerve-racking situation. The schism of guilt and conscience raging within him. ‘My savings won't be enough to cover all costs.’ ‘Halmeoni needs more for next week.’ ‘Should I ask for a raise?’ ‘Just calm down.’ ‘You already owe them a lot.’ ‘Don’t make things worse.’ ‘You’re a coward.’

Junghoon’s heart beats in the same rhythm yet it rings in various ways, reeling him through various memories. Nien’s smile and company. His grandmother’s breathing and motherly care. The cheers and hollers of his close friends. The encouragement of the Mad Money Club in the past few months.

Yet, at the same time, his impulsive actions last night… Leaving Nien all alone. She may forgive him. She may definitely not. But that’s not what’s making his muscles twitch or his mind spiral into the pitless dimensions of analysis paralysis concerning the future. Priorities and responsibilities ramming through his daydreams and desires like they were glass.

Looking back at his grandmother, lying on the hospital bed, the young man’s heart aches at the sight of family, still keeping up her warm smile, despite her recent close encounter in the face of the abyss. He doesn’t even know if he can forget, nor forgive himself for it.

‘You gotta think this through,’ he tells himself. ‘This isn’t just about yourself, Junghoon.’

= = =

“I’m sure sunbae has a reason for changing her mind too,” Kotone considers, patting her friend’s shoulder. “I’m just glad that halmeoni is doing better... Take some time off from work if you want to, Junghoon-ah. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“Thanks…” was what Junghoon could only say, ignoring their more pragmatic advice, though taking them to heart. “And even though Xinyu-sunbae wasn’t as friendly when she heard my explanation, I get why she acted that way.”

“Zhou Xinyu?” Myungsoo realizes. He did share a few classes with her before, even worked in the same group. “Oh, that makes sense. She's not too friendly with anyone outside her friend groups. At least not so much that she'll be sticking around with ‘em.”

“Oh,” Junghoon feels less guilty, yet remains disappointed for some reason. “That's one thing I didn't know about her… She rarely hangs out in the room whenever I am there.”

“I can't blame her, though,” Yeonghwan agrees. “She's probably experienced it a lot since day one. All the catcallings, the selfless acts from guys, sometimes some girls, just so they could try getting their way in her pants… But when she met Sohyun, I guess she probably felt easier. More comfortable around her along with their pals… But she's actually a kind person, I'm sure she'll soften up on you the longer you stay with the club.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Junghoon nods. “I do know that Sohyun and Xinyu-sunbae feel like their truest selves the most whenever they're together. It's quite touching to see, to be honest.”

“I heard from Joonie-sunbae that those two are like wild animals in their dorms—”

Irritated, Kotone hits her left knuckle on Honggi’s shoulders, making him unleash a shriek of agony in seconds. Yeonghwan and Myungsoo cannot be more amused at his reaction.

“Knock it off, Honggi-yah!” she shakes her head while he backs off inches away from her. “Stop being a perv now. What’s wrong with you?”

Groaning in pain, Honggi rubs his shoulder with disdain. “I was just bringing up a rumor, which I’m expecting for Junghoon to confirm or debunk right now.”

“Umm, that’s not my business,” Junghoon chuckles. “And neither is it yours, man. But... They’re the best couple I know, that’s for sure... And I wish nothing but the best for them, you know?”

= = =

I've written this a while ago, but I added some scenes. Some slight spoilers for readers: what happens in the next one (nothing violent or anything though) may trigger some reactions, but since this is just an au fic. everything here is entirely fictional... It'll be an "angst fest," but there'll be sparks of fluff to balance it out. If you're still interested, hope you stay tuned. thanks for the read and have a good day!

[isetfiretomyself]

Yandere Male Chef X G/N Actor Reader

This is my first request for a Yan online! YIPPEE :D I don't think I'd respond to questions again because damn it ruined my engagement last time. This took me way longer then expected to get done(⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠)Guys I need you to understand how long it took me to figure out how this guy was gonna lose his mind(⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) - Jay

Trigger Warnings! Putting people in harms way, Unhealthy Protectiveness, Violence, Gore, Cannibalism, Tricked into Cannibalism, This Fic gets a little darker then my normal stuff! This is all fictional I don't condone toxic behaviour or crimes irl!

🔪Yandere Chef who worked at his families restaurant till he was 17. He was taught to cook with love and care! He then got the opportunity to learn professionally were he spent years working with the best of the best! It's wasn't about fun anymore it was about perfection.

🔪Yandere Chef didn't like people by the end of his training and worked out private work was so much more isolating then high class restaurants. He would come in for romantic dinners, parties, whatever, whenever. He didn't care.

That's where he met you. Wade learnt what to expect from certain clients. Influences usually want small appetizers for parties, athletes want meals they can heat up but you. Actor's usually want a show piece for events, you just wanted your favourite meal alone on your birthday. How bizarre?

🔪Yandere Chef knocked at your penthouse. You opened the door. "Hiya! You're here!" Wade isn't used to people talking so excitedly around him. It reminds him of his childhood before yelling negatively was what ingrained into him. He didn't really like having these feelings brought up in him.

🔪Yandere Chef was lead to your kitchen where you had all the ingredients neatly laid out, cute. What surprised him more was when you sat opposite him elbows on the counter. "You don't need to be about. I won't burn your kitchen down." "Oh! I know! I just wanted to keep you company! If I'm allowed?"

🔪Yandere Chef was taken aback. "Who am I to deny you on your birthday?" He was so curious about you that for the first time he questioned a client. "Why are you alone on your birthday?" "Oh! I prefer being on my own!" "Amen to that." He mumbles while focusing on the meal.

He plated your meal and to his surprise you ate all of it. If it's one thing he's learnt from celebrities is that they never eat everything. Something about being "humble" or not being "greedy", whatever it's insulting to see the food he spends hours cooking get only half ate.

"This is so good! You're so talented!" You were so excited over his food it threw him off guard.

🔪Yandere Chef felt a little embarrassed. He's not had so much praise since he was a child. He was more thrown of guard when you tried tipping him on your birthday. "You don't need to do that." He tried resisting but you wouldn't let it happen. "Please, I really, really want to! I haven't had such a delicious meal in a while!"

Wade went home looking going through the cash you gave him. Most of the time celebrities pre pay, completely ignore him and send him on his way. On a bad day he'll actively hear people negatively talk about his food. You were so happy it was such a harsh contrast.

🔪Yandere Chef was hired for a house warming party. Some rich actor wanting show off his mansion. He was there hours early making appetizers because none wants a real meal anymore. He had everything set up and was about to leave and till his client stood in his pathway.

"Listen it's totally optional but you're hard to get and I think if you showed your face it'd be pretty cool. I mean you're notoriously hard to get and I did give you a generous tip."

That's how Wade ended up with swirling red wine around in a glass, sat on an expensive sofa debating if he should stain it. He had people come up to him mainly trying to hire him or trying to get gossip on his prior clients. He was going to leave when he hears someone from the other side of the room. "Oh my! Wade! Hiya!" You come rushing over. "I thought you made the food, it's so delicious!" Then like a proud parent you dragged him around telling everyone how good the food is and how they should try it. It was so embarrassing!

🔪Yandere Chef was leaning on a wall watching you talk to others. Why does he always feels so embarrassed around you? That's when your laugh brought a realisation within him. You're so pure in such a vile industry. You remind him of his family restaurant, where there was hard work but joy in his creations.

Wade noticed the way some of the others side eyed you. He felt a scoff come from his throat, they were so stuck up, it irritates him.

🔪Yandere Chef takes his hands in yours. "Would you want me to make you another meal? This one's on me." The host's visitors were all shocked. Behaviour like this wasn't common! He noticed the eyes on you made you embarrassed. "I don't mind..." You mumble.

🔪Yandere Chef was making something for you in your kitchen. He was actually trying to engage with you this time. "So." Wade said cutting up vegetables. "You're an actor but you get nervous at parties, why?" He watches you trace circles in your counter. "I don't know...I was a child actor so I suppose it's all I've known." His face hardens.

🔪Yandere Chef thinks you deserve better. I mean you're a good actor but you're better then acting in his eyes. "How many movies have you been in then?" "Didn't you look me up?" "No?" Everything went silent. You had lunged forward over the counter and hugged him. "You're the first person not to goggle me in a while..." You mumbled into his shoulder.

Now the two of you had a sort of alliance or whatever. You called it a friendship.

🔪Yandere Chef was cooking for some rich couple while they were watching TV in the living room. He didn't mind, the women was sweet but the man was cold. He's glad they left him alone. He could faintly hear the TV when your voice was on the screen. Must of been a show or movie you were in.

Wade felt himself smile when he can hear your faint voice from the screen. That's when he can hear his client being rude about your appearance.How dare they!?

🔪Yandere Chef was following a recipe from the husbands descendants. The ink was smudged already in some places so what if he smudged the part on how much spice he was suppose to put in the meal?

It was too spicy. The couple started yelling at him. But he simply pointed at the recipe he followed. By the end the couple was apologising to him completely unaware Wade was in fact to blame.

🔪Yandere Chef didn't like people who were rude to his friends. And you were his friend now. You said so.

🔪Yandere Chef started hanging out with you more and realised maybe he didn't hate all rich people. (Acting like he isn't yk...rich)You were so down to earth. Wade had you round his house watching movies when and advert for your show came on.

You cringed leaning on wades chest to hide your face. "Mute it! Mute it!" You cried. "Seriously you don't need to act." He rubbed the side of your arm. "I just don't want to feel useless.." That's when it hit him, the best idea he ever had in his entire life.

🔪Yandere Chef opened a restaurant! The famous private chef opening up a small restaurant in a busy part of the city. He had the help from his business friend (Yandere Ex Wife cough cough) to insure it.

🔪Yandere Chef needed your help. Well need is a strong word. It gave you a reason not to act, helping your friend! The more you helped, the closer you two got, the closer you two got, the stronger he's feelings for you grew. Manifesting into someone more sinister.

Who complemented him it never meant anything compared to you. You would come in to help the chef's to clean the kitchen after the shifts sometimes too! Aren't you a cutie?

🔪Yandere Chef was opening up early in the morning. Putting his keys into the door but before turning he hears your voice. "Wade! I'm on my way to a magazine shoot but I made you something!" You show a box of homemade sweet treats. "Don't eat them Infront of me...I don't want to know what a renowned chef thinks of my online recipes!" He watches you run off. He hates that your still in the public eye. So casually complacent with your discomfort because what if the change is worse than the norm?

🔪Yandere Chef sat in an empty booth of his restaurant before his employees came in. He opened the box and to see cookies, brownies and sorts. He bites into one. It was so average but tasted so good. Thick tears run down his face, splattering against the table. He's never been the one served food before. Since he was a child he always cooked his food and dinner. Unprovoked act of kindness was something that hit him in a sensitive spot.

🔪Yandere Chef kept working and till he heard you had came to visit. As much as he complains about you being in the public eye but you haven't done any acting since he opened his restaurant, I suppose Wade's plan sort of worked.

Wade walked through. He was going to ask you round his, he as many times before but this time it romantic. He wants you, He needs you to be his. He see's your gorgeous face but before he can talk to you, A waiter has got your attention to try and flirt with you. This angered him. You don't deserve some dirt like that, the world doesn't deserve you. Nobody deserves you.

🔪Yandere Chef had staff stay back to help him clean. Purposely giving the guy trying to flirt with you a hard job so he stays back longer. "Boss, I'm done. I'm going to clock out for the day,Okay?" He turned his back not being able to see Wade pick up a meat tenderizer and smash it on the back of his head.

The lifeless body lays on the white kitchen floor. Wade had already turned the cameras off. The cameras needed to be reset anyway so nobody knows who came in and never came out. The servers head was caved at the back, a slight dent filled with dark red blood before overflowing onto the floor. "Disgusting pig." He said while spitting on the corpse. Wade took out his own personal cooking utensils from a tool box. Taking out a meat cleaver he slides it along the body's corpse angling it away from the corpse and pushes down in a sliding motion skinning the flesh of the bone. It reminds Wade of how his father taught him to handle meat while preparing a dish.

You were in bed, it was quarter to midnight and you were snuggled in your bed thinking about your day. You hope Wade likes the food you made. He was very supportive! Acting was something you felt like you grew out of and he understood that. You've been trying to stay out of the public eye since but it's all you've ever known. Maybe you could ask Wade for a job? Is that scummy? I mean he was so caring! While you were debating the ethics of asking your friend for a job, you hear a knock on your door.

You were scared a little. Checking your doorbell camera, you see Wade waiting there. "What are you doing here?" You asked, rubbing your eyes. "Midnight snack?" He ruffles your hair. Usually you wouldn't eat so late at night but Wades such a good Chef. It was a meat you've never tried before goat, horses? It was strange.

Little did you know Yandere Chef had feed you the man who tried to flirt with you.You didn't know is this is a morbid start to a brutal end.

[cinnamanz]

CINNAMANZ'S 1K FOLLOWER EVENT

hey eyekons!! thank u all so so much for the love, being here w me and making this happen!! i never rly thought that this blog wld grow this big and reach this far, esp when i only made this acct to give birth to katseye fics that i saw were lacking in tumblr LMAO thought i'd take matter into my own hands nd by doing so, i was so incredibly touched by how welcoming and awesome this community is, and having the opportunity to watch our fandom grow bigger and bigger here in tumblr each day.

as a thank you, i'm planning on opening my inbox for any reqs from you for a whole week straight—possibly even longer, depending on how much reqs have been sent. pls also note that some reqs may take longer than expected, due to life outside tumblr and unfortunately, i do have the tendency to move from one fic to another, so there wont be any scheduling for the fics. also pls keep in mind to check the rules before reqing and that i'll only be writing for katseye. no nsfw!!

note that these r still wips nd can be subjected to changes!

happy reading :)

I'LL ENVY EVEN THE EARTH THAT WRAPS YOUR BODY — sophia laforteza.

⤷ on the night of her debut, sophia gave her heart to the one girl she was never meant to love in silence. they'd promised each other forever, a lifetime of warmth and love. but a kingdom is bound to have enemies. bound to lose men, treasures, have casualties. bound to break promises. sophia just didn’t think it would be hers. ❆ angst, slight fluff, character death, princess x knight, oneshot, 14.9k words

CRUSH — sophia laforteza.

⤷ in a sun-bleached southern town where everyone knows everyone, sophia is the preacher’s golden girl—sweet, proper, and untouched. she sings in the choir, smiles like she means it, and never steps out of line... except when it comes to you. you're the girl their mothers warned them about—leather jackets, cigarettes, and bruises on your knuckles. no one knows that sophia's been slipping out her bedroom window just to feel your hands on her hips and your cigarette smoke on her lips. in a world that worships purity, she’s been craving the ruin of you. ❆ fluff, mentions of homophobia, oneshot, ___ words

SNAP OUT OF IT — sophia laforteza. (req)

⤷ you and sophia are star volleyball players. rivals and sworn enemies. until a booking mishap on a tournament trip lands you both in the same room and the same bed. oh, things are sure about to get messier than your confusing feelings. ❆ fluff, rivals to lovers, oneshot, one bed trope ___ words

SHINE — sophia laforteza. (req)

⤷ you were the complete opposite of the girl who sat across from you. sophia laforteza, the popular girl, most sought-after by both genders, campus crush, cool without even meaning to, sat across from you with a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips and asking a question you knew she definitely didn't need help with. oh, you are so fucked. ❆ fluff, popular x loser, oneshot, ___ words

THE PROMISE — daniela avanzini.

⤷ jocks are as dumb as they look, and daniela will die on that hill. not only that, she was proven even more right when the campus jock, captain of the women's soccer team, came to her of all people about needing help with her declining grades. god, she hated jocks. but when money's involved and the jock's kind of cute, she might just be able to tolerate them. ❆ fluff, jock x nerd, oneshot, ___ words

MARGARET — lara raj.

⤷ lara believes in fate, in signs. you believe in keeping your head down and not getting hurt. but when your paths cross—quite literally—it feels like something meant to happen. ❆ fluff, stranger turn lover, oneshot, ___ words

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL — megan skiendiel.

⤷ smau wip.

GABRIELA — megan skiendiel. (req)

⤷ megan prided herself in keeping her jealousy in check, that, or the lack of material provided to her by her girlfriend to actually get jealous over. she's content. doesn't think she'd like the feeling of jealousy crawling up her torso and settling in the deepest pits of her brain and controlling how she acts. but when a particular incident at a party she'd dragged you to sparks up how possessive she acts, you ought to get her jealous more. ❆ fluff, established relationship, oneshot, ___ words

THE GIRL IS MINE — manon bannerman and megan skiendiel. (req)

⤷ manon and megan never expected to share an ex. even more so, never expected to share the plan of getting the said ex back. after countless of sabotages and petty schemes, the two end up teaming up. however, somewhere along the way, they start to realise that maybe, just maybe, their ex wasn't all that to be fighting over about. ❆ fluff, crack, love triangle, oneshot, ___ words

SOMEBODY ELSE — yoonchae jeung. (req)

⤷ hey siri, how do you deal with feelings for your bestfriend who you're fake dating because she wants to get her ex back? ❆ fluff, fake dating, oneshot, ___ words

A HARD DAY'S NIGHT — ot6. (req)

⤷ you wanted nothing more than a chill chat and gaming with the eyekons. foolish of you to think you'd ever get that living under the same roof with six other girls, who'd somehow ended up using you as a supplier. god, you should get paid for this. ❆ fluff, crack, oneshot, seventh!member, ___ words

masterlist.

[tsmukanii]

Begin Again

She never told you when she was coming, she just appeared. Usually with her things thrown everywhere, raiding your fridge and her dog running around upstairs. It’s just the way things were with her. You never tried to push or ask questions, knowing that she only comes after missions that are really heavy for her. It’s why you made sure to always keep mac and cheese and her favorite vodka stocked. You were out in the barn when she came this time. 

“You got another horse? What’s next, are you gonna get some goats, a chicken?” You chuckled as you turned around to face her, taking in her appearance. There was a noticeable tension in her stance that seemed to ease with every breath she took but the look in her eyes was one you knew all too well. 

“Don’t be jealous, I told you I would get you your own horse when you feel like you're ready for it. Are you just here for the night or are you staying for a bit?”  She gave you a small smile before replying. 

“Ready for me to go already? You didn’t miss me?”

“I see you once every 4 to 6 months, Yelena. Even longer if it calls for it and you can never check in, of course I miss you.” You turned back around to avoid her stare, slinging 2 bags of horse feed over your shoulder before walking to set it down in the storage room. 

You two have been friends ever since she set you free from a covert facility she was sent to destroy by Valentina. You were strapped down to a table having your blood drawn and being tested when she came in. You were in awe of her from the moment you saw her, with her widow bites and her agility. In all honesty you thought she was there to kill you but surprisingly she let you go, brought you to America, introduced you to Valentina who immediately wanted you to work for her as well. You said no.

“What’s his name?” Yelena had walked over to your new shire horse, patting him as he nuzzled his giant head into her neck. You looked on with a bit of jealousy as it took him a while to warm up to you yet here he is falling in love with Yelena. 

“His name is Arion. But I’m thinking of calling him Traitor.” The smile that comes to Yelena’s face is enough to brighten your mood. 

“Aww green is not a good color for you, dorogoy.  Don’t worry there is plenty of me to go around.” You tried not to react to the cheeky wink she sent towards you by changing the subject. 

“What was it this time?” The silence was enough to tell you it was a bad one. Yelena took a deep breath before making her way towards you, still keeping her head down. You meet her in the middle, pulling her into your arms by her waist as you lean down a bit, her head just barely reaching your neck. You held onto her tight, hoping to pour in how much you cared for her with just a simple hug. Then you heard her sniffle, making you start to pull away to look her in her eyes but she just held onto you tighter. 

“I’m going to quit.” You paused at first, not knowing what to say. She would never really tell you what would happen on these missions but you could only imagine after the state she would be in when she would come visit. 

“...Well it looks like Arion will be your horse then.” She finally let go of you to flash a watery smile before frowning.

“I’m serious, I’m going to tell Valentina I can’t do it anymore.” Honestly you believed her. It was like the weight of the world was always hanging on her shoulders and you couldn’t feel more relieved. But why was there a pit in your stomach as she told you she was going to call Valentina later on.

-

That night you had celebrated with Yelena as if it was a ‘retirement’ party. You cooked dinner for her and even made her pie and put a candle in it, telling her to make a wish. You regretted it though because as soon as she blew out the candle, her phone rang. Valentina was calling her. She left again, with a promise that this was the last mission. You didn’t even try to fight her on it, just asked her to be careful like you always do. 

Hours later you get a call from an unknown number. Before you could even say anything, a man with a heavy Russian accent was telling you that Yelena was in danger and needed your help. So that’s how you found yourself stuck in the back of a limo on the way to Utah with a man belting out ‘Poker Face’ by Lady Gaga while you were trying to sleep. You knew you should’ve asked more questions but wanting to make sure Yelena was safe triumphed over everything. 

Next thing you know, you were waking up to the sound of the horn blaring and Alexei yelling out for you to wake up when he skidded the limo to a stop, making you fall to the floor, face first into trash. 

“Yelenaaa! It’s your dadddd!”

You didn’t listen to the rest of what was said as you peeled off a piece of old pizza and a sock with 3 different odors off the back of your suit. The limo door opened just as you were about to, making you fall right out onto the hard concrete. 

“Fuckk.” 

“Oh who the hell is this? Another washed up wanna-be?” 

“Oh I know the fucking Reject Captain America isn’t talking.” Yelena pulled you up off of the ground while her and the Ghost were laughing at your comment. You only knew who she was from hearing the briefing Valentina gave Yelena while she was at your place. 

“Haha whatever, can we go now?” 

You all piled into the limo, hoping to outrun Valentina’s army but luck was not on your side as you all could see a military convoy in the rearview. You start to worry as Ghost isn’t able to use her powers to help with the convoy and facepalm as Alexei triggers the limo’s sexy time song to play. 

Deciding it was time to help, you move to the other side of the limo before kicking off the seats and into the door, snatching it off as you barrel roll into the dirt. Standing up, you dust yourself off, still grasping onto the limo door while you walk back into the street as the military convoy comes barreling toward you. You hear the sound of tires screeching behind you but you pay no mind as you take off running to the convoy. They don’t stop as they see you and you don’t either as you leap into the air, leaping higher than any human can, and spinning before throwing the door with so much force, as it imbedded the hood of the first humvee, it flips. 

 As you start to come down, the second humvee aims its gun at you and starts shooting but you just let out a yell as you release a set of black wings with blue tips from your back, releasing an array of feathers that slide to the undercarriage and slice upward to the top of the convoy, making it explode. 

The third humvee suddenly flips before you have a chance to attack it. You make out a silhouette of a man through the smoke and you go to fly down but suddenly you are hit with an explosive, making you pass out. 

Next thing you knew, you were waking up in chains trying to figure out where you were and why the Winter Soldier was holding you hostage but Yelena explained everything and tried to convince you to join them in stopping Valentina from using someone named Bob. You were hesitant but you agreed after seeing how important it was to her. 

-

You guys got your asses handed to you. ‘Sentry’ broke one of your wings and it was hell for you to retract it back. Then it got worse as he started to take everyone into the Void. You all were trying to get away to safety or you thought you were when you heard Alexei scream out.

 “Wait! Yelena!” You whipped around to see Yelena standing in the middle of the road, facing the incoming darkness. You tried to hurry to her, but you were stopped by John pulling you back. “No, no, Yelena!”

You kicked at John’s knee, making him fall back and you took off running, not caring about what happens to you in the process. You barely made it but you were able to rest your fingertips against her shoulder and followed her into the Void.

-

After ‘Sentry’ almost took over New York and you all came out the other side, Valentina tried to rebrand you all as the New Avengers. You left right on the spot. You knew this life wasn’t for you but what you hadn’t expected was Yelena to follow you. It was a complete shock as she showed up at your door 2 days later with a duffle bag over her shoulder and Fanny at her feet. You asked her why she left, why she gave up the chance for something new.

“I promised you that it was my last mission.” She shrugged her shoulders as if it was no big deal but you shot her an incredulous look as if she didn’t just give up something so huge for her all for a silly little promise that you didn’t believe in the first place. So you pestered her for a real answer until she finally gave it up.

“...You are more important to me.”

You could see the timidness in her eyes from that statement, the fear of your rejection but you just smiled brightly at her. You reached out, placing both of your hands on the sides of her face and placed a soft kiss onto her lips.

“I love you, Yelena.” You whispered against her lips. You watched as tears started to form in her eyes.

“I love you too.”

[nekoboydreams]

I wanted to ask this just from curiosity, how many days are you planning on adding to the game, if there is a close-to/specific number in mind?

I also have another question, since most of us know by now Pierrot and Harlequin don’t seem to get along the best…what is their opinions on the others they work with? (If that’s a good way to word what I meant)

Anyways, I just wanted to say hi!! I really enjoyed playing the game and wanted to say that the artstyle was so unique and beautiful. Remember to take breaks whenever needed and to keep yourself relaxed!!

Hello! Day 2 is almost complete in terms of script, and it's turning out to be slightly long, if I can say so. There will probably still be a Day 3, since the other members of the circus will start appearing, and the story might end up being a bit longer. It might wrap up in Day 3, but I can’t say for sure yet. I’m trying to tell the story in a way that doesn’t feel exhausting or overwhelming, so I’m being careful with how much information I include in each day!

Pierrot gets along with the other members he mostly keeps to himself, so there aren’t many issues. Harlequin… gets along in his own way. Sometimes the others have a hard time dealing with him, even if it doesn’t escalate into arguments like it does between Pierrot and Harlequin.

Thank you so much! I’m doing my best to continue working on the next parts at a steady, calm pace.