#and a small set..... possibly with chain

[avenoirn]

I am cooking.... Another Ace pin(set). :)

[jinx-xxed]

Silver Chains

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A/N; I’ve already watched Sinners 4 times and became obsessed so I fear it’s necessary for me to write a fic for Remmick at least once 🤕 this is my first time writing vampires and blood like this so please forgive me if it sucks 🙏 also if I’ve written anything in relation to the movie incorrectly please tell me so I can fix it! I have some other ideas brewing that I might write as well so I hope you enjoy :P!

Summary; A hunt gone awry leaves you caught by vampire hunters with the threat of the sun looming over you.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, vampire reader, vampirism, vampire hunters, blood and injury, death, feral behavior, you almost die, protective/possessive Remmick, very dependent relationship, bloodsucking, blood eating as kink, a lot of drool, he comes with it what can I say, feeding off Remmick, putting those claws and teeth to good use, eating out, fingering, piv sex, multiple orgasms, little bit of aftercare, soft Remmick

Wc; 7.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

The stench of blood assaults your nose.

It’s not the tantalizing, mouth-watering scent of someone else’s, no, it’s your own. It smells all sorts of wrong, impure and old with decay only to a thing like you.

Your blood runs down your skin in rivulets, staining it a deep, shiny red. Droplets fling from your body as you thrash and jerk against the heavy, silver chains that bind you to a thick and sturdy tree. The pain of the bark digging into your back is nothing compared to the agony of the chains burning your flesh away, steam rising from your injuries like you’d been placed on burning coals. It makes you wild, desperate to get away but with nowhere to go.

There’s no chance of you escaping the chains that sit against your neck, arms, waist, and legs in sets of two, even despite your struggling and the way you try to launch yourself from the tree with the slight leeway you have with your feet. Your unnerving eyes gleam in the moonlight, wide and frantic with fear, your bloodstained, jagged teeth showing in your open mouth. You feel as far from human as you possibly could be, snarling like an animal and chained just like one too.

The men watching you seem to think the same thing.

There’s five of them, two sit on their horses while the other three steadily pace the small clearing they have you in. God damn vampire hunters, armed to the teeth with everything they need to kill the likes of you. Silver bullets, silver chains, garlic and holy water, wooden stakes on their belts. It’s like they’re surrounded by a bubble of protection that you can’t penetrate, that’ll hurt you if they get too close—which isn’t that far off.

You curse yourself over and over. You and Remmick made damn sure to stay away from Choctaw land and yet here you are, caught and beaten. This is a new type of hunter, one you’d never had the misfortune of coming across before. They hunt in the dead of night, they enjoy watching you thrash and suffer, and their methods are cruel, meant to draw out your punishment.

You’ve never heard or seen a lick of them prior to tonight when you’d been ambushed and chased through the woods.

A gunshot had pierced your shoulder, one that brought more pain than your typical lead bullet. It had left you stumbling with a choked yell, steam rising from the hole in your shoulder blade. Then you’d heard the rustling in the underbrush, the hoots and hollers of men with a different kind of bloodlust than what you’re used to. Oh you’d ran, you’d ran as fast as your legs could carry you through the rough terrain of the forest, clearing fallen logs and scraping your bare arms on branches and thorns.

They’d caught you with another bullet to your thigh and a rope around your legs, pulling snug as soon as you tried to take another step and sending you thudding onto the hard ground. They’d wrapped you in silver soon after, seemingly experts on how to maneuver around you to avoid your snapping teeth and deadly nails. The first touch of the silver made your skin bubble and burn, a scream tearing out of your throat against your will. They’d dragged you crying for you don’t know how long behind their horses, all the way to the edge of the forest that overlooks a field that’s flat for as far as the eye can see.

You don’t know where they came from, they’re clearly unrelated to any other group or tribe of hunters, instead being just a gaggle of men who have dedicated their lives to eradicating yours. The history of your kind isn’t widely known, isn’t readily available to the public, so in your pain-addled brain you still wonder where they heard your tales, still wonder what else you might have to worry about if the knowledge is growing.

Your head thumps back, your breath coming ragged through your lungs. You shut your eyes tight for just a moment, trying to force away any more tears and clear your head. You haven’t felt pain like this in a long, long time, especially because Remmick has always been there to keep an eye on you, to keep you out of harms way. But not this time, not when you strayed too far and got too distracted to be vigilant about your surroundings. You’d been stupid and you know that, so part of you thinks you deserve this.

“Just stake me and be done.” You groan, ultimately defeated as the silver chains bite through your skin to the bone. It’s not like you want to die necessarily, you just want to be released from your own agony. You hate the way they’re toying with you, watching like wolves as you writhe and bleed.

One man shakes his head, his face shadowed by the cowboy hat he wears. “Nah, we like to watch y’all burn.” He looks to his watch and then up at the sky. “Ain’t gon’ be much longer now.”

You can’t help looking as well, your eyes finding the ever lightening night sky. The stars have been chased away, the moon laying itself to rest on the other side of the earth. You can feel the threat of the sun as the air steadily warms, as time tick, tick, ticks away. If you had to guess, you have about thirty minutes left at most before yellow rays peak over the horizon line.

You force a swallow down your torn throat, your breathing stutters as panic kicks up in your chest. You figure seeing the sun in your final moments won’t be the worst thing, it has been seven years after all, but nobody wants to be burned alive. You don’t want to feel your skin cook and be engulfed by flames, you don’t want your last memory to be pain. Tears fall down your bloodstained cheeks without you realizing, dripping to the forest floor as your head hangs.

Then there’s a rustle in the trees beyond that makes your attention snap back up. That’s when you sense it, when the tiny hairs on the back of your neck rise. It’s like a blanket of eerie quiet was laid over the clearing, quieting any crickets or frogs or birds and leaving just the whispers of an old wind through the trees. There’s a flash of red, the familiar smell of ancient blood and earth hitting your nostrils. It’s an instant comfort.

Your own reaction has caused the hunters to become alert, clutching their guns a little tighter and looking into the trees. They don’t even realize what’s happening before the screams start.

The first man goes down—the first is always the easiest. The horses startle in turn, rearing up with loud, shrill whinnies that make the men on their backs shout. One falls off his beast while the other gets dragged from the saddle with a yell. The horses shake their heads and shriek before crashing into the forest, leaving their riders behind to get their throats torn open.

You could sob in relief at seeing Remmick, his claws extended and his fangs bared. He looks feral, his hair wild and his eyes wide and gleaming bright red. Blood coats his chin and his neck, staining the collar of his button up as he rips into his victims as messily as he pleases. The two men left got enough of their senses to try and fire their guns, to use the weapons they so carefully prepared. One wields a wooden stake and runs at Remmick who grabs the man’s wrists to prevent the stake from being buried into his heart.

They grapple briefly before the man is being slammed onto the ground with a terrifying ease, something within his body cracking. Claws are raked across his neck in a quick slash, urgency spurred by the cock of a gun, the sound of the shot being fired making you flinch as it rings through the clearing. It misses its target by just a hair and it’s unable to reload fast enough to prevent Remmick from jumping on the final hunter. The man goes down with a choked scream and you hear the familiar sounds of flesh being devoured and blood being drained. There’s only a sickly silence that follows.

All of the spilled blood has thick strings of drool dripping from the corners of your mouth, your hunger flaring up from the lack of food you’d gotten tonight and the exhaustion of struggling against the hunters. You lean forward instinctively, desperate for a taste, before the silver chains binding your body remind you of where you are. You jolt back with a whimper, pain biting into you tenfold.

Remmick’s head snaps up, those sinister red eyes finding you as the bloodlust and blind rage fades, as he seems to remember you. He’s up in an instant, hurrying over and flinching away with a snarl when he realizes what’s wrapped around your body. “Shit.” He spits angrily, doing it again when he looks to the horizon and sees the slow infiltration of the oranges and yellows of morning into the purples and blues of night. Ten minutes left.

“Rem- Remmick- please, please get me out- it hurts, Remmick, please.” You beg, your babbling words warbling with pain and emotion. You don’t want to be left behind, not again, not by him. It’d hurt more than the searing kiss of the sun.

“I ain’t leavin’ you, darlin’.” He says with finality through gritted teeth, even as every instinctual thing inside him whispers to leave you here to die, to save himself and let you be engulfed in the flames of your mistake. He circles behind you, taking a deep breath before beginning to tug at the chains, hissing as they burn the calloused skin on his hands. Despite the pain, they steadily come undone, dropping to the ground around you so you can finally take in a gasping breath.

“I told you to stay with me, didn’t I? Would it kill ya to listen for once?” Remmick snaps as he undoes the last of the chains around your legs, leaving you to stumble forward. You’re charred and covered in wounds, but now your body can finally begin to regenerate. You look a mess and you feel like one too, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you struggle just to stay standing.

Before you can even get out an apology, he’s grabbing your wrist and tugging you with him. His own blood smears on your skin, the smell threatening to cloud your mind. “C’mon, or else we’ll both be fried.” His tone is low and angry and focused, telling you to save whatever you need to say for later.

You eagerly follow him, doing your best to keep up as you both run to outrace the rising warmth of morning. Panic hangs heavy around you, knowing how quickly those final minutes tick by, feeling the heat licking at your heels. Your skin threatens to begin sizzling again, sweat gleaming on your forms.

But by the grace of some cursed god, it turns out the hunters had dragged you not too far from where you and Remmick have made your home in a tiny little house hidden in the trees. It’s temporary, of course, and you’ll no doubt be moving again after tonight, but in the moment it’s like finding a blessed sanctuary in the midst of damnation. You both fly up the porch steps and burst into your home just as the sun clears the horizon line, its beams filtering through the trees while you slam the door in its face.

You fall to your knees instantly, panting and heaving like a dog as your deep injuries throb and ooze. Your whole body is shaking, weak from a pain and hunger you haven’t experienced before. You can feel the ache in your teeth, the drool that still runs down your chin despite how many times you’ve wiped it away.

Remmick is less fazed, simply shrugging off his sweat and blood soaked button up and tossing it aside, his suspenders falling loose around his hips and leaving him in his once white tank. The thin gold chain around his neck glints in the dim lighting, a twin to the gold band on his ring finger. He’s cut it close enough times in his long past that he’s familiar with the sensation of the sun at his back, but he’s been more careful with you. He makes sure to have you both fed and back with time to spare, but everything seemed to go wrong tonight. Though, he supposes the scare was probably good for you. Teach you not to wander off again.

He looks idly at his hands, at the blisters that are already beginning to fade. He’s always healed pretty fast, while you on the other hand aren’t as fortunate. The scent of your blood fills his nose, fills the room of the house. You’re both lucky his hunger was satiated earlier, otherwise he’d be on you like a leech. Even after he turned you, your blood stayed just as mouthwatering, just as delicious to something twisted inside of him. It proved to him that you were something different, something he’d been searching for without really knowing it.

“Are you upset with me?” You sniffle, quite pathetic really. But it’s been a long while since you’ve felt this much shame and embarrassment, and your body doesn’t quite know what to do with it besides force it out through tears.

Remmick stands in silence with his thoughts for a moment more before he sighs, defeated. “I ain’t angry with ya, sugar. Just worried, is all.” He turns, his steps marked by the too-soft thud of boots against hardwood. You see the toes of his shoes in your vision, but you still can’t make yourself lift your head, to look at him—so he does it for you. He crouches down, taking your face in his hand, making you meet his eyes. “Fuck, darlin’, they almost killed you.”

You can see the concern etched onto his eternally young face, the memory of seeing you chained in silver and presented like a sacrifice to the morning sun. You can’t even begin to understand the fear he’d felt; hearing all the commotion far off in the woods, hearing your screams and hoping he ran fast enough to reach you. He could smell the way your blood poured from your body, the way it burned under your confines. He’d sensed your terror too, your emotions sitting just behind his own like a second pair, locked together by a bond too ancient to be understood. You’d called out to him without your voice and he answered without a second thought.

Oh, how he’d raged seeing you against that tree, begging your captors for a quick death. Your face was covered in tears and blood, you’d looked to the horizon with a mixture of acceptance and panic, something he’s seen plenty of times before. He never should have let it happen, should have known to keep you closer, should have known you were still too young into this and got too excited over fresh meat. Hell, he didn’t even know how you managed to sneak off but he’d looked away for one damn minute and then you were gone. He’d been a fool to trust that you’d come back before a gunshot rang through the forest.

Killing those men was one of the easier things he’s done. Remmick barely even registered their deaths, the only thought in his mind being eliminating any threats to you and getting some food out of it as well. Their wards and stakes and silver bullets did nothing to deter him, they were weak and weightless—the opposite of the other hunters he’s come across, the ones with real strength. No, those men were new and ultimately inexperienced, and yet still stupidly dangerous.

He’d worry about them later. They’re dead and gone while you’re still bleeding and sniffling in front of him.

You lean into his touch like a cat, desperate for comfort. “Yer starvin’, ain’t ‘cha?” He murmurs, running his thumb along your cheek. He can see it clear as day in your gleaming eyes, the drool that won’t stop, and the way your wounds are refusing to close because you don’t have enough sustenance. You nod sadly, your head bowed while tears of frustration burn behind your eyelids. Remmick is quick to wipe them away. “Shh, don’t cry, sugar. You’ll be alright. You got food right here.”

You look at him with confusion before seeing the way he’s presented his thick forearm to you, underside up. Your eyes widen and you almost jump immediately at the opportunity, your teeth aching painfully and hunger howling within you. He nods his head towards his arm. “Go on, darlin’. You know I wouldn’t let ya go hungry.”

You sit up, acting on autopilot as you grip his arm in both of your hands, your drool dripping onto his skin before your teeth sink in. Blood immediately comes to the surface of the puncture wounds, and you take every drop you’re offered. The iron-sweet tang on your tongue instantly brings out your hunger tenfold, your fangs digging even deeper into the soft skin. Remmick makes a low noise, something between a groan and a grunt, watching with satisfaction as you take from him.

It’s rare when he lets you do this. Typically there’s enough food for the both of you, enough to keep you happily satiated until the next time that primordial hunger comes knocking. But sometimes there’s nights when the hunt fails, nights like tonight when the need to feast is bad enough to kill you if it’s left too long, when you need to rely on your last resort. However, no matter what, Remmick will never let his lady go hungry.

The age of Remmick’s blood blooms in your mouth, rich with an aftertaste of ancient iron and old, hidden stories. Only people like you would know how much you can learn from someone’s blood, from the life force of their body. The whispers of the lives they led running along your tongue as you feast, the emotions they held within hopes and dreams. It’s fascinating, and it was something Remmick was eager to show you when you were first turned, teaching you the crimson stained wonders of being what he is.

You relish the feeling of his blood flowing through you, working to heal the wounds littering your body. His other hand rests firmly on the back of your neck, his fingers occasionally squeezing and letting you feel the pricks of his claws that have begun to slide from their sheaths. He keeps you there, encouraging you to take and take and take.

You eventually pull back, twisting out of his hold on you and releasing his bloody arm with a pop. Your breath comes as pants through your open mouth, blood staining your lips and teeth, the gleam having returned to your eyes. Your bites have always been cleaner than Remmick’s, less gruesome and destructive, leaving his forearm with tiny wounds that will heal quickly. The sight of red beading from them still makes you salivate but it’s easier to reel yourself in now, dragging your hunger back by a leash around its neck to keep it from going rabid. It allows your fangs and claws to be more willing to retract, your mind no longer running in restless, desperate circles around the concept of food.

You notice the way Remmick has been looking at you, full of some type of reverence mixed with relief, you think. Relief at the fact you’re not a sniveling, bleeding mess on the floor anymore, your usual shine quickly coming back. Your wounds have stitched themselves back together, bone no longer showing and just the outermost layers still being torn and burnt. It makes you feel like you can breathe again, every movement free of the horrible agony.

“C’mere.” Remmick says, voice dropping a few levels as he continues staring at your blood stained mouth. He pulls you in before you even have the chance to sit up properly, your lips meeting in a clash of tongues and teeth. He groans when he tastes his own blood on you, practically taking it from you with the way he licks you. You gasp against him as he fully invades your space, your back hitting the wooden door so that there’s nowhere else to go, his body effectively caging you in. His hands easily roam over your form, knowing every inch and detail with the precision of a man who’s explored them a hundred times before.

Hands come to rest on your waist and before you know it, you’re being hoisted up with a startled noise that Remmick quickly swallows with a kiss. His muscled biceps flex as he easily holds you against him, your legs coming to wrap around his hips and your hands gripping at his shoulders for purchase. You’re carried upstairs with a newfound urgency, Remmick kicking open the bedroom door and roughly laying you onto the soft sheets of a bed that used to belong to somebody else—before you two took over, of course.

Blood, sweat, and dirt immediately stain the covers beneath you, smearing across the fabric as you move. It’s nothing new, this happens just about every time you return from an exhilarating hunt. You both barely ever have the foresight to wash off first before climbing into bed together. Remmick follows after you, your hands resting on either side of his face to draw him in, never wanting to be apart for too long. His fingers pull at the shirt that was tucked into your pants that are too big on you, the ones you always wear on a hunt that are now ruined by the burn marks of silver chains.

His touch is always just on the side of too cold, a consequence of being undead, the same one that you suffer from. It’s something you were quick to grow used to, along with the way his temperature fluctuates depending on how much fresh blood he has coursing through him. His ring bites like ice beneath your shirt as he eases it up and over your body, tossing it somewhere into a corner to be picked up later.

“Mm, Remmick..” you mumble, your hands coming up to run through his short black hair, his bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat. His bloody chain dangles from his sternum, hanging just above you like a taunt.

“I know, sugar.” He responds, feeling the way your legs rub together beneath him, your body quivering with anticipation. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck, past the spot where he bit you all those years ago. He licks away stains of the dried blood remaining from your sealed injuries, groaning like an animal at the taste that leaves him drooling.

Saliva smears across your skin on his way down your body, stopping briefly at your breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling it against his tongue and teasing it between his thankfully normal teeth as you arch into him, little breathy moans and gasps tumbling out of you. He envelops the other breast in his calloused hand, squeezing and rolling the soft flesh between his fingers. “So beautiful… so good fer me, sugar.” He murmurs against you, his nose nudging at the space between your breasts where more blood has dried. It doesn’t take long for him to clean it off.

He makes quick work of your pants, undoing the buttons deftly and lifting your hips to tug them free. His hands run along your thighs lovingly, goosebumps rising in his wake. He straightens, red eyes roving over your now exposed body with appreciation. Drool beads at the corners of his lips, steadily building and running down his chin while you smile at him.

“Pretty thing, all fer me.” Remmick says it like a confirmation and a vow, even though he needs none. There’s nothing that could separate you two besides a stake through the heart or the sun’s warmth. You gave yourself to him completely the day you let him bite you, let him take your life and forge it into something new, something unholy and damned.

“All yours.” You agree, stretching your arms above your head like a cat. You give him a sly grin. “Now stop teasing.”

His eyebrows shoot up, a deep chuckle leaving him, even as he hooks his fingers beneath your underwear and tugs it off. “Always impatient, huh?”

You hum as he kneels, his strong arms coming up to wrap around your thighs and settle them nicely on his wide shoulders. “I just know how good you feel. Can’t a girl be excited?”

Remmick smirks, huffing a laugh. “Shoot, I don’t see why not.”

His breath fans across your cunt, already wet and glistening with your arousal. The red in his eyes smolders like coals, burning brighter with his desire as he looks at you like you’re his next meal. He leans in, that first connection acting like lightning shooting through you, your body arching and mouth falling open. His tongue licks between your folds, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit where he toys with the bud, circling it with little flicks and pecks while you moan above him.

Remmick sucks your clit into his mouth, the rest of you immediately responding in turn as you jolt from the pleasure. He knows how to play you like his banjo, how to keep you easy and pliant while he works you to climax. He knows your body like it’s his own, the bond you share allowing him to hold a presence within you, to tell your emotions and thoughts. Most of all, he knows how you like to be licked, his tongue dipping into your hole as your noises raise a pitch.

“Remmick.. fuck-“ You moan, hands coming down to run through his hair, tugging after a particularly harsh kiss to your clit. He groans into your pussy, the sound reverberating through you as he swallows down your arousal with an eagerness he doesn’t even display during feedings. His drool makes your cunt shine, mixing with your slick to the point you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

He practically buries himself into your cunt, licking and kissing and taking whatever you have to offer. His hands are like vices on your thighs, the unmistakable tips of his claws occasionally pricking your skin as they again slide from their nail beds with his excitement. You can feel the way pleasure courses through you, tightening your muscles and creating a familiar knot in your lower abdomen that will steadily build until it’s ready to come loose. It won’t be long with the way Remmick eats you like he hasn’t had a meal in years.

His nose nudges at your clit, his tongue circling your hole before slipping inside, collecting the wetness you continually drip for him. You whine loudly, pulling harder at the black strands of his hair, your thighs attempting to clench around his head. “Shit- feels so good Rem, fuck-“ You curse, falling back against the pillows, chest heaving.

You writhe under his ministrations, his hands having to move up to your hips just to keep you still, his biceps flexing against your legs. He knows how close you are so he ramps it up, licking from your center to your clit and drawing it into his mouth, his brows furrowed in concentration. Your moans and whimpers are music to his ears, listening to the way you call his name with a breathy gasp as he makes you cum.

It crashes over you like a wave, that knot coming undone and pleasure wracking your body. Remmick drinks it all, not letting a single drop of it go to waste as his eyes burn red. He’s quick to slip a hand between your legs, two fingers sinking into the plush heat of your pussy, his claws sheathed just for now. He pumps them in and out while you ride through your orgasm, scissoring your gummy walls to stretch you even further. He doesn’t let up, even as you grab at him to try and get him off, the attention bordering on overstimulation. He continues to kiss at your clit all the while, his fingers and his mouth bringing you straight into another orgasm that has you seeing white.

Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, overly sensitive and leaving your legs twitching. Remmick licks you clean with as much care and diligence a man like him can muster, his fanged teeth occasionally scraping against you and making you shudder. His fingers slip out of your warmth covered in your cum, your walls fluttering and aching at the emptiness that you know won’t last long.

He finally releases your thighs, letting them fall from his shoulders as he lifts himself from between your legs. The lower half of his face is covered in a shiny mixture of drool, cum, and blood, making him look all sorts of a mess. You couldn’t care less, knowing that no matter what he does, it’s going to be a little messy—and you love that about him.

He slowly makes his way back up your body, kissing from your clavicle to your ribs, to your breasts, and then up the column of your neck before at last reaching your lips. You’re eager to kiss him, hands tugging at his shoulders to pull him in, keeping him as close as possible. You taste yourself on his tongue, along with a familiar iron tang that has your hunger flaring again. You pull away only to lick along his chin, eagerly collecting the bloody mixture until there’s none left. Your fangs released without you even realizing.

“Yer still hungry.” He says it as a statement rather than a question, seeing the blatant craving in your dazed eyes, feeling it within himself as if it was his own. You’ve tried to subdue it all this time, not wanting to take more than you’re allowed, but it still makes your stomach clench, your teeth ache. Your body is too weak to resist the pangs, still too busy patching up whatever damage can’t be seen externally. Remmick coos at you, “c’mon, s’okay. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

You begin to protest, your more human sensibility allowing guilt to take charge. “You already gave me-“

He shakes his head, silencing you. “Sugar, ya won’t last long if yer starvin’. I think I ate enough for the both of us anyhow.” You think back to all those dead hunters in that clearing, their bodies strewn along the forest floor and their blood splattered on the grass like paint. You can still smell their foreign iron-laced scents on Remmick, and it only serves to make you crave more. Drool falls down your chin, and he just smiles knowingly. His head tilts, the skin on his neck becoming taut as he bares it to you. “C’mon now.”

There’s a singular moment of hesitation, where you look into those red gleaming eyes of his for a type of confirmation, and all you find is that he’s just watching you expectantly. Well, if a meal’s going to be served to you on a silver platter like this, you’d do good to take it.

Your jaw goes slack, your teeth sharp and ready, before your body lunges up to latch onto his neck. As the first drops hit your tongue, he grunts, his form falling over yours while he wraps an arm swiftly around your waist so you can both fall back onto the bed. His other hand slams down next to your head while his blood fills your mouth and you gulp it down like there won’t be a tomorrow.

Being fed on is always jarring for Remmick, his body still not used to it after the centuries of him being the only one to feast. His neck is so much different than his arm, he realizes, something dangerous being set off within him this time as a result. But it turns out he’d do just about anything for you, so he makes himself ease into the sensation, even as his claws dig into the bedsheets and his fanged teeth grind together hard enough to shatter, the primal part of him fearing that, for once, he’s being preyed on.

“That’s it, sugar.” He says with a husky laugh. “Shit.”

Past the initial shock, it’s easy for the pain to shift into pleasure. It is quite erotic, really, the way he can feel his own blood coursing through your body. The little noises you make while you feed on him, the trickles of blood mixing with spit on your chin, your strength returning all because of him. It fills him with a twisted sense of pride, knowing that he’s the one satiating that bone deep hunger, knowing his blood is mixing with yours and becoming one inside you. “Take it all, darlin’, suck me dry.” He groans, the tips of his claws making little pinpricks in your sides as he holds onto you.

It’s almost involuntary, the way his hips rut against you, his cock straining in his pants and demanding attention. It has his hands fumbling between your bodies, eager to undo the thick buckle of his belt with a clink, the buttons of his trousers following after. You nearly choke on his blood when you feel his shaft rubbing between your folds, coating himself in the mixture of your cum and his drool. He does a few slow, experimental thrusts, not sinking in just yet but simply feeling you instead. It has you groaning against his neck, your teeth digging in deeper and greedily drinking at the ambrosia that is Remmick’s blood while he pants above you.

You release him with a sharp gasp when the head of his cock catches your entrance, at last pressing in with slippery ease. His moan is throaty and guttural, a shiver running through him at the way your walls draw him in, enveloping him in plush warmth. He sheathes himself completely and he stays with his hips flush to yours for just a moment, allowing himself to enjoy the initial pleasure. It amazes you how he never gets tired of it, even after his centuries of being alive and his years of fucking you.

You pull him back down with hands on either side of his face, encouraging him to kiss you. He does, of course, his mouth enveloping yours just as he begins to thrust, drawing almost completely from your cunt before slamming back in. His tongue roves over yours, licking away any remnants of his blood and swallowing down your moans. He pulls away with his chest heaving, a sharp groan falling from his open mouth, fangs on full display just beneath his lips.

There’s a sudden wetness against your collarbones that makes you jolt, looking down to see blood from Remmick’s neck splattered along your skin. The wound you’d bitten into him is still bleeding, droplets coming loose with his thrusts and the way he’s bent over you. He smirks, lifting two fingers and drawing them over the bite marks, collecting the blood smeared there. “Clean up yer mess, sugar.” He tells you between breathy pants, bringing his fingers to your mouth.

You take them eagerly, swirling the pads against your tongue, licking off every bit of blood and enjoying the earthly, metal taste. He watches you in awe, his eyes burning bright red in the dim lighting, full of adoration and reverence and desire. Your spit coats his fingers generously, leaving them shiny when you let go with a wet smack. He buries his head into the side of your neck with a disbelieving chuckle that quickly morphs into a moan, his hot breath fanning across your skin as your hands clutch at his bloodied white tank.

You use the opportunity to mouth at the bite on his throat like an animal, like a cat grooming its mate. You whine suddenly when he hits that spot at the top of your core, the one that has you keening and pleasure sparking like lightning beneath your skin. “Fu-fuck, Remmick-“ You mewl, claws digging into the expanse of his back, even through the tank. He growls appreciatively at the pain, at the red, angry lines undoubtedly rising along his skin and beading with blood.

Remmick nips hungrily at your neck, his hands digging harshly into your sides. He’s practically laid over top of you while he thrusts his cock deep into your throbbing pussy, keeping you as close as possible. There’s something possessive and raw about it, about the way he breathes you in, clutching at you desperately, biting you as if to prove you’re there.

“Ain’t never lettin’ you out of my sight again. Nearly fuckin’ lost ya.” He snarls with a groan, his claws digging in a little deeper at the memories of what happened just hours prior. Though your body no longer holds proof of it, he won’t forget anytime soon. He’ll chain you to him if he has to, just to make sure you’re safe.

“I- I know- I’m sorry-“ You say, moans stuttering with the way his hips slam into you, fueled by his declaration and the feral desires that howl a constant song within him. It’s not often that Remmick reveals any kind of vulnerability to you, instead letting you guess at it based on what you can gather from the bond you share. But it seems the very real idea of you bound in silver and burning brought it out of him, even if only a little.

You’re both nearing release, the pleasure burning in your core while his movements grow choppy and uneven. The noises he makes change, becoming breathy at the edges as his brows furrow, his nose nudging at your jaw. “Rem- Remmick- shit-“ You whine, feeling the way you’re so close to tumbling off the edge.

“I got ‘cha, sugar.” He says, voice rumbling right next to your ear. One hand comes between you, his calloused fingers finding your clit and swirling it in hurried circles, your mouth falling open and your eyes pinching shut as your muscles tense. His response is near instant, his free hand pinching your chin like a reminder, “nuh-uh, look at me, darlin’.”

You have no choice but to oblige him, meeting his gaze through tear stained lashes. You learned quickly how obsessed he is with seeing your face, seeing your eyes. No matter what position you’re in, he’ll make sure he can still see you or else you’ll find yourself flipped around to rectify it. You think he does it as a way to ground himself, a near impossible feat in an immortal body that’s hundreds of years old. You let him use you as an anchor, keeping him tethered here with you, two lonely souls finding company in one another.

It feels like all the breath gets knocked from your lungs as your third orgasm overtakes you. You whimper and whine and moan Remmick’s name, your hands scrabbling at him desperately. The way your cunt spasms around him makes him quick to follow after you with a loud curse, his cum hot as it paints your walls white, filling you to the brim with him. He rides out his high, emptying every last drop into you with small jerks of his hips and soft words, encouraging you to take it all.

“Fuck, sugar, yer somethin’ else.” Remmick pants, muscled chest heaving, straightening just a little to look at you in your fucked-out state. Hair wild, skin flushed, looking almost human if it weren’t for the unholy gleam in your eyes. There’s sticky trails of blood and spit all along your forms, remnants of both the hunt and your copulation. It’s made a further mess of the sheets below you, but quite frankly, you’re too tired to care.

He slowly pulls out with a groan, cum dribbling from your abused hole with his cock no longer there to keep you plugged full. You wince at the feeling, your energy spent and your body rightfully exhausted. As much as Remmick would love to keep you ruined with the reminders of what he did to you, he knows how you hate sleeping while sticky—and he needs you to be able to rest. He gently pries himself from you, even as you continuously try to wrap your arms around him again. “I’ll be right back, darlin’.” He promises, finally getting free despite your grumbling.

He gets a washcloth from the bathroom, wetting it with warm water before returning. Your arms are open for him, welcoming him back into your embrace so you can feel him against you, so you can feel complete. He holds you like something precious, cleans you like you’re made of delicate glass. He wipes the blood off with no issue, his appetite blissfully satiated for now, and he’s gentle between your legs, this routine so familiar that he could do it with his eyes closed. You go limp from his touch, your body pliant beneath him. He kisses you more than once, unable to help himself when you bask so nicely in the afterglow.

When he’s finished, Remmick tosses the cloth absently into a corner somewhere, followed by his bloody tank that joins his button up on the floor to be washed later. He then settles into a non-soiled part of the bed, sitting back against the headboard and easily pulling you on top of him. You simply follow wherever his hands want you to go, more than happy to relax in his lap with your head pressed to his bare chest and his thick arms enveloping you. His scent floods your nose—sweat, iron, dirt, and old leather, making you hum appreciatively.

“My sweet girl,” Remmick murmurs against your hair, his hand running along your back in soothing lines. He pulls one of the spare quilts free and wraps it around you and you nestle into its comfort, the heavy material soft against your bare skin. You nuzzle against Remmick, too tired to resist fully giving in to those base desires for warmth and safety, knowing he’ll give you exactly that. There’s a kiss pressed to your forehead. “Rest. Y’need it.”

“You’ll still be here?” You mumble, barely able to muster a sentence, eyes already beginning to shut. Sometimes there’s days when you need that extra confirmation, his promise that he won’t leave you behind, that he’ll still be waiting for you by the time you wake up. You feel his grip on you tighten, just for a moment.

“‘Course I will, sugar. I ain’t ever leavin’.”

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Tags; @vesnaragast

[wordsofwhimsy]

🅲🅾🅽🅲🆁🅴🆃🅴 🅵🅻🅾🆆🅴🆁🆂 pt. 2

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

PAIRING: Sinister!Mark Grayson x Reader

WARNINGS: Abusive/Possessive behavior, Smut, Language

INSPIRED: by the song “luther” by Kendrick Lamar & SZA

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

♫♪ In this world, concrete flowers grow Heartache, she only doin' what she know … ♫♪

“So how was your day?”  Your knife glided with ease through the steak on your dinner plate.  Taking up your fork, you took a bite.  Cooked to perfection, you think.  You savored the taste.

“Tedious,” Mark responded dryly, devouring his meal with much less mindful intention.  “You’d think these people would have learned by now—why do they keep resisting?”  You could think of a million reasons to give him as an answer, but after so many months you’d finally learned that these types of questions were strictly rhetorical.  Mark sighed, setting down his silverware and looking at you from across the table. “I’m just glad to be home with you.”  You didn’t meet his stare, instead choosing to keep your eyes fixed on your food.  “You look beautiful.”

Your face flushed at his words. “Thank you,” you responded softly, brushing your hair behind your ear and glancing briefly up at him.  Mark watched you with unbridled intensity.  Despite everything that had transpired over the past half year, you still found yourself absolutely enamored by his charm.  The thought of this riddled you with guilt.  How could you still be so attracted to him considering all of the heinous acts he had – and continued – to commit?  What did that say about you?  A familiar sickness bubbled in your stomach; your appetite suddenly gone.  You set down your utensils and let go of a quiet breath.

“Done eating?” He questioned.  You finally gave him your full attention, offering a weak smile and nodding your head.

“It was delicious.  Give Jacques my regards.”  Mark couldn’t understand why you insisted on giving praise to the chef who cooked for the two of you, but then again, he didn’t understand a lot of human things anymore.  To him, Jacques was nothing more than a tool to be used.  An object that Mark possessed and would do away with once it stopped meeting his expectations.  You constantly wondered if he viewed you in the same light.

“Let’s go to bed then.  It’s been a long day.” You hum in agreeance and wait patiently as he stands from his seat and makes his way over to you.  The shackle around your ankle was unlocked, and although it wasn’t tight you still felt relief from its removal.  Its restraint was replaced by Mark’s hand, gently resting on the back of your neck.  This of course was an even better measure of security than the chain could ever be.  You did your best to take your time heading to the bedroom.  This was, after all, the space you spent nearly all of your time.  Whenever Mark was off suppressing the world, you were kept on a chain connected to the bed which was just long enough for you reach the conjoined bathroom.  When he was home you were freed from the shackles, but even that privilege was only recently acquired.

Despite your best efforts, you’d reached the bedroom in less than a minute.  He guided you to the foot of the bed where you took a seat and he stood in front of you, looking down.  His mask was off but he was still dressed down in his costume.  You brought your hands together in your lap, subconsciously making yourself as small as possible.  Mark could hear your heart thudding rapidly in your chest, and he couldn’t help but smirk.  He knew you weren’t ready to admit it, but you craved him.  Deeply, in an almost primal sense.  This was how he knew you truly belonged to him, and he loved it. “So what have you been up to today?” His question seemed cruel, considering the circumstances.

“I finished the book I was reading,” You responded, choosing not to play into his cruelty.  A small, but genuine smile painted your face. “It had a beautiful ending.”  This was a true statement.  You’d actually cried, rather hard for quite a while after it was over.

“That’s nice, maybe you can tell me about it later.” You nodded your head as he slowly puts himself on his knees in front of you, his hands now resting on your thighs. His thumbs rubbed small, slow circles on your sensitive skin causing your breathing to stutter. “You were on my mind more than usual today…”

“O-Oh…?”

“Mhmm.” Mark leaned down and planted a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh.  The physical euphoria this small gesture gave you was unreal.  “I couldn’t stop thinking about these legs of yours…” he murmured into your supple flesh before kissing up further, the bridge of his nose pushing the fabric of your dress back as he went.  Your hands writhed around themselves as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, fighting to manage your emotions.  Your thoughts were like a broken traffic light, rapidly flashing from STOP to GO over and over again.

As if reading your mind Mark abruptly pulled away, leaving you reeling as you reopened your eyes. Focusing your vision you found him still on his knees in front of your, but his expression read of wild hunger and desperation.  “I need you, [Name].” His hands moved from your thighs to your hips as he raised up on his shins.  Your hands instinctively moved to overlap his as you responded,

“I’ll always be yours.”  Mark felt a high hearing you say this.  He continued to slowly creep up the edge of the bed, his fingers moving to gently touch every part of your body until he completely overtook you.  Your hair fanned out around you as you stared up at him with large doe eyes.  You looked so innocent.  A true wonder that needed to be protected and kept safe.  Just the sight of you overwhelmed his senses.  “Take me,” you breathed in a weak whisper, setting Mark completely over the edge.  Moving as fast he could manage he stripped himself of his suit and you of your panties, opting to keep your loose fitting dress on.

Positioning himself at your entrance, your eyes raked over the immaculate contours of his chest, shoulders, and arms.  He truly did put the Greek statues to shame.  You could feel his tip rubbing back and forth over your slit, pressing for a moment on your most sensitive part eliciting a pathetic plea from you. “Please baby… Don’t make me wait….”  The combination of your innocent expression and sultry words was more than he could take.  Sliding into you felt like entering into nirvana.  He kept the rhythm slow at first as his hands palmed your breast through the fabric of your shirt—no bra of course, he preferred you never have them on for this exact reason.  Your legs were delicately wrapped around his low back, urging him to stay close to you. 

After a moment his hand slipped down your stomach and between your two sweating bodies to your clit, where he rubbed circles with calculated pressure.  You moaned and writhed beneath his masterful touch, your reaction encouraging him further.  “You’re such a good girl,” he praised huskily. “You make me so proud, always taking it so well.”  His praise made you even wetter and he could tell. “Cum f’me baby girl.  You can do it, you’re almost there.”  And cum you did in a panting, sweating flurry.  Your walls squeezing around him was indescribable. 

But the night was far from over of course, with the stamina of a viltrumite he could last for hours.  In a swift motion Mark flipped you both over so he was on his back and you sat on top.  His hands gripped your thighs tightly as he thrust up into you and he bounced you easily on his hard length.  “Maaark~” you cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Just bounce on it f’me baby, you’re doing s’good,” he encouraged.  “Just like that, you got it.”  You gave it your best go, although you were still so stimulated and reeling from the orgasm you’d just experienced.  These sexual moments would happen regardless of your opinion, and you found that getting as much enjoyment out of it as possible just made the most sense.  His hands traveled further back to grip your ass, giving him better leverage to pump into you.  You could swear that you were going to rip in half with how deep he was sinking into your cunt. “God you feel so good,” he breathed. “So so fucking good.”

“Ugh, M-Mark I don’t know how much more I can take!”

“Shh, you’ve got this baby just keep going.” His thrusts were becoming more aggressive as you had turned all but into a sniveling mess.  Switching positions once again in an instant, you found yourself flat on your stomach with your ass raised in the air as he railed into you from behind.  Your dress fell down to pool on the bed around your face, and you were grateful for the fact that your eyes were covered.  All of your senses were on overdrive and even the tiniest reprieve was still something.

“Tell me who owns this,” he demanded.

“You do,” your cried into the mattress, fingers gripped into the sheets for dear life.  This went on for what seemed like an unearthly amount of time, being tossed and flipped into every position imaginable and you reaching a climax countless times.  You were truly delirious in the moment when he finally reached his limit and finished inside you.  You both collapsed onto the bed, trying desperately to catch your breath.  Mark of course recuperated much quicker than you, and was putting you into a warm bath while you still found your body to be all but useless.  He cleaned you tentatively and with such sweet softness.  It was in moments like this that you remembered why you loved him.

This was the true duality of man, reflected perfectly in Mark Grayson.  These days he may have publicly rejected all of his humanity, but you still knew it to be there.  A violent, loving, controlling, gentle, possessive, generous creature was the perfect description of all of humankind.  He was a flower growing in concrete.  Confused, beautiful, and strong but trying to exist in a place that wasn’t meant for him.

This was why you would always love him.  Even if it meant hating yourself.

[pandapetals]

Ain't No Grave

Chapter One: Cold, Dark Earth | next chapter

Summary: A clicker bite should’ve ended your life. Instead, Joel made a brutal choice to save you. Now, one hand gone and your place in Jackson hanging by a thread, you're left to battle grief, survivor’s guilt, and the town’s growing fear.

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x fem!reader

Content warnings: angst, trauma, pain, mentions of blood, killing, guns, knives, not graphic gore but could be triggering, no y/n used, she/her pronouns, established relationship, jackson setting, eventual smut, cliffhanger ending

A/N: divider by @saradika-graphics. Okay, is this possible? I don't know? I was talking to my sister about TLOU, and this idea came to mind. Would cutting the infection off from the host keep the person from turning? So I googled it, and apparently in the game it’s lowkey implied that some guy tried it, but he died from losing too much blood. It ate away at my brain (see what I did there?). So, whatever. AU, I guess.

The wind slid through the cracked windows of the old pharmacy, carrying the scent of stale wood and something faintly metallic. Snow crunched beneath Joel’s boots as he moved ahead of you, his rifle slung loose in his hands, his eyes sharp and restless despite the familiar ground.

“Don’t wander off too far, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low enough it barely stirred the dust in the air.

You gave a quick nod, glancing around the ruined shelves and overturned chairs. Hoback was usually quiet. Safe, even. You’d patrolled this stretch of backroads and boarded-up shops so many times you could trace the steps blindfolded. But something about the heavy stillness of the building made the fine hairs on your neck stir.

“I’m gonna check out the—”

“Ain’t nothin’ new there,” Joel cut in, a flicker of a shake to his head. His gaze didn’t leave the shadowed hallway leading toward the back rooms.

You huffed a small sigh, fingers brushing over the cool metal of your revolver as you holstered it against your thigh. “I just like the comfort of it.”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, not quite a frown, before he grumbled something under his breath you didn’t catch. You stepped in close, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, the scrape of his stubble rough against your lips. His jaw clenched, but his hand brushed against your back as you pulled away; the touch was brief and wordless. The air felt heavier when you stepped out of the pharmacy’s shell. Snowflakes clung to your lashes, the wind sighing through the empty streets like a warning you couldn’t quite name.

Your boots crunched softly against the frost-laced pavement as you made your way down the narrow street, the hush of falling snow muffling the world around you. Hoback always felt more like a ghost town than the others. The buildings sagging under years of weight, windows either shattered or caked with grime, old signs hanging by rusted chains. Still, the bookshop’s faded green awning was somehow intact, a stubborn little fragment of a world long gone.

You knew there wasn’t anything left to find in there. You’d swept the place half a dozen times on past patrols — shelves picked clean, pages scattered like dead leaves across the floor. But your feet carried you there anyway, drawn by its small, stupid comfort.

The bell above the door had broken off long ago, but you could almost hear the phantom jingle it might’ve made. You let your fingers brush the weathered frame as you stepped inside.

It smelled like old paper and cold, dusty air. The kind of scent that clung to your memories more than your clothes. Light filtered through a cracked window, falling in crooked lines over empty shelves and the battered remains of what used to be stories, recipes, and memories. It was all useless, but standing there made something tight in your chest loosen, if only for a moment.

You crouched to pick up a discarded paperback, its cover bleached and curling at the edges—some forgotten romance novel. You didn’t read the title. You just held it in your hands, letting your thumb trace over the faded lettering like a prayer to a world that didn’t remember you.

You drifted through the bookshop, letting your fingers graze over the warped spines of sun-bleached paperbacks and water-damaged hardcovers. The air inside was thick with dust and the faint, sweet rot of old paper, a scent that made your chest ache for normalcy.

It wasn’t much. Four narrow aisles and a cramped little counter in the back, but you could picture it. Could almost hear the faint ring of a bell over the door, a kid’s laughter echoing between shelves, the low hum of a radio playing some old country song Joel would pretend not to like.

You smiled to yourself at the thought, imagining him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, that familiar look on his face, where he was trying to seem annoyed but couldn’t quite hide the softness underneath. He’d grumble about wasting time, about you chasing ghosts in abandoned buildings, but he’d let you have this. Just like he always did.

Your gaze landed on a display stand still clinging to a sun-faded sign: Staff Picks. A cracked copy of Little Women sat on top, its cover barely holding to the spine. You reached out and turned it over, the pages feathering beneath your touch. It felt like having a memory.

For a moment, the silence didn’t feel heavy. It felt gentle. Safe.

You wondered what Joel was doing now — probably pacing outside the pharmacy, muttering to himself, pretending not to worry. He always did that when you wandered off on patrol, even though you both knew you could handle yourself. It was his way of caring without saying the words out loud.

You tucked the battered book into your jacket pocket, knowing it was stupid, knowing he’d give you that look when he saw it. The one equal parts exasperation and affection. The one you lived for.

The snow tapped against the windows like a hundred tiny fingers, and for a second, it was easy to pretend. Easy to forget what's waiting out there.

Then a flicker of movement caught your attention.

Your breath caught. Something shifted in the glass, a shape darting past the corner of the window too fast to track. Your hand went instinctively to your revolver as you stepped toward the door, pulse already pounding against your ribs.

You eased it open, the cold biting at your face, and stepped back out into the street.

The world felt wrong. Too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed in against your ears made your skin itch.

Then the first one came.

A runner burst from between two abandoned cars, half its face torn away, skin slick and raw from the cold. It moved too fast for something so broken, arms flailing as it charged. You didn’t think — you raised the revolver, squeezed the trigger, and the shot cracked through the air like a whip. The bullet punched clean through its skull, and it dropped mid-stride, folding to the ground in a twitch of limbs.

You barely had time to breathe before the second one was on you.

A clicker.

Its ragged snarl rattled in its throat as it lunged from the side of the building, catching you off guard. Its weight slammed into you, knocking the revolver from your hand as you hit the frozen ground hard enough to jar your bones.

You gasped, the wind driven from your lungs. The creature’s fungal-plated head snapped and twisted, that sickening clicking filling your ears as its gnarled fingers scrabbled at your jacket.

Panic clawed up your throat.

You kicked out, trying to shove it off, your fingers scrambling for the revolver lying just out of reach in the snow. The clicker’s breath was hot and sour against your skin, its teeth inches from your face.

“Joel—!” you managed to choke out.

Your fingers scrabbled for the knife at your hip, the cold numbing your skin, but the clicker was on you — heavy, rank, its fungal-plated skull snapping and clicking inches from your face. Its weight pinned you to the frozen ground, jagged teeth gnashing, the wet rasp of its breath hot against your cheek.

You shoved your forearm hard against its throat, the rough, fungal growth scraping your skin as you fought to hold it back. Your other hand fumbled at your belt, fingertips brushing the hilt of your knife — so close — but the creature thrashed violently, knocking your wrist aside.

A guttural snarl ripped from your throat as you pushed back, your muscles burning, boots digging into the snow for leverage. The clicker’s head jerked, teeth clamping down on your wrist. The pain was immediate, sharp, and searing, a flash of white-hot agony that tore a ragged scream from your chest.

Blood spilled hot against the snow.

“Fuck!” you hissed, the world narrowing to the monstrous face above you, the gnawing pain, the cold.

Then a gunshot cracked through the air.

The clicker’s head snapped back in a spray of dark, wet matter before collapsing on top of you. Its weight went limp, pinning you beneath its corpse.

Boots pounded against the snow. Joel was suddenly there, yanking the dead weight off you with a rough grunt. His hands were on your face, your shoulder, searching for injuries even before you could catch your breath.

“Darlin’,” his voice broke low and panicked, “Jesus—fuck, you okay?”

You didn’t answer. Your gaze had already dropped to the crimson bloom seeping hot and fast from your wrist, the blood shockingly bright against the snow.

Your stomach turned. The world tilted.

“No…” You whispered, the word scraping from your throat, brittle and raw. “No, no, nooo…”

Joel’s eyes were on your face, searching, desperate, and then they followed yours. Down to your wrist. To the jagged, weeping bite mark carved into your flesh.

Time fractured.

You saw it in his face. How his jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumped, the sudden, eerie stillness in his eyes like a man standing at the edge of a cliff with no way down. The air between you seemed to thicken, sound dropping away except for the dull roar of your heartbeat.

Joel’s hand dropped from your shoulder. His gaze darted once to the revolver half-buried in the snow, then back to your wrist. You could see the gears turning, survival instinct kicking in like a switch flipped.

“No… wait, Joel — don’t,” you choked out, shaking your head so fast it blurred your vision. Your pulse thundered in your ears. “Don’t. Don’t do it.”

But he wasn’t hearing you. Not really. His expression had gone dark, distant in a way you’d only seen once before, years ago when a raider had pinned Ellie in a fight. This was Joel when everything else dropped away, when nothing was left but blood, instinct, and the crushing weight of what he was about to do.

You reached for him, fingers clutching at his jacket sleeve. “Joel… please…”

He blinked then, as if your voice broke through a thick fog, and his face crumpled—not with weakness, but with something far worse. Grief. Fury. Resolve.

“I ain’t losin’ you,” Joel muttered, his voice rough and low, already yanking his belt free from the loops of his jeans. The leather snapped as it came loose, his fingers clumsy in a way you’d never seen.

Your eyes widened, heart slamming against your ribs. You looked down. The bite was ugly and raw, blood mixing with the snow like spilled ink.

“Joel—” your voice cracked, a wet hitch in your throat you couldn’t swallow.

“Don’t look at it.” His growl was sharp, almost harsh, but when your eyes shot to his face, it wasn’t anger you saw. It was terror. Pure, unfiltered terror.

“Focus on me,” he barked, dropping to his knees beside you. The snow soaked through his jeans. He gripped your face, his calloused palm rough and warm against your chilled skin. His thumb pressed under your eye, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Right here, darlin’. Eyes on me.”

Your breath came in ragged bursts. The world had shrunk to the pounding of your pulse, the burning pain in your wrist, and the wild, frantic look in Joel’s eyes. “What are you—?” you stammered, the words half-formed, your mind scrambling to keep up.

“I have to—” His throat worked around the words. “I can’t lose you, sweetheart. Not like this.”

God, his hands. His hands were shaking. Joel Miller, the man who could drop an infected with a single shot, who’d rebuilt fences and broken skulls without so much as a tremor, was shaking. A fine, bone-deep tremble in his fingers as he looped the belt tight around your arm, just above the bite.

You’d seen him scared before. You’d seen him furious, reckless, blood-soaked, and teeth bared in a fight. But this wasn’t either.

This was Joel drowning.

And somehow, that terrified you more than the bite ever could.

His hand left your face and went to his backpack, yanking the zipper so hard it nearly tore. He rummaged through it like a man searching for his last breath, pulling free the hatchet he always carried on long patrols. The steel caught the light, blade stained and nicked, and your stomach lurched.

“No—no, Joel, wait,” you stammered, trying to sit up, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might split your ribs.

“Lie down.” His voice cracked like a whip, sharp and trembling all at once. He didn’t shout, but the force of it rooted you in place.

“Please, Joel, I—”

“Lie. Down.” He dropped to his knees beside you, one hand at your shoulder, the other bracing the wrist above the bite, just above where the makeshift tourniquet tightened. His fingers were steady now. Deathly steady.

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, your throat closing up around words you couldn’t get out. He looked wrecked. Eyes wild and wet, jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle jump.

“I need you to look at me, sweetheart.” His voice dropped low, rough and wrecked as he pressed your good hand to his chest, over his heart. “Right here. Don’t you dare look away.”

Your vision blurred, panic clawing up your throat, but you clung to the feel of his heartbeat under your palm — frantic, uneven, alive.

“Listen to me,” Joel said, the words breaking apart like splintered wood. “I can’t lose you. Not to this. Not like this.”

Tears slipped hot down your temples into the cold, and you shook your head frantically. “Joel, please—”

His thumb brushed your cheek once, a final mercy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Then he raised the hatchet.

Bile burned the back of your throat, panic rising in a thick, suffocating wave, but you forced yourself to look at him. To find Joel through the blur of tears and blood and terror. This was your final moment, and if you were going, you’d carry the memory of him with you.

The furrow in his brow. The blood smeared along his jaw. The desperation shone in his eyes. You memorized every line of his face like a prayer you no longer believed in.

He’s going to kill me.

It had to be done.

You could already feel the wrongness blooming in your blood, the infection creeping toward your heart. You were going to turn. Joel knew it. You knew it.

He sucked in a ragged breath, his knuckles white around the hatchet handle, shoulders squared like a man about to cut off his own soul.

“I love you,” you whispered, voice cracked and broken.

His face twisted, a flash of unbearable grief.

“I know, baby. I know.”

Then he swung.

The hatchet came down in a quick, brutal arc, and the pain detonated through your body like fire. It wasn’t sharp — it was blinding, hot, and suffocating, stealing the air from your lungs before your scream tore free. A sound so raw and ragged it didn’t feel human.

Blood spattered across the snow, hot against the freezing air. Your body arched, a primal, instinctive jolt you couldn’t control, the agony so complete it felt like your bones would shatter from the inside.

Your vision blurred, black spots swimming in and out, the world tilting, distant and wrong.

You could still hear him, though. Joel’s voice, rough and breaking, calling your name, ordering you to stay with him, his hands frantic on your shoulders, pressing against the bleeding stump.

But you were already slipping, the edges of him going soft, the white sky closing in.

Even in that darkness, you clung to his face. The last thing you’d ever see.

[eimiette]

late nights

࣪★ ⋆ ˙ ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── SPENCER REID

SUMMARY: in the quiet moments between solving cases and late night paperwork, you and spencer blur the lines between friendship and something more, navigating the unspoken tension with stolen kisses in dark corners of the bau evidence room. GENRE: smut with plot, idiots in love (again, sorry) CW/TAGS: soft!dom spencer (duh), exhibitionism?, piv sex, oral f!receiving, lots of banter, est!fwb relationship, reader is referred to as a girl, praise asf.

the bullpen was nearly deserted, save for you and spencer reid, who were still chained to your desks, slogging through the seemingly endless pile of paperwork. the hum of the overhead lights and the occasional rustle of paper filled the quiet. everyone else had long since headed home, but you were too stubborn to leave until the job was done—and spencer was, well, spencer.

you glanced over at him, amused by how intensely he was concentrating on his work. his brow was furrowed, and his pen moved quickly over the report, as if he were solving a puzzle instead of filling out the same tedious forms as you. the sight made you smirk.

“hey, genius,” you called out, breaking the silence. “you got a second?”

he didn’t bother looking up. “for you? always,” he replied, his tone so casual it almost sounded sincere.

“great. i need your help in the evidence room,” you continued, stacking up a few files on your desk. “figured you could speed things up with that supercomputer brain of yours.”

he finally looked up, quirking an eyebrow. “and what, exactly, do i get out of this arrangement?”

you grinned. “the satisfaction of knowing you’re contributing to a more organized workspace. and, you know, my eternal gratitude.”

spencer sighed in mock resignation, setting down his pen. “fine. but only because i can’t stand to watch you fumble around in there any longer.”

you laughed as you led him down the hallway. “oh, please. we both know you live for this stuff. reorganizing the evidence room? it’s like christmas came early for you.”

he rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked up in a small smile. “if this is your idea of christmas, remind me not to accept any holiday invitations from you.”

you reached the heavy door of the evidence room and pushed it open, flipping on the overhead light. “i don’t know, i think you’d have fun. nothing like a little chaos to keep you on your toes.”

“or give me a migraine,” spencer muttered, stepping inside and taking in the rows of shelves filled with boxes and files. “alright, what’s the plan?”

“simple,” you said, setting the files down on a metal table in the center of the room. “we’ve got to merge these old case files into the new system. you’re a walking rolodex, so i’m counting on you to make this as painless as possible.”

he shot you a sideways look. “i see. so i’m just here to do all the thinking?”

“you got it,” you replied with a grin. “and i’m here to provide moral support and keep you entertained.”

“lucky me,” he said dryly, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes as he crouched down to examine the boxes on the lower shelves. “i hope your idea of entertainment is better than your idea of organizing.”

you crouched down beside him, nudging him with your shoulder. “you wound me, reid. i thought we were in this together.”

he snorted softly. “yeah, together in the sense that i’m doing all the work, and you’re supervising.”

“hey, i’m contributing,” you shot back, pulling a box toward you. “i’m providing witty commentary. keeps things interesting.”

he shook his head, but his smile grew. “i’ll give you that. it’s definitely not boring.”

you fell into an easy rhythm, working side by side as you sorted through the files. the banter flowed naturally, the quiet hum of the evidence room providing a backdrop to your back-and-forth. every now and then, you’d catch spencer watching you out of the corner of his eye, and each time, he’d quickly look away, like he’d been caught at something.

at one point, you both reached for the same box at the same time, your hands brushing. you felt a spark of something—maybe it was just static, maybe it was more—and you glanced up to find him looking right at you, closer than you realized.

“careful,” you said with a smirk, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “people might think you’re trying to hold my hand.”

he didn’t move his hand away. instead, his eyes held yours, the corner of his mouth lifting. “like what? that i’m trying to be helpful?”

you chuckled. “or that you’re trying to get handsy.”

he smirked. “not sure that’s a compliment”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “it’s not. but you know, you keep this up, and someone’s gonna catch on.”

“maybe,” he replied, his voice low, “but that didn’t stop you last time.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning in slightly. “last time, we were off the clock. think you can pull this off at work?”

reid's eyes hung low,“i’m a fan of multitasking. besides, you always say i need to get out of my comfort zone.”

you gave him a playful smirk, leaning in closer. “is that what you’re calling this? because it feels more like you’re trying to test your luck.”

reid’s eyes widened, feigning innocence. “i’m just here to help you with the evidence. if you’re reading anything more into it, that’s all on you.”

you raised an eyebrow and he let out a soft chuckle, his hand lightly brushing your arm. “i promise, i’m just focused on finding those files. though if you think my intentions are less than professional, well, maybe you’re the one with a wild imagination.”

you let your hand trail lightly along his chest, raising an eyebrow. “oh, i’m sure you’re ‘focused,’ but i don’t think it’s on the evidence files.”

reid’s smile widened, his gaze dropping to where your hand rested. “noticed, did you? guess i can’t help but be a little distracted when you’re this close.”

you held your breath as reid gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering to cup your cheek. the touch was soft, but the way he looked at you made your pulse quicken.

“you know,” he began, his voice low and earnest, “i’ve been thinking about you all night. can’t seem to focus on anything else.”

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “oh? and why’s that?”

he let his fingers trail gently down from your cheek to your waist, his touch making you shiver slightly. “partly because you’re wearing that skirt. it’s just... distracting.”

you felt a jolt at his touch, his fingers brushing lightly under the hem of your shirt. “distracting, huh? how so?”

reid’s gaze dropped to where his hand rested on your waist, his fingers barely grazing your skin. “every time i tried to work, all i could think about was how you looked—how you’ve been driving me fucking insane since you walked in.”

his fingers trailed lightly under the bottom of your shirt, his touch gentle and deliberate. you held your breath, feeling the heat of his hand against your skin.

“you’re making it really hard to stay professional,” he continued, his voice low and husky. “i keep imagining what it’d be like if you were closer, if i could...”

you felt a rush of warmth at his words and his touch. “and what if i don’t mind a little distraction?”

reid’s eyes flickered with a mix of desire and appreciation. “if that’s the case, then i’m more than happy to be distracted.”

without warning, reid’s body pressed against yours, and you could feel the raw heat emanating from him. his lips were soft yet demanding as they captured yours, and your hands instinctively reached up to entangle in his hair. the sensation of his lips moving against yours was electrifying, making your heart race and your skin tingle.

reid's hands found your waist, gripping tightly as he maneuvered you backwards. your back collided with the smooth surface of a nearby desk, papers scattering to the floor unheeded. in one fluid motion, he lifted you onto its edge, positioning himself between your legs. the wood was cool against your flushed skin as reid pressed his body flush against yours.

his lips broke away from your mouth, trailing a searing path along your jawline. you tilted your head back with a soft gasp, granting him better access as he kissed down the column of your throat. his breath was hot against your skin, each exhalation sending tingles of electricity coursing through your body.

reid's voice was low and husky as he murmured against your neck. "you're so pretty," reid whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. his lips brushed against your skin as he spoke, the sensation igniting sparks of pleasure. "been wanting you all day beautiful."

his hands roamed your body, leaving trails of heat in their wake. you felt yourself responding, a familiar warmth building low in your belly. reid's fingers danced along your curves as he continued murmuring praises and promises.

"’gonna make you feel so good," he purred, nipping gently at your earlobe.

your breath hitched as his words and touch inflamed your desire. you pressed closer, craving more contact. a soft moan escaped your lips as reid's hands found sensitive spots, expertly stoking your arousal.his hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt up to expose your bare skin. his fingers dipped under the lace of your panties, tracing tantalizing patterns. he leaned in to kiss you again, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. you could taste the sweetness of the coffee he'd had earlier as his tongue explored your mouth.

with a growl, he tugged at your panties, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside. the cold metal of the desk against your bare skin made you gasp, but the shock quickly dissipated as reid's fingers found your slick folds. he stroked your clit, eliciting a breathy moan.

your body arched involuntarily as his fingers brought you closer to the edge. "fuck, spence..."

reid smirked, his eyes dark with lust. "god, you're so wet already," he groaned, his voice husky with desire.

he leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your moans as his fingers continued their maddening rhythm. his other hand cupped your breast, squeezing gently through the fabric of your shirt. you were lost in the sensations, your body moving in sync with reid's.

he broke the kiss, his eyes raking over you hungrily, “"i want to taste you so badly."

without waiting for a response, he knelt before you, spreading your thighs. his lips grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, causing a rush of pleasure. his breath was hot and intoxicating as he worked his way up, teasing you.

“spread your legs baby, that’s it… wider.” his hands slid up your calves, his palms rough against your skin. his fingertips danced along your thighs, sending waves of electricity coursing through you.

his voice was low and commanding, sending shivers down your spine. you obeyed, your knees falling apart, revealing yourself to him.

reid's tongue traced along the crease where your thigh met your hips, teasing you.

“spence…” you whined, arching into him, craving his touch.

his hands slid higher, pushing your skirt further up and exposing your soaked center. he licked his lips, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"fuck, baby, you look so good like this." he leaned in, his lips ghosting over your core. "so pretty and wet... so ready for me."

a whimper escaped your throat as his breath washed over you. your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently, urging him to continue. he complied, his tongue flicking out to trace the outline of your lips. you shuddered at the sensation, your hips bucking involuntarily.

reid's fingers dug into your thighs, holding you in place as he lapped at your center. you moaned, your head falling back against the desk.

"tastes so good," he groaned, his breath hot against your skin.

you rocked your hips, grinding against his mouth, desperate for more friction. he responded, his tongue circling your clit, teasing you.

"spence..." you panted, your voice hoarse.

his eyes flicked up to meet yours, his pupils dilated with lust.

"yes?"

"i need... please..."

"what do you need, baby?"

you bit your lip, struggling to form words.

"please, spence, i need you. i need you inside me. please."

your words sent a visible shudder through him. he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire.

"since you asked so nicely..."

with a groan, he stood, undoing his belt and zipper with frantic urgency. his cock sprang free, hard and aching. you reached for him, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him slowly. he pressed his lips to yours, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss.

reid's lips never left yours as his hand shifted to his back pocket, smoothly pulling out his wallet. his movements were quick but deliberate, fingers deftly sliding inside to retrieve a condom. as he did, you began unbuttoning his shirt, your fingers working swiftly down the row of buttons, each one exposing more of his skin. his breath hitched slightly at the sensation of your touch, his focus torn between getting the condom and the feel of your hands on him. you could feel his muscles tensing under your fingertips as you pushed his shirt open, and he held the condom up with a small, breathless grin, his eyes locked on yours.

he tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his cock with practiced ease. with a soft moan, he positioned himself between your thighs, his erection pressing against your entrance. you gripped his shoulders, lifting your hips slightly to meet him, impatient and eager.

he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue darting out to taste you. you moaned softly, returning his kiss, your tongues dancing together.

"spence, please."

he nodded, his eyes fluttering shut as he pushed into you.

you gasped at the sensation, your body arching off the desk, desperate for more. he was hot and hard, stretching and filling you, setting every nerve ending on fire. he began to move, slow and steady, his eyes locked on yours.

"you feel so good, pretty girl," he groaned, his voice husky.

he gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, guiding you as he increased his pace, “"wrap your legs around my waist."

your body complied without thought, locking him into place. the change in angle had you gasping and moaning as the delicious friction sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

reid's eyes fluttered shut, his head falling forward, his lips brushing against yours. he guided your back to the desk top and held you there, thrusting into you, his pace relentless.

your breath was coming in short, shallow gasps as the pressure built inside you. your fingers dug into his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as you climbed toward the peak.

"don't close your eyes, baby. look at me."

you forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze, losing yourself in his brown eyes.

"that's it, beautiful. so fucking beautiful," he praised.

he shifted his weight, changing the angle once again, his hips grinding against yours.

the sensation was too much, and you felt yourself tumbling over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you.

spencer buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning as you clenched around him, milking him. he thrust into you once, twice, and then he was coming, his body shuddering with pleasure.

the two of you collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap, reid's weight pinning you to the desk. you lay there, his heartbeat thudding against yours, his breath hot on your skin.

sitting up from the desk, you felt a gentle, lingering warmth from the moment as you stretched. reid stepped closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. his touch was tender but filled with the lingering heat of the encounter.

with a gentle hand, he guided you to your feet, helping you up from the desk. as you stood, your legs trembled slightly. you pulled up your skirt as spencer also redressed. “so,” you teased, nudging his side, “is this where you quote some obscure fucking statistic about how good sex improves cognitive function or something?”

reid chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark of mischief. “actually, studies show that it releases a significant amount of oxytocin, which can enhance bonding and trust. not that you needed an excuse.”

you rolled your eyes, helping him button up his shirt “trust you to turn this into a science lesson. oh my god you might as well give a damn ted talk on the benefits of cuddling?”

“maybe i will,” he replied, his fingers gently massaging your back. “did you know cuddling for 10 minutes releases enough endorphins to improve mood significantly?”

you let out a dramatic sigh, though a smile tugged at your lips. “spencer reid, you are a fucking nerd, and i mean that affectionately. but at least you’re a nerd with good hands.”

he grinned, shifting a little closer. “i’ll take that as a compliment. besides, i think i deserve some credit for that multitasking earlier.”

you laughed, your head resting against his chest. “okay, fine. you did okay. maybe even a little better than okay.”

“a little?” he scoffed, feigning offense. “i think i deserve more than ‘a little better than okay.’”

reid’s expression turned serious, though his eyes were still light and looked at you with affection. “as much as i’d love to bask in compliments, we do have paperwork to finish.”

you sighed, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “i’ll deal with hotch’s scolding in the morning. for now, how about we skip the paperwork and head to my place?” you pouted, pleading with your eyes and held your hands behind your back, feigning innocence as you waited for his response.

reid’s smile softened, clearly charmed by your playful act. “you know, i don’t think i can say no to that.”

you grinned up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “this is exactly why you’re my best friend.”

reid smirked, his arms encircling your waist. “glad i’m still in the running for that title.”

he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling back with a fond glint in his eyes. with a shared laugh, he guided you out of the office. as you both made your way to the parking lot, your giggles echoed in the hallway like a couple of a couple of teenagers sneaking out past dark.

⟢

[leth-writes]

yandere batfam x vampire reader

BRUCE

You wake up chained to a corner in an ornate room. It seems that Bruce Wayne has caught you. The chain is iron but the collar is a plush fabric, preventing chafing. This really symbolizes your period of captivity with Bruce. Harsh rules, soft application.

He keeps you in that room, absent of any furniture except a bed and the bathroom, which you have to ask to use, until he can fully trust you. Even then, you won’t be able to ever leave the grounds of the manor. Alfred is intrusted to taking care of you during the times where Bruce can’t be around you.

He completely shifts his sleep schedule to match yous; sleeping during the day, in a room right next to your so he can hear you through the walls and watch the live video feed of you curled up, napping, as he falls asleep. He wakes during the night and cuts down on his time as Batman, at least until he can trust you.

When it comes to drinking blood, he prefers if you drink from him, usually from his wrist as he stands, hovering above you, but he’ll let you use some of his extra stash in the cave if necessary.

DICK

With Dick, you wake up in his bedroom. You’re probably in a pen, cordoning off part of the room; he wishes he could trust you but he just can’t, not yet. There’s silver bars that’ll burn you if you get too close, but otherwise you aren’t chained up.

He’ll push to psychologically break you as quickly as possible. He’s forcing you to stay up and stopping you from drinking any blood until you’re begging and pleading in a heap on the floor, crawling toward him when he opens the door and steps into your pen.

He holds your exhausted, weak bodhy in his arms and feeds you his blood, watching and smiling as you lathc onto the small incision he’s made on his wrist. He’s practically rocking you back and forth, soothing any anguish you’ve been feeling.

The sudden absence of pain, combined with his touch, trains you to associate him with pleasure rather than fear, and you’re suddenly clinging onto him, refusing to let go.

This was his plan all along, and now you can come cuddle on the bed with him :)

JASON

You’re completely tied down with thick leather straps. He isn’t letting you budge for at least a year, but due to your vampiric abilities, you won’t get hurt from that. The only exception is when he feeds you laced blood and lets you go to the bathroom.

He only feeds you blood he’s gotten from the family; as much as he wants to, he can’t feed you his for fear of corruption due to the lazarus pit. It kills him that he can’t feed you, but he’d rather keep you soft and compliant.

So, he laces every bag until you’re comfortable with him touching you and moving you around. This is when he stretches your limbs and makes sure your muscles don’t fully atrophy.

He secretly likes how weak, how dependent, you are on him. You remind him of a younger version of himself, and he’s incredibly protective. Won’t let any other member of the family into the safehouse, let alone in the same room. Various members try, he threatens to shoot them, they leave.

Your feedings are soft and comfortable, all cozied up in a blanket on his lap as he feeds you from a mug. It’s kinda weird but he also warms it up. Don’t ask, he swears it’s better for you.

If your teeth start to hurt from not being able to bite, he’ll massage your gums. Don’t fight it, he’ll tie you back down and pump you so full of drugs you’ll see stars. Jason doesn’t mess around when it comes to your health, it’s his main priority, even over your pride.

Eventually starts to wean you off the drugs, and you’ve come to rely on him for practically everything. being able to nurture you and keep you safe heals that vulnerable part of him he’s pushed deep down, under the pit, and lets that old part of him blossom.

TIM

Tim takes the longest amount of time to get you used to him. He probably gets you set up in this old victorian mansion, and you honestly have the run of the place, except for the windows and doors, which are lined with silver bars. Blood bags are delivered through a slat in the door, covered with his scent. It’s the only connection you have with the outside world.

You spend over a year in this mansion. At first you’re convinced you’ve got it easy, until the touch starvation starts to set in. You start spending more and more time just lingering by the door, hoping that he’ll come in and finally talk to you. You spend more time begging and pleading through the slat than you do drinking the blood, and you find yourself clutching the thick bag to yourself, just to keep that scent, that connection, for even a moment longer.

Finally, he starts talking back. It’s slow at first, just little one-word answers here and there, maybe once a week, then he slowly ramps it up.

Eventually you’re having hour-long conversations, trying to beg him to just come in and hug you, you’re so desperate.

That’s when he swoops in and takes you back to the manor. All of your old relationships are completely decimated and you’re entirely reliant on him to keep yourself sane, latching onto him like a lighthouse in the storm. It took a while but honestly your bond is probably the strongest out of all of the examples. He knows what he’s doing.

[vigilante-3073]

First Choice

Damon Salvatore x Female Human Reader

Summary: Damon was never anyone's first choice and it had always weighed heavily on him. What happens when he finally finds someone who can change that?

TW: Naivety, bit of corruption, toxic relationships, emotional manipulation, poisoning.

Damon returned to Mystic Falls with the darkest of intentions, he wanted to leave a trail of bodies and cause as much pain as possible. Damon wanted to free Katherine from the tomb beneath the church. He soon came to the realization that he couldn't accomplish it alone.

Damon had created some toxic, but somewhat functional relationships with Stefan and many other people in the town. Not a single person would miss him if he dropped dead and he accepted that.

Soon he would have Katherine back and everything would be fine. They would disappear off into the sunset and live the life that they should have been able to in 1864.

They opened the tomb and Damon couldn't stomach the idea that Katherine wasn't there. She had escaped and had lived amongst the humans for centuries.

Katherine knew exactly where he was and chose not to go to him. She seemed to find it easy to forget him and leave him behind like he meant absolutely nothing to her.

Damon found himself wanting to tear into something as he entered the Grill that night. He was full of rage and regret which made him a force to be reckoned with.

Then he saw her.

She sat at the bar in a pair of strappy sandals and a short white sundress. Her legs were crossed, her hair cascading down her back as she read from her book on the bartop.

Damon had seen her before, she was a friend of Elena's and attended the high-school with Stefan. He approached her slowly, taking the seat beside her and ordering a drink.

Damon watched her out of the corner of his eye, he breathed in the scent of her perfume and listened to the steady beat of her heart. A simple golden chain hung around her neck with a small cross that dangled above her breasts.

"It's Y/N, right? Elena's friend?" He questioned, holding out a few bills to the bartender as he set a glass of bourbon on the bar in front of him.

The young woman looked up from her book, "Yes, that's me," She said, offering a small smile.

"You have a beautiful smile, Y/N," Damon said, eyes flickering over her face.

Her cheeks flushed as she bowed her head bashfully, "That's a really sweet thing to say, Mister Salvatore. Thank you," She said.

"Jeez, Mister Salvatore was my father. Call me Damon," He smiled.

"Well, thank you, Damon," Y/N amended.

"Of course. A beautiful woman deserves to be complimented," Damon stated, taking a sip of his drink.

Y/N smiled, "What are you drinking?" He asked.

"Oh, just a soda," She replied.

"Another soda for the lady when you have a minute," Damon said, the bartender nodded.

"You don't have to do that, Damon," Y/N said.

"I know. I want to," He said.

"Okay," She nodded.

Damon sat at the bar with her for hours, he intended to compel her, but the charm bracelet around her wrist caught his attention.

"Where did you get that?" He asked, looking down at her wrist.

"Oh, I got it from Elena a few weeks ago," Y/N said, spinning the Vervain charm bracelet around her wrist.

"It's pretty," Damon stated, suddenly irritated when he realized that she couldn't be manipulated as easily as he thought.

"Is everything okay? You seem upset," Y/N questioned hesitantly.

"Do I?" Damon snapped.

Y/N fell silent, stiffening slightly in her seat at his abrupt reply. She startled easily, but she didn't pack up her things and leave like she expected.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Damon," Y/N said softly.

Her kindness disarmed him, he had lashed out at her for absolutely no reason and she apologized to him. She was like a doe that had wandered into the path of a wolf, completely unaware of the danger that lurked nearby.

He could easily snap her neck right there without breaking a sweat. Y/N had no clue what she was up against, otherwise she wouldn't still be sitting in front of him.

"You didn't offend me. I'm just a little on edge," He stated, taking another sip of his drink.

"I'm a good listener if you want to talk about it," Y/N said, toying with the corner of her book.

He watched her for a moment, "Fine, I talk and you listen. No advice," Damon said.

"Deal," Y/N nodded.

...

Damon had intended to kill her that night, he was going to drain her blood and leave her body out for everyone to see. He was angry and hurt, desperate to feel something other than pain for once.

He could imagine it, pinning her body down and tearing into her flesh with his fangs. Damon wouldn't have been able to compel her so she would scream, but he could break her neck to limit the noise.

The town would have found out quickly.

A local youth who attended the church service every Sunday and volunteered with every second of her free time. Y/N was a person who would be missed, she had never done anything to deserve such a violent death.

The townspeople would have gone looking around for someone to punish. Hopefully they would have been able to take out a few tomb vampires in the process. It was a stupid move, but at that time, he didn't care.

Then he talked to her and everything changed.

Y/N was unreasonably kind and caring, she was naive to the real intentions of people around her and was often taken advantage of. As he spent more time with her, Damon felt like he was responsible for her.

Y/N was blissfully unaware of everything that was going on in Mystic Falls and it was likely to get her killed. He had grown fond of her and hated the idea of losing her because of her own cluelessness.

Damon told her about the existence of vampires, witches and werewolves. She thought he was insane at first, stupidly dismissive of his statement like she never needed to know.

Damon charged at her suddenly, speeding across the room and pinning her to the wall as he hissed in her face. His fangs were exposed and the black veins slithered up his face towards red eyes.

Damon had never seen her look so terrified but he was desperate to show her how easy it would be to lose her life. She was incredibly fragile and she needed to understand it.

Y/N stared up at him panicked eyes, her heart raced and her blood pumped quickly through her veins.

"I have the ability to rip your throat out and drain you dry in minutes. I could snap your bones like toothpicks and so could any other vampire in this town," Damon said.

Y/N looked up at him with glossy eyes, "Why would they do that?" She asked shakily.

"Because they can," He replied, cupping her cheek in his hand, "But I won't let anything happen to you, alright? I promise," Damon stated.

"How can you promise that, Damon?" Y/N questioned, "I-if it's really that bad out there I don't stand a chance," She said quickly, panicked tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Baby, don't be scared. I just wanted you to understand how easy it is for me to lose you, Y/N. You are my everything and I need you to be careful," Damon said, brushing his thumb across her skin.

"If everyone out there is like you, it doesn't matter how careful I am, Damon... I'm going to die," Y/N said shakily.

"No, I won't let it happen. I need you, baby," He said.

Y/N nodded, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly as she sobbed into his chest. Damon rubbed his hand over her back carefully, keeping her close as she cried.

Damon cared about her and he was selfish with the things he held dear. He wasn't going to let Y/N slip through his fingers easily.

When Damon realized that Katherine had returned to Mystic Falls, he made a decision that could change everything.

It was an insurance policy that basically guaranteed that Y/N would hate him for the rest of her life.

...

Damon started to feed her his blood.

Damon had been slipping Y/N a biological agent that guaranteed her survival, even in the face of death. He added it into her drinks and she drank them without knowing what she was really ingesting. Y/N was a trusting person and he used her nature against her.

Every time he watched her sip on a cup of tea that he had prepared, he felt a pit form in his stomach. Damon never intended to change her into a vampire, but he wouldn't recover if she was killed.

Y/N grimaced, setting her book aside and closing her eyes, "Everything okay?" Damon questioned.

"Yeah, I've just had a crazy headache for the last couple days. Nothing seems to help," She said, opening her eyes and looking up at him.

"Sorry to hear that. Do you want to go lay down? Try to sleep it off?" He questioned, pouring some bourbon into a glass.

"No, I'll be okay. Can you sit with me for a bit though?" Y/N asked, holding her hand out.

He made his way over and took her hand, "Anything for you, my love," Damon smiled. He sat down beside her and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, brushing his thumb across her skin.

"I guess I have to drive you home soon, huh?" He said, she nodded.

"My parents have been wondering where I've been getting off to lately," Y/N said.

"Have you told them about me?" Damon asked, intertwining their fingers as his other arm settled along the top of the couch behind her.

"Not yet, but I'd like to," Y/N replied.

"I'd love to be your controversially older boyfriend," Damon smiled.

Y/N smiled back, leaning in and pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. Damon moved his lips against hers, his arm slid down from the back of the couch to wrap around her waist. He pulled her body closer to himself, deepening the kiss as his hand settled on her side.

"Well, isn't that sweet," Someone said.

Y/N pulled away, looking up to find Katherine standing in front of them. Damon stood up quickly, shifting to stand in front of Y/N.

"What are you doing here, Katherine?" Damon questioned.

"I came to see Stefan, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet my replacement," Katherine smiled.

"She's not your replacement, Katherine," Damon snapped.

"Did he tell you that he's been hung up on me for almost 150 years? He wouldn't have even come back to Mystic Falls if he wasn't trying to save me," Katherine said.

Damon charged at her, pinning her back against the wall as she stared up at him with that infuriating grin.

"I should kill you right here," He growled.

"Damon, let her go," Y/N said, standing up from the couch.

"Stay back," He snapped.

Y/N stopped a few steps away from them, "Damon, it's okay," She said.

His shoulders relaxed against his will, his body weight easing off of Katherine slightly. She scoffed, pushing him away from her easily and sending his body flying across the room. Damon collided with the wall, crashing into a table before falling to the floor.

Y/N moved towards him and he held up a hand, "Stay there. Don't want you to get hurt," He said, voice strained as he pulled a large wooden splinter from his side.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asked.

Katherine suddenly appeared behind the young human, "He's fine, but you on the other hand," Katherine said.

Dark veins slithered up her face and her eyes turned red, fangs protruding sharply from her gums. Katherine grabbed onto Y/N and buried her fangs into the human's neck. Y/N let out a cry and Damon quickly shot up from his spot on the floor.

Katherine pulled away suddenly, snapping Y/N's neck and dropping her body onto the floor before Damon could get to her.

"NO!" Damon yelled, falling to his knees beside her. He gathered Y/N's body into his arms, holding her close to him as he looked up at Katherine.

"If I didn't hate you before, I hate you now," He snapped, voice wavering as his eyes glossed over with tears.

"Oh, how will I ever recover?" Katherine questioned sarcastically, wiping the blood from her lips.

Damon looked down at Y/N as Katherine made her way out of the house. He prayed to a god he didn't believe in that Y/N wouldn't end up like him, but he couldn't let her go.

Call it selfish or possessive, but he needed her and he was desperate enough to ruin her life. Damon sat on the floor, holding her lifeless body for hours. He was beginning to question if his blood hadn't been enough to bring her back.

Stefan made his way into the house, closing the door behind himself. He froze when he smelled the blood, Stefan made his way into the living room and saw the broken table before he noticed Damon on the floor.

"Damon, what happened?" Stefan asked, rushing over to them.

"Katherine killed her," Damon mumbled, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Damon, I'm so sorry," Stefan said softly, kneeling down on the floor beside them.

"She came to see you, but Y/N was here," Damon said shakily, pulling her body closer to himself.

"I can help you bury her," Stefan offered, hand settling on his brother's shoulder.

Damon shook his head, "She's going to be fine... I've been giving her my blood," Damon said.

"What? Why?" Stefan asked.

"Katherine came back and I couldn't take the risk," Damon stated, resting his chin on the top of her head as he sniffled.

"Damon, did she know?" Stefan asked.

"No, she wouldn't have taken it if she knew," Damon said.

Stefan took a breath, "I-I'm glad that she's going to be okay, but this isn't right, Damon. She should have a say in what happens to her," Stefan said gently.

"I don't care. I don't care what she wanted. I need her here," Damon snapped.

[kurooh]

★ 02. MORNING ROUTINE !

☆ after filming your first scene and talking it over with your agent, you’re off to your second . . in a maid costume!? once filming is over, you’re roped into an interesting conversation regarding a few other stars.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, everyone is over 21, oral (f receiving), cum eating, maids, awkwardness, creampie, unprotected sex. | 4.9K words

xoxo, juno. SHES BACKKKKK! comment & rb if you enjoyed! thank u to wolfy anon for proofreading ily ♡

SHOWTIME MLIST.

“hey, good morning,” shinsou rushes up to you at the doors, lightly grabbing onto your shoulder before you can walk into the studio. “how’d yesterday’s shoot go for you?”

“good morning!” you reply happily, lighting up as you turn to face your agent. “let’s get some coffee from the place across the street, and i can tell you while we walk?”

“sounds good,” he exhales, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. “it’s definitely getting colder, god. i could seriously use some coffee.”

“ah, it is. anyway, filming wasn’t too bad. i had director iida, i believe? yeah, he was pretty alright.” you and shinsou walk side by side, stopping to hit the button and waiting for the lights to change.

shinsou gives a small smile, crossing the street with you. “how’d it go with your co-star? i figured he’d be a good introduction for you.”

“shōto was nice,” you say, warmth rising to your cheeks. the memory of being pressed against him and fucking is a little blurry, but just thinking about it has your pussy clenching around nothing. the faint feeling of his touch ghosts across your skin, and you clear your throat awkwardly. “um . . i think we ended up doing well together.”

shinsou’s not surprised. after all, he pulled the strings behind the scenes to get you with him.

“that’s good! i’ve been meaning to ask you about what you’re interested to do today,” shinsou holds the door of the coffee shop open for you and follows you inside. “i’ll get you up to speed after we order, alright? and don’t worry, i’ll just cover your drink.”

“oh,” you’re in the middle of unzipping your purse, “you really don’t have to, shinsou! i’ve got it.”

“i insist, it’s my treat.” he leaves no room for you to fight him any further, and you place the order together once it’s your turn.

“what were you saying about filming today?” you draw his attention back to the aforementioned topic as you sit down at a table together to wait for your drinks.

“oh, that’s right. you’ve been booked by a lot of different people, so you’ve gotta choose who you want to film with today. personally, i think you’ve got some decent options.”

“is that so?” you exhale, wondering if anyone else could possibly top your experience with shōto. but of course, you’re employed at a pornography studio, where dreams become reality and anything is possible.

shinsou’s voice drops to a low whisper, his words meant for your ears only. “well, there’s this . . maid thing, or some kind of bdsm shoot.”

“those are not good options,” you groan, closing your eyes briefly in disgust. “who’re the people booking? anyone important?”

“obviously, the maid film is from denki kaminari. the bdsm is—”

you’ve seen denki kaminari’s videos before. he seems to be energetic and also a little pervy, but he’s good looking and you’re not in the mood to be tied up in ropes or chains.

“i’ll go with the maid film. is he offering a lot?”

“kaminari’s a bit . . eccentric,” shinsou offers, waving his hand dismissively. “he doesn’t usually book with a set amount in mind like everyone else does. he prefers to shoot the film and then pay based off of what it makes.”

so, there are a few financial risks when it comes to choosing denki kaminari, but you sigh and bite the bullet. “that’s not ideal, but i’ll take it. when’s it scheduled?”

shinsou looks over at a mounted clock behind you, “if you’re going for this, you’re supposed to be over there in an hour.”

the barista calls out shinsou’s name, and you pick up the coffees while he sends a confirmation email to kaminari’s agent.

your arrival to shinsou’s office is met with an assistant of some kind dropping off a garment bag. through the fabric, you can see big frills and bows that most definitely will be itchy when you’re going around in it.

shinsou takes the bag with a sigh, and the assistant presses a yellow sticky note to the side of it before scurrying off quickly. you pick up the yellow paper and read the messy writing scrawled onto it.

hey! please change into this before arriving to set, director’s orders. we hope the dress is comfortable, even though it doesn’t look like it.

“i assume this is from kaminari?” you say flatly, tugging the sticky note off the bag.

“of course it is,” shinsou replies, holding the door open for you, “you can change in here before you head over. by the way, you’re heading to the fourth floor and turning to the left.”

“thanks, shinsou.”

unzipping the garment bag yields a frilly black and white dress decked out with bows and all kinds of lace. tucked in neatly beside the dress is a folded set of thigh high socks and a prop duster that looks as though it’s never been used. you pull off your clothes and change into the provided ones with little excitement. at the very least, you’ll get paid well and then end up filming something better, hopefully again with shōto.

shinsou nearly drops his phone when you step out of his office in that ridiculous dress—it looks so good on you, accentuating your chest and complimenting your figure beautifully. you fiddle with the bow necktie, fingers tangling in the black fabric. his mouth goes dry when you look up at him shyly, gesturing toward the necktie as best you can.

“could you help me tie this, shinsou?”

“of course,” he nods politely, snapping out of his daze. his nimble fingers undo the knots you’ve created and he ties it easily for you, pulling it into a snug bow. “you look great, by the way.” immediately after the words leave his mouth, he regrets having added that bit, but you smile at him and give him a spin, letting your skirt fan out.

“thanks. wish me luck?”

“good luck,” shinsou laughs dryly, turning away quickly before you can notice the redness blooming on his cheeks. “remember, fourth floor and to the left. there’ll be a sign or something on the door.”

you wave, thanking him again, and you both go your separate ways. the elevator comes quickly, and you go upwards silently, until the elevator stops a floor too early.

“there’s my pretty co-star!” an energetic voice exclaims, and the owner of it steps onto the elevator, practically buzzing with excitement. “come on, we can head up together!”

you recognize him easily; denki kaminari’s signature blond hair has a streak of black through it, and he’s got a winning smile playing on his lips, showcasing his nice teeth.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you say, offering a hand in his direction. his energy isn’t off putting, just a little . . much for the first film of the day. kaminari instead wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you a warm hug as though you’re a long lost friend of his.

the elevator’s chugging upwards slowly, and kaminari’s still wrapped around you. well, okay. this is slightly weird; you’re going to be all over each other in less than twenty minutes and he’s already this friendly? something about him already has you on edge, necktie suddenly feeling like a noose.

you cough, pulling away and practically skittering into the corner of the elevator. he looks at you weirdly, confusion written all over his face, but you straighten and smooth out the ruffles on your dress.

“i’m sorry, it’s—we just met,” you utter, at a loss for words. maybe this is just how he is, but now you’re starting to worry if you’ve jeopardized your dynamic on set with him.

kaminari’s features soften with embarrassment, cheeks growing pink. then he very obviously panics internally, voice frantic and high as he tries to explain himself.

“oh my god! you’re right, i’m so sorry!” he stumbles over his words, and you wonder if the elevator is stuck with how long it’s taking. “i’m sorry, i really . . i’ve wanted to meet you for the longest time, and now you must think i’m a dumbass—ah, sorry!”

at last, the elevator finally comes to a halt. its doors open and you dash out, kaminari following with his head hanging. before you can open the door, he stops you with a sigh.

“wait, i—i want to redo our first meeting.”

you turn, gracing him with your attention and patience. “and how exactly do you plan to redo it?”

“with a proper introduction and handshake. no hugs, i promise.” he seems genuine, and your shoulders start to relax. kaminari extends his hand, a truce, and envelops yours once you reach out too.

“well, you already know me. just call me denki, though, okay? no kaminari or anything.”

“understood, denki.”

the door is thrown open and director yaoyorozu pops her head out, looking left and right.

“there you two are! goodness, i was about to send out a search party.”

“it’s nice to meet you,” you say, shaking her hand and stepping inside behind her. “in the email, you didn’t have any kind of script . . is this some kind of freestyle thing?”

“i am so glad you asked,” she sighs, pulling the sharpened pencil from behind her ear. “i’ve got a simple idea to go off of, but the rest of it is up to you.”

“up to us?” denki chokes out, sounding shocked.

“um, yes?” the director sniffs, confused. “remember, you came to me with all of this.”

“director yaomomo, i thought you’d come up with a script!” he whines lamely, and she only rolls her eyes.

“kaminari, please. next time you’re booking a set, director, and supplies last minute, make sure you’ve got something for them to work with besides a generic concept.”

“director, the pancakes are finished and the set is ready.” a member of the film crew flashes her a double thumbs up and a smile.

“great, thanks so much,” yaoyorozu gushes before turning back toward you and denki. “so, the theme here is maids, of course. in this film, she’ll be waiting on you and waking you up with breakfast while you’re fake sleeping. obviously, you’re aware of what takes place next.”

“so, minimal dialogue?” you ask, folding your arms as you listen closely.

“the scene may have as much dialogue as you want it to. i’ll let you two head off and prep before we get started, okay?”

director yaoyorozu’s dark ponytail swings behind her as she saunters off toward the set to make a few more adjustments. denki waves at you, then heads off toward the changing area while you sigh.

—

“is everyone entirely ready and in position?”

a few stage crew members adjust the lighting and some microphones before giving yaoyorozu confirmation through raised thumbs. she nods toward you, just as someone places a hefty tray into your hands. the silver platter carries a plate stacked high with blueberry pancakes, drizzled in syrup, and a tall glass of orange juice beside it. matching silverware sits neatly beside the plate, atop a folded napkin.

yaoyorozu crosses her legs in her director’s chair, while you try not to shake with the heavy breakfast platter in your hands. orange juice lurches from side to side in the glass, threatening to spill over if you don’t remain steady.

“action!”

you smile when you step through the doorway, sweat beading along your forehead as you try to mask the nervousness. denki’s shirtless and on his stomach in the bed, a mess of sheets and blankets covering his lower half. trembling, you finally set the breakfast platter down on the bedside table, taking a seat on the bed.

denki’s getting hard just from feeling the shift of your weight on the mattress. the director might have to end filming early with the way his breath hitches at the touch of your palm to his back. slowly, you rub his skin in small circles, encouraging him to wake up. is it possible to be aroused from an almost entirely innocent gesture coming from someone you don’t know?

he stirs with a groan, turning over with a yawn. denki looks up at you through hooded eyes, his lower half still tangled in the bedsheets.

“good morning, sleepyhead,” you sigh, a lot less nervous now that you’re no longer holding onto that damn tray. “i made you breakfast and cleaned around the house. gently dusted your figure collection too.”

“t-thank you,” denki smiles, sitting up. “uh, what’s for breakfast?”

“blueberry pancakes and OJ,” you say automatically, cutting a piece off the sticky pastries with the fork. “i think you’ll love it.”

there’s something too intimate about the way you feed him the piece of the pancake, your eyes on his as he swallows it.

“well?” you breathe expectantly, lifting his chin and tilting it toward you when he shyly averts his eyes. the simple gesture startles him, sends his heart into quite the flurry, and denki finds himself fighting to get a grip. really, he’s never been this awkward on set in all his years as a pornstar—in fact, a film like this would be the easiest for him . . so why’s it so difficult?

a few sparks fly between you when denki grabs your chin in return, tugging you into a kiss. you gasp, startled, and he licks into your mouth, letting you taste the sweetness of the pancakes for yourself. seriously, whoever made them deserves head; they’re sweet and fruity, but maybe they just taste better on denki’s tongue.

he moans deeply against your lips, and you swallow the low sound with one of your own. beneath all the frills and lacy ruffles, sticky arousal begins to pool in your panties, soaking through the fabric far too easily. meanwhile, denki’s trepidation melts away fully; he grows more absorbed in the kiss, until he regretfully pulls away for breath.

you look at him through your lashes, nodding blissfully when he looks toward your skirt. denki slowly slips a hand beneath all the fabric and groans loudly, his fingers swiping at your damp panties before moving past the fabric to stroke your slick folds.

before you can move into another kiss, the director lets out a peeved sigh and shakes her head, “cut!”

denki pushes a finger inside of you, savoring the gasp you let out like a piece of specialty candy. “listen to yaomomo for both of us, ‘kay?”

“b-but they’re not rolling,” you protest in a whisper shout, although your hips jerk toward him when he sinks in all the way to his knuckle.

“no rules against it, baby.” the once anxious denki you met thirty minutes ago is gone, replaced with the confident pornstar you’ve come to know through years of watching UA’s videos.

yaoyorozu claps her hands together, facing you and denki but not noticing anything going on beneath the umbrella-like cover of your skirt.

“you’re both doing well so far, but when i said the amount of dialogue was up to you, i didn’t mean no talking at all.”

“do we have to reshoot what we’ve done so far?” you gasp out when denki curls his finger right against your g-spot, sending shockwaves of heat throughout your entire body.

nobody seems to notice the inflection in your voice, and the director offers a small smile.

“no, it’s alright, we’ll just edit everything together before it goes out. you’re both doing great, by the way!” her praise is reassuring, and she hops up onto her chair again, then gestures for the crew members to position the cameras.

“action.”

denki’s lips find yours in a bruising kiss, tongue swiping against your lower lip impatiently. he’s quick to pull you on top of him too, wet fingers tugging up your skirt to give the camera a full view of your soaked panties and ass.

“what about the pancakes?” you ask, remembering the director’s tip about the dialogue. if she were to call cut again, the interruption would surely drive you insane.

“what pancakes?”

“the ones i made for you,” you breathe against his lips, eyes flicking to the bedside table. “over there, with the—”

he takes your distraction as an opportunity to press his face into your neck, taking in the smell of your perfume and the softness of your skin. low and quiet, he whispers into your ear, “fuck, you’ve got no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this—for you.”

you whine as he kicks the bedsheets off his body, firmly placing you atop his hard cock. through your panties and his boxers, you can feel the ridges of his tip and the heat of his body.

“how do you want it?” denki purrs, hands settled on your hips. “from the back . . bent over?”

the options he gives you only ignite the arousal burning in your core further; you move off of him, settling on all fours. the wild look you toss him from over your shoulder makes him groan, and he yanks his underwear and pajama pants off as quickly as he can, hurling them into a corner of the set.

“fuckin’ soaked, baby,” he coos, flipping up your skirt and slipping a few fingers beneath the crotch of your panties. your cunt flutters around nothing as he pulls the underwear off, with enough force for the microphones to pick up the ripping sound that follows. “is this all for me?”

he flings the torn garment off the bed carelessly, and it silently lands somewhere on the carpet.

“o-only for you.”

denki chuckles, and guides his cock toward your entrance, but doesn’t push it in just yet. instead, he strokes the tip up and down, gathering your wetness to provide extra lubrication. the tease has your toes curling and your eyes rolling back; denki gifts your ass with a slap, letting out a low whistle.

“you’ll get what you want soon enough, baby. i just . . feel like something’s missing.”

you look over your shoulder when the bed creaks, your co star’s weight leaving the mattress. he grabs at the drawer of the bedside table, and the glass of orange juice rattles against the silver platter from the movement. even director yaoyorozu looks a little lost for words, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

the drawer slams shut and denki returns to the bed behind you in a flash, a miniature black and white vibrator between his fingers. yaoyorozu settles back into her chair with a contented expression, signaling for the cameraman to zoom in between your bodies.

the soft, rubbery head of the vibrator nudges against your clit and you gasp. denki slants his body over yours, pushing his cock inside of you shallowly.

“i—i don’t think i can t-take all of it,” you swallow nervously, inhaling sharply when he bucks his hips forward and plunges inside you, bottoming out easily.

“that’s fuckin’ nonsense,” he groans, pushing a hand through his blond hair to get it away from his eyes. then it wraps loosely around your throat before you can protest any further. “‘course my girl can take it.”

my girl?

denki startles even himself. but this is the magic of being a pornstar and filming around the clock. he’s built up a persona for himself that he always seems to slip into no matter how he’s feeling. he’s thankful for this; otherwise, he’d be a bumbling fool who’d accidentally fuck your thighs, too caught up with excitement to get it together.

his teeth sink into his lower lip hard, scraping against the skin rather roughly as the words burst from his lips uncontrollably.

“g-god, you’ve got no idea how damn long i’ve been waiting to fuck this pretty pussy,” the vibrator turns on and presses flush against your clit, already at the highest setting. “ngh, you’re so tight, baby—got me all worked up with the little maid dress, heh. you look beautiful in it, i swear.”

his babbling soon falls on deaf ears, and you unintentionally tune him out, unable to hear him clearly over your ragged moans and cries. denki’s hips set a somewhat even pace, skin smacking into skin while the vibrator seems to only get more intense.

“c’mon, babe, arch a lil more for me,” he huffs, his palm nudging against the middle of your back.

with a whine, you do as he instructs, burying your face in the sheets.

“aw, i still wanna hear you clearly.” denki clicks his tongue, his fingers leaving the sides of your throat and instead tugging on your necktie. he turns it backwards and pulls your head back so you’re not muffled any longer.

“f-fuck, you’re so deep,” you sob, his strokes growing faster and rougher. the bed creaks beneath you, shaking loudly, and despite his panting, denki’s determined to give you the best sex you’ll ever have at UA studios.

“yeah, babe? feel my cock right here in your tummy?” denki’s voice is strained, his free hand wandering to the plush skin above your pelvis. he presses down experimentally, and he swears you get tighter.

it’s only a little pressure, but it sends shockwaves of something intense throughout your body and knocks the breath from your lungs.

“ooh, you’re squeezin’ me real tight,” denki comments breathily, “i want you to cum for me, got that?”

“‘m so close,” you sob, tossing your ass back onto his cock. “wanna—wanna cum on your cock!”

this is it. this is the big moment where he makes you cum twice on camera and shows all his friends who can fuck you the best. his mouth feels dry and he’s unable to say much of anything to spur you on, talk you through it.

the noisy metal bedframe squeaks louder, the mattress sliding side to side from all the movement. denki doesn’t let up, biting down on his lip so hard he draws some blood while he fucks you through the exhaustion and pain in his sides.

at last, highly anticipated euphoria courses through your bodies at the same time, and his cock begins to twitch against your cervix. a whiny moan tears from his lips as he spills deep inside you, trembling hands grabbing at your waist for purchase. the vibrator maintains its high setting, not letting up even once—in the moment, it’s amazing to ride the waves as you cum, but as you’re coming down, you begin to shudder away from it.

“hah—ah, shit,” you cry, voice pitching. denki pulls out of you, eyes widening in delight as he looks over your sloppy cunt, drooling with a mixture of your cum and his own. glossy strings of white leak from your hole, sticking to your thighs every time you jerk away from the vibrator. “i-it’s too much.”

“oh, ‘m sorry babe,” the words roll off his tongue, each syllable oozing with faux sympathy. lucky for you, denki clicks the vibrator off and tosses it somewhere in the sheets. you don’t notice him moving to lay on his stomach, too busy trying to catch your breath. “she’s looking messy down there, hm?”

denki’s breath now fans over your wet pussy, his words low and sultry. you look over your shoulder in confusion, sweat shining on your forehead, bitten lips parting to ask a question, but he interrupts.

“i can clean her up for you.”

with that final statement, denki’s tongue presses flat against your slit and he moans, tasting the evidence of what seems to be his best porno yet. he slurps up the mess eagerly, holding you in place by your hips whenever you try to squirm away.

it’s bittersweet, slick pouring down his chin and making his skin shine while his own cum colors his lips white. you can’t do anything but whimper, looking back at him through hooded eyes that well with tears of overstimulation.

“i know, i know,” he mumbles into you when your body jolts, and you suck in a sharp breath. “i jus’ want to make sure you can’t move after this.”

a thorough pussy pounding and now this? there’s no way you’ll be able to stop shaking.

nimble fingers find your swollen clit and give it a light pinch, then gently stroke over it; he thinks the reaction it elicits from you is absolutely delicious—your expression crumbles and you rock your hips back against his face, dragging your cunt all over him.

he’s drunk on your scent and taste, taking as much of you in as he can. director yaoyorozu looks pleased as she whispers something to a member of the film crew, but you don’t even notice her through the sweltering haze of arousal. denki pushes the skirt further up your body, and the resounding sob that leaves your lips has him smiling against your cunt.

against your slit, his silky tongue paints peculiar patterns that your dizzy brain manages to register as the letters of his name. “fuck, ‘m gonna c-cum, ‘s coming—” your fingers tangle in his blonde hair, yanking him into your cunt as the high hits you, toes curling and teeth chattering together.

denki’s eyes roll back as you cum on his face, but then you’re trembling and moving away when the sensitivity finally sets in. your pussy is puffy and twitching, entirely spent for the day.

“woah,” he catches you with an arm when you drop flat on the bed, shuddering with the aftershocks of it all. “you good, baby?”

his lips press into your temple and you nod, huffing as you try to catch your breath. unconsciously, you start to cuddle into him, arms wrapping shakily around his torso.

it’s hard to remember where you are, stars swirling in your vision, but the sight of the microphone a few meters away snaps you back into professional mode. god, you haven’t been this dazed since your early days at shiketsu, where you’d been booking with some of the biggest men at the studio.

“i-i wish i didn’t have to, but,” you huff quietly, slowly raising from the bed to smooth out your dress and then look for your panties. you make a big show of bending over, giving the camera a great view of your quivering, dripping cunt. you swipe the underwear from the carpet with a relieved sigh, turning to face denki, who’s nibbling at his lower lip, already hard again. “i’m not finished cleaning the house yet. maybe i can make you some lunch later, when i’m done?”

the cheeky suggestion has an unintentional effect, denki’s cheeks darkening perfectly for the scene. he nods slowly, caught in a stupor. you blow a kiss toward him, stepping through the fake doorway and off the set.

after a beat of silence, director yaoyorozu calls for a cut. she hops off her tall chair and claps excitedly, while crew members rush to strip the bed and clean up the set. on jelly-like legs, you wobble over to her, standing beside denki with a small smile.

“excellent, the two of you,” she praises, ponytail swishing as she nods. “i’ll update both of your agents once we get this to the editors. hehe, my intuition tells me this’ll do very well.”

you thank her together, before parting your separate ways toward the dressing areas—at least you try to, but denki trails behind you quietly, cheeks still blazing pink.

“kaminari, is everything alright?” you step behind the shoji screen, the makeshift dressing room. without needing to be asked, his fingers find the zipper at your back and he loosens the maid dress for you.

“denki,” he corrects you with an embarrassed laugh, leaning his body against the shoji in an attempt to come across as relaxed. “i wanted to ask you about—”

the shoji screen topples over the moment his weight rests against it, smashing to the floor with a loud bang! you shriek, gathering the dress up around your chest as your co-star rushes to pick it up before anyone can look over. he is unsuccessful, much to your chagrin.

“oh my fucking—i’m so sorry, shit.”

“what is it you wanted to ask, denki?” you ask, embarrassed. it’s like you’re back to square one again, as if you weren’t just doing the nastiest things together less than ten minutes ago. he throws a hand behind his neck, awkwardly scratching the skin as he tries to calm his nerves.

“okay, look. me and a few friends of mine—UA stars—” he adds in that bit in case you need some extra convincing, “are hosting a little get together. i’m thinking maybe you can come and hang out for a little while? i can pick you up, if you—”

“that’s very nice of you.”

the interruption makes his heart drop straight into his ass, and he immediately looks down at his bare feet. but then you speak up, and he feels a spark of hope in his chest. after all, he did promise his friends that he’d introduce you to them.

“i live nearby, i moved apartments to be closer to the studio,” you admit, fingers loosening on the dress. “what time is it? i’d be willing to meet some other stars, get acquainted with everyone.”

denki looks at you, joy written all over his face. he flashes you a bright smile, nodding as he collects his thoughts. “everything starts at eight. i can just pick you up, ‘kay? here, i’ve gotta give you my number.”

you laugh, pushing him back. “i’ve gotta change first, the dress is really itchy. we’ll work it out when i’m done, sound good?”

he steps out from behind the shoji screen after nodding, gold eyes shining. before he can walk away toward his own makeshift dressing room, you stop him, smiling in a way that makes his heart flutter in his chest.

“hey, denki? by the way, i’m really looking forward to tonight.”

[piroulinewafers]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧!𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛

🍪 𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 !! 🍪

pirate!caleb who always steers the ship barefoot at dawn, the world cold against his feet, eyes scanning the horizon with that quiet determination only he could muster. pirate!caleb who sharpens his weapons by candlelight, sleeves rolled up, humming some half-forgotten sea shanty underneath his breath while the light catches on the edge of his jaw. pirate!caleb who is undeniably ruthless. he’s feared across the seven seas and never hesitates to act in ways less than morally acceptable when necessary.  pirate!caleb who, despite having secured and stolen mounds of treasure in his lifetime and killed many a man, much prefers the act of travelling then fighting. pirate!caleb who smells like sea salt, smoke and aged rum— warm and heady and comforting in its own way, like coming home after being lost at sea. pirate!caleb who speaks in a low, rumbling drawl when he’s angry or turned on, enough to make any individual fall to their knees. pirate!caleb who rarely laughs outright, but when he does, it’s low and warm and real— something that makes even his trusted crew stop and glance over. rich like honey. pirate!caleb who wears his long coat slung over his shoulders, one sleeve always empty, flapping slightly in the sea breeze as he stands at the helm, calm and unshakable as ever.  pirate!caleb who wears thick rings on his fingers and priceless treasures with a price tag that no one could possibly imagine. rings that always leave marks whenever he holds something or someone just a little too tightly.  pirate!caleb who’s sickly stubborn, debilitatingly so. when he puts his foot down or sets his mind to something, it’s impossible to make him waver. if he wishes to kidnap the pretty princess from the powerful kingdom to the west, who is anyone to stop him? pirate!caleb who lets his eager cabinboy sit on his lap while he drinks his beer and smokes a cigar, blowing smoke in his cabinboy’s face just to watch them sputter and whine.  pirate!caleb who chases merfolk for fun, for the thrill of it and the reward. after all, a mermaid’s scales are worth quite the hefty sum and he’s heard long tales on them being the best tasting fish in the sea, in more ways than one. a pretty little mermaid would surely be the perfect trophy for his collection.  pirate!caleb who is most certainly a messy eater, but a grateful one. sauce on his lips, crumbs at the corner of his mouth— and a pretty cabinboy at his beck and call to clean it up for him. but he always clears a plate.  pirate!caleb who won't hesitate to make anyone who dares to defy him walk the plank, making a practical spectacle of the whole manner as a final string to the open wound. he personally enjoys chaining the cannon ball to their ankle, just so they can know that it's most definitely personal. ( this should be ME!!!!! ;; ) pirate!caleb who insists he isn’t possessive, but its obvious in the way his eyes track you, jaw tight whenever another crew member gets too comfortable. pirate!caleb who has killed for less than a wandering hand on your arm. he doesn’t warn twice— he hates repeating himself. pirate!caleb who trust you, but not the world— so he keeps you close, keeps his name in your mouth and his scent on your skin. pirate!caleb who isn’t interested in gold or treasure- he’s sailed through storms and slaughtered kings— and yet, the only thing he yearns for is out of reach.  pirate!caleb who keeps a small, battered compass in his coat that doesn’t point north— it points home.  

[athenaeum-of-the-herald]

Types of Divination

I recently saw my friend Dagan ( @olympianbutch ) respond to an ask about his forms of divination and thought it'd be fun to go over the ones I know of! A lot of people know of tarot and pendulum but there's so many more that deserve to be be tried and maybe someone will find a new method that works for them ♡

• 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 •

Tarot- One of if not THE most well-known forms of divination. Tarot typically consists of a 78 card deck with 22 major arcana cards and 56 minor cards. These cards typically have a set and known meaning universally across all decks.

Lenormand- A (usually) 36 card deck typically used for fortune telling. As opposed to tarot, lenormand is read in a sequence and is considered more straightforward than tarot. One of the most common readings for lenormand would he The Grand Tableau, which uses the entire deck to create a "snapshot".

Oracle Cards- Oracle cards vary vastly across different decks, as each deck has different cards with different meanings. They typically create a more specific answer than tarot.

Cartomancy- Tarot is often confused as cartomancy, but cartomancy is its own separate divination style. Cartomancy typically involves using a deck of playing cards for divining questions. It has its own reading system separate from tarot and usually involves some numerology in its deciphering.

• 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 •

Capnomancy (smoke reading)- Divining messages and answers from smoke. Incense smoke is one of the most common, but other fire sources producing smoke can be used.

Geomancy- Divination done through identifying patterns created in the earth (or on paper). The diviner will create geomantic figures at random (with 16 possible combinations) and divine messages and answers from them.

Hydromancy- Divining through water by observing reflections and ripples (either naturally occurring or created.

Botanomancy- A method that involves burning herbs, plants, or branches and diving messages/identifying energies through the smoke and flames.

Cledonomancy- A method involving "overheard words". The diviner will cover their ears while asking their question or for advice, leave their location, and then unplug their ears. The words and sounds they hear will be their response. This was typically done while asking the Hermes Agoraios questions and leaving the agora/walking away from the statue.

• 𝐈𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 •

Pendulum (dowsing)- A form of divination that uses a pendant, typically on an evenly distributed chain or cord, to divine messages. The most common way it's done is by asking the pendulum (or spirits/entities etc) how the pendulum will swing for yes, no, and maybe answers. It is also common to use a pendulum board which has set spaces for yes, no, maybe, and occasionally letters for more refined answers.

Ouija- Also known as a spirit board, a suitable board consists of a board with yes, no, and alphabet, and goodbye at the bottom. A planchette is used to spell messages from the spirit/entity and answer auestions. It is known practice to always end an ouija board session by sliding the planchette to the "goodbye" section of the board.

Scrying- A divination method typically involving an obsidian mirror, a crystal ball, a pool of water in darkness, etc. A candle is commonly lit and the diviner falls into a trance-like state in which they'll see images and scenes depicted in the reflections.

Ceromancy (Wax reading)- A method that commonly involves the diviner pouring candle wax into water and deciphering the imagery seen above and below the surface of the water.

Tasseography (Tea reading)- Divination involving a tea cup and the leaves of the tea. The majority of the tea is drank, leaving just a small amount in the cup. The remaining leaves in the cup are interpreted typically for fortune telling.

Bibliomancy- The opening of a book to a random page and line/passage to divine messages and answers.

Astragalomancy (dice casting)- Throwing dice, typically to divine short answers. The reader will usually assign meaning to each number of the dice, the most common being yes, no, maybe.

I'm definitely missing more than a few, and several of these have been described to their bare minimum because they're fairly complex (ie, geomancy), but I had fun making this list regardless. Maybe I'll make in-depth posts about some of the more complex ones.

Regardless! I hope you found this informative in any way. Safe travels ♡

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: The ☆Glow-Up☆ 2024 Has Planned For you

♠︎ “At bottom every man knows well enough that he is a unique being, only once on this earth; and by no extraordinary chance will such a marvelously picturesque piece of diversity in unity as he is, ever be put together a second time.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. 

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✧ Pile One ✧ (queen of cups, 5oC rev., 10oC, the chariot, the magician, 4oS)

Release.

➣ The central theme of this glow-up is inner fulfillment. You are on a journey of true self-love. The queen of cups is sitting proudly at the front of the spread. Major water energy here. You are unraveling emotional trauma down to your roots and reevaluating past attachments and burdens with the six of cups.

➣ I picture floodgates opening, allowing all of the pent-up emotional turmoil to release and finally free you on a deep psychophysiological level. You released something, an attachment or mindset that was set in motion during your formative years that was hindering your ability to hold compassion for yourself.

➣ Shuffling my music, "Daddy Issues" by the Neighbourhood came on. I also saw the hierophant while shuffling the cards. You experienced a lot of undervaluing and emotional neglect in your home. Emotions in your home were taboo and possibly even punished.

➣ I feel like the people around you growing up, were either always dissatisfied with you in some way or made you feel small. Since this is a group reading, it is hard to word this without excluding a large chunk of the audience, but some of you grew up in a home situation where any form of outward self-love or expression was met with a lot of negativity and ridicule. 

➣ This forced you into hiding your true self which groomed you into a mental space full of self-criticism and doubt. In your mind, you were unwanted or inherently broken in some way and deserved less. The way you were treated created deep emotional wounds in your young psyche which made it hard to feel satisfaction within yourself or with the outer world.

➣ With the five of cups, I get the sense that you had felt you were in a desert and unable to fill any of your cups so to speak. Baby, that’s coming to an end. The ten of cups is at the center of your spread with a big ass RAINBOW touching corner to corner. The drought is over. The dark days are over. The sun is shining and you can taste hope again. 

➣ On this self-love journey, you are currently grieving (releasing) a degraded perception of yourself along with any beliefs that inhibit you from feeling good about your character.

➣ You are realizing just how enough you are and flushing out all of the poison that was crammed in your head about being inadequate. You are freeing yourself from the chains of feeling unworthy of a good life.

➣ You will find true beauty in every corner of you. Beauty in your laugh, beauty in how you dance, beauty in how you take care of yourself, beauty in what you care about, inner beauty that cannot be taken from you or scaled down. You will nurture your inner world, thus adding color to your outer world.

➣ During this major life-changing period, your view of reality will flip in a way you never thought imaginable. Life will feel worth living again. Your music will move you more and the swift pass of wind will invigorate you with new ideas for creative projects that will propel you forward to lifelong prosperity.

➣ I’m hearing 🎵 “… I'm so, I'm so, I'm so, I'm so, I'm so proud of you” from Make Me Proud by Drake. Congratulations babe, you just broke a fucking karmic cycle. 10 of cups, following the 5 of cups??? You have graduated from a dark knight of the soul and are now approaching new, abundant energy.

➣ The universe is proud of you. Your ancestors are proud of you. Your inner child is proud of you. Your God(s) is proud of you. All of the cells in your body are proud of you. You have released something cosmically within you. Please hug yourself and have a good cry because you are doing something you never believed you could. Your hopes and dreams are unfolding.

➣ Get ready to make your daydream your reality.  With the chariot, you’re prepping to TAKE AWWFF BABY. The release of this blockage has raised your energetic vibration and is ushering bountiful opportunities into your life, new passions, new ideas, and new connections. 

➣ Your newfound faith in yourself is going to give you the courage to go out and experience life. Most importantly you will find satisfaction in the mundane. Every frame of your day will be brighter and feel better. You have gone from 5 empty cups to an eternally flowing fountain. Take the time to thank yourself for all of the hard work you put in to get here. 

➣ Advice: Extend yourself grace. During this period, you will have enlightening moments that will unlock pieces of the puzzle surrounding your trauma and a lot more will make sense and become easier to process. 

➣ However, as the flawed humans we are, we tend to make sense of something and then turn around and beat ourselves up for not realizing it sooner. Or, minimizing our pain and criticizing our past selves for not doing more about it because hindsight truly is a dirty dawg. No that is not how it works. 

➣ That’s like when you were in school and the teacher would start bullying you for not understanding a subject. YOU HAVE A DEGREE??? I’m fourteen?? Of course, you can say it's simple when you have already “graduated” and learned from it, not when you’re in the middle of experiencing it.  You gained clarity during this tower moment and can now see the bigger picture and liberate yourself. 

➣ Younger you fought to make your way through the fog and deserves grace because you would not be here today without your younger self’s perseverance. Forgive yourself for the time it took to get here and see the beauty in your evolution throughout the journey.

➣ Also, drink plenty of water and get rest!! It’s Pisces season, and a Pisces new moon is coming too. Most of your trauma will unravel while you’re unconscious. Please get plenty of rest and hydrate. This pile has Cancer/4th house energy written all over it. Mother yourself during this period. Clean your room, make your favorite foods, watch cheesy movies, and splurge on special skin care. Pamper yourself. okay I'm done. KISSES.

"My consciousness has outgrown this vessel"

✧ Pile Two ✧ (4ofS, the tower, the wheel of fortune, the emperor, the lovers, judgment, 7ofW, ace of wands)

Life's gotta always be messing with me (you wanna see the light) Can't they chill and let me be free? (So do I) Can't I take away all this pain? (You wanna see the light) I try to every night, all in vain, in vain

Justice.

➣ I asked for a song to explain the central theme of your reading and I got "Freak on a Leash" by Korn. I get the feel that one of the main struggles of your life path is unfair judgment. People are quick to create a false narrative of you and run off with it.

➣ If you read my last PAC, “What is most alluring about you”, you may have chosen pile 2 or 3. With the seven of wands, you are constantly under attack.

➣ Take what resonates but I see a few scenarios. People may be quick to paint you as a bad person without getting to know you. Your public reputation was heavily influenced by rumors from people who intentionally wanted you to be disliked. People will take something small, blow it out of proportion, and try to impose it as a character flaw. Oh, you don’t eat the crust on your sandwich? How wasteful! There are starving kids out there, you’re so inconsiderate!! and then everyone else in the room who claims to not like you (but are truly your biggest fans) are oooing, ahhing, and egging that hating ass bitch on. 

➣ I’m seeing a bus. You may have been betrayed and thrown under the bus a few times before. This is the pile of my Lilith placements. Your power is your ability to garner attention, both good and bad. You attract a lot of envy. The ugliest emotion, in my opinion. It’s partners in crime with greed. 

➣ For some of you, I am getting the message that all of this underserved hate has sent you into a dark mental space and driven you to take an attempt on your life. And if you like my messages or my readings please believe me when I say this,

 I know you are meant for greatness. I picked up on your energy and you found this reading for a reason. Just like the Universe and everything within it, we go through cycles. And I know this is a long, painful cycle but it will come to an end and you will get out of this darkness. From the bottom of my heart, I feel your importance and I am happy you are here to share this moment with me. Keep swimming, I support you, the Universe supports you. The sun is rising and is offering you a new beginning.

➣ In this dark period in your life, the negative attention may have outweighed the good. I see a theme of being outcasted and isolated. Severe bullying. For some, even abuse. Like pile one, you have gone into hermit mode and isolated yourself from the unfair judgment of the world. 

➣ But head up muffin, the scales are balancing, and the wheel of judgment is turning in your favor. Following the wheel of fortune, you got the fucking emperor!!! You will come out of this on top. The people who kicked you while you were down will have to swallow their pride and kneel to shine your shoes while you sit rightfully on the throne. The public scrutiny you face needs to balance itself out karmically.

➣ Think Megan Thee Stallion. I won’t bring up any of her business, but if you've been keeping up with social media, there is a good chance you are well aware of it. That woman has gone through the unimaginable, one traumatic event following the other all while facing an obscene amount of public scrutiny. She had to go into solitary and off the internet to rebuild her life. But guess what??? MY GIRL STAYS ON TOP>>>>> After all the bullshit she endured, she’s coming out on the top of the charts, brand deals with major conglomerates, she is the people’s princess.

➣ That’s going to be you. You have dealt with a lot of injustice in your life, now you’re coming out of your “rehabilitation” and all of the people who spent the better half of their day attempting to tear you down will have to watch your rise like a phoenix and fucking weep.

➣ People were constantly taking from you , now the universe (whatever you want) is preparing to give you the power to replace what you have lost tenfold. Ace of wands, I see that life is handing you the metaphorical talking stick. The king stick. You are being blessed with a flame in your belly (activated solar plexus chakra) and the chance to completely reinvent yourself. 

➣ There is a lot of king and authority messages here, the ball is in your court. You are being released from the shackles of public perception and these next few months will be filled with inspiration and willpower to prove everybody wrong and showcase your strength.  I feel like a good chunk of this group will get chances to be in positions of authority or importance. 

➣ This is going to sound silly but I got this exaggerated imagery of a mean person calling you poor and ugly but the next year you drive past them in a Bugatti with their sugar boo in the passenger seat. HELLOOOO.

➣ With the lovers, I see you are coming in union with what is rightfully yours. In the grand scheme of cosmic law, you are owed good fortune and it is on its way. With the tower, I see an explosion and people fleeing. You’re going to pop out stronger than ever and that’s going to scare people cause whatever superiority they got from painting you as inferior is going to blow away and their true scummy nature is going to be seen. 

➣ After this, there may even be people who pretend to be your friends and claim they supported you all along. Have faith in your discernment. I have faith in your discernment. It will all be okay pookie.

➣ Advice: Just keep swimmin' my love. <3

"The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth."

✧ Pile Three ✧ (queen of wands, knight of pentacles, 6oC, page of pentacles, 10oW, 3oW, the hermit)

It's in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Awaken.

➣ Regardless if you’re a woman, a man, somewhere in between, or none of the above, you are approaching a newfound understanding of your sexuality. For some of you, it is a full-blown sexual awakening. 

➣ Some people here are realizing their sex appeal, others are coming to terms with their lack of sexual attraction, some are learning what they like in sex and what they’re attracted to. Yes bae, all of it; the whole spectrum of sexual exploration is here.

➣ There is an emphasis on attraction to yourself. You will see a huge shift in your physical appearance. Yes, your style will change but the main reason for this glow up is because you shifted the perception of yourself into a higher light. You’re allowing yourself to feel desirable and embracing the aspects of yourself you once shunned. 

➣You will carry yourself in a higher regard and this will open doors for you. Look into the mirror and give yourself a nice smack on the ass. Your self-esteem is sexy.

➣ Pile one is on a watery emotional self-love journey, this pile is all about fire and finding out where sexuality and passionate relations fit into your life. 5th house (flings, passions, hobbies), 8th house (sex and rebirth), 9th house (adventure, connecting with your soul tribe).

➣ I asked for a song to tie up this message in a cute little bow and I got the 639 HZ frequency. This is the frequency of love, radiation, and positive energy. It is the frequency of the heart. The heart chakra is opening significantly during this glow-up.

➣ You are opening yourself to adventure and sending a high vibe out into the ether. I see a sunflower and the queen of wands is decked out in bright yellow, you are stepping into the spotlight and attracting a lot of attention. I would say Venusian attention because the aura here is very romantic and collaborative. It's like the universe is spraying you with extremely magnetic pheromones and having opportunities run at you.

➣ You are going to get a lot of offers. Love offers, career offers, party invitations, you’re going to be involved with exclusive circles. You are realizing your self-worth and now you’re attracting things and people who also see value in you.

➣ This isn’t going to resonate with everyone, but I sense that for a few of you, there is going to be a reconnection with a past lover or a past friend from your childhood (or just the past in general). I also sense a theme of using your attractiveness and people’s attraction to you to your benefit. Somehow monetize your appeal. 

➣ It is like you finally released your ugly duckling mentality and you woke up and went, “WOAH, what can I do with this???” Lmao you discovered you’re an undercover member of the pretty privilege club.

➣ Yeah, with the page of pentacles and the ten of wands, I’m seeing an entire life path open up for you. Your passion and fiery energy will get you places, and you’ll go on adventures exploring your opportunities with that. Some of you will even become spicy content creators or do some risque sex work. Orrrrrr just venture into a career path you weren’t courageous enough to do before. 

➣ You’re a giant magnet energetically right now (I mean c’mon, 639 HZ???) you’re attracting a lot of romantic suitors. But watch out, they’re not all good suitors.

➣ I pulled another card and got Justice in reverse. Some people will try to get over on you. Also, the person on the justice card looked strangely untrustworthy when I flipped it over. Once again, practice your discernment.

➣ Your romantic and passionate life is taking off and it's going to be extremely exciting, especially if you are coming out of a period of stagnancy. However, with the 3 of wands and the hermit, the cards remind you to remain centered and plan bigger. Your passion, attractiveness, and sexuality will amount to more than hookups and shallow relationships if you invest in yourself wisely.

➣ You are unlocking an advantage you have in this lifetime. Open yourself to career endeavors, social networking, and creating a strong foundation for your talents and hobbies. Yes, date and have fun but don’t spend all of your energy in one place. Your attention and your energy are your greatest currencies.

➣ To expand on the hermit, I need to emphasize you are going to be getting a LOT of attention soon (I’m getting Sun-conjunct-Venus energy, is that in your natal chart or is there a transit with Venus right now or something?). You will receive more eyes on you than average and this might overwhelm you and push you into hermit mode.

➣ That is okay, let life flow. During those moments to yourself, dream big because you have the power to pull your dreams into your reality.  You will meet lifelong friends during this period. I am sensing a power trio for some of you. 

➣ Advice: To wrap up, we all know attractiveness is social currency, and you are coming into a great deal of social wealth baby. But please spend it wisely and do not lose yourself in the crowd. Keep up with your self-work and take introspective breaks away from people so you can figure out how to best utilize this awakening for you. 

➣ You look really good in red currently. Red hair. Red lips. Red clothes. Red jewelry. The color red is bringing you a lot of abundance. Okay bye. MUAH. <3

"I said mom, I am a rich man."

✧ Pile Four ✧ (page of swords, knight of cups, wheel of fortune, temperance, 7oP, the devil rev.)

Ascension.

➣ OMG I’m so sorry, I wrote a novel for the other piles but this one is going to be short. Maybe you were drawn to another pile mainly and this is your secondary pile. BUT IT’S SHORT BECAUSE ITS FUCKING AWESOME. 

➣ The song I channeled for you was named “Elniño Prodigo” and I want to say the artist is Love Record but I'm not too sure. This means child prodigy. When I was laying out your cards, I got this sense of anticipation and impatience. Theeeennn BOOM the wheel of fortune, temperance, and the seven of pentacles smack me in the face.

➣ Oh me oh my, you are chilling in the universe’s womb just BAKIN’ being prepped for a complete rebirth. You are a prodigy, you are not meant to live an ordinary life, you are being prepared for a unique journey. I know this is going to sound hard to believe because I feel like with this pile, a large portion of your life was spent in waiting.

➣ Do you feel like you are a late bloomer? If so, trust me, it is for a reason. Whatever you build in this lifetime will be built slowly and have a solid foundation because your legacy is meant to withstand the test of time and last long after you leave this Earth. This period you’ve spent waiting is you getting your ducks in a row and sowing your seeds for the next evolution of you. I said something like this in my last pac, if that's you, heyyyyyyy i’m glad your energy stuck around, i love it.

➣ Do you have Pisces or 12th House placements mixed with Saturn significance? Whatever this glow-up exactly holds for your future is a secret. It’s the universe’s divine surprise to you. I did not get any energy detailing exact events, just something big in the works behind the scenes is making its way to you. 

➣If you’re reading this pick a card there’s a good chance you’re spiritually attuned and can feel this cosmic shift happening. Something about your energy is so excited. I imagine a hyper dog being held back by a leash because it's not quite time yet.

➣ If you’re in a period where you’re not seeing any life progression and it's causing you anxiety, relax, you are on the right track and you are where you need to be. You have not wasted time, time really isn’t even fucking real. Everything is moving slowly for a reason. 

➣In this “boring” period you are meant to tap into your inner world and curate what you want your life to look like. Create vision boards, imagine your future hobbies, involve things that mentally stimulate you, keep the spark of curiosity in your life, and nurture your inner dreamer. 

➣ You are connecting with your sensitivity at this time, finding the sweet spot where your mind and heart meet, and letting it fuel your zeal for life. Get these thoughts on paper. Journal them, draw them, sing it, and call this energy into the 3D. Your life is about to have a complete 180. Maintain faith.

➣ You’re seeing a lot of synchronicities currently. Animal synchronicities and repeating numbers(111,444,222,1144,1414). You’ll find strangely personal messages in music and media. Maybe you’re seeing shapes repetitively pop up around you in your environment, like stars or eyes. 

➣ Patience is a life lesson for this pile, there is a lesson to be learned in the stillness of your life. You are mentally restless right now, slow your body down and try out parasympathetic regulation techniques to calm your racing thoughts. Go swimming, take a class, try out a new hobby. In this “womb” era, enjoy your last moments of stillness because your life turns up a notch. I’m not even getting rebirth, I’m getting BIRTH. No matter your age, your life is truly beginning in this new season.

➣ Advice: I see a lot of clouds. I see angel symbolism. You’re ascending. You’re shedding old skin, letting go of dead weight, and you’re growing wings, getting ready to experience life to the fullest. Maintain hope that your life will pick up pace and become exciting again. 

➣ Find peace in this waiting period. Listen to bird sounds!!! They are going to calm your mind and elevate you emotionally. You’re growing your wings and getting ready to take off like a bird, you should learn from the best. Okay, I love you, the universe loves you, MUAH <3.

"Your sim has gone stir-crazy!"

watching tumblr shit on my images in real time is just...

On a lighter note, I know some of these piles are heavy, I posted my first reading two days ago, and the support I received has brought so much joy into my life. I love doing this, if you like this me doing this, I'll do this forever. I am eternally grateful for all of you likes, reblogs, and comments <3

Also, some of these piles are connected, feel free to poke around and pick up on messages spread out for you. okay, I'm done. kisses! MUAH

[samwinchesterswifu]

Million Dollar Baby (Castiel x Reader) Smut

Song Inspo: "Million Dollar Baby" by Tommy Richman

Warnings: grace!kink

MINORS DNI

A/N: I wanted to write more into it, but felt like i havent been able to write full blow p in v type smut, so i am sorrry for the cocktease. But let me know if you want the full version <3

Word Count: 1140

Summary: On a hunt with the boys and the angel she's infatuated with, what could possibly happen?

She shifts awkwardly on her heels while adjusting the length of the tight red dress she was wearing. Dean chose her and Cas as the primary subjects to try to lure in a Witch that was causing havoc with some love spell. The two of them where supposed to go to a club that the Witch frequented under suggestion of Crowley. She couldn’t imagine Castiel all dressed up. Having an infatuation of the angel was hard enough to keep a secret, just picturing him in a proper suit had her mind buzzing. But that thought was interrupted by a loud knock on the bathroom door of the crappy motel they were in for the week.

“Hurry up Y/N!” Dean yelled.

“Alright!” She yelled back in response.

Heat was already rising to her cheeks due to the nerves. She turns to the door and grabs the door knob. Taking a deep breath, she opens up the door to find Castiel entering the motel room with Sam on his trail and shit eating grin plastered to his face.

Both of them stopped in their tracks at the sight of each other. A low whistle is heard from Dean.

“Damn Y/N I didn’t know you cleaned up like that.” She could feel Dean undress her with his eyes and she shoots him a glare before turning her attention back to Castiel.

Sam leaned up against the door of the motel, with arms crossed he seemed pleased by her reaction. When Sam had offered to help Castiel get “cleaned up” this wasn’t what she had imagined.

Castiel had black pleated dress pants on, accompanied by a midnight blue knitted polo short-sleeved shirt with some buttons undone. The shortened sleeves seemed to show off some muscle she didn’t even know he had. He was also wearing a simple chain necklace, and presumably a watch. All pulled together with a leather jacket.

The two of them eyed each other up and down before a cough came from Deans direction.

“Well, we should get going, we need to get there before dark to set up surveillance.” Dean says, grabbing the keys to the Impala and ushering the two to the car.

They each sit in the backseat while the boys sat up front. As they journeyed towards the venue, she would steal glances of the angel in the reared view mirror. Not realizing he was doing the same thing.

Finally, after what seemed forever in an awkward silenced car, they arrive at the scene.

“Okay, remember the plan, you two on the dance floor, we’ll try to catch the Witch before anything happens, got it?” Dean asks.

She nods in agreeance and anxiously exits the car. Going around to Castiel’s side of the Impala and forcefully grabs his hand and leads him into the place. Once inside, she makes a beeline towards the bar. Ordering a shot for both her and Castiel.

“Y/N you know I don’t get drunk,” the angel besides her comments.

“I know but if we want this to look believable then I need you to drink something for the time being.” She sighs, taking her shot and asking for another round for the two of them.

This was also mainly an excuse to try to help calm her nerves. It wasn’t the fear of the Witch planting some dangerous love spell on them, it was that she was already so hot and bothered by him and the way that he cleaned up.

After a 3rd round of shots, she felt a small buzz and felt ready to hit the dance floor while Castiel presumably looked unbothered. Grabbing his hand again, she leads him towards the center of the dance floor. As a few different songs came on, she tried to dance around Castiel. Not really knowing what to do, but more so moving along with the beat.

That was until a newer song came on. Castiel had twirled her out, and brought her back in at the beginning of the song. Placing her back flushed against his chest and the two of them moved comorbidly to the beat. Castiel’s head dipped to her shoulder and his breath was hot on her neck. Closing her eyes, she squirmed against him trying to create some form of friction. Both of Castiel’s hands where placed on her hips helping control her movement. But a third form of heat began to climb down her chest and a squeezing sensation was felt on her breasts. Her eyes shot open, looking down to find nothing there. She looks up to Castiel to see his eyes shining blue. This man was using his grace on her. She could feel the grace began to move down her body. Making her breath hitch, how ballsy could this man be?

Castiel appeared to have a new founded confidence because he seemed more cocky then ever. He didn’t need sex pollen, or a sex spell, the man was drunk off her alone. Getting loss in the moment, her breath hitched as the grace came over her core. As the anticipation built, Castiel stopped. He grabbed onto her hand, and twirled her back out. But as he was pulling in, he made sure that they were facing each other. His eyes still shimmered a bright blue tone different than his normal.

“Castiel?” She whispers his name in confusion.

“Motel, now.” Castiel responded through gritted teeth.  

Nodding in response, they were gone in a moment. Poofing back into the motel room instantly, she realized that Cas had teleported them there. Her phone began to ring off the hook assumingly it was Dean or Sam calling to see what happened. But she didn’t have a care in the world. She was ready to worship the man in front of her. Cas grabs tightly on her hips looking at her eyes and down to her lips.

“Do you have any idea how much you drove me crazy in there? I’ve never felt this way towards a human,” he says walking her back up against the bed. The back of her knees flushed against the bed frame.

Cas’s head drop to her neck and attaches his lips to the skin. Kissing up and down nibbling softly along the way. Breathy moans of pleasure leaves her lips as her head dips back. The warm feeling of grace making its return on her body made her feel even more drunk than she could be on a Saturday night. Cas takes a moment away from attacking her neck to look her dead in the eyes.

“I need permission love, I need you, so please, let me show you what a man can’t do that I can do, all for you,” he whispers sultrily.

“Please Castiel,” she breathes out.

Castiel eyes deepen as a smile forms across his face.

“Anything for you love.”

[klemen-tine]

White Whale Part 2

Platonic! Yandere Batfam x Deaf!Male Reader

A continuation of this one.

https://www.tumblr.com/klemen-tine/736839222321922048/white-whale

Thoughts

Sign/Morse Code

Speaking

Trigger Warnings: Disability Discrimination and a mention of suicidal thoughts. Its like on sentence.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Y/N sat near the window, his processors off and a book on his lap. His attention was drawn to the snow falling outside and covering the ground in white, watching Damian walk Titus around the yard to experience the frozen water. Not like the giant dog hasn’t walked in snow before. 

He pressed his forehead against the glass, feeling the freezing melted sand press against his skin and without a doubt making it red. His tan was slowly fading, which made him all the more depressed whenever he looked in the mirror, now resulting in him wearing long sleeves in the hopes that he wouldn’t have to see it fade faster. His finger running down the spine of his book over and over again, tracing over the embroidered words and his short fingernail picked at the strings. 

Y/N pulled away from the window, before Damian could see him, and he set To Kill a Mockingbird down on the lamp table beside the small nook near the window. It was his secret little stowaway, one Y/N knows that if they wanted to, his family could find it easily. There is nowhere in this manor that is unable to be discovered by them. He thinks Alfred is helping in keeping this spot a secret. Assuring the bat family that Y/N is safe and there is no need to tear apart the library to look for him. 

All the windows in the library are sealed besides three, and those have sensors on them. Even if they didn’t, Y/N wasn’t stupid. He knows that those trackers he had dug out from his body are back in him. There is one in his inner thigh, deep enough that if he were to take the same scalpel he used the first time, the chance of nicking his artery was a higher possibility than he felt was worth risking. 

Sometimes, when he presses down on the soft skin, he could feel the cold metal sear his muscles and capillaries, reminding him of his captivity without the chains. 

Y/N connected his external processors, and winced when the world began to make noise. There was the buzz of some lightbulbs the hummed in the air and the heater was making a thrumming noise. Before his ‘trip’ to the Dominican Republic, Y/N would have thought that this was quiet. He would have believed that this was almost silent and there was little chance of it becoming any more quiet. 

Now it was just loud. Obnoxiously so. 

Looking out the window once more, Y/N couldn’t help the turn of his eyebrows and the downturn in his lips. Even his safe place felt like a cage. 

Walking out of the room, he zigzagged through the bookshelves and into the main room, where the large couches, the fireplace, and coffee table are. The fire was crackling and popping, the bright oranges, reds, and yellows casting a warm glow on the sofas. 

“I was wondering when you’d come out.” Y/N didn’t even look at Tim, his gaze still on the flames and the burning embers of the fire. It matched  the heat that was beginning to burn in his chest whenever he was around any of them. It’s embarrassing, but it took Y/N a few days to realize what exactly it was he was feeling towards them. 

Anger. Y/N was so, undeniably, pissed at all of them. It got to the point that he wouldn’t even eat with them. Alfred, the kind man he is, would bring his meals to his room and Y/N would eat there. Dick once tried to drag Y/N out of his room, but he got a solid kick to his leg and Y/N’s enraged voice screeching at him to get the hell out of his room. 

Even Jason was receiving the cold shoulder. When he tried to read to Y/N, taking their usual spot and position, Y/N just scrunched his nose and moved. Ignoring his twin’s call and slamming his door hard and  loud enough that it made his processors ring. 

Tim sighed, watching his brother stew and brew like a shaken pepsi bottle, ready to erupt with words that will stick to the skin. Y/N didn’t acknowledge him, his jaw clenching and nose scrunching, before he turned away and left the library. Tim stood up and followed him, jamming his foot in between the door and the door frame to stop Y/N from shutting him out. 

“Go. Away.” Tim pushed into the door, and even though he and Y/N are about the same size, Tim is Red Robin. A vigilante used to put down villains twice his size and three times his weight. Y/N is just… Y/N. He muscled through, inviting himself within Y/N’s room which he took a scan of. 

The window was closed, the bed was made, the desk clean, and the laptop locked. When he had gotten back, his laptop had been installed with monitoring software, allowing everyone access from the Batcomputer to see what Y/N was doing. His phone had been given the same thing, only the child settings were enabled. His bags, duffle, suitcases, backpacks, all of them had been taken and if he ever needed them then he would need to go to Bruce. 

If Y/N had anything to say, he didn’t share it. When it was all explained to Y/N, he wasn’t even looking at them, or Bruce, and instead was staring out the window. Damian believed that the other didn't even listen to them, but the lack of questions proved he had heard them. 

“We really need to talk, Y/N.” 

“No, go away. I don’t want you in my room.” Tim sighed, watching Y/N seethe in front of him. He held firm, “I will leave, once we talk.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “About what? There is nothing to talk about.” Those raging E/C eyes followed Tim’s every move in his space, and if it were any other time, Tim would have been thrilled to have Y/N’s attention on him. Those eyes focused only on him. 

Tim sat on the chair in front of Y/N’s desk, ignoring Y/N’s scandalized expression and instead taking in the desk. All of Y/N’s writing tools, journals, pens, and markers have been confiscated. Instead, he only had the iPad to write down his thoughts and notes for when school starts. An iPad that is monitored. 

Y/N seemed to accept that Tim would not be leaving, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Scrunching his nose, he disconnected the processors, pulled them off of his head, and debated about chucking them at his brother. He tossed them on his bed. He saw Tim deflate from the corner of his vision, and when those E/C eyes filled with irritation and smugness met Tim’s blue eyes, Y/N couldn’t help the vindictive smirk that formed on his face. 

‘Bruce wants you to keep those on.’

“What do you want, Tim? If you have nothing good to say then get out, I want to nap.” Tim nodded, adjusting himself so he had space to sign. 

‘How long are you going to keep pouting?’ Y/N’s face scrunched and he stared at Tim in disbelief. Not in disbelief that he said that, but disbelief in that that was what he wanted to say at this point in time. He could feel a headache forming and the rage building in his chest to the back of his throat. The words scorching the sensitive skin and making him feel as if he was about to catch fire. 

“I tell you to have something ‘good’ to say, and that’s what comes out of your mouth? Get out, Tim.” His brother stayed in the chair, and Y/N marched over and grabbed the collar of Tim’s shirt. Which, if he had a clearer mind, Y/N would have not done that. It only allowed for Tim to grab his wrist and maneuver them so that it was Y/N who was pinned. 

Icy blue eyes stared into boiling E/C eyes. Tim sighed, releasing Y/N so he can sign, ‘It is getting out of control, Y/N. I can understand a month, but you are pushing three.’ 

“You can’t tell me how to feel or how long I can feel it.” Tim looked ready to throttle him, and Y/N hoped that Tim rolled his eyes enough that they got stuck like that. 

‘Y/N, just what was so important about that shack that is keeping you acting like this?’ Y/N pushed Tim, startling his younger brother and if he was calmer, Y/N would also be startled. He’s never been a violent person, choosing to look away when things got bloody in a movie or show. However, the spike of rage and aggravation he felt towards Tim and the situation had made his body move before he could really process it.  

He glared at Tim with a new rage, and now he had wished he had thrown those external processors as the so-called genius. He balled his fist, “It wasn’t the shack! It wasn’t the ocean, it wasn’t the country, for fucks sake Tim, it wasn’t even then whales!” Y/N reached across his desk and threw a copy of Alice in Wonderland at the other. 

He ignored the annoyance when Tim caught it. 

“It wasn’t any of that! It was what you all took away! It wasn’t the sun, it wasn’t the outside, it was the ability to make my own decisions!” Tears burned Y/N’s eyes and he wondered just how many nights he spent crying and wishing for a chance to escape. 

“Why… why am I the only one who doesn’t have any say in how I want to live me life?” Tim set the book down on Y/N’s bed, and walked closer. Y/N stepped away, “Why am I the one who is held here like some kind of… prisoner when everyone else can go and–and do what they want?” 

Tim’s heart broke, ‘No, no Y/N. You’re not a prisoner, we just want you safe and the safest place is here.’ Y/N gave him a look of exhaustion and disappointment, “What else is this then? Where else are people monitored to this extent?” Prison. Hell, Arkham doesn’t even have this level of monitoring and Gotham’ worst and craziest people were there. 

Y/N knows that all of this is done out of some sick and twisted form of love, but if this was love then Y/N wanted no part of it. 

“Y/N,” Tim winced. He didn’t feel bad about what they have done for Y/N, but he did feel bad that it was somewhat affecting Y/N like this. It wasn’t their intention for Y/N to feel trapped, but Y/N just doesn’t get it. The world is mean, cruel, and horrible to those who don’t fit in. Tim, Jason, Dick, Damian, Bruce, the entire Bat clan knows this because they are the ones out there and witnessing this. 

They all know just how awful this world can be, so why would they not want to protect Y/N from it? 

“Dinner is ready.” Tim’s attention snapped to the door, where Damian stood. Y/N’s attention also turned to Damian, and the boy softened under Y/N’s hurt gaze. 

‘Alfred made your favorite.’ Y/N wanted to bury his head in his hands. He didn’t want to read this conversation anymore. Pursing his lips, Y/N plopped down on the edge of his bed and looked out the barred window. 

“You say I am not a prisoner… then am I a pet?” He mumbled, his voice barely above a murmur. Damian moved further in the room, so Y/N can see his hands at least. 

‘Of course not. You are our most prized person.’ Damian didn’t see Y/N as a person. It is cruel to admit and he had almost been choked-out by Jason when he said it out loud. Y/N, in Damian’ eyes, was the Wayne’s family most prized possession. Next to the Batcave, the library, the Barmobile, and even Wayne Enterprises, Y/N stood next to and in front of it all. They could not function without him. 

Like every prized possession, like diamonds, sapphires, and jades, they wanted to protect him. They gave him the best care they could and the best security. The difference was that jewels don’t have opinions or a desire to roam the earth. Something Y/N did have, and Damian blames the books for that wanderlust. Specifically that Moby Dick book. 

When Jason took it from Y/N, Damian had to stop himself from throwing it in the fire. It was a first edition, the cover and binding still the same from when the book was first published, and if he looked closely he could see the faint line where Y/N has traced the spine of the book numerous times. Damian knows there is only one person in this world Y/N hates, which is the Joker, and Damian does not want to be added to the list should anything happen to that book. 

Still, it was tempting. 

Damian has read the book, and the lesson was as obvious as an East Gothamite amidst the upper echelon of Gotham. Damian knows what Y/N’s ‘white whale’ is, and he can’t help but to wonder why Y/N can’t draw the same conclusions like everyone else did. 

Just like the story, Y/N will drive himself crazy trying to obtain something that they will never allow. Diamonds, sapphires, and jades are always protected by glass cases and security systems. That is how Y/N should see this. 

‘Your safety is the most important thing.’ 

“More than my happiness?” Damian and Tim stared at Y/N with the answer clear in their eyes, but Y/N wanted to see them say it. He wanted to see them admit that they did not care for his happiness as long as he was trapped within these thick walls and gilded windows. 

‘You were happy before.’ Y/N sighed, “That is because it was an illusion.” E/C eyes, dull and lacking emotion, “Tell me Dami, how can I go back to that illusion when in the morning it is the sun’s reflections off the bars on the windows that wake me up? Or the feeling of those trackers in my body replacing the collar you all want to put around my neck?” 

++++

Bruce stared at the photo, taking in the smiles and the way those eyes used to shine. Y/N always had a great smile, full of his emotions and rarely ever fake. His eyes always the most expressive, and it is why Bruce found it easy to see when he was lying. 

Granted, in Y/N’s defense, he’s never had a real reason to lie before. He was open with everyone about his thoughts, opinions, and desires. Bruce made it that way. Bruce swaddled him in the comfort that only he and the family could provide in order to make it so Y/N would always rely on them for that. He made it so Y/N would never have to lie, or feel the need too. 

Then Y/N just had to get curious. Bruce doesn’t know who is to blame for this sudden defiance in Y/N, but he does put a lot of blame on those ocean documentaries. Even when he was young, Y/N always had a fascination for them. Watching them over and over again, reading the subtitles, memorizing them, so now he can just watch the documentaries while already knowing what is going on. 

His attention turned to the photo he had bought from that photographer in the Dominican Republic. Y/N was freediving and looking like he was in his element. 

Bruce didn’t feel bad for taking Y/N back, but he did feel bad about cutting a hobby short. There was denying that Y/N was a natural at this sport, and Bruce had always wanted to encourage each of his kids’ interest. 

But not this one. Not one that meant Y/N had to live far from them and was dangerous. At least with vigilantism, Batman was there in case anything turned south. There was no one in the water for Y/N in case something happened. Free diving is dangerous, and the ocean is unpredictable. Bruce can’t help Y/N if he goes free diving, especially if he goes alone. 

Sighing, Bruce rubbed his forehead and checked the surveillance cameras one more time. Y/N and Dick were in one of the study rooms. From what it looks like, Dick is trying to talk to Y/N who was standing next to the windows, looking away from the other. 

Perhaps, it’s about time Bruce steps in. Y/N hasn’t talked to him since the day Bruce grounded him, about two months ago and the other has done a great job in staying out of Bruce’s radar. The only time Bruce has seen Y/N in person is when he goes into Y/N's room at night after patrol to make sure that he is still there. A new fear unlocked that one night, when everyone is out and Alfred is asleep, Y/N will disappear once more. 

No one knows how Y/N got out that one night, and no matter how many questions were asked, Y/N never said anything. Damian had tried bargaining with him, telling him that if Y/N told them how he got out then some days of his grounding would be taken off. Y/N huffed, a bitter smile taking over his face. 

Bruce rose from his desk, shutting down his computer and leaving his own study. It is about time he and his son have a conversation. One sided or not. 

He walked over to the study room that Dick and Y/N were in. Halting before the door and listening to the voices coming from inside. 

“Y/N, I am telling you that no one is going to believe you after the stunt you pulled.” 

“But you will be with me. Dick, I just want to go to the beach. We did it all the time.”  

“Mmm, and look how that ended up.” 

“Me being happy for a few months.” 

“You’re still on that, Y/N?” Bruce opened the heavy doors, silencing the conversation and causing two sets of eyes to land on him. Dick was leaning against the desk, and Y/N had his back to the window. Both of their faces showed their surprise and confusion, until E/C eyes flickered to the ceiling and the corners of the room where he saw the cameras. Confusion became annoyance, rolling his eyes and turning back towards the window. 

Dick and Bruce made eye contact, and when Bruce nodded his head towards the door Dick didn’t fight it. He took the hint and walked out, sparing Y/N and Bruce one last look before shutting the large oak doors. 

Y/N refused to look at him. Bruce walked closer, behind the desk and next to Y/N, standing next to the window. 

“Y/N.” His son moved to pull out his external processors, but Bruce grabbed his wrists within his large hands, effectively stopping his son. Bruce set his jaw, “None of that, we need to talk.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Then listen.” Y/N scrunched his nose and furrowed his brows, glaring at Bruce. The older man sighed, but held his grip on those thin wrists, noting that Y/N had stopped tugging his arms and was in fact waiting for Bruce to start talking, “I understand that you are upset, and that you are upset at us for meddling.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, his face slowly smoothening out and his lips no longer in a pout. 

Bruce sighed, releasing one of Y/N’s wrists to push aside his bangs. Gently brushing his son’s forehead and pushing the rest of the strand behind his ear, minding the processing unit resting behind Y/N’s ear. 

“And I know you’re aware that if you had asked, we would have said no.” Y/N’s lips pouted once more and his eyes became a little downcast. Sadness blanketing over him and Bruce felt a bit bad for revealing that, but Y/N knows it already. 

“Y/N, why are you insistent on wanting to be independent? There are millions of people in this world who still wish for their parent’s support, and thousands of people who would give up everything to have a life and opportunities that you have.” Y/N scrunched his nose, feeling guilt curl in his chest. 

He knows that he is lucky. Y/N is aware of how fortunate he is to have all that he has and then some. He knows that there are people in this world who would kill to have what he has. 

Yet, just like there are millions of people who want what he has, there are also millions of people who strive for their independence against their family. Millions of people who take pleasure in making choices that affect only them. Millions of people who don’t let their disabilities define their life, and learn to accept and live with them. 

“I am aware that I am fortunate, that my deafness has only been a part of my life instead of completely defining it,” Y/N acknowledged, turning his attention back to outside where it was beginning to snow. He ignored his reflection, not wanting to look at the weak person in front of him. 

“I am grateful for all you have done, along with Alfred and everyone else. No amount of ‘thank you’s’ will ever be enough. But Bruce–” Y/N turned his eyes once more to Bruce, E/C eyes meeting ocean blue, “– No amount of money or gadgets is going to deny the fact that I am deaf. 

“I am reliant on you all for a lot of things, and you raised me that way so that I can forever depend on you. Which… I know it wouldn't bother some people but it bothers me.” Y/N’s eyes shined with unshed tears, as if the very thought of having to rely on them was shameful. 

“I am not fragile, nor am I glass. I am from East Gotham, just like Jason.” Bruce is aware of that. Like every East Gothamite, the both of them had the stubbornness that made Bruce question if he had a lineage that tied him back to that part of town. Y/N is strong in his own ways, and stubborn in others. Bruce will agree on that. He will agree that Jason and Y/N are more like brothers than those Bruce has seen when blood related. 

However, Jason and Y/N are not the same. They were different pieces cut from the same cloth. Jason was shaped and molded to withstand the toughest and dangerous situations, to be durable and take a beating. 

Y/N was not molded like that. Y/N was refined and polished to be treated gently and kindly, to only know the kindest hands and gentlest of uses. 

“And I know that compared to the rest of you, I am weaker. I… I am not strong like you or Jason, I am not fast like Damian, nor am I as smart as Tim, or charismatic like Dick.” Bruce’s grip tightened on the one wrist he was still holding, wanting to deny everything Y/N had said because he hated hearing Y/N self-deprecating himself like that. Y/N is kinder than any of them, easier to talk to, and has almost the same amount of medical knowledge that Alfred has. 

Y/N is the normalcy they all crave for when they come back from a patrol or mission. He reminds them in the gentlest ways that they are human. They are not just vigilantes, not another person hiding behind a cowl, a cape, or a domino mask. He reminds them that they are brothers, friends, allies, a father (in Bruce’s case). 

“But just because of that, do you really have to control every part of my life? I wish you had more faith in me to let me go and learn to be strong on my own, just like you do with everyone else.” Y/N stared up at Bruce with a hurt expression, E/C eyes staring into Bruce’s blue eyes through those lashes that normally would be able to grant Y/N anything he wished. A simple bat of those lashes and eyes would have everyone running around trying to do as he wished. 

“Y/N–” 

“If you can’t trust me, at least trust yourself that you taught me well enough to be by myself.” But the thing is, is that Bruce doesn’t trust himself. He’s failed so many times and he fears that this one failure will be the one that breaks him. It’ll break the boys, the girls, Alfred, him. It’ll break everyone. 

Y/N doesn’t realize it, and Bruce wonders if it is because he doesn’t want to get it or he just doesn’t. He wonders if Y/N chooses not to see his importance in this family so the burden doesn’t feel as heavy. If anything should happen to Y/N, Bruce can’t guarantee the safety of Gotham anymore. He couldn’t guarantee the safety of his Robins, past and current. If Bruce couldn’t protect literally the easiest person to protect, then who was he to try and protect a city? 

Y/N, sensing Bruce’s hesitation and unease, tried to withdraw his hand from Bruce’s grip and shrug off the hand that was resting on his cheek. His hopes and wants crashing onto the carpeted floor, replacing his chest with anger and disappointment. He's been feeling those two emotions a lot lately. They are carving its way in his chest like it is their new home, and he wonders if it will be. Will he hold onto these feelings for the rest of his life as he stares out these large windows and reminisces what the sun felt like on his skin and the breeze through his hair. Does the biting cold still turn his nose and cheeks red, and does the heat and humid summers still make his freckles pop and skin gleam?

“...Forget it. I… it was stupid to ask that of you.” The raging inferno of anger died, filling his chest with the smoke of its fury and his stomach warm with the dying embers. A new emotion, one he is intimately familiar with, filled him instead. It is one he knows like the back of his hand, an emotion that is more of his identity than his deafness. 

Sadness. 

It is like a steady stream, filling the smoking cavity in his chest with cold water, putting out the embers and making that smoke turn to steam. Burning his muscles and organs with a painful sting, and filling his person with ice cold water instead of the burning fire. Y/N knows sadness. He knows the emotion well and sometimes it reminds him of a scar. Never truly gone, just sometimes forgotten. It sits at the back of the mind, hiding behind the good times, the happy emotions, until it is accidentally hit and it draws your attention. From there, it is no longer at the back of your mind, but all you can think about. 

Sadness, to Y/N, is like a scar that has marred its way across his face. Never forgotten and for the whole world to see, unless makeup and a smile is put on it. 

Y/N, in the basicness of emotions, is sad. He is hurt, upset, exhausted, and sad. 

“Leave me alone, Bruce.” Bruce’s grip tightened once more, and his jaw clenched. He’s finally got Y/N within his vicinity to talk, like hell he’s letting go. Y/N narrowed his eyes and pulled his arm, “Let go, Bruce.” 

He pulled again, “Bruce.” The man’s iron grip never waivered, and Y/N felt the air in his lungs begin to escape quicker than it could fill the organs. He brought his other hand up to try and peel those thick fingers off his wrist, but Bruce grabbed his other hand. 

“I still don’t understand why you would want to leave.” Y/N scrunched his nose, “If you can’t understand, even after I spelled it out for you, then maybe you should stop being a detective.” Bruce didn’t feel insulted or slighted at Y/N’s words, chalking it up to Y/N being upset still. 

“How can I make you want to stay here?” Y/N sighed, and Bruce could feel that fight leaving his son’s body. The tension in his arms disappeared. 

“How can I know that it is here that I am meant to be, when I haven’t been anywhere else?” Bruce opened his mouth, to which Y/N effectively cut him off, “East Gotham doesn’t count, and the Dominican Republic would have counted if you all hadn’t kidnapped me.” 

“We didn’t kidnap you.” Y/N gawked at him, and the fight returned, “You did kidnap me! Do you need a dictionary definition of what kidnapping is?! It is the unlawful abduction, aspiration and confinement of a person against their will!” 

“You. Live. Here.” Bruce gritted out and Y/N’s jaw clenched, “Well I don’t WANT to be here!” He snarled and tried once more to loosen Bruce’s grip on his wrists. 

“What is it with all of you NOT comprehending that?! No matter how you look at it, no matter what angle you try to take this from, Bruce. I am a prisoner within this manor!” Y/N glared at Bruce, “Just what did I do that warranted the surveilance, the trackers, the stupid god for fucking sake imaginary collar you all want me to have on?!” 

Bruce growled out, “You left when you are only meant to stay here. It is the consequences of your actions.” 

“I am not your property!” Y/N snarled, “ Nor am I a pet that you can keep chained and trapped in the house!” Bruce felt something snap within him and he released Y/N’s wrist and watched the other stumble from the sudden loss of support. 

Y/N righted himself, still glaring at the man. Bruce took a deep breath, “Fine.” 

“Huh?” 

“You want to try your luck out there, then go. I will give you an hour's head start.” Y/N stared at Bruce in suspicion, “What are you getting at?” Bruce made a show of adjusting his watch, “I will give you an hour, only one. If you can outrun us, out maneuver us, or outsmart us until sunrise, you can choose how your future plays out.” 

“‘Us?’” Bruce smiled, “All of us.” Y/N wanted to bite out a ‘not fair’ comment, but found a more pressing matter, “What about the trackers?” Bruce fished out his phone, and made a dramatic show of pressing some buttons, he then showed Y/N what appeared to be a small map, like a GPS, on his phone. 

“Turned off.” Y/N ignored the feeling of disgust seeing that his location was literally on their phones. 

“Start running Y/N, your hour has already started.” Y/N bolted out the study room, not looking back. 

Bruce stayed in the room, looking out the window as the sun began to set and the snow turned dark. Light footsteps entered the room, and Bruce could basically hear the eyebrow raise, “Not now Alfred, save it for when Y/N comes back.” 

The old butler humphed, “He’s always gotten sick when playing in the snow.” Bruce hummed, “Then I guess we better make this quick.” 

“Are you sure an hour was a good idea? He did sneak out of the manor before.” Ocean blue eyes filled with mirth, and he tapped his ears, “If Y/N wants to know what it’s like to be deaf, then he’ll play this game deaf. It’ll teach him how lucky he is to have his hearing.” Alfred’s eyes widened, “They turn off without his knowledge.” 

“Once he reaches a certain distance, they do, and he can’t turn them back on. Only I have the power to do that.” 

In the hall, suited up and waiting in the shadows, were the rest of this crooked family. Waiting for his orders, “Give him an hour, then find him.”

++++

Y/N knows this is a losing game. He knows that this game is set for his failure, and he knows that once this game is over, he will most likely never be able to set foot outside again. Not without a babysitter. 

When he external processors cut out, he knows what angle Bruce is playing out and he knows that his chances of making it to sunrise have become nearly 0%. He may not be as smart as Tim or anyone else in his family, but if you live with geniuses you learn how to read between the lines. 

He somehow managed to flag down a taxi before telling them where to go. Not missing the slight judgment cross their face and Y/N wonders if they know he cannot hear them. Y/N wonders if they know he is being chased and he essentially is just digging a bigger and deeper hole for himself. The bars will get thicker and the chain will be heavier, but if that is the outcome of this, then Y/N believes that this will be worth it. 

He clutched the bag closer. 

When he arrives at the station, he knows his hour is up and he knows that Barbara is watching him through the cameras. She is watching him buy his ticket, and is retelling everything to his siblings. He knows this because in front of him is Nightwing, drawing a crowd and making everyone look around for the villain. 

‘Going somewhere?’ 

‘Only temporarily.’ 

‘Temporarily is too long Y/N, let's go back home. Alfred has a peach cobbler ready.’ Nightwing held his hand out as if Y/N would actually take it. Which is fine, because Y/N knows through the giant circular mirror hanging from the ceiling, that Spoiler and Red Robin are behind him. 

Y/N stared at the hand once more, and he wondered if this is what it feels like to know the path you should take and still choose the other one. Taking a deep breath, Y/N said the one word that would get everyone running. It would have people scrambling and trying to seek cover and get out of a place that made everyone have a close vicinity to each other. 

“Joker!” Like someone shouting fire, the world was set into motion and Y/N watched as his view got obstructed by the rush of people. He disappeared within the crowds, dodging idle hands and ducking into the crowd. He may not be able to hear, but he can feel the panic that everyone else was feeling. Y/N saw parents pick their kids up, lovers grabbing each other’s hands, and strangers pushing and shoving other strangers. 

He rushed down the escalator, towards the Amtrak that had his destination written all over it. Y/N didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Nightwing right behind him. He can feel the heavy and frantic gaze and if he could hear, without a doubt his name would be filling the air. 

His heart picked up at the sight of the doors closing, and through some luck, he squeezed in at the last minute. The metal shutting behind him, and large latex covered hands slammed into the glass. Dick’s frantic face stared at him, and Y/N couldn’t stop the smile from creeping on his face. 

How it must feel for the rabbit to slip through the Hunter’s fingers. 

When the train began moving, Y/N wiggled his fingers in a mockery of a goodbye. He now sees why Jason loves teasing Dick. Dick’s angry expression really does tickle a sore spot in Y/N. Choosing a spot near the windows, Y/N prepared himself for the 10 hours train ride. The sun will not be rising when he gets there, but he never expected to make it to sunrise. Peering into the duffle bag next to him, Y/N gave a bitter smile and turned his attention back to the passing sight of Gotham city. 

In the Batcave, everyone was pacing and figuring out the best way to do this. 

“Are you sure that is where he is going?” 

“For the last time, I saw his ticket, yes. He is going there!” Jason winced at Barbara’s raised voice and he grit his teeth in irritation. He massaged his temples, “Why North Carolina? What is even there?” 

“The beaches.” 

“No shit you little spawn, but which one.” Nightwing didn’t bother reproaching his brother, and instead tightened his fist. He was so close to grabbing his brother. So close. 

The very knowledge that his little brother had barely escaped him stoked two different emotions in him. Pride in knowing that his brother was fast, fast enough to get away from him, and irritation because he did slip through Nightwing’s fingers. Batman didn’t seem bothered. 

In fact he looked awfully relaxed for someone whose son had just hopped on a train to North Carolina. Nightwing glared at him, “You know where he’s going.” Batman shrugged, “An idea.” 

“Where?” 

“Y/N took his freediving gear, and there’s only one beach in North Carolina that is worth freediving.” 

++++

Y/N felt the water encompass him, hugging his limbs and freeing him of gravity. The light attached to his forehead illuminates the sea and sees marine life at night. The train ride had been long and restless, but he did manage to at least sleep for 4 hours, before his nerves woke him up once more. 

It was still dark, but at 4 am in the morning, it would be stupid to assume there would be any light. Navigating to the pier at Wrightsville Beach had been difficult, constantly looking over his shoulders to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Then there was the actual jumping off of the pier that if anyone saw would have the cops racing over. 

Finally though, he was here. Swimming in the water and just letting himself be. It was a poor replication of freedom, but if this will be all he is allowed he’ll take it. Who knows how long it'll be before he could do something like this. Y/N isn’t stupid. He knows that Bruce knows where he is at. 

He knows his siblings are on their way over. Probably letting him get off the Amtrak first before jumping in the Batplane, or maybe even the Batboat. Y/N surfaced, and took a deep breath before diving below the surface once more. 

God, this was all a terrible joke but here it was happening. Y/N could have never imagined his family doing this. When he was younger, he chalked up Bruce’s need to constantly check on him as anxiety because it was the first time the man had a completely normal person in the house. Jason had always been touchy, and then Dick came along who would ruffle their hair. Tim would hold his forearm and Damian would follow him where he went. 

It wasn’t weird at all. That was Y/N’s normal, until he went to college and started making friends. Friends who were mature enough to see past his lack of hearing and shared their own sibling experiences. 

Experiences that didn’t match Y/N’s. 

His little trip outside the country only proved it, and Y/N wondered if it was a bad thing he decided to do in person classes instead of online. If he did online, he would live in the fantasy that his family was normal and they loved him as a person. No red flags would be waving because Y/N wouldn’t even know they are flags. 

He felt the water around him begin to vibrate and from the way the fish started spazzing out, Y/N knew his time was limited. How funny it would be if he never rose to the surface again. 

Sinking a bit further, he looked towards the surface and watched as the water distorted and ripples began to form, each one acting as a timer. Closing his eyes, he held his breath as long as he could, until his lungs began to ache. Lightheadedness caused him to almost inhale water.  

Rising to the surface, he could see the ominous black shape and the people looking over the edge. Here he was swimming back to his captors’ arms. Like a mouse headed for the trap. A fish into a net. 

Y/N has never hated himself more then when he took that breath of air and met the sight of cowled Batman, and masked Robin and former Robins. 

‘Ready?’ 

“Even if I wasn’t you’d still take me.” 

‘You lost Y/N, get out of the water.’ He accepted the ladder thrown down to him, and as soon as he was within arm distance, Red Hood and Red Robin hoisted him over the edge of the boat and it was Robin handing him a towel. Taking off his snorkel and flippers, Y/N let himself be guided to the inside, where an unmasked Dick sat at one of the tables with two cups of coffee. Red Hood pushed Y/N into the seat, squishing his body against the window as he laid his giant self on him. Sighing in relief and going limp. 

Y/N didn’t mind. From his seat, he watched the sunrays begin to slowly peak over the horizon. The warm glow gently illuminating the darkness, the sun not in sight yet but it’s very beginnings making itself known. Y/N wonders if one day, he can fall into the illusion of once more having a choice in his decisions. That there will be multiple paths in front of him instead of just one. 

A large hand patted his head, and Y/N felt disgusted that he welcomed it. Back to normalcy. He has to go back to normalcy. If he didn’t, Y/N really does believe he will go crazy. His fate has been chosen from the start, and he knows that there is little chance of changing it. He knows that all of this comes from a sick and twisted form of love, and Y/N wonders if this is the type of love he has always been destined for. 

The worst part is if given the choice to start over, Y/N wouldn’t stop himself from meeting Jason. He wouldn’t stop Jason from stealing the Batmobile tires, and he wouldn’t stop Jason from being Robin. He would try and stop Jason from dying, but he wouldn’t stop Tim from being Robin, or anything really. Y/N loves Jason, he loves his family, he loves their flaws and vices, even if it means letting go of somethings. His desire to be on his own was temporary anyways, only a few years and he would come back. 

It was never good to have a ‘white whale.’ That is what Moby Dick taught everyone who read it. 

If freedom was his white whale, then his family are the whalers. Killing it and completely destroying anything that made him want to chase it. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Honestly.... I'm not to sure about the ending.

[jisungiesvzz]

Hii I absolutely loves ur fanfic!! Would u mind doing a jeongin version on unexpected?

I'm sorry this took so long to write! I’ve been having heavy workloads from school and I've also had writers block ugh. Anyways, I hope you enjoy :).

Crossing Lines

Idol!Jeongin x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing lessons, making out, neck kissing

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: please let me know if I missed warnings, otherwise enjoy :)

Versions: Hyunjin // Han // Jeongin

—

The afternoon sun streams through Jeongin's apartment windows, casting golden hues across the living room. You sit cross-legged on the floor, a small velvet pouch between your fingers as you rummage through its contents.

"I still can't believe I forgot my jewelry," you sigh, carefully examining a silver chain with a small fox pendant. "You sure you don't mind me borrowing yours?"

Jeongin smiles from his position on the couch, phone in hand as he scrolls through his social media feed, hoping to run across a good hang out spot near you. "What's mine is yours, y/n. Three years of friendship earns you jewelry-borrowing privileges."

Giving him a soft smile, you hold up one of his earrings to the light, a simple silver hoop that catches the sunbeam and sparkles.

"It's scary how well you know me," you laugh, sorting through more pieces. "Like, you knew I'd forget something tonight."

"That's why I always keep extra stuff around for you," he replies, setting his phone down. "I am fully prepared for Hurricane Y/N."

You playfully throw a small cushion at him, which he catches effortlessly. You can't imagine your life without these little moments—the casual hang outs in his apartment, the inside jokes, the way he always seems to understand exactly what you need.

"Hey, remember that truth or dare game at Chan's party last week?" Jeongin suddenly asks, a tint of curiosity in his voice.

You groan, instantly knowing where this was heading. "Please, not this again."

"I'm just saying," he continues, sitting up straighter, "I was surprised when you said you've never been kissed. I mean, you're twenty-two!"

You feel your cheeks warm, lowering your voice to a near mumble. "So? Some people are late bloomers..."

"It's not a bad thing," Jeongin says quickly. "I just... I don't know, I just assumed you had."

You shrug, suddenly finding the jewelry in your hands incredibly fascinating. "I guess I've just never found the right person... or the right moment."

A weighted silence settles between you, unusual in its intensity. You can feel Jeongin's eyes on you, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"I could teach you."

The words hang in the air, simple yet earth-shattering. Your head snaps up, certain you've misheard.

"Teach me what?"

Jeongin's expression is unreadable, a mix of nervousness and something else you can't quite place. "How to kiss. If you want."

You feel like the air has been sucked from the room. This is Jeongin—your best friend, the person who holds your hair back when you're sick and who can make you laugh until your sides hurt.

"That would be weird, wouldn't it?" you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, attempting nonchalance though you can see the tips of his ears turning pink. "Only if we make it weird. It's just a skill, like teaching someone to drive or cook."

"A skill," you repeat skeptically.

"Yeah," he says, sliding down from the couch to sit across from you on the floor. "And then when you meet someone you actually want to kiss, you'll be ready."

You bite your lip, considering the possibility. The idea sends butterflies swarming through your stomach, but there's also a strange sense of... curiosity.

"Nothing would change between us?" you ask cautiously.

Jeongin shakes his head firmly. "Nothing. We're best friends first, always. This would just be me helping you out."

You take a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Yes. Teach me." You confirm, your heart pounding through your chest.

Jeongin moves closer, his movements careful and deliberate. "So first, it helps if you face each other," he explains, his voice lower than usual.

You readjust your position, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between you and him. The jewelry laying forgotten on the floor beside you.

"Usually there's eye contact," he continues, and you force yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes—those familiar eyes you've looked into a thousand times—now seem different, deeper somehow.

You tried convincing yourself that it’s just kissing lessons but something about kissing him feels more intimate than it should.

"Then what?" you whisper.

"Then, one person usually leans in. Sometimes both." His hand comes up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, and you feel your breath catch. "Sometimes there's touching. Like this."

His fingers trace a feather-light path along your jawline, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. The sensation sends shivers down your spine.

"And then?" Your voice is barely audible now.

Instead of answering, Jeongin leans forward, closing the distance between you. His lips press against yours, gentle and questioning. Your eyes flutter closed instinctively, your hand tentatively reaching up to rest on his shoulder.

The kiss is soft, a brief moment of connection that ends almost as quickly as it began. Jeongin pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

"That's the basics," he says, his voice rough around the edges. "A simple first kiss."

You nod, unable to form words. Your lips tingle where his had been, and you find yourself wanting more—a realization that both thrills and terrifies you.

He's your best friend. Right…?

As if reading your thoughts, Jeongin speaks again. "Then there are... deeper kisses."

"S-show me..." you whisper, surprising yourself with your boldness.

This time when he leans in, there's an urgency that wasn't there before. His lips capture yours more confidently, one hand cradling your face while the other slides around your waist, drawing you closer. You respond instinctively, your fingers tangling in his hair, gently tugging at the strands.

What started as a lesson quickly transformed into something neither of you anticipated. The kiss deepened and you feel yourself being gently guided backward until you're lying on the floor, Jeongin hovering above you, your lips never parting.

When you finally break apart, both breathing heavily, you stare up at him in wonder. His hair is disheveled where your fingers have been, his eyes dark and intense.

"Innie…" you breathe, not knowing what else to say.

Without a word, he dives right back in, capturing your lips with a newfound hunger. There's no hesitation now, his movements filled with a hunger you’ve never seen before — his body pressing down against yours making you gasp into his mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, any thoughts of keeping distance between you long forgotten.

"There's more I can teach you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with want. Before you can respond, his mouth begins to trail along your jawline, leaving a path of fire in its wake.

"Different types of kisses," he explains between soft pecks along your skin, "are for different sensations."

Your breath hitches as his lips reach the sensitive spot just below your ear. Instinctively, your head tilts to give him better access, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"Like here," he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Then his lips press against your neck, gentle at first, then with increasing pressure. The sensation is entirely new to you, electric pulses shooting through your body with each kiss.

"Innie," you gasp, overwhelmed by the feeling.

His hand slides up to cradle the other side of your neck, a small smile forming on his lips at the nick name as his thumb gently strokes your cheek, his kisses become more intense. You feel the gentle graze of his teeth, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue against your pulse point, a soft moan falling from your lips as he repeated the action.

"Some people," he murmurs against your skin, "are more sensitive here than on their lips." As if to demonstrate, he places an open-mouthed kiss at the space where your neck meets your shoulder, causing you to arch involuntarily against him.

You're lost in sensation, any remaining thoughts about this being just a lesson completely gone. Your hands roam across his back, pulling him closer as he continues his thorough exploration of your neck.

When he finally returns to your lips, the kiss is different—deeper, more confident, as though he's staking a claim. You respond with equal fervor, the taste of him now familiar yet intoxicating.

As Jeongin pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, a small smile plays at his lips. "So," he says softly, "how was your first lesson?"

"I- I don't know what to say," you softly gasped, still recovering your breath.

Placing a soft peck on your lips, he sits up off the ground, gently taking your hand in his. "Come on. Let's go finish our original plans for the day."

Heart beating through your chest, you let him guide you off the ground and through the front door — the heated moment hanging in the air. A small part of you wishing it hadn't ended.

—

The next evening, you were in Stray Kids' dorm, squeezed comfortably between Jeongin and Hyunjin on the large sectional sofa. Chan had insisted on a movie night—something about needing to unwind after their intense practice schedule—and naturally, as Jeongin's best friend, you were included in the invitation.

What the others don't know is how everything changed between you and Jeongin just twenty-four hours ago.

The memory of his lips on yours, on your neck, makes your cheeks flush even now. You've spent most of today exchanging knowing glances, the anticipation of seeing him again had your stomach in knots all day.

"Everyone good with the movie choice?" Chan asks, remote in hand as he navigates through Netflix.

You barely register what film he selected—some action thriller the group has been wanting to watch. All you can focus on is Jeongin's proximity; the subtle scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his body next to yours.

"Y/N, want some?" Felix offers you the bowl of popcorn from across the coffee table.

"Thanks," you murmur, reaching for it. As you settle back with the bowl, Jeongin shifts closer, his thigh now pressed firmly against yours.

The lights dim as Chan starts the movie. Under the cover of darkness, Jeongin's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours between your bodies where no one else can see. Such a simple touch shouldn't send your heart racing, but after last night, everything is different.

Twenty minutes into the film, you're not following the plot at all. How could you, when Jeongin's thumb is tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand? When his breath occasionally tickles your ear as he leans over to whisper some joke about the movie?

By the thirty-minute mark, his hand had moved to your knee, resting there casually as though it belongs. The weight of it burns through the fabric of your jeans.

Halfway through the movie, during a particularly intense action sequence that has everyone's attention fixed on the screen, Jeongin's hand begins to move. Slowly, torturously, his fingers trace upward along your thigh, just far enough to make your breath hitch, gently squeezing the flesh.

You shoot him a warning glance, but the innocent smile he gives you in return is betrayed by the mischievous glint in his eyes. He knows exactly what he's doing.

His hand retreats momentarily when Changbin gets up to refill drinks, but as soon as everyone is settled again, it returns—this time sliding to your inner thigh, his touch feather-light but unmistakably close to where you could feel yourself growing needy. Your body responds immediately, heat pooling low in your abdomen, his hand now venturing into territory that makes your pulse quicken and your thoughts get jumbled up.

When his fingers inch higher, gently squeezing your thigh, you nearly jump. It's too much—the darkened room, his members just feet away, completely oblivious, and Jeongin's touch threatening to unravel you entirely.

"Bathroom," you whisper, standing abruptly. Jisung pauses the movie, looking up at you questioningly.

"Just need a quick bathroom break," you explain, forcing a casual smile. "Don't wait up, I've seen this part."

You slip away from the living room, heart hammering against your ribs as you make your way down the hallway. The cool bathroom tiles are a relief under your feet as you close the door behind you, leaning against it and exhaling slowly.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, turning to face the mirror — your reflection showing flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

Splashing cold water on your face, you hear a soft knock at the door.

"Y/N?" Jeongin's voice is low, just audible enough for you to hear. "You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, you open the door just enough to see him standing there, concern etched across his features—though the darkness of his eyes tells another story.

"I'm fine," you whisper. "We should get back before they—"

Before you can finish, Jeongin has slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The bathroom suddenly feeling much smaller with him in it, the air between you charged with tension.

"What are you doing?" you ask, voice sounding small.

"I couldn't help myself," he admits, closing the distance between you. "Sitting next to you, not being able to really touch you... it's driving me crazy."

"Your members are right outside," you remind him, even as your body betrays you by leaning toward his.

"They're absorbed in the movie," he counters, his hands finding your waist. "Besides, I told them you weren't feeling well and I was checking on you."

"And they believed that?"

A small smile plays at his lips. "Felix gave me a knowing look, but the others are clueless."

Your protest dies in your throat as Jeongin presses you gently against the wall, his body flush against yours. Any restraints from before evaporated into thin air as his lips capture yours in a kiss that's hungry and desperate.

Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue meets yours. This isn't the careful instructional kiss from yesterday—this is raw need, months of pent-up desire finally breaking free.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs against your lips, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt to touch and squeeze the bare skin at your waist. "About you."

Your response is lost as his mouth moves to your neck, finding the sensitive spots he discovered yesterday. The sensation pulls a soft moan from you, which Jeongin quickly silences with another kiss.

"Quiet," he whispers, a teasing glint in his eye. "Unless you want everyone to hear."

The thought of being caught should terrify you, but instead, it only heightens everything—the racing of your pulse, the heat of his touch, the urgency of your kisses.

His hand slides back to your thigh, higher than he dared in the living room, his fingers tracing patterns that make your breath catch. When he presses his hips against yours, you can feel exactly how much he wants you.

"Innie," you gasp as his lips find a particularly sensitive spot below your ear.

“Fuck, y/n.” he grumbles against your neck, softly nipping and licking at the skin there, eliciting more moans from you.

“Innie, ngh, you’re gonna l-leave marks,” you whined, your defiance falling short as you arched into him.

“We should stop,” he mumbles between open mouthed kisses.

You both knew you should, but neither of you make an effort to move.

A sudden knock on the door makes you both freeze.

"Y/N? Jeongin?" It's Chan's voice. "Everything okay in there? Movie's almost over."

Removing himself from your neck, Jeongin clears his throat. "We're fine, hyung. Y/N just felt a little dizzy. We'll be out in a minute."

"Okay," Chan replies, though you can hear the question in his tone. "We're thinking of ordering food after."

Footsteps retreat down the hallway, and you both release the breath you've been holding.

Jeongin's forehead drops to yours, a small laugh escaping him. "That was close."

"Yeah," you let out breathy laugh. "We should get back."

He nods, stepping back reluctantly, but not before pressing one more lingering kiss to your lips. "This isn't over yet," he promises, his voice low with intention.

As you straighten your clothes and Jeongin attempts to fix his hair, you catch his eye in the mirror. The boy who was just your best friend yesterday now looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees weak.

"Ready?" he asks, hand on the doorknob.

You nod, knowing that while you're about to return to a room full of his members and pretend nothing has changed, everything has. The line you crossed yesterday isn't just crossed—it's been erased entirely, replaced by something new and thrilling and completely uncharted.

As Jeongin opens the door, his hand finds yours for just a moment, giving it a squeeze before letting go. It's a promise of what's to come, once you're alone again.

And suddenly, you can't wait for this movie night to end.

[jazzyoranges]

Pinky Promise - drabble

Tara Carpenter x gn!reader

Summary: cuddly Tara strikes again

Words: 0.9k

A/n: very much inspired by this fic, please go read it i beg you

This was your worst fucking nightmare. Well, something close to this.

You’d expect maybe Anika or Mindy to set you up for failure, but your own mother? You were her kin, for christ’s sake!

Not to mention the woman knew what she was doing. Once she pulled the “Oh, it seems there isn’t enough beds for all your friends! My, I must’ve counted wrong!” You knew it was over from the start.

Mindy and Anika shared a bed, Chad and Ethan shared an air bed, leaving Tara to sleep on the couch. Which, you offered Tara to sleep in your room while you slept on the couch, but god did she make it fucking hard. The brunette insisted you sleep on your bed since you were the one driving most of the time during the road trip, but unfortunately your urge for hospitality rivaled her

You argued Tara looked far sleepier, and you thought it was settled when she didn’t respond

You were pretty fucking wrong.

When the time came and you eventually left your bathroom to go to the living room, you don’t expect to see a Tara in a band tee that was about two sizes too big on her, Hello Kitty shorts that barely poked out of her large shirt, and a bunny stuffed animal you gave her not too long ago

She grabbed your hand before you knew what was happening, and pulled you into your room. Half of the reason why you didn’t want to sleep in there was because of how you could distinctly tell your teenage self wore too much eye makeup and chains. The thought makes you cringe, and Tara only laughed at your expression

“Let’s go to bed, please?” You should’ve fucking said no. But how were you supposed to? Tara was looking up at you with her big brown eyes, a shirt that was probably yours, and a sad expression. You couldn’t have said no if you tried.

So here you were, looking at the ceiling in a small bed with Tara’s back touching your arm. A blanket covered her entire body while it only covered your midsection with your hands fidgeting on top of it

You feel the younger Carpenter shiver due to your close proximity, and you realize it’s actually cold in the house. Well, you were awake and you did live here, so it was probably your responsibility to make sure everyone was comfortable. If Tara was cold, everyone else probably was too

It takes a little maneuvering to get up with as little squeaks as possible, but you’re eventually successful. You think so, until you feel something around your wrist

“Don’t sleep on the couch…” You hear Tara mumble half asleep

“You were shivering, I’m changing the temperature” You whisper back, leaning towards her as she huffs

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

Your forehead wrinkles as you think, but you eventually have an idea

“I pinky promise” You stick out the small digit of your hand, and Tara eventually meets you halfway. When she lets go you assume she approves of your leave

The journey to the thermostat isn’t a very long one and you’re back in about a minute, the only challenge being not running up the stairs because you’re afraid of the dark

Tara acts like you’ve been away for years when you come back. Once you’re in arm distance, she pulls you down very quickly

“S’not enough, still cold” Tara mumbles into your chest as she crawls on top of you like it’s nobody’s business. Her arms trap you on both sides after she pulls the blanket over you both. You can tell she’s warm when she sighs and makes sure you know how comfortable you are

“You’re like a teddy bear… my teddy bear” You don’t know how to respond, but Tara obviously does

“I can’t believe you got up for nothing”

“The others might’ve been cold, you know”

“The others can fuck off” Tara yelps when you pinch her nose

“Don’t be mean”

“Mmm… whatever” The brunette sighs again, who’s now in a position with you that resembles a cheetah and their support dog

Now this was your worst fucking nightmare.

Tara, god bless bless her, was a light sleeper. If you moved an inch she’d feel it but now that she was on top of you, you were really fucked

“You’re tense”

“Go to sleep” You whisper

“Pillows are supposed to be soft, not hard” She whispers back, looking directly into your eyes

“Last time I checked, people aren’t supposed to be pillows” Tara snickers at your dumb joke and you resist the urge to poke at her dimples

“Now you’ve got me all awake”

“Be so for real, you’d fall asleep instantly if I stopped talking to you”

“Yeah, you’re right. I would” The brunette rubs her cheek against your shirt, almost like she’s trying to burrow into your chest. A few moments pass, and you’re finally feeling the effects of driving for most of the day. You can feel your body relax more every second

“I love you” Tara whispers so quietly you don’t know if you’re hearing her correctly. You fall asleep before you figure it out

[uchihamasacre]

the #2 pro hero's sidekick

description:

short one shot

your bakugou's sidekick and he gets you pregnant after what you thought was a one night stand

You have been a sidekick to the #2 pro Dynamight for 5 years now. He doesn't have many sidekicks as he finds most people quirks not good enough to work with and most people don't stay due to the pros temper.

But you and one other guy have been here for 5 years now

You would never admit it to anyone but before starting at this agency you kinda had a crush on bakugou. By kinda, you even had a key chain figure of him that use to hang off your purse strap. Now hidden deep in one of your dressers at home.

But the pros dating life was near to none. Remembering he only went on a date with a girl when you first started here. His friend Red Riot set him up on. Not sure the details just the girls name and that as far as you know he never went out with her again.

Other than that there's a few articles out there hinting at you and Bakugou possibly being an item. It wasn't true and with lack of evidence the idea usual quickly died out.

It was the annual after party for the top 10 rewards ceremony that Deku hosts. It's the only party bakugou goes too.

You wore a long black silk dress, you looked forward to this event because you secretly could tell how much bakugou enjoyed seeing his old class mates all in one place again.

All the 10 top, there main side kicks, and other hero's from deku and bakugous high school grad class were mingling

You stayed close to bakugou never really knowing the others on a personal level. Only really Deku, his wife Urvaity, Red Riot, and Shoto who you worked with many times beside bakugou over the years

The two toned hero handsome as he is isn't married either.

You see out of the corner of your eye another member you knew a bit only because he's asked you out multiple times, you've never worked with him only ever being around him when bakugou would have to stop by Red Riots agency and the electric boy was always there

Don't get me wrong ChargeBolt is an attractive man and you always told him just you don't have time for romance.

But here he comes your way Bakugou must've noticed as you heard a Tch from the man beside you

Trying to not seem like you noticed Kaminari til he was right in from on your face

His cheeks a bit tinted pink, you knew he had a buzz going, a drink half full in his hand even

He started up a conversation, you tried to be nice to him you had no reason to be rude but Bakugou left the two of you to go over to the drink table

Bakugou wasn't a drinker so you knew he'd probably have a drink or two and then soon after tell you he was going home, or just disappear without telling anyone goodbye , he's done that before

you lost track of where your boss went too, kaminari's voice background noise to you as your eyes search the room.

Finally you spot him alone leaning again the wall in the corner, a drink in hand

"I really would love to take you out y/n" Kaminari's voice bring you out of your trance you make eye contract with the blonde in front of you

"Kaminari you're sweet really. But I truly am not looking for anything. Working under Bakugou takes all my time" you give him a small smile trying to let him down once again easily

"Y/n I-" Kaminari asks your mind wanting out of this situation feeling awkward with how you keep denying him, you ignore the other hero cutting him off

"I have to go ChargeBolt... it was nice seeing you" you say eyes long gone from him searching for the now disappeared Bakugou

You walk away from Kaminari searching through the room assuming Bakugou had most likely decided his time at the party was over and leaving

That's when you saw him out on the balcony

"you take sparky up on his offer?" Bakugous deep voice tickles your ears as you walk over to him. leaning your arms against the cold metal bars of the balcony

"No" you say looking out at the night sky

"Why not? Not into blondes?" He asks

You could tell then he was stirring his words

"That's not it" you say straightening up to look at him

"How much have you had to drink" you ask he ignores you

"I'll take you home give me your keys" you tell him holding out your hand

Bakugou stares at you his eyes a bit low with alcohol running through his system

"I can take myself home" he grumbles going to push past you

You stop him with your hand pressing into his chest "I'm not going to fight you bakugou"

"Your gonna have too" he says through his teeth

You go for his pockets even though your well aware he meant it and would knock you on your ass

He quickly grabs the keys out holding them away from you as you try to snatch them from his hands your body's now pressed together

You pull yourself back from him not wanting to cause a scene you knew was coming if you kept pushing his buttons

Too your shock he gives you the keys walking past you without saying a word and let's you drive him home

The whole ride there he took turns staring out the window and staring at you

That's when things went somewhere you weren't expecting somewhere between dropping him off and giving him the keys you found your accepting an invitation inside and now under bakugou

Your dress long gone somewhere in his bedroom, your hands rubbing down his thick muscular arms, his hot breath in your ear telling you a mix of praises and degradations in his deep raspy voice as he slides in and out of you as you whimper katsuki mindlessly, legs shaking, biting into his shoulder as your see stars when his rough finger gently make there way between your folds as his thrust grew sloppy when you tighten around him, nails raking down his back as you feel him releasing deep inside you

You end up not knowing if you stay or leave afterwards hearing the shower in his master room bathroom starting up as you sit on his king sized bed in the dark stark naked

Bakugou's nude figure in the doorway of the bathroom answering for you

"Stay"

And with that you did, showering with him in silence, and into his bed in one of his black tee shirts. Cuddling wasn't happening until katsuki fell asleep and pulled an arm around you and pulled you in

you were sure this was a one time thing, that he had too much to drink and you were the woman in front of him in that moment

You two never spoke about that night, in the morning he was gone from the bed, the only thing he left was a text to take the day off

you were sure it was just a mistake until it happened again 2 weeks later in his office one after noon after everyone had gone home and you two were doing paper work. He pushed all the papers onto the floor and laid you across his desk

You've been wanting to bring up what was going on between the two of you, but never got the courage you just needed to know so you could contain any growing feelings toward the #2 hero

It's been 2 months since the first time you and Bakugou had sex and the only thing none work related he's said to you was for you to call him Katsuki now

You don't know what that could even mean? Or if he even has a meaning?

Today though things changed you were out with Katsuki and his other side kick fighting a villain who was trying to destroy a building that turns out to be there old place of work that fired them

When you felt sick, very sick, you were racing down the street Katsuki hot on the villains tail

When you threw up trying to keep going but getting sick again and stopping

Katsuki of course noticed as well as the other side kick of his but the villain was the main priority

Captured quickly, and started to catch up to them a block ahead

You hear Katsuki telling his other side kick to take you to the hospital and they he'll take care of taking the villain to the police

Listening to him the other side kick takes you too the hospital you thought it was a bit much you just threw up you weren't injured

The other side kick leaving after getting a call from Katsuki to go help out on something else happening leaving you alone too hear the news

"Ms. L/n congratulations your 8 weeks pregnant" the doctor smiled at you

You just stare at the doc you didn't hear him right you just know

The doctor must've gotten the hint and shower you the test they ran and it came back positive for pregnancy

You zone out as they tell you all these things about pregnancy

you think back to you and Katsuki's intimate moments remembering he never put on a condom and you haven't been on birth control

Remembering him finishing deep inside you both times. You never thought once about this. Did Katsuki also not think about this?

You cheeks now a shade of crimson

"Miss are you feeling okay?" The doctor ask you

"Yeah I'm fine" you say taking a deep breath

That's when Bakugou comes through the door your nerves shooting out of the roof as he ignores you and asks the Doctor what's wrong with you

Not even giving the professional a chance to corporate before taking the papers from the doctors hands

You watch as his eyes scan over the words, you watch as his eyes come to a stop, no sign of emotional change behind them

You knew what he just read, what his eyes stopped on

as the doctor says happily

"She's pregnant!"

Still with no change in his face Katsuki folds the paper and looks at you

your eyes were wide, worried filled, a lump in your throat as you tried to keep tears from forming

"come on" Katsuki says walking out the room the paper getting stuffed into his pocket

You follow behind as you get into his car and he takes you to his house you knew it was time to talk about this

You knew what you wanted to do, you knew Katsuki wasn't going to let you too. The car ride was silent leaving you to your thoughts

Once inside you sit in his living room the silence killing you

"Y/n" he starts

"I'm keeping the baby" you blurt out

You and Katsuki were nearing your 30's, everyone else you knew were long married and started there families

You loved Izuku and Ochaco's 2 boys whenever you got to see them.

You also knew Katskui didn't show any sign of wanting a family or wife. You knew this meant him firing you and you having to move far away to keep your child's identity safe

"I see" katsuki finally says after a long tense moment

"Your not working anymore" he says shortly after

"I know Katsuki I understand you don't want this so I-" you get cut off

"Who said I don't want this" his voice annoyed

"I - I" you mutter out

"I'll get someone to move your stuff in. I want you and our baby safe"

"You want to keep the baby...." you say shocked

he finally sits beside you placing his hand on your thigh

"I should've done this a while ago I'm just not good at this kind of thing" he admits his intentions it was vague but you knew him well enough to know what he means

He means he should've made you and him official, you and him a family

4 months later........

You were 6 months pregnant with a girl katsuki's never been one to have much social media presents but the media has been gossiping about where his #1 side kick disappeared too.

You were out with Ochaco your bump unable to be hidden as you noticed the paparazzi snapping shots of the two of you

You haven't been in action for Bakugous agency now just doing the paperwork as you rarely leave home with how over protective he is

The articles came out with the photos of you being pregnant and now there's a new headliner since bakugou decided to retweet the post on his official Dynamight twitter account with no other context

"There going to find out eventually" he tells you at home later that night

A few more weeks go by and Deku, Shoto and Bakugou just finished a big mission your watching on TV as the press interview them on it

That's when a reporter asks bakugou

"Are you the father to 'your hero name' 's baby?"

"Of course I am" was all he said before the press go wild with questions none getting answered as you watch mouth open, wide eyed as him and the other hero's walk into a building leaving.

The broadcaster is back on the screen and with excited they say

"You heard it here folks the #2 pro hero Dynamight is having his first baby with 'your hero name' !!!!!"