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chaoticwriting · 6 months ago

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The First Son

All the batkids have one common secret they are keeping from Bruce. That is the fact that there is a new vigilante in town. At first they were confused when they heard rumors that the bats had a new member since Bruce hasn't introduced anyone to this guy.

It is only after a little prodding that they realize that the guy they are talking about is just a new vigilante. A good one too. No one has seen him and the only reason they know it's a he is because of his voice. The goons often call him The Phantom.

At first, they were very wary of this new guy. Last thing they need is a new guy who decides to do whatever the hell they want in the city. But no. Phantom doesn't interfere with anyone's works nor does he create chaos whenever he works. The guy operation is smooth and if not for the unconscious bodies sprawled on the ground, no one would even realize he is there.

The first contact they ever had with Phantom is when Phantom gives them a tip of an Arkham breakout in the planning. No one knows how he knows but he just is. His information gathering is better than any of them including Tim and Barbara. They also successfully established a way of contact between them. Whenever any of them need help, they will leave a sticky note on the bat signal and they will receive whatever intel they want the next day. They try to see him by staying right beside the signal and even setting up cameras but none of them works with either the sticky note straight up disappearing or the cameras becoming static with the sticky note getting replaced with the Intel when the static is gone.

And so they go like this for a few more months when suddenly a tip comes up from an unlikely source.

Talia Al-Ghul has informed them that because of desperation Ra's is planning on kidnapping Tim and Damian to use them in a battle against Talia. She has been working to take over the League of Assassin after she gained news of her own father having dark plans against his own son. After the recent fatal blow to her father's faction, in a desperate attempt to defeat her, decides to break his own words and plans to invade Gotham to take Damian as hostage and Tim to become his apprentice.

The batfamily goes on high alert especially since Talia herself is there with her assassins trying to help them. But unfortunately, they underestimate how determine Ra's is. Talia nor the batfamily don't expect that Ra's would be crazy enough to bring his whole faction to invade Gotham.

Tim and Damian are not having a good time. Let it be known that normally, they can easily take down anyone they want to if they work together. Unfortunately, their opponent today is Ra's Al-Ghul himself. If Batman, Cass or even Dick is here, they would easily be able to hold their own against him. But Tim's expertise is detective work while Damian is still young and are at a disadvantage in terms of physical strength and experience.

Everyone is fighting to get backup to Tim but with the Supes out of this world and most other heroes busy with their own works, it is quite hard to deal with the assassins. That is until all the assassins are frozen on the ground. They don't know how or why but the assassins are now fully covered in ice with only their heads out.

A figure forms slowly in front of Ra's as his blade inches slowly towards Tim. A loud metal clanging sounded destroying the silence that has befallen the whole battlefield. In front of them is a man with black hair, blue eyes and very very tall. On his hand is a Khopesh that is directly parrying Ra's katana.

"Hello father."

The voice sends a chill into everyone who hears it. But for the Batkids, they know that voice. That is the same voice that is often heard whenever they try to communicate with Phantom. That means, the guy in front of them is Phantom.

"No no no. Impossible. I killed you by my own hand. There is no way you are here. An imposter. That's what you are."

Ra's says as everyone can feel the tremble and fear in his voice. And for the record the bats and Talia have heard Ra's voice being in fear before but this is different. This is the fear that you showed when you are in front of your natural predators. Your death.

"Indeed. It is a mistake for me to believe that you would love like I used to love you, father. And I loathe myself thinking about it. For the longest time revenge has been on my mind. But some people have helped me in letting go of the past. People who truly see me and treat me like family."

"How? How are you still alive? The Lazarus Pit swallows your body as a sacrifice."

"The Pit does no such thing. When you put me in there, you merely set me free. The Pit claims me as one of her own. And she takes pity on my life and decides to give me a better one. And for that I will be eternally grateful to her."

In a fit of madness, Ra's swings his sword towards Phantom. He doesn't want to hear any of it anymore. He needs to kill Phantom now. Before he-

A kick sends him flying across the rooftop towards the other side. Ra's roll on the ground growling in pain. That kick specifically aims to give me the most pain without damaging his body in the slightest. A feat that can easily be done by a very skilled martial artist.

Phantom picks up Tim and Damian that is still on the ground. With Damian fully unconscious and Tim barely conscious, Phantom sends them to the ground using what the other thought to be some form of telekinesis. They slowly pick Tim and Damian and after making sure Tim and Damian aren't in imminent danger, they try to make contact with Phantom, when a dome of ice erected from the ground surrounding both Phantom and Ra's.

Phantom holds his sword in by his side and slowly walks towards Ra's.

"My name is Danyal Al-Ghul. The first son of Ra's Al-Ghul. Today, I am here to formally challenge Ra's Al-Ghul to a death match on account of the continuation of the unsolved battle 500 years ago. All the members of the league are to be witnesses of this battle."

That sentence sends dread to everyone present. Talia knows of this tradition. A tradition that is used by her father to take down any opposition to his rule. That's why she has never confronted his father head on. She is not confident that she can win against him.

Ra's knows that he can't hide any longer. Last time he wins is barely because of an ambush and Danyal was poisoned. He would have never won otherwise.

Usually, Ra's prided himself in being a warrior. Who will dare to look death in the eyes to challenge it to battle. But people that are close to him knows that he is a coward. A coward that is so scared of death, who will do anything to run against it. But now, he can no longer run. Death has finally made his way towards his doorstep. Death in the form of his first son. The very son who he killed because of a prophecy he heard from a seer.

'You shall die a worthless death. At the hand of your greatest creation. He will be your end. The one who will put out your flames of life. Your first son.'

He has been enraged when the seer says that. He killed the old woman and even prepared a plan to kill his own son. The son that trusted him. He first sends him on a big mission where he knew Danyal would never fail. Then he makes a grand celebration when he returns. That's when he poisoned him, reducing his strength to barely a tenth of his full strength.

Even then, Danyal had put up a tough fight. Claiming Ra's hand while fighting him. He thought that he succeeded when life left his son's body. But he is greedy. He tries to awaken him again to make him into his perfect warrior. But the Lazarus Pit swallows him. Leaving no trace behind.

For the longest time, Ra's hid the existence of this son. He is his greatest creation. He is also his greatest shame.

Danyal walks slowly towards Ra's. The others are trying to crack open his ice dome but unless he wills it, even the sun can't melt his ice. Ra's is kneeling right there. Seemingly given up any chance of retaliation. Both of them knew that Danyal is the superior one between the two. Either intellect or strength. Danyal has and will always be better.

Putting the sword on his neck, Danyal asks him. "Any last words father?"

Ra's looks at him with an empty eyes that suddenly gains light as he thrust his katana straight into Danyal's chest. Ra's is about to laugh in victory as he thinks he has outsmarted his son again but then he realizes that his son is still standing there with his sword on his neck.

"Goodbye father." And with that, Ra's head flies into the sky and falls on the floor. Danyal can hear the screaming and shouting from the outside but he doesn't care. He has done it. His long forgotten revenge. His blood feud.

He looks at his father's corpse and burns it to ashes. He has made sure that the old man's soul has completely dispersed after the soul of people he kills unjustly has taken him apart one by one. What a gruesome death. Appropriate for such a vile human.

Danyal looks at people he can consider friends. He could see worry and Nightwing's and Spoiler's eyes, respect in Red Hood mannerism and confusion in Black Bat's body language. He has made sure no one sees Ra's body when he kills him since he knows some of them can read body language too well.

Looking at Talia, his sister, Danyal gives a nod, disperse the ice and disappears. Talia later takes control of all the assassins and they return back to their base after a quick talk with Batman. They heard the conversation from inside the dome. So they knew a little about what was happening.

After that night, Phantom completely disappears without any trace whatsoever.

#danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #batfam #Ra's is Danny's dad

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hoshifighting · 9 months ago

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detective!reader x cop!mingyu + gunplay + roleplay

— you were a detective and weren't used to handcuff suspects, it was the police's job, so you asked your coworker, cop!mingyu, to show you what it was like to be handcuffed by the police.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, roleplay, being seach by the police, gunplay, handcuffs, penetrative sex, hair pull, breast play. IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE DON'T READ! may be triggering. I warned you.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

you weren’t supposed to get involved in this part. you were a detective. the cops did the dirty work, slapped the cuffs on and dragged the suspects off. but the curiosity had been eating at you for weeks. mingyu made it look so damn effortless, and, well… you’d never admit it, but you kind of wanted to know how it felt.

“so... how’s it work?” you ask, leaning back against your desk with a smirk, trying to play it cool. you tilt your head at him, crossing your arms in a way that makes him raise his eyebrow.

“you serious?” mingyu’s laugh comes out low, skeptical, but there’s something in his eyes that tells you he’s not completely surprised. maybe you’d been too obvious lately, hovering around during his arrests.

“dead serious.” you hold his gaze, daring him.

he steps closer, tall and broad, his police uniform stretching over his shoulders. there’s a moment of silence, tension hanging in the air, before he finally says, “you really wanna know what it’s like?”

you nod, feeling your heart skip a beat.

“hands up,” he orders, voice dropping. the shift in his tone makes your breath catch, and you do as he says, lifting your arms above your head, letting your wrists press against the wall behind you.

“like this?” you ask, trying to sound bored, like this is no big deal. but the way his eyes roam over you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, it’s doing things to you.

“just like that.” he steps closer, his chest brushing against yours. you can smell his cologne, the leather of his holster. you’re hyper-aware of every inch of space between you two.

he spreads your legs with his foot. the drag of his boot against the floor is the only sound in the room. you feel something between your thighs as his knee nudges your legs farther apart, a cocky smirk playing on his lips.

“you always talk this much during an arrest?” he teases, voice gravelly as his hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“depends on the cop.” your voice comes out breathy, but you force a smirk, playing the game. “you gonna frisk me now or what?”

“watch that mouth,” he warns, eyes narrowing as he pulls back. “or i might have to make you regret it.”

you laugh, but it dies in your throat when he suddenly grabs your hips and spins you around, bending you over your desk. the cold surface presses against your chest, and you hear the unmistakable click of his gun, the barrel resting against the back of your head.

your whole body goes rigid.

“not laughing now, huh?” mingyu’s voice is low, teasing, as he leans over you. “you were so cocky a second ago. what happened?”

“fuck off,” you mutter, your face hot, heart pounding in your chest.

he chuckles darkly, and the next thing you know, your arm is being wrenched behind your back, the cold metal of the handcuffs biting into your skin as he clicks them into place.

“i warned you,” he breathes against your ear, one hand still pressing the gun to your head, the other sliding down your waist, lingering at your hip before gripping the waistband of your pants.

“is this how you treat all your suspects?” you snark, despite the pounding in your chest, the heat pooling low in your stomach.

“only the ones with dirty mouths,” he whispers, his fingers brushing against the bare skin beneath your shirtt. “now behave, or i’ll really give you something to cry about.”

your lips part, a protest on the tip of your tongue, but it dies the second his hand slips lower, fingers grazing just above the edge of your panties. and even though you’re cuffed, face pressed against the desk, the click of his gun still in your ears… you don’t regret a damn thing.

you feel him grind his erection against your ass, the rough fabric of his uniform scratching against your jeans. his hips push into you, each thrust forcing you against the desk, the cuffs biting into your wrists as he pulls the chain tighter.

“this how you behave in an interrogation, too?” mingyu’s voice is cocky, fingers tugging at the chain, forcing your arms to stretch farther. the pull on your wrists burns, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a sound.

you’re about to spit something back when you feel his hand slide from the cuffs to the front of your jeans. it’s sudden—the way he pats your pussy through the denim, rough and unapologetic, making you jolt forward against the desk. your thighs tense, a soft gasp escaping before you can stop it.

“oh? got something to hide, sweetheart?” his laugh is dark, fingers teasing along the seam of your jeans, feeling the heat between your legs. “what’s this? you hiding contraband under here?”

his tone mimics the routine police talk, that cocky professionalism laced with a dirty undertone, making your stomach twist.

he unzips your jeans, the sound loud in the silent room. you bite your lip, face pressed into the cold desk, trying to focus on anything but the way his fingers brush against your skin as he pulls your jeans down over your hips, dragging your panties along with them. your breathing stutters when you feel the cool air hit your exposed pussy, and then his low scoff breaks the silence.

“fuck... you’re soaked.” he grips your panties, holding them up to inspect, a thin line of wetness still connecting them to you. “look at this. bet you’re real proud of yourself, huh?”

your face burns, but you can’t move, can’t even squirm under the weight of his gaze and the gun still pressed firmly to the back of your head.

he lowers the gun slowly, the cold metal sliding down your spine, making you shiver. when the barrel reaches the curve of your ass, he presses it there, and your body instinctively tightens.

“you nervous?” his other hand trails between your thighs. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing in slow, infuriating circles, and you mewl at the sensation.

“can’t take the heat?” he continues, his thumb sliding over your clit. “what’s the matter? can’t handle being searched?”

you whine, hips pushing back into his hand, desperate for more. the pressure of the gun against your skin, combined with the teasing strokes of his thumb, has your mind spinning, body on edge.

“don’t worry, i’m just doing my job,” he mutters, his voice mocking. “i’ve gotta make sure you’re not hiding anything, right?”

and then his thumb slides lower, pushing inside you, and your breath catches, hips jerking as your pussy clenches around him. the stretch is perfect, teasing, not enough to satisfy but enough to make you desperate.

“fuck, you’re so tight.” his voice is almost reverent, but there’s that smirk again, audible in every word. “imagine if i was fucking you right now. you’d be losing your mind.”

your lips part, a shaky breath escaping as his thumb moves slowly in and out. but it’s still not enough, and he knows it.

the gun moves from your ass, and you feel his other hand snake around to the front of your shirt. with a flick, he unbuttons it, his fingers brushing against your skin as he peels it open. your bra is the next to go, pushed down just enough to expose your breasts, your nipples hardening at the sudden exposure.

“damn, you look good like this,” he murmurs, the gun now tracing the curve of your breast. “bet you’ve never had anyone do this to you before, huh? play with you while you’re cuffed…”

the cold barrel of the gun brushes over your nipple, teasing the sensitive bud, and you gasp, hips pushing back instinctively, but his thumb inside you keeps its torturous pace.

“what’s wrong? want me to go faster?” he taunts, moving the barrel in slow circles around your nipple. “maybe if you ask nicely, i’ll think about it.”

you bite your lip, refusing to beg, but it’s hard to hold back when his thumb presses deeper, and your walls flutter around him, making a loud squelch sound.

“still so stubborn.” he chuckles, the gun moving lower, teasing the space between your breasts before coming back to your nipple, pressing the cold metal right against it. your breath hitches, and he leans down, his mouth near your ear.

“tell me how much you like it,” he whispers, the heat of his breath against your skin making you shiver. “or i’ll leave you like this... hm? what do you think?”

the words spill out before you can stop them.

“i like it, okay?” your voice is breathy, broken. “fuck... mingyu, i love it.”

“good girl.” his smile is practically audible as he rewards you, pushing his thumb deeper, his hand moving faster now, and your body jerks, gasping against the desk.

his thumb stops moving, and you instantly sulk, your hips rolling on instinct to chase the friction. it’s so unfair—the way he’s teasing you, bringing you so close to the edge only to pull back. “fuck… why’d you stop?” you whine, shifting against the desk, trying to get him to move again.

“don’t sulk.” mingyu’s voice is firm, warning. but you sulk again, pressing your face into the desk in frustration. you expect him to react, maybe something softer, but then you feel his gun leave your breast, and you freeze.

curiosity gets the better of you, and you glance over your shoulder, just a peek to see where he’s going. but before you can even process it, he slips the barrel of the gun between your legs, right behind your ass, the cold metal brushing against your skin. your eyes snap shut, a chill running down your spine.

“eyes forward,” he commands, the words sharp, and you comply instantly, feeling your heart hammering in your chest.

then you feel something hard and cold tapping lightly against your clit—a slap that makes you flinch. the touch is brief, superficial, but enough to send a jolt through your body. mingyu isn’t going to risk much, but it’s a warning, and you damn well understand it.

he steps back briefly, enough to kick off your boots and tug your jeans and panties down at once, making you yelp at the sudden force. before you can react, he’s moving you, lifting you onto the desk like you weigh nothing, positioning you right where he wants you.

you hear the soft click of the handcuffs again, and your arms are pulled forward, your wrists now locked in front of you, pressed against your chest. you’re panting, skin flushed, and your eyes flutter.

his voice drops to a whisper, leaning close to your ear, as if breaking character. “does it hurt?” he asks softly, thumb grazing your wrist. the shift in his tone makes you open your eyes.

“no,” you murmur, throat dry. “keep going.”

he smiles against your skin, satisfied with your answer. “good.”

his gun moves again, the barrel sliding up from your belly, trailing a wet, cold path over your skin as he drags it upward—across your chest, over the valley of your breasts, to the hollow of your throat. the sensation leaves a damp chill, making you squirm. your heart pounds harder when it finally reaches your lips, hovering there for a moment, like he’s giving you time to process what’s coming next.

“tongue out,” he orders, eyes locked on yours.

your tongue slips out hesitantly, and the next thing you know, the barrel of his gun is resting there, pressing against your tongue, heavy and cold. you taste the faint metallic edge of it.

he watches you, almost hypnotized as he presses the gun deeper onto your tongue, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. you can feel your own taste lingering on the barrel from where he’d touched you before, mixing with the sharp metallic tang.

“look at you,” he murmurs. “u taste yourself on it, hm?”

you nod, eyes half-lidded, the sensation making your head swim. your body trembles, desperate for him to keep going, but at the same time, completely mesmerized by the way he’s looking at you—like he’s never seen anything like this before.

his hand slides up to your breast, squeezing it roughly before pulling back just slightly, his voice shifting into that professional cop tone as if this was just another part of his job. “ma’am,” he asks, his voice low but polite, like he’s following some unspoken protocol, “permission to fuck this pussy?”

the contrast makes your stomach flip, the filthy intent hitting you square in the chest. you nod, lips still parted around the gun, and he gives you a soft, almost mocking chuckle. “i’m gonna need a verbal confirmation for that,” he teases, his hand squeezing your breast harder, fingers pinching your nipple.

“yes, fuck... me,” you pant, your body arching against the desk, desperate for him to just take you already.

he yanks your legs apart, spreading you wide with his knee as he undoes his belt, the sound of it making you clench around nothing. the gun presses harder against your lips as his fingers slide through your folds, feeling how wet you are for him. he lets out a groan, cock twitching in his hand as he lines himself up.

“you’re so fucking tight,” mingyu mutters, gripping the base of his cock before sliding it through your slick, teasing your entrance with just the tip. he’s holding back, savoring the way you squirm under him, desperate to feel him inside.

then, without warning, he thrusts forward, burying himself deep inside you in a rough stroke. your body jerks forward, the force of his hips slamming into you so hard that your arms strain against the cuffs, the desk creaking beneath you. your walls flutter around him as you try to adjust to his size.

the gun, still resting against your temple now, makes you shut your eyes tight, the cold metal pressed against your skin a constant reminder of how dangerous this is, how vulnerable you are beneath him. your entire body clenches, a whimper escaping your lips as he holds himself deep inside you for a moment, just letting you feel him, letting you squirm.

“shit... you feel so good,” he groans, his free hand sliding up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back sharply so you’re arching against him. “such a dirty mouth on you, and now you’re taking me so well.”

his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back against him as he starts to fuck into you, hard and deep, his pelvis slamming into your clit with every thrust. your hips rolling in time with his movements, your body helpless under his grip.

he pulls your hair again, forcing your head back even farther, his grip almost painful as he keeps fucking you, rough and relentless. the gun moves, sliding down from your temple to press against your lips again, and you open your mouth without thinking, letting it slip between your teeth.

“that’s right,” he mutters, watching you bite down on the cold metal, eyes half-lidded. “keep it there.”

his thrusts get faster, more desperate, his body pressing into yours harder. the desk shakes beneath you, and his other arm tightens around your waist, holding you in place as he fucks you.

“fuck,” he hisses, his breath ragged. “you’re gonna come for me, huh? you’re gonna come with my cock buried inside you, while i hold a gun to your pretty little head.”

the gun in your mouth, his hand in your hair, the way he’s fucking you with impetuous ease “cum dectetive y/n,” mingyu growls, pulling your hair harder, making your back arch even more. “cum for me.”

your body convulses inside his arms, your walls squeezing his cock as your orgasm rips through you, pleasure flooding every inch of you. you cry out, muffled by the gun in your mouth, and he groans as he feels you clench around him, his thrusts getting sloppier, more unstable.

“fuck,” he gasps, hips slamming into you one last time as he cums, spilling inside you with a whine that he tries to hide between a growl.

he lets go of your hair, gently this time, his fingers sliding through it in a soft, almost apologetic gesture. the gun leaves your lips, and you gasp for air, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all.

his hand leaves your hair, and you hear the soft thud of the gun being placed on the table beside you. you barely have time to catch your breath before his palm presses against your chest, right above your racing heart. you can feel the heat of his palm on your skin.

“scared?” he asks, as his thumb brushes lightly over your skin.

“fuck off,” you mutter, still breathless, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips despite the way your body is still recovering. “you wish.”

he chuckles. “oh, i don’t think it’s wishing when i can feel your heart pounding like this,” he says, pressing his palm a little harder against your chest, teasing you with his gentle touch now. “admit it, i made you nervous.”

“oh, absolutely terrified,” you deadpan, sarcasm dripping from your words as you raise your cuffed wrists in mock surrender. “the big bad cop, pointing an unloaded gun at me.”

he pauses for a second, eyes narrowing. “how did you—?”

“please,” you interrupt, raising a brow, “i knew it wasn’t loaded. you’re good, mingyu, but i know better than that.” your voice softens, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you lean in, your forehead brushing against his. “you’re not nearly as heartless as you like to pretend.”

he steals a kiss, his lips pressing against yours. “you saying i’m soft?”

“yeah,” you breathe, teasing him as you press your forehead against his again. “soft.”

his grip on your jaw tightens just enough to be playful, his thumb stroking your cheek as he leans in close, his lips brushing yours. “you’re lucky i like you, you know that?”

you grin, biting your bottom lip as you stare into his eyes. “i’m starting to think you might like me more than just a little.”

he chuckles, shaking his head as he finally unlocks the handcuffs, pulling your wrists free. “you might regret saying that.”

“or maybe you’ll regret trying to hide it,” you shoot back, giving him a teasing wink before stealing a kiss of your own this time, catching him off guard. “but you can keep pretending, mingyu. i’ll play along.”

“we’ll see about that,” he mutters, stealing one last kiss before pulling back with a grin. “just don’t expect me to go easy on you next time.”

“i’d be disappointed if you did.”

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slightly-knot-insane · 4 months ago

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Gentleman's Cage (part 2)

Monstertober 2024 - day 29 [ Caged Beast ] by @/ozzgin

[ m!werewolf x fem!reader ]

[ part 1 ]

a/n: thank you @sunndust for the idea of unlocking him with a hair accessory <3 content: nsfw, oral (male & female receiving), p i v, praising

There is a palpable change in the air around you. You slowly look up and notice an entirely different expression carving deep wrinkles around Mr. Werewolf’s snout. There is no more poise and gentleness. He is openly staring at you, a low growl pulsating inside his stomach. "My lady... I want..."

He can't speak coherently, so he places a hand on your shoulder, as if he's afraid you'll run away, and with his other hand, he unbuckles his pants. All you can do is lick your lips, excited about the new experience.

"You... locked yourself?" You really weren’t expecting that.

He exhales a frustrated growl. "Yes... And I left the key at home."

"That truly is unfortunate," you say and look at the massive swollen phallus. "But all is not lost." You move your skirts so that you can bend down with more ease and push your finger between slim metal bars of his cock cage. His foreskin is so soft, moist, and smelling of sex already.

"My... lady..." he whispers, and tentatively takes your locks between his fingers, gently caressing temples with his knuckles.

"This will be a challenge," you tell him before leaning forward and placing the tip of your tongue on his foreskin, tasting him. He hisses, surprised. "Oh, you are delicious, Mr. Werewolf." You push your tongue against the metal bars, wriggling it around them and exploring his swollen cock. You can feel it getting bigger as it becomes easier to detect his pulse through his protruding veins.

"My... lady... aaaaaah..." His panting is making you wet. He is holding your head gently but trembling from the force of his self-control. You lick and suck every little piece of his skin you can find, moaning against his foreskin and fondling his heavy balls. "My... lady... I will..."

He pushes your head away and ejaculates inside his cage, his long and frustrated snarl escaping through his gritted teeth. "Fuck!"

You look at his seed dripping through the cold metal, soaking the ground around your finest slippers. A few drops land on your dress.

"Oh, dear. I've been marked by a werewolf. How dreadful." Your playful tone is clear, and he doesn't miss the rose in your cheeks or the strange dimness of your eyes. Not to mention the intense smell of your lubricated sex.

"Marked - yes," he says. "But no self-respecting werewolf would mark a female and not properly satisfy her." He makes a step toward you, almost double your height, and his golden irises flash. "My wonderful lady, do I have your permission to satisfy you?"

***

You are not entirely sure how you ended up losing all your underwear and garments, left solely in your chemise and dress, sitting on a gazebo railing. Even your bodice is loose and undone after the hungry snout dug in between your breasts. Now you're holding for your dear life, your fists full of long fur, while Mr. Werewolf is kneeling between your legs eating you out, slurping and rubbing his nose against your cunt.

There is a slight worry sharpening your senses about someone deciding to enjoy the cool night air and finding you two in a deviant act. At least Mr. Werewolf took you (or rather jumped with you) right to the center of the hedge maze, so there was not a lot of chance drunken guests would stumble upon you undetected.

Mr. Werewolf kneads your hips and pulls you upward so that he can push his entire tongue into your cunt. You moan and grab his back neck hair, overwhelmed by the sensation. He growls right into your violated hole.

"Don't stop," you can barely talk. "Don't... stop... It's so good..."

Mr. Werewolf's snarls become more intense, strained, and hitched, and soon he... he stops? He emerges from underneath your skirt, completely disarrayed, breathing hard, baring his teeth in a grisly way.

“It hurts too much,” he almost whimpers. He looks at you helplessly. It takes you a second to realize how awful his trapped cock looks. It is now bright red, like a ripe tomato.

“You need help now!” You slide off the railing and take out your metal comb from your hair. When you were a teen, you were able to lockpick your sisters’ treasure chests with one single bent comb prong and unravel some dirty secrets more than once. Maybe you could unravel another dirty thing tonight?

“Stay still,” you give an order to the drooling beast above your head. Aside from breathing heavily, he truly doesn’t move while you work. “Good boy…” You praise him without thinking. Unfortunately, despite all your efforts, the lock won’t budge. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Say it again.” He picks you up again and places you on the railing. The wild fire in his eyes makes you tremble. “Say it again. That I’m a…” He takes the lock on his cock cage into his fist vigorously staring into your eyes.

You smile and bite your lip. “Such a good boy…”

His fist clamps, the metal scrapes, and the unfortunate cock cage breaks and releases its prisoner right in-between your legs.

You’ve never heard a happier and longer groan of relief in your life. You’re sure everyone on the estate heard him. But, only a breath later, he is all over you, his cock pressed against your pussy, sliding up and down, impatiently. Somehow, he is composed enough to look you into your eyes and ask: “My lady… I would love nothing more than to satisfy your desire… if you desire me in this state still?”

You pull his lower body toward yourself with your heels pressed just below his tail. “Well,” you grin, “are you a self-respecting werewolf or not?”

With a wide, toothy smile, he pushes his glans against your entrance, penetrating you with some difficulty. You moan into his fur, his size painfully stretching you. “I’m so sorry, my lady. I’m too… eager…” He positions your legs and himself differently, and the next thrust is just perfect. “Is this better?”

“Yes… yes…” and that word becomes your chant between your moans and panting, as his cock slides in and out your cunt. His fur tickles your naked legs and ass, and once your tits fall out of your bodice completely, your hard nipples get delightfully stimulated by his chest hair.

“Am I…” His growls somehow form human words, barely articulate. “Am I a good boy? My lady’s good boy?”

You continue chanting, your eyes rolling backwards. But you somehow manage to utter: “Good boy… fucking me so well…”

He lays on top of you, holding your back, pressing you firmly against his chest as he pounds into you with all he’s got. The wave of your pleasure washes over you, and you scream into his fur, begging him to hold you, not to stop, not to ever stop, breathless, breaking apart in his hands.

“Never, my lady. As long as you’ll have me, I’m not stopping.”

And he truly doesn’t. Not until you’re completely spent, aching, skin red and clammy and throat sore from screaming. Like a gentleman he is, he doesn’t finish inside you, but into his hand, trying to keep his seed from soiling the gazebo. A few drops fall onto the boards. He looks so utterly disappointed in himself that you can’t help but heartily laugh.

You get closer to him and kiss his hairy cheek. “And please don't ever lock yourself like that. Or rather..." You smirk. "Not until I tell you to."

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wandasaura · 2 months ago

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STAY ALIVE (REPRISE)

summary — after your girlfriend takes the one thing from you she promised she never would, the only person you think to run to is olivia

warning(s) — mentions of rape, sexual assault, previous rape, alluded to ptsd, anxiety/panic, mentions of blood, domestic abuse, physical abuse, angst/hurt, comfort, protective liv and rollins, mentions of sonny carisi, fin is lowkey ur work bestie, alludes to mommy issues, pet names, physical contact, mother-figure olivia benson, unfortunately two hamilton lyric reference

authors note — olivia benson returns? with more angst and more comfort? amanda rollins features? read part ii here

Your heart hammers in your chest. If you bring this to her, it’s real. Your palms are clammy, they’re shaking. Your entire body is shaking. You can hear Fin’s voice down the hallway, in the break room where Sonny left donuts, it’s gravely and low — far away. It reverberates against your muscles like they’re panes of delicate glass. The sensation of him cutting right through you feels like it did when you’d accidentally zap the tip of your finger in time with the metal tweezers during operation. It’s jarring, unexpected. It startled you.

Your hand is trembling now. You can’t bring this to her, but she’s the only place you thought to go. You don’t want to drop this on her — on Amanda and Sonny, Fin and Kat, — but it gets laid on SVU anyways the second a cotton swab touches the laceration on your cheek. She raped you. You’re the special victim now.

A knot forms in your belly, the reflection of your sunken eyes and temporarily discolored face in the reflective pane on her office door is sickening. You’ve been shaking for a while. It’s not new. Your fingers had started going when he’d gotten mad over a wine glass. Your jaw had started when a fistful of your hair was snagged and guided into the brick fireplace you’d once tenderly decorated with stockings. Your knees… maybe the force of her shoving you down onto them before she’d unzipped her pants had shattered your kneecaps. You can’t be sure. The only thing you feel is blinding cold or blinding scorching heat ripping deeper into one of the many bleeding wounds on your body.

“Hey, can I help you?” Your body goes rigid when a familiar voice cuts through the office. You love that voice. That voice has become like a sister to you in the years that you’ve been at svu. That voice sends fear coursing through your body. This is real. This is real. This is real. She raped you. She took the one thing from you that she promised he wouldn’t. You know who it was. Of course you do. Thirty-nine percent of sexual violence is committed by someone you know. You just had to fall into that category.

You don’t know how you’d gone unnoticed for so long. Everyone here was so perceptive, yourself included. If the officers at the front didn’t catch someone upon entry, someone on your team did, but it could’ve been half an hour that you’d been standing in front of Olivia’s office, unable to force yourself inside, and unapproached by a Detective — a colleague, friend, mentor. These people were your family, and you’d never wanted them to see you like this. Like another one of the people they’re burdened and empowered to aid. It’s a rewarding job, one that you all do graciously, but its taxing, and you're personal. You’re not self absorbed to know that this will rattle the precinct.

Amanda’s hand sweeps across your back, and you might’ve jumped ten feet into the air with the way you recoiled so automatically, your bruised bones that felt like jelly beneath blood puffed skin aching at the quick motion. Your hair fell away from your face, the hoodie that you always wore overtop of your work clothes slipping off your head until Rollins could see you — identify you.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She cooed, that southern drawl at the forefront of her concern as her eyebrows drew inward. Her fingers flexed, her left hand reaching for her hip; an unconscious response that sparked when she and Carisi let themselves be pulled together. You swallowed thickly, panickedly bouncing between her concern filled blue eyes and the phone strapped to her belt. In an instant, both of her hands were cradling your face, pulling your jaw one way and then another like a frazzled mother. She was a mother. Billie and Jesse were so lucky to have her. Your heart sinks at her concern. It can’t fall much farther than it already has today.

Amanda’s knuckles rap on Benson’s door before you can even process that she’s pulled you into the warmth of her embrace and tucked you beneath her other arm. “Liv,” She speaks firmly, but it lacks the usual depth of her beacon when she’s truly in Detective mode. This isn’t Detective Rollins that's guiding you into a disclosure, it's Amanda; the woman who has become your sister in the years that your lives had been so intertwined.

“Oh, my god.” Olivia gasped when her eyes flickered up to find Rollins’ at the door curiously. You stood meekly at Amanda’s side, your gaze set on the floor even though the blood smeared across your favorite hoodie was evidence enough of some kind of assault. Olivia didn’t need many more context clues to figure out what the nature of the assault was as her eyes scraped across the purple handprint peeking out from the collar of your button-down.

You hadn’t even gotten the chance to undress from last night’s shift.

“M-My, I— I—“ You stuttered, your teeth sinking into your lower lip when it became evident to yourself and the women around you that you weren’t in any position to lead the conversation right now. Olivia nodded, setting her reading glasses down on the mound of paperwork that had accumulated since the start of the week.

You didn’t flinch so hard when Olivia’s hand swept across your back, guiding you over to the couch beneath three windows. The blinds were pulled shut, but you could recognize Kat’s figure pacing by her desk as you sat down. Amanda closed the door before she joined you and Olivia on the couch. Neither woman expected you to realize that your eyes watched Amanda carefully, on edge that she’d flee unexpectedly.

“Alright, sweetheart, can you tell me what happened?” Olivia asked softly, keeping a hand on the small of your back where there was thankful a patch of fabric clear from blood. She would’ve handled the bloodied garment regardless had it been stained, but keeping her hands clean was an honored bonus in this line of work.

You opened your mouth to respond, but a sob caught you off guard, tumbling out of your mouth and into the relatively empty office. “She raped me.” The words came out between you beginning to hyperventilate and release another broken sob. “My girlfriend.”

Olivia nodded, letting you sit with that information for a few seconds before she prompted you with another question. “Okay. What else can you tell me? What do you remember?”

In that moment, beneath the soft current of her comfort extended like the pillowy feathered wings of an angel, you couldn’t be a victim. The switch that was always there in the back of your mind flipped, and every sense that hadn’t been overruled by searing pain remembered where you were, what you did for a living.

You cleared your throat, mucus pooling on the back of your tongue that you swallowed thickly. The texture of silicone still irritates your lips, the ghost of a memory vibrant enough to pull you beneath the tide of stimulation like it was still happening. Your tongue poked out to lick at your lips, and although your shoulders squared, you didn’t pull away from Rollins who had found a way to hold onto your leg without you realizing when she sat down on the opposite end of the couch. It kept your knee from shaking, bouncing up and down as anxiety ate away at what remained of your strength. “I, um, I went home last night. Late. Sonny and I got caught up at the corner, he showed me pictures of the girls from over the weekend, because I couldn’t stop by…” Your eyes flicker to Rollins, begging her to believe you, to remember that you always come over on Saturday, but last week you’d been unable to for one reason or another.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Rollins nodded, her hand brushing hair off of your cheek. You're not even sure when that happened. When it had fallen out of the rats nest at the back of your hair and slipped into the blood still freshly weeping from your tender wounds. “Alright, so you and Sonny got caught up talking, what happened after that?”

“I went home. B-Back to my apartment.” You stumbled over your words, flashes of last night coming to you quickly, disorientingly. “Um, s-she was already home from work, or maybe, m-maybe she didn’t go. I, uh, I never really got the chance to ask. I put my bag down on the couch and she was in the kitchen. You can tell when she’s mad. Her shoulders cave in, and she puts more weight on her left leg than her right. And, and, she… she was so mad, and I didn’t know why, until she threw a wine glass at the wall. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” You crumbled, your eyes damp, willing tears to fall, but they’d seemingly dried out. You’d cried yourself dry.

“This is not your fault. None of this is your fault.” Olivia’s voice was firm, just like it was when she talked to any victim, regardless of whether you had reason to believe they were guilty of something equally relevant in a case. But, that courage that she extended like an olive branch — like it didn’t chip away at fragments of her happiness in the middle of the night — caught in the back of her throat with heavy emotion. You weren’t a kid. You hadn’t come into the station requiring to be handled like one or overseen like one, but you were young. Only a year out of the academy and already being thrown at her feet with pride disguised as something else, something intimidating that would dissuade you, unravel your true intentions and fit with Special Victims.

You hadn’t let Olivia down for a second, and in becoming her rising star of the squad, she’d gotten to see your softer side. Like how you cry with a victim when you don’t think any of your team is around to watch the tip of your nose quiver. And how you get down to any kid's level, regardless of their anger and how that anger was channeled irrationally. She recalls many scratches and bite marks adorning your forearms on a particular case, but by the end, you’d be the only one the child had wanted when they rushed off the stand in hysterics. She’d taken you under her wing. Guided you when she’d seen how you let this job affect you. You’d become something of another kid to her, though you were sufficiently less expensive then Noah, even if you pinned your tab on her after every night out.

“Does she…” Amanda swallowed, seemingly unable to say the words that were at the tip of her tongue. Even if you didn’t realize it, your body was in fight or flight mode, and all that you were concentrating on was disclosing your assault to Olivia before you passed out, a throbbing in your head from when she’d thrown you into the bedroom door prominent and blackening. Your vision is blurred with black pearls, though nothing is as iridescent as the glimmer of twinkles between the black dots whenever your gaze dances to the lamp on Olivia’s desk. “Does she hit you often, sweetheart?”

You don’t know when that started. Whenever you broke down, Amanda resorted to calling you some variation of a pet name that dulled the ache in your heart just enough to force you into clarity again. You noticed that she fell that to strategy sparingly, but let it run rampant with you. You could assume it all came back to the relationship she had with her sister — you’d had many conversations about how she saw you as a kind of second chance — but you’d never asked, but you didn’t want it to stop if it was something she was unaware of. Amanda Rollins was not unaware of how slivers of your broken heart healed whenever she showed you she cared, but she’d let you think she was. That was just the shit sisters did when heart-to-hearts sounded unappealing and unnecessary. Whatever Rollins' reason was, it had prompted Olivia to indulge in the same affections. Though, you think Benson inevitably would’ve let her walls down around you regardless. She was horrible at hiding her soft spot, even when Fin declared favoritism in a meeting tauntingly.

“Yes.” The words are hoarse as they pass your lips, but you don’t let yourself deviate from what you’re here to talk about. You swallow dryly, in desperate need of water, but you can’t wash away the evidence that’s slapped across your tongue and your throat. You know the drill. “S-She raped me in the bedroom. On the bed. T-The sheets are pink. The, the, um, the straps in the closet. S-She threw it there before she stormed out. Um, I, I— I passed out after that. My, my u-underwear’s, um, it’s my pocket— she, um, she left them on, but I… I couldn’t, I couldn’t walk in here in them… I—“ You dissolved into tears, and Olivia didn’t hesitate to pull your face into her chest, careful of the cuts that leaked crimson liquid.

Olivia held you for a couple minutes while Rollins stepped out of the room. The only reason she’d been able to sneak out was because Olivia had replaced the weight of her palm on your thigh, keeping that one knee steady the same way Rollins had before the blonde crept into the main room to inform the squad. She knows where your girlfriend works, she knows where your apartment is, all of them do. They know you. They’ve all gone to incredible lengths to know everything about you that you're willing to share. Fin could tell Benson your coffee order off the top of his head, even though he adamantly denies remembering that you like low-fat soy milk, vanilla cold foam — not syrup —, and one (specifically one) extra scoop of ice.

“I know, I know.” Olivia conceded, patting your blood damp hair. Her face met an uncomfortable sheen of concern when her digit twitched, aware of a certain thickness that coated rings and knuckles. “Did you hit your head?” She asked softly, pulling away from you only to inspect your pupils. “Can you follow my finger, sweetheart?” She holds a finger in front of your face, or maybe it’s two, you’re not sure, but you do as she asks only to be met with a sigh of displeasure. “Alright, we need to get you to the hospital. The squad car will be quicker. Sirens and lights.”

“N-No.” You choked out, aware of what that meant; implied. A wounded officer. Sirens and lights to seal the reality. You were raped, beaten, already victimized and striped of your dignity, you couldn’t swallow your pride enough to continue letting it happen. You’re a New York City Detective; a Special Victims Detective, you know every step to avoiding this, how had you let it happen? “No, no, I-I’m fine!” You weren’t fine, not at all and you knew it, but somehow that was the only defense you could find that would explain your apprehension to her. Somehow, Olivia saw through you either way.

“No dispatch. Just you, me, and Rollins. We‘ll relay only what’s necessary to Kat, let Fin take the reins in detainment and interrogation. This stays close until it can’t, I can promise you that. Rollins probably already called Carisi, a warrant is probably on the way as we speak. But we cannot do anything about that until we help you. So, let me help you. You’ve done it before, I know you can do it again.” She encouraged, her fingers tickling the wrinkled skin of your shin. Your quivering lip keeps the pale patch distorted and red, and Olivia hates how her eyes continue to drift to the monument of sadness on your face.

“I-I’m so sorry!” You sob, breaking down, losing any kind of grip on your emotions as the adrenaline waned and was replaced with whatever traumatic response your body could force out; right now it was apparently hysteria. “I’m sorry! For forgetting what you taught me! I shouldn’t have let it happen! I-I should’ve stopped it! I h-had my gun, a-and my taser, and I’m a d-dective and she’s a-a-a fucking shelf stocker b-but I froze and I shouldn’t’ve! N-Not again!” There it was. The root of your frustration, your inability to accept where you found yourself. Olivia froze, her hands on your face becoming stones for a single second before she melted and held you tight, like you were just as young and malleable as Noah — like she could still rewrite all the trauma before it impacted you emotionally and mentally forever.

“Again?” Olivia had to ask, because she needed to know if this had happened before, if you were only disclosing now because it had left you physically marred. You wouldn’t have been able to hide this. Not from her. Not when any excuse never would’ve explained the mark on your neck of all the injuries that littered your once glowing skin. Olivia had complimented you yesterday, knowing you’d been down a rabbit hole of moisturizers that could combat the budding Spring weather in New York. Today, she couldn’t even tell that the dry redness on your cheeks had cleared up, the blood splattered nad caked onto your skin concealing any kind of recognizable progress.

“I was twelve.” You whisper, because after years in her Unit, beneath her command and her angel-like affection, you’d learned where her brain wanders when answers are left unspoken. “Not her.”

Olivia nodded, because that’s all that she could do. She needed to call her babysitter. There was no way she was leaving you until you got that discharge slip from the charge nurse, and even then she’s sure her and Amanda will duke it out over who you stay with while you heal — neither one is going to let you back at that apartment until your girlfriend has either been arrested, or moved out and far from Manhattan at all.

“You have all of the control now.” Olivia reminded you, shying away from her typical promise of it all getting better at some point, in some way. This will never go away, the first account never went away, it ruined relationships, destroyed opportunities, left you feeling so impossibly boxed into an alleyway at points, but… it did lighten. You didn’t feel so shackled anymore, but part of you could credit that to getting away. You’d gotten away from home, from your family and the connections to your attacker, built a new life, one on the mission to become a police officer. You’d surpassed the biggest dream you’d ever had already. What else did you have to push yourself toward? “I’m with you, at every step of the way. You’re not alone, not anymore, sweetheart.”

Before you could respond, not that you had the words, or the capabilities, the concussion you assuredly had beginning to get the best of you, Rollins burst into the room. “Cap, Fin’s got a warrant.”

“Send him and Kat. We’re going to Mercy.” Olivia nodded, “I need to call my babysitter.”

“I already called her. Sonny’s taking the girls to his Moms. I’ll text him to meet us there.” Amanda nodded, rounding the couch to approach you. You hadn’t even realized Olivia stood up, arranging her blazer over her shoulders until the buttons of her blouse were hidden away. “Hey, sweetheart,” Amanda caught your attention, slowly easing her touch onto the small of your back until she could guide you to stand. “There we go, take it easy.”

Your vaguely aware of Amanda directing Rollins where to guide you, but in a moment of clarity, all you registered were the faces of officers and secretaries in the precinct watching you be walked out, their whispering words haunting your already terrorized mind.

“With me, sweetheart. All you need to do is stay with me and Rollins until we get you to Mercy. I know you can do that.” Olivia stepped up beside you, blocking your sight until fresh air broke across your face.

“We’ve got you.” Amanda promised as she guided you into the squad car, climbing into the backseat with you while Olivia climbed into the drivers seat, pulling off onto the road before Rollins had even gotten the door closed all the way behind her body. You didn’t have anybody the first time. It had been a long walk to clarity in solitude, but with Olivia’s radio buzzing in the center console, left untouched despite the chaos of New York City, and Rollins actively pushing off her duties as a mother to a toddler and an infant, you felt like you had a real chance this time; a chance that wasn’t defined by your own persistence, but by the family you’d found.

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acapelladitty · 2 months ago

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moonlight pursuit

Summary - Giving chase to Jonathan Crane through an old cornfield proves to be a dangerous move when he turns the tables and reveals more than just your identity.

(tw for: physical assault, handcuffs, dubious consent, age gap, groping, mentions of student/professor, floor sex, fingering, forced orgasm, restraints, unsafe sex)

Link to AO3 ☆ Fic Masterlist ☆ Kofi

The anonymous tip had been good, but all the useful information in the world could not replace sheer bad luck and you unleash a frustrated growl into the cold night air as you watch Crane slip from the edge of the cornfield into a storage barn. The pursuit had been tiring, his stamina and agility surprising given his age, and your feet kicking up a storm against the dusty ground as you chase him hotly.

The barn is huge, but the incredible darkness lends it some claustrophobic qualities as you slip through the wooden doors and immediately struggle to detect any movement.

"Another little hero," Crane spat, the origin of his speech difficult to detect between the abandoned machinery which littered the barn and sent wild shadows across the space, "running around this city trying to clean up something unsalvageable. Have you ever stopped to look at what you're trying to save? You lose yourself in a baseless fantasy. Fear will mend this city before misplaced hope ever could."

You squint into the darkness but find nothing as you refute his words.

"Shut up, Crane."

He had been your professor once. A man with little tolerance and a commanding presence as he delivered his lectures with varying intensity. You had graduated before news of his removal had reached your ears but hearing about the gun incident hadn’t been too surprising, given some of his other teaching choices.

His re-emergence as the Scarecrow, however, had held a little more shock in its presentation.

The inky black looms as your eyes fight to adjust, every shadow threatening as you weave your way across the stone slats which make up the floor. You can feel the weight of his unseen observations, anxiety spiking in your heart as a sense that you were now far more out of your depth than you had anticipated pinched at your thoughts.

A sharp movement catches you off guard as Crane takes advantage of your momentary hesitation. Hurtling at you from the void, the shock of his appearance allows him to slam his body into your own – gathered momentum and larger frame giving you no chance of defence as you find your body smashed harshly to the ground.

Stunned into silence, you feel the cold stone against your lower back and realise that your costume has ripped across the spine to expose your skin to the chill.

Rolling quickly to your front, athleticism nowhere near enough to allow you to rise directly from your back, your palms press against the stone as you make to rise with a shuddering inhale. But Crane is faster that you expect and horror washes across your face as you find your body pinned to the ground by his foot as he pushes his weight harshly into your lower back. Panicking and with blood rushing in your ears, you manage to scratch out at his hand as he wraps his fingers around your own - quickly tugging at and securing your hands into the metal cuffs which had been hanging loosely from your belt.

Now trapped and experiencing an almost feral level of panic, the metal of the handcuffs bite into your wrists, sharp and freezing, as you growl like an untamed beast and attempt to kick up at Crane with your feet.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Crane takes a step back to avoid the attack and his expression is open in how sadistically delighted he is in his success.

"Silly girl. Playing at a game she has no business engaging in. To allow a professional his observations, I believe these risk-seeking behaviours stem from a much darker psychological need, little mouse. You did not fear following me into this dark place but your anxiety now hangs in the air like a fog."

In no place to listen to his wicked musings, you tilt your head back enough to work out exactly where he is standing as you glare up at him with open hatred.

"Fuck yourself."

Smacking his foot out from under him with a sharp sweep of your leg, you muster all the energy in your body to swiftly pounce on his frame as he falls to the ground with just as much dignity as yourself, the only difference being that he made the decision to land on his back rather than his front.

Wind pulled from his lungs, Crane looks stunned as he lays there and you don't give him a moment to recover any of his posture. You launch yourself down at him, ignoring the screaming pain in your wrists at the sudden motion as you take advantage and climb atop his much longer body.

Knees hugging his hips as you straddle him, you can't ignore the sudden feel of the bulge of his cock pressing against your ass but it's quick to disappear as you react on instinct - smashing your head down to headbutt him with as much force as you can, hoping to cause enough disorientation or damage to allow you to escape for a moment and rethink your plans.

Crane reacts without thought, the threat of your imminent attack springing him into action. His hands shoot up to wrap around your neck, the strength in his wiry arms enough to stop your violent descent and the surge of vulnerability, of the hard and threatening pressure on such a dangerous place, makes you freeze, like a rabbit caught in headlights with no easy escape.

The thin digits squeeze harshly enough to force your breath to stutter as it fights to break free of your lungs and the sudden shift of sensation, the adrenaline pulsing through your veins and making your heart feel like it is going to burst free of your chest, drags the worst possible noise from your throat.

A moan.

Crane, despite all his posturing, cannot hide his surprise at the noise as the violent fury in his expression shifts quickly between surprise, confusion, and suspicion. Time appears to still between you in an instant, both unwilling to be the first to break the moment even as every nerve in your body tells you to flee.

The memories rise unbidden. Of your old lectures with the man now pinned beneath you. How consuming and electric his presence felt as he strode across the stage and delved into his teachings. The speed with which he could determine if a student held genuine interest in his class or if they considered psychology an easy set of credits. How swiftly he managed those who dared to grow unruly within his walls.

With his stuffy suits and merciless teaching pace, he was not exactly popular with the students but there were many, yourself included, who enjoyed his strong character and the immature whispers of what kind of lover he would be were never too far from any study group.

You shift uncomfortably, but the movement of your ass glancing across his groin adds a fresh humiliation that only adds to the reasoning of why Cranes' actions were just as strangled and stilted as your own despite his apparent victory. He was hard, painfully hard, with the chase and adrenaline clearly affecting him as much as yourself.

Again, your thoughts drift to the past.

You had always thought there was something about him. Maybe it was the passion for his subject or maybe it was the sheer intensity of his gaze as his eyes zeroed in to receive an answer from his audience, but regardless, back then you had allowed hormonal fantasy to indulge. Once it was a private meeting, a discussion of your upcoming dissertation which quickly turned heated and found you pinned to his desk screaming his name into the wood. Another saw the fantasy shift to the lecture hall itself, your knees spread wide across the seats as his head disappeared between your legs-

Snapping free of the fantastical memories, the very real bulge of his cock against your ass freshly ignites an overwhelming sense of panic and shame which settles into each of your pores and spurs you into motion. Rolling from his body as you snatch your neck free of his grip, the scent of hay and dirt tickles at your nose mercilessly. Your body aches from the exertion, the chase and fight taking its toll, but you push through the discomfort as you struggle to your feet - a vague plan to return to the cornfield and lose Crane within the long stalks seeming like the best possible solution to a safe escape.

Making your escape as you quickly stumble away, you are harshly reminded that fate was not as forgiving as you would have liked.

A thin foot retaliates in kind to kick out the back of your left knee, forcing your legs to collapse out from under you as you are sent hurtling to the floor once again. It is instinct and instinct alone that makes you tilt your head to the side as your chest and face take the brunt of the fall. Immediately, pain flares in your cheek as it scrapes along the stone paving of the barn floor and as you lay there, dazed and wheezing once again, you can feel that the skin is torn and bleeding.

Crane capitalises on your misfortune as he quickly reverses the positioning, flipping you to your back and straddling your lower stomach to secure you into place as your wrists continue to scream their abuse - the metal cuffs harshly pressing against the cold stone below your back.

Crane's expression is heated, anger and the slightest tendrils of shame making his eyes flash and the high points of his sunken cheeks flush as he fights to regain control of himself. "Let's see who our precious vigilante is, hmm?" He drawls. "You are no bat- definitely too under sourced and woefully prepared to be one of his spawn."

His fingers press into the mask which hides your features, the fabric thin and breathable to ensure comfort, and you attempt to snap at his fingers with your teeth - a final, last-ditch attempt at maintaining your identity as fear of his discovery makes your blood run cold.

He tuts with disapproval, pulling his fingers away and pressing two against your forehead, roughly pushing your head against the stone with a thoroughly mocking frown. "Sit still or taste my toxin, little mouse. I am not above using it and leaving you hear to scream into the night with no one to hear you."

Frightened into obedience by the very real threat, you stop struggling - a rabbit frozen in headlights - and hold back a whimper as his fingers pull the mask free of your skin and drop it to the filthy floor.

Open surprise lights up his eyes, widening his features for a moment as he gazes at your face - obvious recognition immediately giving the game away as disappointment in your own failure rolls across your stomach and guts you from the inside out.

"I know you. You were a student. One of mine." Crane mutters, mostly to himself, as he eyes rove across your features.

"Fuck off!"

A sharp sting, the sudden shock of it more surprising than the pain itself, laces through your uninjured cheek as his fingers glance off the skin there in an open-palmed slap - the hit more of a warning than anything else as his eyes quickly narrow at the choice language. Feeling the heat of the blow settling across your skin, you can't help the flush which follows as humiliation is quick to rise in your chest.

A slap.

Not even enough of a threat to be worthy of a solid punch.

Without thought, your teeth appear to bite at your lower lip as you feel the warmth spread across your body. Creeping across your skin, the heat leaves a ruddy flush which is only made worse as your eyes lock with Crane's - the piercing blue so intense that you can't help but picture that same wicked hand elsewhere as it reddens other, more enjoyable skin.

Whether it was the flush, or the flush combined with the earlier moan, that gave you away, you didn't know, but what was clear was the look of sudden understanding which flashed in Crane's eyes - a suspicion confirmed by whatever thoughts or feelings he saw projected from your wild eyes.

"Some of my former colleagues used to joke that attending my classes was a sport for masochists. You, little mouse, seem determined to embolden their claims."

"Let me go."

"Now? When you've just become so interesting? I see it, that flicker of delight which sparks when misery knocks. I know it. I've lived it, dear. You cannot hide from your kind."

"You're insane. You're seeing things which don't exist, Crane." You lie, his callout over your slight masochism making you defensive.

"It appears I can teach much but common sense is lacking. Oh well. Maybe further tuition will see you learn something."

Crouched beside you, his attention is piercing and pins you to the ground in such a way that you feel utterly trapped and vulnerable - the fierceness of his gaze only adding to the slight throbbing heat of arousal which teased at your skin through the anxiety.

"Some vigilante," Crane scoffs as he wipes his hand across the front of his costume, "damp as a whore at the thought of being debased by the very monster she is chasing."

The vulgarity catches your breath in your lungs. You had never heard him speak like this. Not as a professor. Not even in the few scant appearances and interviews which had appeared online over the years. Heat flares across your skin as the words sink deep.

"I'm not." You deny, continuing to lie through your teeth and determined not to give an inch. "You're sick and deluded."

"Really? Let's check."

His fingers slip past the waistband of your costumed pants and slide down through the curls of trimmed pubic hair which cover your mound before settling comfortably against their prize - fingertips quick to press through your dampened folds to the warm hole they hid away. Scandalised and struggling despite the lack of free movement your positioning afforded, you grunt and whine in discomfort as he freely cups his hand against your cunt.

"Have you fantasised about this since attending my classes?" There is a demand in his voice, one laced with a heated mockery which makes you flush as he continues to stroke his long fingers against your slit. "You would have been what- very early twenties? Is that how you ended up in such a dead-end, thankless role? Spent too long thinking about fucking your professor and too little on your studies?"

"N-no." Unable to use your hands, you squeeze your thighs together but it only adds to the pressure as his hand is gripped too tightly.

"Did you see my name plastered across the newspapers?” Crane continues. “See the brilliance of my toxin and my work? Are you secretly here to volunteer for one of my experiments, little mouse? I would be very happy to have you."

Genuine fear stabs at your chest. You had seen them, the few videos which the trashier news stations had managed to secure of the poor people who Crane has experimented on. Panicked, your heels scrape on the stone as you attempt to scramble away once more - this time backwards and away from his wicked hand.

It's a useless attempt, Crane's fingers easily pulling you back towards him as they remain greedily pressing between your legs - teasing the wettened skin there with a lazy certainty.

"Leaving so soon, little mouse? I thought you wanted my attention? A whole chase through a cornfield only to end up on flat your back with your legs spread in a filthy barn? Surely not a mistake on your part- perhaps I underestimated your original intentions?"

He rubs you as he speaks, his fingers teasing your folds and hole before sliding up to brush across your clit - hands angled in such a way that he's able to press just enough to spark sharp bolts of sensation up your spine with every slightly brush.

"No. You deserve to be taken in and sent to Arkham for what you've don- oh my god…"

Unable to really believe what is happening, you feel fresh shame as your knees widen to give him easier access as his fingers grow more damp with every passing moment; arousal betraying the more sensible, rational part of your brain as heat flares in both your groin and the pink of your slapped cheek.

You come undone around his fingers with a choking gasp, the thrill of pleasure spreading across your skin in waves as you tighten your thighs and feel the tremble in the flesh there.

As the pleasure passes, it leaves a cold sensation in its wake. Disgust, embarrassment, and hatred fill the void but you have no time act on the conflicting emotions as your eyes drop to Cranes groin while he falls to his knees and frees his cock from his costume.

"I don't see the harm in allowing you to fulfil your fantasy, little mouse." Crane grunts, one hand stroking his cock while the other pulls at your pants and underwear, exposing your soaked sex to the cold air of the barn. "In fact, it may satiate me enough to reconsider my use of you as a trial participant in my next toxin batch. In those early stages, I would hate to see a former students potential go to such waste."

Despite it all, you raise your ass and allow him to slip your clothing from you - a willing participant to your own downfall even if you were unwilling to admit it. From burgeoning vigilante to a panting mess, the irony was not lost on you that Crane was the one to reduce you to this; a man whose academic demands had left you close to tears more than once.

No one would ever need to know.

"Just fuck me." You demand, giving in to the pressing voices which called for something salvageable to come out of this horrible night. "Dr. Crane." You breathe his name with some contempt, unwilling to quite give in fully.

He doesn't answer but the vicious grin which lights up his narrow features is all the reply you need. Moving swiftly, his hands are cold against your thighs as they spread you wide so that he could enjoy his prize. "You lack the skill for vigilantism, little mouse. Admirable though your foolish efforts are, if you fell to me then you would never survive my less reasonable colleagues. This is a much better use of your time."

You had agreed to fuck him, not listen to him preach to you from between your legs.

Unable to move your hands, you instead use your foot. Bringing it up, you push at his lower back hard enough to make him fall forward a little as he remained on his knees. He takes the unsubtle hint in stride, returning his hand to your cunt as he sinks two of his fingers as deep as possible in a single swift motion. It's careless, rough, and so fucking good that you don't even care how obscenely wet the noise it creates is as you moan out your appreciation.

Still fresh from your first orgasm, the sensation of his fingers pressing against your sensitive skin is divine and you mourn the loss as he only pumps them within you for a minute before snatching them free, content with how prepared you were to receive him. In a flash, his hands lock around your hips and pull you almost flush to his groin as he lines the blunted, slightly flared head of his cock up with your hole.

Feeling the girth of him, you grit your teeth and slow your breathing. His two fingers had already been a little snug and you both gasp as he breaches your hole, the sensation making your head spin, and sinks his cock a few inches deep in one sharp push. The stretch is deliriously good, every slight motion pulling at your walls as Crane quickly shifts his hips to start building up a frantic rhythm.

His breath comes in short, sharp huffs as he thrusts away and the slight puffs of air are visible in the cold barn air. Your wrists ache with every movement, his hips driving into you and pushing your hands harder against the stone. It’s almost enough to make you cry out, the discomfort mixing with the chill making your skin quiver and tremble, but it’s made all the more bearable by just how focused Crane’s eyes are as they pierce into your own – drinking in every small whimper and twist of your lips.

With one hand gripping your hip so hard that you can feel his fingertips digging bruises into your covered hip, Crane keeps his other hand busy as he slides it up your costume. Thin fingers leave gooseflesh in their wake as they crawl up towards your chest, sliding over your stomach as his cock slows down for a moment. His palm cups the thick material of your bra, squeezing your tit roughly as his lip curls up at the corner, some unknown thought making him smirk. The squeeze is heady, making your hips roll against his cock as you wordlessly encourage him to continue.

Your mind flashes back to his lectures, to the assured confidence and utter disdain which he showcased in every interaction, and how that same man hung over you now – his intensity having only grown with his infamy. Tension growing tighter across your groin, you don’t bother attempting to hide your arousal as you willingly rock your hips up to meet him and kick your feet against his back to push him deeper.

He meets your aggression with his own, hand continuing to split its attention between your tits as he growls and grunts his way to his release. The scent of burlap cuts through the sex and you attempt to pull your gaze from his intense expression to get a closer look at his costume but a sharp growl from his throat snaps your eyes back to him. His irritation is clear and it catches your breath as you realise he needs you to look at him. He wants the attention. Wants your eyes on him as much as you want his on your own.

A particularly messy thrust is enough to push your over the dangerous edge which he had you straddling and your trapped fingers curl into the stone as you gasp and ride out the harsh pleasure. A huff breaks through the pitiful noises which escape your lips as you feel his cock twitch and the heat of his release pulses deep in your cunt – a fiery heat which sparks fresh panic in your chest as you realise what you’ve done.

“Dr. Crane-” You gasp out, eyes wide but body unwilling to respond to reason and you clamp down around his cock, taking everything he has as the aftershocks of your orgasm keep your legs feeling tense.

He doesn’t acknowledge you, instead snatching his attention from your face to tilt his head down and watch as he pulls his cock free of you. The noise is obscene and you immediately feel the chill of the cool air on your slickened skin as your hole clenches, missing the sensation of being filled as Crane neatly tucks his stained cock away and rises to fix his costume fully.

In the absence of a loving afterglow, a sense of shame and disgust fills your chest – a self-hatred which instantly causes your throat to churn as you feel just how wet you are due to the mixed releases.

"Pursue me or attempt to interfere in my work again and I will not be so kind, sweetheart." Crane announces, throwing the last word out with a mocking lilt that makes you hyper aware of his release at it continues to drip from you to the cold stone below. "Unless, of course, you are looking to continue your education in a way that only a woman like you would understand."

A woman like you.

A whore who spreads her legs to a monster responsible for causing the suffering of so many.

It is a comment which stings more than you would like to admit.

"May I suggest you flee home quickly.” Crane continues, reaching into his pocket to pull free the handcuff keys which he had detached from the cuffs linking your wrists. “Not all shadows in the city belong to the Scarecrow and I would hate to think of a former student becoming little more than a statistic."

He drops to one knee by your fallen figure and a smirk tilts his mouth as you flinch at the sudden, unexpected proximity. Before you can say anything, he pushes his head towards your own and his fingers are warm against your neck as he pulls your mouth tight against his. The taste of him is immediate; an obvious smoking habit lingering against his tongue as he takes what he wants from you once more.

So caught off guard by the forceful intimacy, you allow it.

Eyes wide, you see every fine line which maps his skin and you grunt in surprise as his free hand presses something sharp against your stomach. Glancing down to see the handcuff keys, you find yourself released from his grip as he gives you access to the freedom which he had denied thus far.

“Time to flee now, little mouse. The night will only grow darker and we both know what lurks within.”

The faux-concern which poisons his words ignites something within you as you recover from the kiss, firing up the irritation and self-hatred with such fervour that you cannot help your mouth move of its own accord as you snarl up at him.

"I hate you."

"Yes, I suppose you do. But you hate yourself even more for what happened here tonight. For your shortcomings. Your inability to maintain that righteousness which has no doubt inspired you. May I suggest a good therapist? Such failure and self-loathing will only lead to further destructive behaviours."

Mask abandoned and laying in a messy pile near your head, you don’t doubt for a moment that he can read the various emotions which whirl within your skull and shift your features as you watch him prepare to leave. He spoke the truth, you both knew it, but that didn’t take away the instinct to deny everything he said.

“Take heed, little mouse. This city will swallow you up whole if you let it. Fear drives people to actions which they would find abhorrent in the light of the day.”

“Like this?” You spit out with venom, glaring between his face and crotch.

Crane shrugs, drawing himself to his fullest height as he takes a step back from your body – visibly matching your movements by drawing his eyes between your furious expression and abused sex with a stony expression.

“Live with your choices, little mouse. As I live with mine.”

And with that, he disappeared through the barn doors without sparing a glance back at your prone figure. Now left alone, the pressing weight of how quickly events had spiralled makes you feel light-headed for a moment before you shake that feeling away and focus on getting the hell back to your apartment.

Aroused. Beaten. Cold. Used.

You were ready to go home and take a long hot shower. Indulge in something real before the inevitable mental toil took hold. Rolling to the side, you pick up the handcuff keys with aching fingers and set to work on releasing your hands so you can re-dress your lower half.

Live with your choices, little mouse.

Despite it all, he had been a surprisingly good fuck, and that knowledge was possibly more irritating than anything else which had occurred this night. He had even had to gall to suggest that he was open to further education if you sought him out.

Bastard.

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane smut #scarecrow smut #x reader #jonathan crane x you #scarecrow x you #gotham rogues #dc comics

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keyaho · 5 months ago

Text

Hematology

The request: @nayaesworld psycho!surgeon terry richmond x surgeon!black oc

To Terry, blood had a particular hold on him. The warmth, the metallic scent, the sticky texture as it begins to oxidize and harden as he fisted his dick with a bloody hand soothed a beast in him he let free on Saturday nights. Another successful night out and he was back in his penthouse apartment, jacking off to a photo of a recent hire in the hospital. The laminated photo was stuck to his shower wall, a hour glass figure in a white sting bikini taunted him. Long lean legs, tits he knew would fit in his palms perfectly, and a smile that reeled him in. He walked the halls when he wasn't scrubbed in for the chance to see it in person.

He got lucky this morning, the young anesthesiologist in training was doing her clinicals and had been assigned to his OR team, by a stroke of luck and a few long deep strokes to the head of human resources. She was an easy fuck but not one he enjoyed. A part of him had been craving for more lately.

"Shit,' he hissed, his cum spurting out his tip and mingled with the blood on his hand before disappearing down the drain. He had a much better place in mind to dump his load.

The rest of the red liquid of life had been rubbed into his chest and abs though washed away by the steaming hot shower. He damn near wanted to taste it but that would not be very smart of him. This particular strain of neanderthal DNA had crossed him and his decision to remove it from existence was instant. It dared to touch Yara in the club. She had been too shy to deny his advances, but he could see she wasn't interested. Good. For him at least. Not so much for the man who had pleaded for his life before Terry severed his trachea with a scalpel in size ten. The cut came swift, the manish screams barely registered in the night. He followed the cut vertically and grinned as crimson stained the concrete where he had left the body. Terry carefully collected blood in a specimen cup and placed it in a yellow hazard bag, alone with the scalpel.

He'd seen the reports, saw the bodies as they passed through morgue. He even harvest a few organs from his victims, further enjoying how their blood pooled in their supine state. He spoke with Detectives from the Seattle PD, encouraged them to look into someone with military training as the cuts were not typical of medical personnel. He only gave that information because he slipped up once seven months ago and left behind the blade of a scalpel in a victims neck. Terry was fucked up in the head, but he wasn't that fucked up to make that mistake again.

Terry's walk down memory lane was interrupted by his alarm. He stuck his head under the shower, cleansing himself with antibacterial soap he swiped from the hospitals inventory. Like always he poured the remaining blood down the toilet, careful not to splash it. He'd dispose of the container as he always did. At the hospital. The scalpel joined the others, labeled with the date and name of who he killed only to be locked in a safe he kept behind a large oil painting in his bedroom above his bed. Trophies he once jacked off too. Now, his nights of staining his bed with cum was because of Yara.

He gathered himself soon after, scrubs, phone, keys. All lined up in his closet as usual. He was trying to pace himself, there was no need to rush. Yara, work, would be there when he got there.

"Dr. Richmond has been looking at you since you clocked in."

Yara looked up from her charts behind the nurses station. As an intern she had limitations on what she could and couldn't do, so she was doing menial tasks until she was able to scrub in and observe Dr. Richmond in a routine appendectomy. She had been excited to see it on her rotation and once it was complete she was free to leave for the day.

"He's not." Yara replied. "I'm just a new face and I'll be in his OR today, he's probably just wanting to put a face to the name."

Honey. Sweet, thick, and antiseptic. Terry sipped from a black mug of earl grey tea with a large dollop of honey in his office. He had a view of the nurses station and Yara, whom he kept his eyes on as much as he could. Until another nurse noticed. They were important, sure, however, right now, Nurse Carmen was a nuisance. An observant nuisance.

"Whatever you say,' she hums, picking up her charts and signing out her COW to begin her shift. "He's fine as hell though. If you hit that let me know,' she winks and Yara tosses a pen her way, trying not to look scandalized.

She turned back to her charts, inputting information into the patients portals for their viewing. A moment passed when she needed to look at something other than the computer and her eyes locked with Dr. Richmond's. He was standing outside his office, staring directly at her. A second later he tilted his head towards his office.

"Dr. Matthews,' he called, 'we need to discuss the appendectomy."

She nodded and shut down the portal, logging out to keep the information secure. Wiping her hands on her marron scrubs, she pushed chair back and stood, his eyes watching her as she walked around the station. He took another sip from his cup as she stepped into his office, the door clicked shut behind them afterwards.

"Have a seat,' he says from behind her.

Vanilla. Something in him softened as his dick hardened and strained against the two pairs of briefs he wore to hide it.

"Tea?" He asks, his back to her as he walks to his small kitchenette.

"Oh, no, no thank you. I just finished a cup of coffee and the last thing I need is more caffeine." She replied, a smile spreading across her lips.

Terry refilled his own cup, honey followed, but what surprised her was the flick of vanilla he added. She watched him take a sip, the steaming liquid seemingly not bothering him. Yara's eyes roamed over his tall figure in the standard teal colored scrubs. His badge was clipped to the pocket on his shirt, his face plastered over it.

"You'll be scrubbing in with me and my team in a few hours." He walked to the desk with the cup in one had and the patients thick file in another. "This particular patient is young, no previous health concerns. The procedure is routine and in this case preventative. They are an athlete and well, a burst appendix is worse than just removing it."

"I didn't think people could just remove body parts,' Yara said, though she knew they could. Medical studies had proven that.

Terry smiled, his eyes crinkling around the edges. "Money talks, sweetheart."

He opened the chart and pushed it towards her. Terry slide a notepad across he desk to her and she looked up at him confused.

"I won't be putting him,' Yara stuttered, she was not prepared to actually perform the anesthesia.

"No, no, no, but at the bottom are the supplies I will need. Can you gather them? About an hour before the schedule scrub in time I like my OR set and ready. Minus, taking the materials out of their packaging."

"Of course, Dr. Richmond."

He noted her bubbly handwriting. The way it looped as she scribble in cursive short hand. A bright one she was.

"Why Anesthesiology?" He shook his head. "Please, Terry is fine. Dr. Richmond is a formality I tend to not adhere to."

"I mean, you've earned that title. I'd use it all the time." She thought about his question while he thanked her for the slight compliment. "Um, other fields didn't grab my attention. I wanted a challenge and for some reason anesthesiology just stuck out to me."

"I used to think that as a surgeon I held life in my hands,' he spoke casually, "until Dr. Ramos kicked my ass and reminded me that she and you are keeping that patient alive and sedated."

"You still do life saving work."

Terry mused over her words while taking another sip of his cooling tea.

Inventory was checked bi-nightly, and Yara was thankful the restock had been complete prior to gathering supplies for surgery. Gloves, scalpels, gauze, among other items necessary fill her hand basket. She'd pass it over to the surgical technician for set up while she would be scrubbing in. Yara could hardly contain her excitement and as soon as she passed over the equipment, she went to the staff shower and 'dorm' area to switch into different scrubs. She always kept a pair of the rough standard issue scrubs in her locker along with shoe covers and a head wrap she'd have on under the surgical cap and face shield. Seeing it was empty, she pulled out scrubs and kicked of her shoes, shimmying out of the scrub pants she had on, completely unaware of the eyes trained on her.

He'd already been in the showers, hands full of his dick, when he heard her come in. Terry showered briefly before each operation, not wanting to carry the previous hours of filth into the OR. He'd already cum once and th thick ropes of his semen had coated the drain at his feet before sliding down into the pipe system. He thought that would have been enough, but Yara's voice as she talked to herself stiffened his dick in seconds.

Terry rolled his tongue around his mouth, the vanilla from his tea lingered and he swallowed, imagining this was what she tasted like. He was in the farb ack shower, hidden by the stall's silver wall, but able to peek around it just enough to see her bent over at the waist as she stepped into her pants. Black thong on display, he couldn't help but notice the way her pussy swallowed the fabric.

His hand slipped and rubbed harshly against the tip of his dick and he grunted. He wanted to taste that. Vanilla in his coffee wasn't enough. He needed her on his face in his bed and beneath the shrine of scalpels dedicated to keeping her safe. That white boy wasn't the first and until he had Yara, it wouldn't be the last person.

B cup. At least. Her slim fingers smoothed over her breast as she adjusted her sports bra, the racer back hid a moon phases tattoo he wanted to lick. The curve of her back and the plumpness of her backside made his hand move faster, the water just enough slip he didn't give himself a friction burn. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he came, busting a strong nut on the shower stall. He had to angle the shower to clean it up and missed Yara leaving for his OR.

He joined them later, just outside the OR where they began washing their hands and forearms. Dr. Ramos was showing Yara how to prepare the IV for intravenous induction.

"You'll be right beside me. I'll have you monitor vitals and assess accordingly." She explained, her eyes flirting over to Terry who was being helped into his smocks and gloves.

Another nurse had already placed on his surgical cap and face shield. He said nothing as he walked backwards into the OR, hands up as he greeted the patient warmly.

"I love watching that man work,' she mumbled, though her eyes were downcast on his ass. She looked to Yara with a half smiled. "You're in for a treat."

And a treat it was. Yara had noticed, twenty minutes into the procedure, there was a rupture in the colon. She tried to motion towards it when Terry's snapped his head up to her. His eyes were wide, then narrowed slightly.

"Is there a reason you're about to reach over, Dr. Matthews?" His voice smooth and inviting, but she knew not to lie.

"I…I just saw a,'

"She's an intern, you know they get ahead of themselves." Dr. Ramos interjected. "Come back over here and watch his vitals."

Yara looked down at the open body on the table. Terry's eyes followed and he let out a laugh.

"You just save this patient another trip to my OR, Dr. Matthews."

"What,' Dr. Ramos flustered her next words, "what are you talking about?"

"Our patient has a tear in his colon. About half an inch, but a tear nonetheless." Terry looked up to Yara as she stepped back. "Good eyes, you can see that through all the blood. Come, suction it away, repair the tear."

"Shes not,' Dr. Ramos began, but Terry silenced her with a look.

"My OR, my rules. She caught it so she will repair it."

Yara stepped up to the operating table on the other side of Terry. He instructed the surgical tools to be pushed to her side and she stared down at them.

"Ridiculous!"

Terry ignored her and shifted his focus to Yara. To him they were the only two people in the room.

"This is medical school 101, over and over continuous stitch. You can't mess it up."

"Okay,' she exhaled and reached into the body cavity after watching the suction remove the blood blocking her vision.

"Easy,' he whispers, "take your time."

"You what!" Carmen said, pulling Yara into the staff lounge just behind the nurses station.

"I repaired a tear in a colon. Dr. Ramos hates me now."

Carmen rolled her eyes. "She's been sniffing behind Terry for months now, long before you got here and he turned her down."

"Yeah, she's still trying her luck with him. Some of the things she said about him were down right, gross."

"We can talk about it over drinks,' Terry stepped into the lounge with a smile on his face. "Carmen." He nodded. "Are you okay, Yara?" He tilted his head towards the door. "I overheard Dr. Ramos speaking to you. Is everything okay? Should I handle her?"

If only she knew what he meant. Yara was lucky he kept his thrills from work property and employees. However, he'd make an exception if Yara even felt discomfort with Dr. Ramos.

"Oh no, I mean, she's not a issue. I just brushed it off,' Yara folded her arms over her chest. "I was called up to pediatrics and I don't know how long I will be there."

Carmen gave Yara a squint before leaving the two in the lounge. "Call me later, girl,' she says, pursing her lips in jest. As the door shut, Terry dropped his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You did good in there. I haven't seen a stitch that clean in a long time. You sure you don't want to be a surgeon?"

Smiling, Yara shook her head. "That was stressful. I've practiced on cadavers, but having my hands inside of a live body is different. I think I will stick to putting them to sleep."

Bergamot.

She liked to layer her scents he noted and his mouth water. He moved closer, under the guise of grabbing an apple from the counter, and their arms brushed as he passed. This close he could smell all of her. Honey. Vanilla. Bergamot. A peculiar combination, but one he'd gladly stick his nose into inhale.

"So that's a no to the drinks?" He asks. "Your first surgery deserves a celebration."

"I'm not sure if that's appropriate Dr. Richmond."

Terry squeezes the apple in hand as he brings it to his mouth. It's unnoticed by her as his face doesn't give away his budding frustration at her refusal. He chews and swallows, then smiles.

"It was just an offer for drinks, but I understand."

Said offer had been on her mind through her two hours in pediatrics. The small babies she got to met didn't distract her from how Terry had offered to take her out. It was clear her was flirting; his sly smile when they were in his office, how he looked at her while she stitched up the colon, even back in the lounge as he ate the apple. Fraternizing with a surgeon was the last thing she needed to be doing, but he drew her in. She wanted to know more and it didn't help that Carmen was urging her to go. It if sucked she could just request a department change to avoid the awkwardness.

Dr. Ramos was heading to her car. She tapped her unlock button on the keyfob and timed perfectly, her scream was cut off by the sound of the car unlocking and the engine starting. Tossed into the hood of the car, Dr. Ramos scrambled to her feet, shouting for help.

She knew she was done when she felt the prick of a needle in the side of her neck. Not that he was delicate with his female victims, but he liked to watch the life leave their eyes as he cut open their necks. In disguise, Terry, laid her on the ground behind her car. His multi-gloved hand and arms had been secured as if he was headed into surgery. Done from the confines of his car, placed in a camera blind spot, he stepped into the elevator as normal. Only to come out masked, and unrecognizable.

Dr. Ramos laid there, paralyzed and and scared. Unable to speak her eyes only watered as they pleaded for her life. The scalpel pressed to her neck, the tip cutting into her neck with ease. Yara didn't want him to do anything, but he couldn't help himself. He needed to. No one slighted his girl.

"You knew I didn't want you."

Dr. Ramos's mouth dropped open as he pressed the scalpel into her neck, he twisted once and used her coat to block the blood from splattering against his clothes. He did watch the light leave her eyes and the last breath as it left her lungs. She'd be found in the morning and by then, she'd be another scalpel in his bedroom.

"You blood isn't even worth jacking off with."

She found him packing up in his office. His back was to her, but she could see him gathering his things like they all were. With her shift finally over, Yara had talked herself into going for those drinks. She knocked on his open door.

"Dr…I mean, Terry?"

He looked up, surprised on his face, the specimen cup slipped down into his bag with practice ease.

"You changed your mind?"

Nodding, Yara fiddled with her hands. "Yeah, I mean, it's just drinks right?"

It should have been just drinks. She ended up at his apartment beneath him in his bed. His hands were wandering beneath her shirt, hands tugging at her bra. Alcohol was on his breath, but the surgeon was sober and planning to get intoxicated on her pussy.

"You smell so fucking good, baby," he moaned, his mouth traveling from her mouth to her neck and down her shoulder. "So fucking beautiful,' he hummed.

His hands tugged down the cup of her bra and she arched her back as his thumb swiped across her nipple. Yara braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed.

"Wait, Terry,' she whimpered, eyes clenching as his mouth wrapped around her nipple and sucked.

His tongue was cold and wet, creating a matching wetness in her panties. His hand was so close to sliding into the black thong that had teased him earlier. She pushed against and he lifted his head, concern etched in his forehead.

"I'm not hurting you am I?" He asked.

He knew he was being rougher than he intended to, but he didn't think it was painful. Terry didn't want to hurt her but he was so excited to have her. He glanced up at the oil painting. All his hard work.

"No, I'm not, it's just,' she flustered, tugging her shirt down after fixing her bra. "It's embarrassing,' she admitted, reaching over the side of his large bed for her shoes.

He reached out and grabbed her arm. "What's wrong I thought you were into it?"

"I am…I mean I want to be,' she stood up with her shoes in her hands, hot cheeks, and embarrassment creeping up her chest. "I've….neverhadsexbefore…"

That truth slammed into his chest hard. A part of him growled in appreciation for the information. The fun he had planned for her was magnified.

"I wasn't expecting that." He admitted.

"It's nothing against you Terry, I just wanted my first time to be more….special."

Special. She was already special. Yara was the object of his desires and if she wanted to feel special then he'd do just that. Terry crawled off the bed and stood in front of her.

"I'm sorry,' she said, "I should have said no to coming to your apartment."

Terry shook his head. "I invited you here. I wanted you here. Had I known I wouldn't have been so eager." Her took her shoes and dropped them on the floor by his closet. "You want something to eat? I know a few places that are open this late."

Yara knew she should leave. "You want me to stay? Even if we don't have sex?"

"I'm not some horny teenage boy, Yara." He reaches around her for his phone off the dresser. "Think of it as our first of many dates."

"Dates,' she repeated, more to herself.

"Don't worry, I'm going to make you feel more than special, sweetheart."

@nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @eilujion @heytaewrites @insidefeelingofanadult @captainwithoutmakingitlove @kindofaintrovert @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @virgomess @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz

@wabi-sabi1090 @iterum-incipi @liquorlaughslove @eilujion @taureanstargirl @mzv11@Disc0fair @prettyfilmz @simplyzeeka @heytaewrites vivaalenaa theogbadbitch

@insertcatchynamerighthere @writingsbytee @pocketsizedpanther

#terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond fic #terry richmond x black reader

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writingnightmare · 5 months ago

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A/n: I think I might write a follow up to this, but I’m not sure. Fukuzawa is a character that always just draws me in, I didn’t even mean for it to be this long.

─── ✶ ───

Characters: Main - Yukichi Fukuzawa | Background - Ranpo Edogawa, Akiko Yosano, Doppo Kunikida

Content summary: Yukichi and office staff!reader [fem] slowly catch feelings for each other, Ranpo catches on and decides to play wingman with Yosano.

Warnings: None!

Tags: [SFW], Light![Fluff]

Word count: 1.9k

─── ✶ ───

The Butterflies of Affection - Yukichi Fukuzawa x Reader

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎.

─────────── =ᗢ= ───────────

Denial was not something you associated with yourself. You were logical, organised, professional, you prided yourself on your work.

The first time you truly noticed it, you were ferrying important paperwork to your boss, low heels clicking across the floor as you hauled the mammoth mound of paperwork. He watched subtly, metallic blue eyes peering through his hair every few moments as he wrote on the document before him, the actions going unnoticed by you. You laid the paper onto his desk, before hurrying away once more, ready to collect the remainder of the pile, before his voice stopped you.

“Y/N, don’t rush.” It was only a few words, but the fact he took a moment to ensure you weren’t overburdening yourself was touching. You paused, glancing back with a light smile directed at the man, nodding slightly.

“It’s no bother sir, I’ll be back with the second half in a moment.” He nodded, looking back to his paperwork as you made your way back into the office. Fukuzawa had never been unpleasant to you at any stage, if anything, he was exceptionally kind, even if he was a man of few words. You grew to enjoy his quiet company, finding comfort in the silence.

As you walked back into the office, he looked up at you once more, the corner of his mouth pulling up in an ever so subtle smile; if you hadn’t known the man for over two years, you would have missed it. You set down the papers once more, meeting his eyes with a sense of accomplishment. “I have the case files organised by completion date as you requested, instead of by detective. Hopefully that makes it a bit easier for you sir- oh! And before I forget, I did some light editing to Dazai’s work, just in regard to spelling.” He hummed, giving a slight nod in acknowledgement.

“Y/n, thank you. I appreciate the work you do greatly.” There it was, that childish giddiness you had been feeling recently around the man. You were too old to be feeling such things, you were simply appreciative of his acknowledgement. Yes, that’s all it was. Sure, you had been noticing how your heart sped up every time he offered a small smile, or how every compliment he gave felt like it meant so much more to you, but that was simply because he was your boss after all. Everyone got nervous with their boss, it was completely normal.

In spite of shoving the feeling to the depths of your mind, they seemed to become ever more present in your work life.

“Ranpo, you really must eat something,” you insisted, collecting the glass bottles that littered the Lead Detective’s desk as he spun on his chair. His glasses frames sat proudly on his face as he spiralled into a whirlwind of thoughts, legs crossed and face focused.

“I don’t want to eat, I want a good case,” he whined, leaning back in exasperation, his head tipping backwards and hat dropping onto the floor. You smiled lightly, observing the boy affectionately. You walked to the bin, letting the bottles clatter into it, their clinking sounding almost pretty, despite the boy groaning behind you. “Everything has been so boring lately, Y/n.”

“It can’t be helped, sometimes life slows down unexpectedly in this city, you know that.” He grumbled, knowing full well that you were right, but still. It did nothing to quell the devastating boredom he was experiencing, nor the annoyance he felt. “But if you don’t eat soon, you’ll feel particularly unwell, and then you won’t be able to solve the interesting cases when they do come back around.”

“She has a point, Ranpo.” You looked up at the unexpected voice, blinking in surprise as Fukuzawa moved into the room. “You must look after yourself.”

“But I-“

“Come, I will buy you lunch,” he stated, causing the black haired detective’s eyes to spark up brightly. His head snapped up, a slight smile on his face at the offer. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. No matter what Fukuzawa had offered, or how much of it, Ranpo would always get excited at anything the man gave him. You were aware of their close bond, but seeing the boy’s reactions in person simply made it much more evident.

“Can we get donuts?”

“That isn’t enough to sustain you,” he lectured, drawing an overdramatic groan from Ranpo, but the boy jumped up anyway, walking towards the door.

“I guess,” he drawled out, before glancing back at you, looking between yourself and the President. “Are you coming, Y/n?” You shook your head, smiling as you turned to face him.

“I have a lot of work to do unfortunately, and I’d hate to fall behind.” Ranpo simply looked at Fukuzawa, who was staring intently at you, before shrugging.

“Y/n, you should come,” he stated, arms crossed in front of his body. Happiness bloomed at his offer, but you quickly pushed it down, swallowing as you laughed lightly, waving him off. He seemed to slowly be becoming more relaxed around you, but his face gave nothing away either way.

“While I would love to, I really shouldn’t-“

“You are ahead on your workload, I insist you join us.” And that was how you ended up joining the pair on lunch, hands clasped in front of your form. The pair indulged in lunch together regularly, at least twice a week Fukuzawa would usher Ranpo out of the office, insisting he eat something more than candy. Occasionally your coworkers would join them, but you could never find time to join yourself, head buried in paperwork no matter who nagged you. The fact that Fukuzawa had managed to convince you seemed to be a miracle in of itself.

Over time, it became a recurring theme at the agency, the detectives watching as Fukuzawa walked into the office, lips turned upwards with the smallest hint of a smile. It was the same thing twice a week, insisting you take a break, you’d done more than enough after all, and you could never find it in yourself to say no. It wasn’t exactly a secret that the pair of you were fond of each other, the space between you both seeming to grow ever closer as days turned to weeks, then months.

The small touch you left on his shoulder when you delivered the case files, the way his eyes seemed to be ever so slightly more gentle when he spoke to you, it didn’t take long for Ranpo to catch on to the changes in both parties behaviours. He sat at his desk, chewing on a piece of candy as Kunikida worked intensely at his desk, Yosano sorting the files of her latest case. He stared at you both through the doorway, ankles crossed as he leant back on his hands.

“You see it too, right?” Yosano looked up, following Ranpo’s eyes. Her purple eyes landed on your smiling form, desperately clutching onto your files and folders as Fukuzawa spoke. His voice was too hushed to hear in the office, but she could quickly tell what was happening in the scene unfolding before her. The way the president reached over, gripping onto the ends of the paperwork in your arms, lightly trying to pull it from your grasp. Amusement danced across his features at your obvious protests, your voice also hushed as you tried to maintain your ownership of the folders. “They’re behaving differently.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the President so… light hearted,” she added, drawing Kunikida’s attention as she grinned. She looked over at Ranpo, eyebrow raised as the man hummed, deep in thought. “What’s your thoughts, Ranpo?”

“They’re clearly experiencing affection for each other,” he observed clinically, drawing a light laugh from the Doctor.

“It appears so.”

“You think? I don’t see it,” Kunikida muttered, adjusting his glasses.

“You don’t? He’s in there every second day, inviting her for lunch, not accepting a no. I can’t recall the last time the President was so…persistent. And you should see how she looks at him when she brings in his documents. I’ve never seen her look that way at any of us,” she stated, Kunikida humming in acknowledgement as he sat back.

“Actually, now that you mention it, the President thought she was sick last week. When he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone go so red before. I just figured Y/n was sick from overworking herself…”

Ranpo’s mind was settled on that day. If you two would interact like such at work, but never see each other out of work, he would simply have to ensure it happened.

One day Ranpo stopped Fukuzawa and yourself at the elevator, sucking on a lollipop as he stared at the man, face blank. Yosano and Kunikida watched on from a few metres behind him, intrigued by the apparent stand off.

“I’m not coming today,” he stated plainly, watching as Fukuzawa raised his eyebrows in silent question. Ranpo shrugged, turning his head away as your brow pinched in confusion, eyes dancing his form in concern.

“Are you feeling okay, Ranpo,” you asked lightly, drawing his eyes back.

“I don’t feel well, isn’t that right, Yosano,” he called, twisting the candy in his mouth. Fukuzawa’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, observing the man curiously. His complexion was fine, his behaviour was normal, and he certainly wasn’t loudly announcing his complaints of his illness as he normally would do. Why would he lie about such a thing?

Yosano nodded, hurrying over with a smile, more than willing to assist her close colleague’s plan. “Yes, he’s caught a stomach bug, it’s a shame,” she stated, standing behind Ranpo. Your brow pinched further, perplexed by their behaviour. Fukuzawa clocked onto them quickly, a quiet sigh leaving him, but a smile gracing his lips nonetheless.

“I see, well that’s okay, we can go tomorrow-!”

“No, you should definitely go today,” Yosano stated, ushering you both into the open elevator. You tried to protest, but were merely silenced by their goodbyes and the closing doors. You stood there for a moment in silence, feeling the elevator shift underneath you, before Fukuzawa broke the quiet air.

“If you would still like to, I’d more than enjoy to have lunch with you, Y/n,” he offered, watching as you looked back quickly, face flushed and expression tentative at his offer. He was calm as ever, but you could spot a hint of colour near the tips of his ears.

“I wouldn’t wish to make you uncomfortable, sir. As your employee it would be rather improper of me, and I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression,” you rambled, but he only hummed as the doors opened, his hand resting on the small of your back to guide you out. You swore the butterflies that bloomed under his touch would surely be the death of you.

“What do you mean by the wrong impression?” You paused for a moment, collecting your words carefully before you spoke, the man waiting patient as ever.

“Well, it may appear as a date to onlookers, and I wouldn’t want to tarnish your name.”

“Well yes, it would be a date. I would hope it would appear as such. If you are so inclined to join me.” You stood there, processing his words, a genuine smile on his lips as he waiting once more. His presence was never pressuring for you, if anything, it only made you feel more comfortable as you laughed lightly, the situation clicking in your mind.

“Well, in such case I would love to join you sir.”

“Please, called me Yukichi.”

Songs I listened to whilst writing:

[𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞 - 𝐂𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲]

1:03 ──⚬──── 3:45

⇆ ◃◃ ıı ▹▹ ↻

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #yukichi fukuzawa x reader #fukuzawa x reader #bsd fukuzawa x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n

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ismailfazil1-blog · 10 months ago

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Excavating Adventure: A Comprehensive Guide to Treasure Hunting Strategies

"Excavating Adventure" is your ultimate guide to the thrilling world of treasure hunting. This comprehensive book explores various strategies, from traditional methods to cutting-edge technologies, ensuring treasure seekers of all levels have the tools they need to uncover hidden riches.

Dive into the rich history and techniques of treasure hunting, starting with decoding ancient clues and using modern metal detectors. Explore the depths with underwater exploration and magnet fishing, or embark on a digital quest through geocaching. Discover the mysteries beneath urban landscapes through urban exploring and geophysical surveys, while advanced methods like satellite imaging and sonar technology offer new perspectives on uncovering the past.

In addition to practical techniques, "Excavating Adventure" delves into the world of archaeological excavation, meteorite hunting, and fossil discovery, bridging the gap between science and adventure. The book also addresses crucial legal considerations, ensuring that treasure hunters remain within the bounds of the law as they pursue their passion.

Concluding with a captivating history of the world's most expensive treasures and ancient methods of discovery, this guide provides a wealth of knowledge for anyone eager to embark on their own treasure-hunting journey. Whether you're a seasoned adventurer or a curious beginner, *Excavating Adventure* equips you with the skills and knowledge to turn your quest for treasure into a successful and thrilling adventure.

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relia-robot-writes · 2 months ago

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previously

After we carefully got down off the roof, we all sat down in the living room. I retrieved the knife and put it in the sink to wash later, after rinsing off my fake blood; Kathrine took back the gun and disarmed it before putting it away in the important documents safe. "So, what now?" I asked, my new voice tinny and synthesized in my ears. "You said you were kidnapped, and I'm... I mean, can they take remote control of me, or something? What if I hurt you?"

Lilith put her hand on my knee, and I squeezed it before I remembered that she wasn't really my wife, not actually. I pulled back, and crossed my arms over my chest.

"It's okay," said Kathrine. "When we escaped, we took all their systems offline and called the authorities. By the time we got out, some kind of explosion went off, too - some kind of fail-safe, I guess. Whoever they were, they're on the run, now. We're safe. It should be all over the news tomorrow - people are going to be on alert for weird robot duplicates now."

"But even I couldn't tell it wasn't you," said Lilith. "Aren't any other duplicates out there going to be impossible to detect?" She yawned, and I checked the clock - it was nearly 2 AM.

"No, I mean," Kathrine yawned, too, infected by Lilith. "We grabbed some data that should make them really easy to find, and shared it out. I'll explain tomorrow. For now, I'm fucking exhausted."

"Y-yeah," I said, "You two should get some sleep."

That got me a look from both of them. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, uh... I mean, I don't even know if I need sleep-"

"You do," said Kathrine. "The duplicates needed time to process all the data they got during the day. I'd be surprised if you didn't need it more than we do."

"Oh," I said. "Um. Then, I guess... I'll just grab a blanket and sleep on the couch."

Kathrine got up and sat down next to me. "Hey, there's plenty of room on the bed, we can-"

I scooted away from her before her hand could land on my shoulder. "You've been gone for months, you said? You deserve to sleep next to your wife. Besides, you know we don't sleep well if we can't be on the right side of the bed. I'll be fine." I got up to grab the blankets from the closet, and I heard Kathrine stand up behind me, but she didn't say anything. When I returned, I could hear the two of them murmuring to each other upstairs. I flung out the blanket, rearranged the pillows, shucked my dress, laid down and tried to get some sleep. I could swear that my eyes illuminated the darkness before I closed them.

When I awoke, I felt bleary, and awful. That joke I made about not being real the night before was weighing on my mind. I wasn't real. I wasn't Kathrine. What did that mean? Was I one transmission away from turning into some kind of remote-controlled killer? Could I be shut off, brain-wiped, removed from existence? I didn't even know when I was created, or how long I'd been "alive". A couple of months, Kathrine had said. Had I stolen her Christmas? Or had I never really had one of my own? I rolled over, pulling the blankets tight over my body. Still flesh, or fake flesh, except for my face. I hadn't had the strength to look myself in the mirror yet. Was I some kind of awful Terminator skeleton? My breath hitched, and I realized that even that was probably fake, an affectation for a robot spy, not a real feeling.

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud fan turning on, and the smell of crisp bacon. My stomach growled - another fake sensation? - and I heard Lilith cry out "Breakfast!". I rolled over again, pulling the blankets over my head.

A moment later, they were yanked off. "Hey, that means you, too," she said, pressing her finger to the tip of my metallic forehead.

"But- I mean, I don't even-"

"You've eaten breakfast every day you've been here so far, however long that's been, and I know it makes you feel better when you get a hot meal. Come eat."

She left me blinking as she returned to the kitchen. I rose, wrapping the blanket around myself, and followed her. Kathrine was already there, looking at something on her laptop. "Morning," she said, around a mouthful of breakfast sandwich. "Sleep well?"

I sat down, and a plate full of bagel-bacon-egg-hashbrown sandwich appeared before me. "There'll be cinnamon rolls soon, too," said Lilith over her shoulder as she went to the coffee machine.

"Why are you both," I hiccupped, hands clenched around the blanket. "Why are you being so nice to me? I invaded your home, your lives-"

Kathrine reached across the table and put her hand around mine. "Not your fault. I've been looking at the data we grabbed before we left - all the duplicates were made via direct brain scans of the people they kidnapped. I want to do a firmware update on you later to make sure you don't have any networking backdoors, but you're just as much me as I am."

"Besides," said Lilith, sitting next to me, "we've talked before about what we'd do if we found a clone of each other." She smirked, and suddenly the room got very warm. "Eat your breakfast," she said, her smile turning gentle. "You've been through a lot, and we have time to figure things out together."

Hesitantly, I picked up the bagel and took a bite.

It was delicious.

#urban fantasy #science fiction #eggbug writes #relia writes #relias evil clone

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daydreams-after-dark · 1 year ago

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Hiya! I think I found the "ask" button! :D I'm dropping my favourite suggestion here, hehe...

You could write about a bad cop/good cop Han/Minho (Han being the good cop and Minho de bad?) And of course, ending in an endless make out session and "fuck-time" in the interrogation room.

Have a bood day/night/afternoon! ♥

This scenario is a fucking dream!!! Thank you for putting this idea to me. I love it. I love it so much. I hope my take on it is to your liking 😘😘😘

I’ve had a few police officer!skz asks and I’m having so much fun imagining all the filthy things that are being sent my way.

I’ve already written sub police officer Han here.

CW: detective/interrogation role play (not established or clarified, but as the writer I’ve decided that is what’s happening), CNC (established off-screen and not referenced in the story). Implied established safeword (not used). Unprotected rough sex, oral sex, orgasms.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

"TELL US!" Detective Lee practically spits in your face. "You know where they're hiding, and you're going to tell us right now." He leans in close to your ear. "Or else." he adds venomously, then stands back against the cinder blocks of the interrogation room, arms crossed.

"Look, Miss." The other man, Detective Han, sighs. "Just tell us and your sentence will be reduced."

"I'm scared." You say desperately. "What they'll do if they find out I-"

Lee scoffs and you pout, turning back at Han.

"We'll protect you." Han almost reaches across to hold your hands, but the weight of Minho's stare makes him think twice. “All you have to do is give us a location.” He says softly.

You shake your head and wring your hands together.

“I think she’s going to need a special kind of convincing.” Lee raises an eyebrow.

Han slowly turns his head towards Minho. “Detective. I’m not sure that’s style of interrogation is appropriate.”

“Well where has being nice got you?” He retorts, storming over to you and pulling you up roughly by your flimsy satin top.

"Now, little Miss," he growls slamming you against the one way glass, holding your arms behind your back and pressing himself against you. You can feel his erection against the top of your ass. "Just tell us the location, and all this stops.”

You turn to look over your shoulder, giving him doe eyes. “I’m never gonna tell you the location.” You say firmly.

The corner of Detective Lee’s mouth twitches slightly. “So that’s how you’re really gonna play, huh?”

He drags you back, bending over the cold, metal interrogation table. “Han. Handcuff her.” He demands, tossing his handcuffs to his partner.

Han looks down at the cuffs in his hands, hesitating momentarily before cuffing your arm to the table leg. He moves around and cuffs your other hand to the opposite leg. You pull and tug, but it’s no use.

“Now check she’s not hiding anything she shouldn’t.” Lee adds tugging your jeans and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass and pussy.

Han gulps and moves behind you. He strokes your back gently, and leans over you. He’s fucking hard too. “Just be good and do everything he says. Try to relax, baby. Okay. Don’t be a brat.” He soothes as his hand cups your pussy. “You’re doing great. So wet already.”

You suck in a breath. You’re turned on. No doubt about it. You close your eyes as Han slides a finger into your cunt. “Have to check you aren’t hiding anything you shouldn’t. Shhh…. Stay calm. It’s all going to be okay.”

He inserts another finger, sliding them in and out of you. Wet sounds immediately fill the interrogation room.

“I’m gonna check your pretty little mouth.” Minho forces your mouth open with his hand and shoves two fingers inside. “Suck on them.” He hisses. You do as you’re told, sucking on the detective’s digits. He removes them before sitting back down to enjoy the show.

Behind you you hear Han unbuckling his belt, then the sound of a zipper. “Shhh… you need to stay quiet, okay. So you don’t get yourself into more trouble.” Han whispers, but his voice is strained. The tip of his cock slides through your dripping folds several times, before he pushes it deep into your pussy.

“Ngh…fuck!” You gasp.

“Now, what did Detective Han say, hmm?” Lee leans forward in his seat and pulls the hair off your face. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to put something in your mouth to make you quiet.”

But you can’t stay quiet. Han is fucking into you hard. Each thrust pressing you into the cold, hard table. He’s hitting you deep too. The kind, sweet Detective Han isn’t holding back. His fingers dig into your hips, and his body slaps against yours loudly.

“Has she hidden anything in her cunt?” Lee asks Han.

“I’m not hiding anything, I promise!” You cry. Minho raises an eyebrow, unamused. “I wasn’t asking you.” He snaps and looks towards Han.

“She is.” Han grunts.

“What?!” You lift your head in protest. “No!”

“Tsk tsk. Now you’ve made me very angry.” Lee says low. He stands and undoes his trousers too, revealing his thick, hard cock. You swallow hard. You’re nervous. But you’re also excited.

Lee steps towards you and tilts your head in such a way that he can rub the tip of his cock along your lips. “You’ve got such a filthy, lying mouth.” He whispers. “It’s gonna feel good around my dick.” He holds your head steady as he fucks your mouth. He’s surprisingly gentle and smooth as Han continues to fuck you rough from behind.

“Han, what’s she hiding from us?” He moans as his cock hits the back of your throat.

“She’s hiding an orgasm.” Han responds. “And, she’s keeping all this cream inside her. Look!” He exclaims pulling his dick out and showing Lee.

The mean detective looks down at you like you’re pathetic and smirks. “Show her.” He snarls, withdrawing his cock from your mouth.

Han comes to stand in front of you, and you see how creamy and wet you are. His cock is covered in it.

“You have to clean it. It’s all gonna be ok. Just do as we ask. You’ll be fine.” Han looks at you with soft eyes. “Now…all you need to do is clean it up. Okay?” He pushes his cock into your mouth. He pushes in further and you gag. “Shhh…That’s it. That’s it.” He encourages you.

Your eyes water because he pushes in so deep, and he takes his time to pull out, making it hard to breath. “Yes, you’re doing really well.” He praises.

Lee’s behind you now, slapping your ass. The sound resounds around the room. He slaps you again and you sob around Han’s cock.

“That’s for not cooperating with an interrogation.”

Another slap. “That’s for hiding your arousal.”

One more slap. “Now you’re gonna come for us.”

He slides into your heat and your eyes roll back into your head. He pulls out almost to the tip and pauses. You clench in anticipation, then he slams back in.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. Let me come in your mouth and I’ll promise I’ll put in a good word for you.” Han’s breath is shaky, and his thrusts stutter. “Catch it all for me…ngh… I’m coming.” Han throws his head back and moans as his thick cum coats your throat.

He plonks down on the chair, panting.

“Finally some cooperation.” Scoffs Lee, pounding into your pussy. “Han. Release her arms.” He orders his partner.

You’re swiftly uncuffed and your flipped onto your back. Lee pushes your legs up and squeezes his dick back inside you. Han’s at your side kissing and sucking your nipples. “You’re doing good. I’m proud of you.” He nibbles your breasts as his hands explore your body.

Lee brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing firm, rough circles on it. You close your eyes savouring every sensation that the detectives are making you feel.

You’re not on a cold metal table in a dingy little room. You’re floating, soaring higher and higher. You’re going to fall apart any second now. The tension inside you is about to snap.

Han’s lips find yours. Soft, gentle, kind. “I love it when you’re a bad girl.” He whispers and slips his tongue into your mouth.

It’s your undoing and you whimper as you clamp down around Lee’s cock.

“Fuck!” Growls Lee, pulling out and spurting ropes of cum on your stomach. He steadies himself, staying buried inside you until his cock softens.

“Now. The location. Give it to us.” Minho presses as he pulls his trousers back up.

“Please?” Han looks down at you.

“I said never.” You whisper defiantly.

Lee sighs. “Fine. We’ll be back in an hour to interrogate your further.” He says flatly, and he and Han leave the room, locking the door behind them.

Read unrelated sub police officer Han ask here

Read unrelated ot8 free use jail cell

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco

@jeonginsleftcheek @meilix @itgirlalisaa @linocz @bubblebisk @boi-bi-ahaha @frozenpeasworld @grandma143 @milkypinkmimi @bangchansbbgirl @leefelixsslut @privhace @justforreaders @galaxycatdrawz

#Skz smut #poly minsung #han jisung smut #lee know smut #han jisung imagines #lee know imagined

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finniestoncrane · 11 months ago

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2.5k Event Request - Nick Valentine x Fem!Reader word count: 810 a/n: i know that whenever a human companion needs to rest, peepaw is right there with them regardless. so please enjoy this dirty little ficlet of nick exploring the joys of the "only one bed" trope cw: somnophilia (so dubcon), fingering, nipple teasing 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2.5k (to follow or to block)

"Any time, detective. You can have me whenever you want."

Your words seemed to echo around the room, far more real than just a memory of that sweet night you'd shared together. They felt real, tangible, as though you were uttering them right then and there.

But you weren't, of course. You were sound asleep, laying beside him, crammed together in the only bed that was left in the shell of the house where you'd stopped for shelter. It was a problem that had only really come up when he'd taken you on as an assistant. Usually, he could rest himself, cool off the motors and reset his brain in solitude. Now he had to make sure there was space for two.

To make matters worse, or better depending on how you looked at it, he found himself feeling responsible for your comfort and safety. That's how it had happened before. Your pleading eyes, practically begging him to curl around you in the bed, to keep you safe, warm. Soft words that turned into laughter, sighs that led to a kiss. And after it all, when he'd thanked you for the attention, you'd uttered those words.

"You can have me whenever you want."

Did that really mean any time? As you shuffled next to him, your back arched, curving to fit the shape of his embrace, he felt himself sighing quietly. You'd seemed so keen to be with him, and while you had both been flirtatious in your professional relationship before, it felt deeper now. Was it a blanket statement of approval, though? Was he really free to have you whenever he desired?

Because right now, with your body at peace, chest rising and falling, minimal clothing to cover your soft, smooth skin, he definitely wanted you.

Of course, there was only one solution. He was a detective, so he would have to investigate, find out what the answer was to that question. And to do that, he would have to do some hands on field work.

Your body was covered, albeit sparsely, by his trench coat, and he lifted the makeshift blanket slowly and carefully, not wanting to rouse you out of your sleep just yet.

His already close proximity lent itself to the careful, almost sneaking way his fingers approached your body, his palm skirting over your hip in a gesture that could easily have been done in his sleep, not romantic or flirtatious at all. But the intention behind it had his bright pupils narrowing in focus as his left hand began to travel to up to your waist, tentatively shifting under the fabric of your shirt, and then around to your front.

The tips of his fingers, pads covered in greying, worn down synthetic skin, traced gently over your nipples, flicking over them slowly. He held his breath as your back arched slightly, your rear pressing into him and your hips splaying a little, giving him easier access to the rest of your body.

His degloved hand eased down the front of your underwear, stopping intermittently as you groaned and shifted beside him. With precision and expertise, the kind you'd watch him utilise to unlock doors and fiddle with his own wiring, the cool metal tips closed softly around your clit, pinching it delicately and rolling it between his skeletal fingers as you let out a soft moan.

For Nick, the most satisfying aspect of the night you had shared together before was seeing your own pleasure, written across your face, your mouth open, panting, whispering his name, and then screaming it. And while you might not be as vocal now, as you somehow still slept next to him, the gentle mumbles of appreciation and the way your breath had changed were enough.

That, and he was detecting a warmer texture than before. All the teasing of your clit had made you so wet, your slick collecting between your folds, spread over them as Nick dipped one of his digits inside of you.

"Mmmm... Nick..."

His name on your lips sounded better than anything else he'd heard before, and his eyes brightened for a moment before he closed them over, keeping it as dark as possible in case you might be disturbed from your sleep.

"Sh, sh, sh..."

He hesitated, but only for a moment, before he leaned in and placed a kiss at the back of your ear, soothing you, lulling you back to sleep. He might have been tempted to wake you up eventually, but where was the fun in that? The case would be solved, but the investigation would be cut short. And that was always the best part for him.

So, once you had settled back down, he kept shushing you, inserting his finger into you, warm and relaxed, and hoped you were at least dreaming of something pleasant, preferably of him.

#finnie writes #x reader #nick valentine #nick valentine x reader #nick valentine fallout #fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #finnie2.5k

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knnichs · 6 months ago

Text

i love you in the worst way

his work was not what kept him up–tossing and turning on his bed. it was you.

c. goro akechi, gn!reader

t. mentions of shido (i hate him,) major p5r/p5 spoilers, slight implications of suicide (very plot heavy, but vague,) yearning who cheered, not beta read

reupload once more… second part of the first akechi fic, as always original notes are at the end & you can find the og ao3 link here!!

The dimly lit apartment had a comforting emptiness to it, regardless of what everyone says about loneliness. Akechi always found himself missing its familiar quiet, akin to a park with the occasional muffled voices of others. He would sit under the bridge if no one was there, maybe near the lake–or alone on the bench, watching as the birds fly free across the blue sky. Work as a detective would mean socializing with others, even if it meant becoming a little fake towards them. But he chose this line of work, he knew what he was getting into the moment he and Shido had struck a deal.

Nevertheless, he felt a little sick that night. Somehow dreading coming back home. Maybe it was the insomnia, maybe the lack of a companion–a true one–the entire day. As much as he loved working with Sae, they can get into some heated arguments sometimes and Akechi didn’t need that on his already overfilled plate. It wasn't that, however, that was not what kept him up–tossing and turning on his bed.

It was you.

If he was being honest, he didn’t think he would ever fall in love. In a romantic sense anyway–with his grand death on step 30 of his revenge plan against Shido (that damned politician) and if everything went well, his poisonous blood would forever stain that man. With patience wearing thin, he wouldn’t dare do anything aside from preparing for the last chapter, the finale, of the famed detective prince.

He sighs, exhausted from the entire day and everyone in general. If he was going to be honest, meeting up with you was the one thing he was looking forward to. But of course, his fans just had to ruin the moment. He’s half thankful, somehow, if he’d stay any longer–his heart would’ve lept out of his chest and taken control of his brain, leaving nothing unsaid.

Just how nice would that be? Seeing the expression on your face as he says things you would’ve never thought the detective prince would say. Three words, spoken in hushed whispers, mumbling too quick that you wouldn’t even be able to understand it immediately.

I love you, and the words are on the tip of his tongue everytime he sees you.

If you were to ask him, that's exactly what he hates the most. Not the feeling of being a dead man in a body somehow still full of life, or the metallic taste of blood in his mouth after he bit his cheek trying to restrain himself from saying things he would later regret. He would act as if the vision of the white curtains blowing in the wind from an open window and the sun just–shining on your face, a single moment of calm in his lifetime of chaos and fighting. Oh, you would look so beautiful. You would wake up smiling–at him, of all people. It would reach your eyes, an expression of pure joy, and it would forever be etched into his memory.

To him, it’s like lyrics to a song he’s listened to one too many times. He keeps repeating the same things to himself, words he could only wish to tell you–because it’s you, it’s you who his heart yearns for. It’s you who causes the inner meltdowns because his heart is beating way too fast and his breathing is uneven when he sees you, only hoping that you could somehow pick up on the signs and tell him the same things back.

A backyard, hanging up the clothes with you underneath the early morning sun. Running across hills filled to the brim with flowers. Traveling country to country, making lunch at the airbnb you two stayed at to save money. The laughs, the smiles–no. He’d be driving himself insane going down that rabbit hole. There will always be that voice in his head that tells him it’s wrong, and truth be told, he’s getting sick of it.

Fine then. So be it, he has other things to worry about anyway.

The boy rolls over the bed, lazily reaching for the phone he put on the desk drawer and turning it on. 2:03 am, that would mean he had spent the last two hours thinking about you since he got home.

Tomorrow, he’d whisper to himself. Interview at 10 am, attend as many classes until lunch break–go to the station and help Sae with the cases, investigate for Akira. And a beat of silence in his mind before a familiar name shows up; capture the leader of the Thieves, kill Shido. His plate was already overfilled, and it didn't take long for him to realize that he had to fit you somewhere on his schedule too. What was he even worrying about anyway? There’s a busy week ahead of him and you would understand the distance, more than anyone for that matter.

So, why does he feel guilty? His chest feels tight, this is wrong. You’ve done so much for him and yet–you let him treat you like this? You know everything about each other, you know him better than he knows himself…

That part was a lie. As far as he knows, you only know of his past–but not as the culprit of the mental shutdown cases. You know him from the princely “good boy” ace detective Akechi, he’s done a good job at covering everything up and you–you’re just…

It’s frustrating for him, it really is. He knows you see right through him, you’re the only one who asks how he’s doing after all. You know something’s up, you’ve been with him long enough for it to become an instinct to you. And it's most definitely affecting his plan that he’s developed for years–you were ruining it.

3:14 am.

He’s still awake. Wondering about the choices he’s made for it to lead up to this… Nonsense. He doesn’t understand why you make him feel this way, he doesn’t know why you choose to care about some worthless child. It’s almost like he’s your greatest wish and to him it's foolish. Who would want someone like him? A murderer, some fraud persona built for the tv, a child who was never loved by their own parents–a curse.

He’ll have to blow off some steam in that metaverse later, but now, he needs to get rest for the long day tomorrow.

Slowly, he reaches for his phone. Turning it on only to be blinded by the light–despite it being on the lowest brightness setting–and he stops for a bit to get adjusted to it. He scrolls down to your contact, swipes right, and removes you.

That was all it took for him to completely forget about the yearning he had just felt, a swipe of the finger, and you were–as he thought–gone.

hi.. im back :pray: heres a part 2 to the last work i made about akechi (message in a bottle) part 3 will be the very last, finally. Valentines (teehee) this is set in the same day as when he left immediately in the restaurant, so !!! yeah thats all okay goodbye :heart: thats all, see u all again next month if i ever come around to finishing part 3 ^^

#persona 5 x reader #persona #persona x reader #persona 5 royal x reader #akechi goro #goro akechi #akechi x reader #akechi x gn!reader #goro akechi x gn!reader #goro akechi x reader

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