#and the almost persona he tries to put on

[distort-opia]

*bursts through your window at 4AM wearing bloodied Hamlet costume* Hey Tort beloved i got you a whole chicken and an egg for breakfast:

Batman VS. Bruce Wayne— which one, in your opinion, is the person and which one is the persona? Realistically, when hell breaks loose on a good god abiding gotham day, which one could Bruce lose and still have his identity remain somewhat intact? I know different comics and media take complete separate parts of him as what makes him, but which one do you think makes Bruce Wayne who he is at heart?

Hi! You're not the first person to ask, so I'll put these two together. Thank you for the hearty breakfast and please accept these cakes as apology for how delayed this answer is (you and Anon both).

To be honest, I consider the question of "which one is real, which one is fake" as a bit overdone... and needlessly complicated. Especially because many times when people bring up the debate, they're thinking of "Brucie Wayne" and "Batman", with arguments of Batman being the real personality seemingly always correct and almost obvious. This oversimplifies things, because there's "Brucie Wayne", there's Batman, and then there's just Bruce.

Is the persona of "Brucie Wayne", the ditzy womanizing playboy with half a braincell, fake? Yes, absolutely. That one's a mask which serves the purpose of hiding the existence of Batman. But is that the same as Bruce Wayne, the man we see joke around with Alfred in the Cave, interact honestly with Dick and the Family and Talia and Selina and so many others-- the human underneath Batman? No, it isn't. That Bruce Wayne is very real. And Batman is not a separate persona or a mask, it's just another facet of the same person, borne out of Bruce Wayne's trauma. Batman is so many things... a coping mechanism, a way to commit suicide, the fantasy of who Bruce would like to be; but he's got roots within Bruce to such a fundamental extent that calling him a mask, or a persona, feels wrong to me. Batman is both the worst and the best of Bruce Wayne. There's no separating them... no matter how badly Bruce would like to make it that way.

Because Bruce has struggled (and still does) a lot, both with admitting to himself that there's more to him than the existence of Batman, and with maintaining a balance between the many personas he wears. "Batman is the real one, Bruce Wayne is fake" is something Bruce desperately wanted to believe and make real himself, in multiple stories. This is where this long-standing fandom belief probably stems from: from Bruce having convinced himself that "Bruce Wayne" is dead, and that there isn't anything left to him but Batman. Hell, Bruce has literally tried to "kill" Bruce Wayne and only be Batman in Bruce Wayne, Murderer? and Bruce Wayne, Fugitive; this is probably the story arc that dealt with this divide in Bruce's psyche in the most depth, I absolutely recommend giving it a read.

However, the more important thing is the why. Why this constant struggle? And it's a simple reason... maintaining ties to his humanity versus giving himself over entirely to the Vow. Batman was forged out of Bruce's pain, and is a response to loss. Batman is how Bruce channels his emotions into purpose. Batman will always want to never go through the loss of loved ones again, and the simplest solution to that is to never care again. Never have romantic relationships, maintain a distance from all the people in his life. But humans can't live like that. Bruce can't live like that, he needs grounding by the many relationships he does have, despite how much the side of him that's Batman pulls in the other direction. That's why Bruce Wayne, Fugitive ends like this:

And the thing is, we keep having the same story, over and over. Bruce nearly being consumed by Batman, and then finding his way back, most of the time with the help of his Family.

Here's another instance:

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #140

And another one, which so beautifully illustrates how Batman and Bruce Wayne are the same, but also how Batman contains a suicidal and self-destructive side of Bruce too:

Batman: Ego

(Lol. Yeah this is your life, man.)

But you could find an equal number of examples in which Bruce declares that "Bruce Wayne" is useless and disposable, and that Batman is the only thing that matters (e.g., Robin 1993 #125). Because again, this is comics. There's no finality in sight, no traditional ending that everything we read is heading towards. Bruce will keep doing this dance, will keep having to learn how to balance these two sides of himself. Most recently this happened in Zdarsky's Batman run, with the conflict between Bruce and the Batman of Zur-en-Arrh... but don't even get me started on that utter disappointment.

Actually though, @psalmsofpsychosis, this part of your question is quite interesting: "Realistically, when hell breaks loose on a good god abiding gotham day, which one could Bruce lose and still have his identity remain somewhat intact?" Because there have been times of crisis in which this has happened, in comics. And what Bruce did is probably not what you'd expect. This answer got long enough though, so I'm putting the rest under the cut.

Bruce has gone through a lot. There's been many catastrophic-level events he's dealt with. And at first glance, you'd think that he'd consistently fall back on Batman, if that's who he "really" is. But when his will genuinely breaks, that isn't what always happens. In Batman: Cult, a story that takes place towards the end of Bruce's first decade as Batman, after Jason became Robin, shows that Bruce can give up:

Batman: The Cult

Bruce abandons Gotham, and with it, Batman. Obviously, he eventually comes back. But it had to be Jason dragging him around for half this issue just to make him fight, just to make him function. (Much earlier than this, in Going Sane, he also considered just leaving Batman behind. But that story is deeply intertwined with Joker's identity as much as his, so I'm just mentioning it.)

And then Barbara gets shot, Jason dies, Bane goes after Batman in the Knightfall arc... it's just one thing after the other for the poor guy. Knightfall and its continuations are very extensive and many things happen, but after Bruce's spine is broken, he leaves Jean-Paul Valley in the role of Batman. And even after Bruce's injuries get healed, making a previously proclaimed goal of becoming Batman again much easier, he tells Tim that he doesn't want to come back. That he wants to stay retired, and "rejoin humanity":

Batman: Knightquest

Tim has to tell him of a crime that Azrael as Batman did, which is impossible to ignore... and Bruce has to confront Jean-Paul and see the truth of him having gone mad himself, before he decides to retrain and "become worthy" of his Batman identity once more.

Then, in a much bigger and well-known storyline that follows the Cataclysm event, Batman disappears for months. No Man's Land starts with a world in which Bruce has been away in Monaco trying to be someone else, instead of in Gotham, being Batman and taking control of the wrecked city which had been abandoned by all. Oh he comes back, but still...

No Man's Land: Ground Zero

So. Batman isn't his "real" identity, it isn't the core of him. Many times, he's wanted to run away and leave Batman behind, just like in some stories he was ready to completely destroy the "Bruce Wayne" identity and only be Batman. But in times of crisis, he repeatedly tried to leave and find happiness outside of Gotham and carrying the mantle of Batman... without succeeding.

Sometimes, Bruce hates Batman, and tries to run away. And other times, Batman hates Bruce, and tries to destroy him. It's a constant give-and-take, and neither facet of him has managed to succeed so far, because Bruce is Batman. There's no one without the other.

[transfloppa]

been thinking alot about their dynamic agaim... hfgdgjf

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 00

CATCH ME, I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, chaotic fluff, smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan, RUMORS isn’t related to anything that happens in this series

word count ┊ 798

author’s note ┊ YAY i finally wrote it! i really love the fake dating/marriage convenience trope and i’ve been itching to write it with kenji. this is highly inspired by one my favorite books of all time, terms & conditions by lauren asher! if you enjoy fake dating i highly recommend reading it. as mentioned at the top, this is only the prologue! i'll be putting out part one and the series masterlist asap hehe... as always, happy reading!

prev. | next

SOMETIMES YOU WONDERED IF ANYTHING YOU SAID EVER STUCK WITH KEN. For the past year and a half, you had the supposed “dream life” that every assistant yearned for. It confused you, really, as you tried to ponder on what part of your job was envious. Were the late nights drafting NDA breaches so desirable? What about the press statements after altercations, were those résumé worthy? You let out a deep sigh as you watched Ken from the TV in his dressing room, crossing your arms as you sunk deeper into the couch.

He was on a press tour for his latest collaboration, his overconfident persona charming everyone left and right. You had to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes when he used his signature flair to charm the show’s host. At least he was sticking to the script… for the most part. He wore the product, threw in a few adlibs, and of course, flirted. Be it a talk show host or a random photographer on the street, Ken always found a way to leave people smitten with him- save except you. 

It’s not like you were actively trying to hate him, he just made it so easy. At first you thought it was just some awkward phase, like he was just trying to adjust to working with a new team. But then he just kept doing the same things over and over again. A brawl with an opposing team member? Just another Sunday night. A rumor about having a fling with yet another supermodel? Sounds just about right. 

“I mean of course I have to thank my team,” Ken’s voice cut through your train of thought. “It was a dream of mine to play for the Giants as a kid, now I actually get to do it.”

Tone it down, asshole. You thought to yourself, noting the sarcasm laced in his words. Of course the general public wouldn’t have caught on, but you had no doubt his coach and the other players would. Then again, he’d been relatively untouchable because of his rank in the sports world. You poked your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head as you sat through the rest of his interview. The clock on the wall counted down the remaining time, the bright red numbers casting a reflection on the screen. Two minutes left, and all he had to do was to keep the act up…

…Until he didn’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was about to happen next. 

“Now I don’t want to hold here any longer, but you know I have to ask it,” The host teased, almost like an overexcited child ready to tattle. “Any special someone back home?” 

Ken chuckled, just like he usually did when asked the question. “Cheeky question,” He paused and grinned, his eyebrow raised slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. “What if there was?” 

“Well, is there?” The host pushed, his tone eager to have the Ken Sato answer such a juicy question. He gestured toward the crowd before he continued. “I mean there are a lot of fans here today who would love to know more…” 

“Yeah? And if I said yes, then what?” He replied, his smile growing brighter and his eyes shining. 

The crowd cheered even harder, itching to find out the truth. You shared the same sentiments, trying to figure out what the hell Ken was up to now. Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, why didn’t anyone know about it? You stood up straight now, your right hand deathly gripping the remote. What the hell do you have up your sleeve, Kenji Sato? Your inner voice seemed to yell as you waited for him to speak up. 

“I mean only time will tell, yeah?” The host replied, leaning back in his seat. “C’mon Ken, it’s not nice to keep secrets.”

Ken mimicked the host’s moves, leaning back into his sofa chair as well. He shrugged his shoulders, licking his lips as he fiddled with his fingers. He bit the inside of his cheek, and though it was brief you caught it. You knew that look; his look of contemplation. Your grip on the remote was still taut as your breathing seemed to quicken the longer he waited. Granted it was only a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours. 

He tilted his head slightly then, his eyes staring directly at the camera. It slowly zoomed closer to focus entirely on him, and he let out a small laugh before he finally replied. His gaze was strong, and it almost felt like he was actually looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He finally said, throwing in a lovesick smile for good measure. “And she’s the best damn thing in my life right now.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Pushover!König trying to make Virgin!Reader get ready to his size by using smaller toys on her first before getting to the main course? 👀

He can't even use his fingers - the size is just too big for your tight, twitching little pussy. You were whispering so much when he first tried to loosen you up on just one digit that he swore to never touch you like this again before you could learn to at least take bullet toys inside without sobbing from overstimulation. He has to open you up on his tongue, lapping at your cunt with his big and flat tongue, making sure that you're wet enough for him to slip a toy inside. You're always so sensitive from his mouth alone, always whimpering and grabbing his mask as he is way too shy to be devouring you with his pleasure-filled face open. Konig doesn't want you to know just how much he gets off, making you cum over and over again and tasting the sweet juices of your tender parts. He wants to maintain his tough persona, even though you know he wouldn't ever be rough with you, even if you begged him for it. This guy is way too gentle and obsessed with making you feel good...and making sure you came so much you weren't able to walk the next day.

He is so unbelievably soft when he is with you, it's almost insane just how much you like it - even if you're too tight for your first time, you still accept his fingers and the small vibrators he shows inside so you could feel a bit more aroused. He had to tie you up so you won't run the moment he is putting more than a single digit in, but it's just the price of his love...and of course, he wants you to have the best experience - as unwilling as you may be. You're lucky he is such a softie for you. Not all kidnappers are so kind - but Konig uses the best ropes to tie your wrists to the bedpost and lets you lay on the softest pillows as he slowly prepares your pussy for the main course. You are not able to take him after the first attempt at relaxing, of course, stretching you up is a slow and careful process, but he is more than willing to fuck your soft hips and spread his cum all over your tummy if he can't push it inside of your pussy. Maybe, he would even aim for your labia next - just so he could use his cum as lube for another long round of fingering and toys usage on your poor tight hole.

[wonbin-truther]

jisung cursed under his breath that you decided to move into a building with no elevator. the walk to the 5th floor was usually never a struggle for the fit idol. it only became one when he had his drunk girlfriend on his back, both arms hooked under your knees as your heels hung off the tips of his fingers. your head was buried in his crook of his neck with your eyes closed. he knew u werent asleep by the soft incoherent words you would mumble out from time to time.

before the two of you went out jisung assured you to have as much fun as you wanted to for the both of you since he had a schedule the next morning and couldn't drink. he watched as you downed shot after shot. as you stumbled around, jisung decided it was time to call an uber and head back to your apartment. he finally made it to your door and tried to fish in his back pocket for the key to your apartment you had given him years prior. he lifted you a little higher on his back as he slid the hand with the keys out from under your thighs. he felt you slip down right away and quickly fumbled with the keys, jiggling them inside the lock and turning it. once he heard the click and it slid open, he pushed open the door and put his arm back under your knee.

he walked in, closing the door with his foot and flicking on the light switch with his elbow. he dropped your heels down and kicked his own off before venturing further into your apartment. he went into the bathroom and set you down on toilet bowl lid as he filled the bath up, keeping a hand in to feel the water temperature. he shut it off and turned to you, "ready baby?" you nodded and sat there as he carefully slid your mini skirt off and untied the ties of your top. he fully undressed you and helped you into the bathtub. you sat there with your knees to your chest as he ran the shampoo and conditioner through your hair and washed it out. once he was sure you were clean he helped you stand up, wrapping a towel around your body and leading you into your room by the hand that wasn't holding your towel closed.

you were always very quiet when you were drunk, a total opposite from your usual loud and cheerful persona. jisung loved taking care of you in this state. he thinks it's from years of being called the baby and being looked after but he couldn't be too sure. it could also be the fact he was still so deeply in love with you after almost 5 years of dating.

you sat on the edge of the bed as jisung collected your hairbrush and the blowdryer, settling behind you. he brushed out your hair, apologizing after every tug on a knot, and dried it just enough it wouldn't drip down your back and soak the pillows. he rummaged around your closet for a pair of your underwear and one of his oversized tshirts to put you in. he dressed you and left a kiss on the top of your head, "wait here my love." he exited the room and came back with makeup wipes in his hand.

"noo," you whined out as he sat on the bed again, laying your head into his lap. you didn't fight against him though, letting your eyes close as he rubbed the remaining makeup off. "you'll be mad in the morning if i don't baby. i'll be quick."

he sat you up with an 'all done'. jisung thought you were pretty all the time but as he stared at you right now he truly thought you were absolutely gorgeous. his t-shirt hung off your shoulder as your freshly bare face revealed the flush from the alcohol, along with freckles and beauty marks scattered across your skin. he put the wipes on your bedside table, making a mental note to put them away tomorrow morning.

he changed into his own pjs which were kept in one of your drawers for the late nights he spent at your place, which was quite often. he slid into his assigned side of the bed. you were already curled under a mountain of blankets but shifted into his arms when he was fully settled next to you. he made sure to hold you tight, running his long fingers through your hair.

"i love you ji," you mumbled, sleep dropping off your voice.

"i love you so much more baby."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Dick, and Jason reacting to his gn crush asking him as they're so worried (as his hero persona) if he has seen him & described him while not knowing his secret identity?

Jason wanted nothing more than to tell you to go home, that it was not safe for you to be out this late at night and worried half out of your mind.

He just wanted you somewhere he’d knew you would be safe or could get to in quick timing should something ever happen, which was why when you tried calling his -red hood’s- name, he tried to ignore you but found himself unable to hear you cry out in desperation any longer and looked at you silently as you got closer to him.

‘I’m sorry to bother you but Have- have you seen my friend Jason?’ You ask with tears in your eyes.

‘There’s a lot of Jason’s in Gotham sweetheart, you’re going to be more specific.’ He replied and curses himself for how harsh he might’ve came across. He’ll punch himself later for being a dick to you later.

You dig a hand into your pocket and drew out a picture of yourself and him the night before -unknown to you- he was told about tonight’s patrol. Jason has no clue why you had that moment photographed, nothing special happened other then you two hanging out like you usually did, but knew he was one to talk when he had photos of you and him saved on his phone when he was feeling the need to see your face.

‘He’s six two, male, dark hair with a patch of white in the front, beautiful eyes that have specks of a mystical looking green, almost like their glowing half the time- I’m getting off track sorry. It’s- It’s just I’m worried about him as he promised to text me when he got home, but he never did and I’m scared that something has happened to him.’ You reply to the intimidating vigilante who looked as still as a statue.

‘I can’t loose him.’ You continue as tears streak down your face as your mind poisoned itself into thinking that Jason was dead or slowly dying in an alleyway or an abandoned warehouse and you couldn’t get to him and it killed your in ways you couldn’t describe. ‘Please, I know you’ve probably got better things then to search for a mission person but-‘ you pause to catch your breath when you felt as though your chest was being crushed slowly- ‘I don’t know who else to go to for help.’ You finished, biting down on your wobbling lower lip to prevent another sob from escaping as your eyes blur with tears.

Jason, feeling his heart break the second he saw tears, remembered where he was and who he was in that moment and brought a hand out towards you to place awkwardly on your shoulder, giving it a tight reassuring squeeze as he struggled to not admit to everything then and there if it meant soothing your heart. ‘I shall try my best to help you find your friend, until then you should get off the streets and head home, the nightlife of Gotham isn’t for everyone.’

‘What about you?’ You asked him, wiping away your tears with the sleeves of your shirt.

‘I do it so no one else has to.’ Jason or Red Hood replies softly and to wasn’t until now that you felt a sense of familiarity from the vigilante, but waves it off as some sort of projection you were putting on him in place of Jason. Why? Maybe you’d were in need of reassurance from your friend but couldn’t get that when you were unsure as to where he was without feeeing the worse.

So you look for the next best thing who happened to be a vigilante strapped to the nines with artillery, built like a brick shit house, wears a ruby red helmet and most likely six two, pushing six three with his boots.

‘That’s…’

‘Sad? Pathetic? I’ve heard it all-‘

‘Brave.’ You said interrupting him as Jason felt his heart pick up at your appraisal. Your kind words often took him off guard more often than not but it was something he loved about you more than anything. ‘Admirable even but you should look after yourself.’ You added, struggling to form a smile and Jason wanted nothing more then to hold you in his arms and tell you he was okay, but knew that he’d be putting you in more trouble than not if he did such a thing.

‘Can’t promise anything in this line of work I’m afraid,’ Jason said, ‘but I promise to try and find your friend, no matter what.’ He adds and finds himself smiling behind his mask when you gave him the first genuine smile of the night.

‘Thank you red hood, thank you.’ You cried as you lunged towards him and hugged him tightly, a sense of relief flooding your system almost immediately when you were in his arms. Jason on the other hand just wanted the night to end so that he could get out of his attire and sneak over to your apartment, just to show you that he was okay.

‘Don’t sweat it.’ He mutters under his breath, sometimes hating the life he lives if it meant worrying you half to death.

Dick:

‘Nightwing!’

Dick’s head moved fast at the sound of your voice, something he has just noticed himself doing recently, and felt the need to drop everything just to make sure you were okay.

‘That’s my name, hey are you okay? You know you shouldn’t be out here at night. It’s not safe.’ He tells you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

‘I know that but I was looking for my friend.’ You said to him.

‘And who’s your friend, maybe I can help.’ Dick replies, wanting to do anything he could in his power to keep you out of danger however he could. He didn’t want you to do something reckless and end up getting yourself hurt or even killed over it and he wasn’t anywhere near to prevent it from happening.

‘Dick. Dick Grayson.’ You told him and Dick felt his stomach drop. Him, you were looking for him? Why? ‘He hasn’t answered my calls or texts recently and I’ve gotten worried that something might’ve happened.’ You added as you showed him -nightwing- a picture of himself and Hayley from a couple of days ago. He didn’t know you had taken the photo but the way you did made it look like something taken by a professional photographer.

‘And so your best course of action was to take to the streets of a dangerous city filled with criminals and gangs alike in hopes of finding him?’ Dick asked rhetorically.

You shrugged, never having gave your plan any deeper thought since making it to realise how dangerous it might’ve been to wander Gotham at the dead of night, where crime was most likeliest to be committed. ‘That was the idea.’

Dick sighs. ‘No. What you’re going to do now is go home and leave to finding your devilishly handsome friend to me.’

‘But thi-‘ dick placed his hands on your shoulders and flashed you a reassuring smile. ‘I promise to give your friend a right good scolding for ignoring your texts and calls and to not worry you so often…just let me take it from here, okay?’

You look at nightwing and found yourself trusting this man more than you’d ever have trusted anyone else in your life and sighing. ‘Okay…I just didn’t want to bother you-‘

‘And you’re not bothering me, not at all.’ Dick reassured as he rubs your shoulders in a way that felt weirdly intimate between strangers whom have never met before. ‘I know Gotham like the back of my hand. So I’ll be able to narrow down the places where your friend might be and have him at your doorstep by morning. I promise.’ He finishes lowly as he stares you deeply in your eyes.

‘Okay. I shall leave it to you.’ You told him and dick felt relief in knowing that you were going to be safe and away from all harm. He hated that he was the reason you’d risk doing something such as searching Gotham for him at the dead of night, but he’d rather have you safe then do something risky.

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑽𝑰𝑷 𝑨𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔

Part Two: Premium Access

Park Seonghwa X afab!gn!reader

Summary: You finally get railed backstage by your boyfriend while he's still in his stage persona.

WC: 2.3k

CW: Smut, filthy ass smut, fluffy aftercare, no gendered names are used on the reader

Smut warnings: Kissing, dirty talk, mild degradation, backstage sex, spit play, oral sex, (idol receiving) face fucking. (reader receiving), hair pulling (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), unprotected PIV sex, breast play (reader receiving) orgasms for both

Hwa uses names on reader (Slut, baby, jagi, fucktoy, gorgeous)

AN: Ever since I saw the pictures and videos from Towards the Light D-1, I wanted SO BAD to write a one shot about it (I'm so weak for this man, oh my fucking God-)

@shinestarhwaa made a fic about this already (this one) so please go read it, it's amazing 💜

Since you'd started dating Seonghwa, you'd wanted him to rail you while he was still in his stage persona.

And honestly, who wouldn't?

He turned into a creature of intensity, a force of nature.

A demon.

And yet, in all your time together, you'd never gotten the chance. Usually, Seonghwa and his members were wiped out after a show, so most times, it wouldn't happen regardless.

Aside from that, you nor the members could convince the staff to let you or anyone else backstage. It was an understandable obstacle, but still annoying.

Until tonight.

Somehow, the stars aligned, and you were finally given VIP access to see your boyfriend and his members backstage.

You were backstage for the entire performance, and fuck, you were floored.

The boys had kept everything secret from you, you didn't know anything about their performance. So seeing Seonghwa's dance was an unbelievable surprise.

And a pleasant one at that. One that had you soaked through to your pants.

The whole concert, you were of course, proud of your boyfriend and the other members, seeing them clearly enjoy being performers, and do it really fucking well.

But you were also incredibly fucking horny for your boyfriend.

The concert felt like it was years instead of hours. Years until your boyfriend came backstage, panting heavily, drenched in sweat, with that goddamn top, whatever it’s called.

Seonghwa had never looked hotter.

He pulled out his ear monitors, looking around the backstage area, until he finally found you by the dressing rooms. His eyes zeroed in on you, and shivers ran all over your body as he stalked up to you like a predator cornering his prey.

Seonghwa took you in his arms and kissed you, hard, pushing you against a door. You squeaked in surprise as you reached up to grab onto his arms, but by then, the door was opening, and you two were stumbling inside.

As soon as the door was slammed and locked shut, you were pressed back against it, Seonghwa's hands all over your body. Your hands went up to run all over his chest and stomach. This damn shirt they put him in left little to the imagination.

(Just how I like it)

You ran your hands up to push the short jacket off his shoulders, which he quickly tossed somewhere in the room, and then he pinned your hands against the door above your head.

“Quit moving,” he commanded against your lips, pressing his body up against yours. A whimper leaves your lips before he kisses you again, forcing his tongue in and down your throat.

You squirmed in his grip as you pressed your thighs together. Seonghwa noticed it and groaned as he pulled back. “You don't wanna listen tonight?”

“Hwa, I'm soaked, I-” You tried to protest, but he forced your mouth open, pushing his thumb past your lips and holding your tongue down, spitting down your throat, and forcing your mouth closed after.

“That's not what I asked,” he said lowly, his lips hovering over yours. “Now swallow.”

You were almost embarrassed at how your heart fluttered as you swallowed.

Seonghwa pulled you away from the door and forced you onto your knees as he sat down on the couch. You watched as he wiggled his pants down to his thighs to free his painfully hard cock from the tight confines. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and you moved closer between his spread legs.

“So eager to have my cock, baby?” Seonghwa asked, slowly pumping himself a few times. “Is that what you thought about while watching me? That you wanted me inside you?”

You nodded enthusiastically with a whimper, shifting around again, trying to relieve some of the pressure between your thighs. Seonghwa couldn't help but smirk as he took his other hand and pulled you close.

“Get to work then.”

You didn't need to be told twice.

You leaned forward and took the first half of him into your mouth, reaching up to pump the half that wasn't. You watched as Seonghwa rolled his eyes back and groaned at the contact, gripping onto your hair. He guided you up and down, having no patience (or time) to go slow today.

“You can take it,” he muttered. “Good sluts can take this. You wanna be good, don't you?”

You nodded and hummed around him, moving your head faster and sucking harder. You pressed your tongue against him and he shivered under you, biting his lip, stifling the groans that were growing more whiny.

What you didn't know is that Seonghwa was thinking about this during the entire performance.

Especially during his solo dance with the chair. Thinking about fucking up into your mouth, imagining how you’d gag when he did, seeing the spit and cum dribble down your chin, the tears on your cheeks.

You choked as he did just as Seonghwa imagined, and your hands flew up to cling onto his thighs. He looked down and smirked, seeing exactly what he wanted to see.

“That’s it, there we go,” he groaned, gripping onto your hair with both hands, shallowly fucking your throat. You kept your head still as he did, making yourself breathe through your nose instead.

Seonghwa slowly worked up to moving his hips faster, pushing deeper, fucking into your throat with reckless abandon. Tears freely fell from your eyes with every choke and gag, your whole neck covered in the mess that spilled down. Seonghwa kept his eyes trained on you, trying to keep quiet.

You were too, and not just because you were choking on his cock.

You were thoroughly soaked, all the way through, and it was beginning to grow painful. You slipped your hand inside your pants to rub your clit, moaning at the relief. But Seonghwa heard it.

He yanked you off his cock and sat up to look at you, and you froze with your hand still down your pants. Seonghwa couldn’t help but smirk.

“Getting yourself off while you choke on my cock? You’re filthy today, jagi.”

He pulled you off the floor and onto his lap, smashing his lips onto yours while his hands fumbled to get your pants and underwear off. You helped him get them off, and he flung them both somewhere in the room, joining his discarded jacket on the floor.

Before they even hit the floor. Seonghwa was running his fingers along your cunt, teasing your entrance. “Oh, look at you,” he murmured against your lips. “You’re fucking soaked. I really did that to you?” He couldn’t help but smirk, his tongue poking out from between his teeth,

“Yes, Hwa, you do. You always do.”

“No, this is more than usual.” He pushed two fingers inside and your body lit up in fire. “I bet you fuck yourself at home when you watch me perform if you’re this wet for me when I’m on stage. Do you, little slut?”

He pumped his fingers inside you with a brutal speed, which was easy with how much slick was pouring out of you. “Do you? Or did you not hear me because you’re already fucked out?”

“I do!” You cried out as he curled his fingers into your spot. “I do, Hwa, you’re so fucking hot!”

“I know I am, jagi.”

Seonghwa pulled his hand away and leaned back, holding his cock up for you. You didn’t need him to tell you what to do.

“Come o-” He cut off with a choke, throwing his head back as you slowly sunk down onto him. He didn’t pick his head back up until you were flush against his lap, making some of his hair fall over his half closed eyes.

“So eager,” he breathed, gripping onto your hips. “Go on then, fuck me like you want to so badly.”

And that’s exactly what you ended up doing.

You gripped onto his shoulders and fucked him like you never had before. The fire in your bones burned hotter than it ever had, dropping down on him hard enough that people outside undoubtedly could hear the sinful noises you made.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes back again, then smiled as he closed his eyes, melting back into the couch. “Fuck, that’s good. Keep it up, jagi.” His fingers dug into your hips, seemingly trying to pull you down even harder. You whimpered as you struggled to fuck him harder despite the burning feeling creeping into your thighs.

The effort you were putting in was already making you tremble. But hearing Seonghwa let out all those groans, watching him smile and bite his lip, his tongue peeking out every now and again, it motivated you to keep going.

It also made you clench down on him.

Seonghwa gasped when he felt it. “God, what are you thinking about, clenching like that?” He looked up at you and you whimpered again, all words leaving you. He knew what he did to you, and he loved it. “Come on, tell me.”

He pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you tight against him while he leaned back on the couch and spread his legs to fuck into you instead.

“Tell me what’s in your filthy little brain,” he whispered, his lips pressed up against your ear.

But you couldn’t form words with how he was pounding into you. Hell, you could hardly form a thought. All that came out was whiny babbles and cries as you clung onto him, your nails digging into his skin. You felt Seonghwa shiver as you did.

“Such a good baby,” he muttered. “So good taking my cock, all in your pretty hole, being my good little fucktoy.”

His words made you clench tighter and cry out louder, tears forming in your eyes. Seonghwa choked and whined. His resolve was crumbling, you were breaking him down.

Seonghwa suddenly flipped you and put you down on your back, spreading your legs wide, pushing them back up to your chest before he went back to fucking you. He was as deep as he possibly could be, hitting the sweet spot inside you every time he went back in.

“That’s it, jagi, take it all,” he muttered, starting to ramble, his words slurring together. He was panting now, his pupils blown out, all composure he had thrown out the damn window. His tongue rolled out of his mouth, and the sight alone nearly made you come right then.

Seonghwa slipped his hands under your shirt and ripped it off, stripping you down until you were bare, then dove down to your chest and ran his tongue over your skin. You cried out again as his mouth wrapped around one nipple and his hand came up to play with the other.

You clenched down tighter, nearly sobbing at this point. When you dared to look down, you squeaked. He looked up at you as he ravished your chest, his eyes half closed, his tongue sliding all over before his mouth closed around the nub again. All the whines and breathy moans he let out were only bringing you closer and closer.

Your climax was right there, so close, you just needed a little bit of a push. Seonghwa knew what it was, he was right there with you.

He reached down with his free hand and rubbed your clit. It was only seconds from there that you came all over him, screaming his name, sobbing, clinging onto his hair like you’d fall out of existence if you did.

Seonghwa came right after you did, pulling back from your chest to let out the prettiest, whiniest moans as he rolled his eyes back, pumping you full of his release, riding it out as he chanted your name.

You both sat panting for a while before Seonghwa finally pulled out of you. He reached out and held your cheek, wiping away the remaining tears. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, not at all,” you mumbled, your brain still mush. Seonghwa smiled, sharing the same sentiment. His brain was fried after today.

He helped you sit up, and you both cleaned up as best you could before you got redressed.

After you did, Seonghwa pulled you into his arms and hugged you tight. You laid your head on his chest, and his heart was still pounding loudly against his ribs. You smiled as you nuzzled into his skin, squeezing him tight.

“I wish we could do that more often,” you said softly. Seonghwa laughed and shook his head.

“This took everything out of me, I feel like I’m gonna pass out right here.”

“Then let me take care of it next time.” You looked up at him, and he looked down at you, his eyes still doubtful. “I don’t mind. I like it when you’re the bottom anyway.” His cheeks turned red as he looked away, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I mean, maybe, I don’t-”

Hongjoong threw the door open at that point, glaring at both of you. Your heart stopped dead in your chest as you clung onto Seonghwa.

“Seriously?! This is why we can’t have people backstage!” Hongjoong threw up his hands and tilted his head back, his tone exasperated. “Seonghwa, get to your dressing room, we’ve been waiting for you!”

“Okay okay, fine, breathe, Hongjoong.” Seonghwa pulled away from you, but leaned back to hold your cheek and press a sweet kiss to your lips. It was over far too soon, but he smiled at you as he pulled away. “I’ll see you later, gorgeous.”

As much as you hated watching him walk away with Hongjoong, you knew you’d be back in his arms tonight. And you could have your sexy, talented, adorable, sweet demon boyfriend all to yourself.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[redr0sewrites]

Adam x Reader General Hcs

HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR HIM HES JUST SO. AUGAHGEHEG. i love him. characterizing him is so fun, but so challenging at the same time.

🥀 Cw: adam being adam, sfw + nsfw hcs, smut, breeding kink

🥀minors dni with the nsfw portion

sfw:

Adam is more prone to casual flings and hookups, hes def not huge on relationships and longterm partners

this means that if your with him, you must be pretty special bc hes a huge ass handful

while he is a pretty big douche, adam is definitely loyal imo

deep down, hes still pretty insecure about both lilith and eve, and im a firm believer that he would never cheat on a partner if he was in a serious relationship

adam comes up with very.... interesting nicknames for you that are 10x more vulgar than the ones he uses for everyone else

hes HUGE on nicknames and petnames in general, at the start of a relationship theyre pretty crude and flirty but over time they start to become sweeter

sugartits, doll, sweet cheeks, bitch boy/babe, babycakes, BAE, lemondrop (idk it just fits), mama/mami, honeytits, honestly anything that comes to mind

adam likes to put "my" in front of most of your petnames, its not so much in a possessive way, moreso in a bragging way, he just loves telling the world that your HIS

he also definitely calls you bro, brah, dude, etc he doesn't care that it "doesnt sound romantic" 💀

adam finds the MOST unhinged things hilarious, hes the type to watch those ten hour long youtube videos of a spinning potato chip and laugh every ten seconds

speaking of, he has one of those loud, booming laughs with a slight wheeze to it

"BAAHAHAHAHAH BAE COME HERE LOOK AT THIS HAHA" and its just a low quality video of a water bottle falling over???

100% a shitty pickup line user

and also a shitty flirter in general

his flirting is just

obnoxious

adam is very proud of you, when the two of you officially got together he probably called half of heaven to announce that you two were dating

"THATS MY PARTNER‼️‼️‼️" type of vibes

adam acts like he isnt big on cuddles bit is secretly the clingiest, most touch starved person alive

PLEASE let him hold you, this man is tall af and loves just swallowing you in an embrace

when he was "courting" you (irritating you constantly and flirting with you obnoxiously until you caught on that he was serious) the biggest tell that his feelings were genuine was the amount of physical contact he initiated

adam was always leaning on you, throwing an arm over your shoulder, resting a hand on your thigh, hooking his arm through yours, overall invading your personal space

he was incredibly happy to FINALLY be able to cuddle with you when you both got together, and HAS to fall asleep touching you in some way every night

adam is almost always wearing his exterminator helmet, but he really likes it when you take it off for him at the end of the day. even he doesn't really understand why, but there's something so intimate to him about the fact that you love his real face more than the persona he puts on

he would rather die than admit it tho

hes not good at words or communication in general, and prefers to express his appreciation through actions

he brings you foods that he knows you like on days where you're especially busy, he gives you song recommendations that he'll think you'll like, he'll buy you a trinket he saw you eyeing at the store, just tiny things like that

adam genuinely does care about you, but as per his usual adam-ness, he would rather go bald than live up to that 💀

nsfw:

you cant tell me this man isnt kinky as shit

hes tried pretty much everything

HE LOVES TO HIT FROM THE BACK, DEF LIKES DOGGY STYLE

i also think he would like the mating press too, getting to watch your face as he wrecks you while also having the opportunity to leave bites all over your thighs, and feel them tremble as he fucks you? sign him up!

his dick is big big

i think hed be a little thicker than average, with a few veins running up the underside, but its his length that's downright heavenly

adam keeps himself pretty well groomed, but has a prominent happy trail and light fuzz at the very base of his cock

listen, this is the first man we're talking about, he KNOWS what hes doing

whether you're male or female, he will go down on you

once he buries himself between your thighs youre done for, adam barely comes up for air as he devours you

hes def sloppy w it too, loves when you cum on his face so he can lick it up

enjoys it when you return the favor as well, i actually think hed really realy like receiving head

would def fuck your face until your drooling

if you hve an oral fixation, you're in luck bc he LOVES watching you suck his dick, his fingers, anything really

adam always makes you lick and suck his fingers before fingering you, and will sometimes trigger your gag reflex by shoving them down your throat to watch you gasp and whine

adam has STAMINA, expect to stay up all night bc this man will stop at nothing to make sure you're both satisfied

i swear this man is built to breed, he has a HUGE breeding kink and goes crazy at the sight of his cum dripping from your hole. even if it's physically impossible for you to get pregnant, adam still babbles about "fucking a prety little babe" into you when he cums

adam likes using plugs to make sure his cum stays inside you, he'll also finger it back inside and loves smearing his cum on your thighs and ass

he also brings his fingers up to your face and has you lick the cum off of them

LOOOVEEEESSS marking you, by the end of the night youre always covered in bruises and scratches and hickeys galore

i love adam guys yes ik hes a douche but hes my douche <3

i wish i characterized him better but whateverrrrrr i dont want to write him as a total asshole but hes def not an angel either (haha im so funny💀)

[thesuperiorrobin]

𝐈𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥~

Pairing: Husband!Damian Wayne x Wife!Reader

Word count: 759

Warning: suggestive at the very end

People know you and Damian belong together, no doubt about it. With making your relationship public and years later your marriage, which was also the talking gossip around Gotham for a month or two, everyone knows. But some people are too stubborn to the fact, you learn that very early in your relationship when women would just throw themselves at your lover's arm clinging to him as he tries to pray them off with an annoying expression, thinking that the son of Bruce Wayne would have the same Playboy persona just like his father, but they’re wrong forgetting the Damian Wayne is in fact, the most loyal man when it had came down to your dating and now marriage.

He would rather be with you than any other woman on earth, and for some, it was hard to face reality. You’re grown used to it over the years. But sometimes it just grows a spark inside of you. Much like tonight, in the Wayne manor that now belongs to the two of you. After Bruce’s retirement, it’s now Damian’s job to throw those galas and charity events, much to his dismay.

Secretly you do the work because he wasn’t given the gift of organization at all. So now you stand back, watching everyone. Happy with the way the nights going as you sip on your glass of champagne, it’s different front the rest. Damian thinks you deserve better than the champagne and wine that’s given out to the others. You spot his brothers in the crowd and other familiar faces that belong to a few close friends. The last face you spot was your husband, chatting away with men from his workplace. A forced smile on his face. It makes you chuckle, as a kid he hated them, and even as an adult he still does. But it’s more tolerable, well kinda.

You spot a random woman stumbling towards the ground of men, obviously sober as she tries to act intoxicated for the hell of it. She leaps for Damian’s arm that’s on his side, ignoring the one that holds his drink. He doesn’t shake her off, instead, he lets out a fake laugh along with the others around him.

That’s new you thought.

This went on for more than ten minutes which was a surprise. Normally it would’ve taken him less than five to shake them off, but instead, he’s standing there letting it happen. Which was a surprise. They’re having conversations, sometimes other people would chime in here and there.

Damian says something you can’t hear, and the woman laughs, giggling loudly to the point where you can hear her from the other side of the room. She laughs like it was the funniest thing she’s heard all night.

The horrendous laughter dies down, and she stares. Directly at you. She stares at you with a sly grin that paints her red lips. You frown and glare, gripping your glass. Almost breaking it until one of the servants comes up to you and offers you another drink, which you gladly take without a second thought.

The glare you send is hard, most people can sense it, the chilling aura that spills from you. Damian’s quick to sense it, he’s good at it, with a quick look towards you as you stare down at his arm— he gives you a genuine grin. He shakes off the women.

“Apologies. My presence is needed elsewhere” he gives a side eye down “with my wife” The woman was not happy, pouting as he watched her target leave her sight. But she puts on a facade and leaves, probably off to find another arm to cling on.

There’s a shit-eating grin plaster on his face when he walks up to you, and all you could do is roll your eyes—taking a big sip out of your drink in your hand.

“Zawjati?” he called out “Why are you here all by yourself?”

“You just seemed a little busy with your groups of friends” you hum “I didn’t want to ruin it”

The grin on his face softens, arm stretched out towards you, and you take his warm hand without a second thought. “Don’t be jealous” he chuckles “Everyone knows I’m all yours”

“Why would I be jealous?” You scuff, he was right but you would never admit that to his face. You lean into him closer, bringing him down to your level—lips brushing up against his ear “When I’m the one that ends up taking you straight to the bedroom right after every time”

[mydear-corinthian]

Attention || Thomas Shelby x reader

Synopsis: You're a jazz singer and you were invited to Tommy's brother's wedding and you caught his attention Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader Warnings: SMUT +18, unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, dirty talk Notes: Rushed Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

SMUT AHEAD

The newlywed couple, John and Esme Shelby, and their guests gathered on the dance floor to dance while you sang in front of the audience. Swaying your hips to the song's melody, your hands clutched the metallic microphone and locked eyes with the audience.

You had previously attended countless weddings, so being asked to one was not a new experience for you. However, receiving an invitation from the prominent Shelby family? That was an altogether unusual situation, laced with both thrill and fear. You were thoroughly familiar with the Shelby family's reputation, understanding all aspects of their business transactions, the shady realm of their crimes, and the mysterious personas that disguised each member of the family in mystery.

While singing, you noticed that all the Shelby siblings were on the dance floor except for one: Thomas Shelby. He was alone on a big round table, a glass of whiskey in front of him while his lips were decorated by his cigarette. You didn't even noticed that he was looking at you, his ocean-like eyes locking to yours. 

The jazz band had finally finished their performance, and while your bandmates mingled around the large round table, chatting and enjoying drinks, you found yourself lingering behind the stage, separated from them. Memories of the way the gangster had looked at you replayed in your mind, causing a flutter of nerves to dance in your stomach. Butterflies swirled within you, making it impossible to shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in.

Exhaling, you tried to forget his eyes in your mind as you took your metallic cigarette case, getting one of the cancerous stick before putting the case back on your black beaded purse. You flicked the lighter numerous times until you gave up. Groaning in annoyance, you threw the non-working lighter away. 

"Here," a deep voice echoed in your ears. "You can use this." An arm extended towards you, a lighter in hand. You stared at whoever it was, and when your gaze met the man's, your eyes widened. "Oh, Mr. Shelby. I - Thank you," you said, accepting the furious man's offer and successfully lighting your cigarette before returning it to Tommy.

"You were quite impressive up there," he said nonchalantly, flicking his lighter to start his cigarette and joining you. The unexpected praise caused a rush of warmth to flood your cheeks, catching you off guard by his awareness. It was unexpected to receive compliments from someone like him, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and doubt during the discussion.

You continued to share the story of your journey to becoming a well-known jazz vocalist in South Birmingham as an expression of gratitude. Throughout the conversation, he stayed fairly mute, responding only with a nod. Surprising to you, his stillness concealed a strong involvement with your words. As you chatted enthusiastically unconscious of his shifting stance and the intensity of his gaze as it moved from head to toe, it became clear that he was more than just a passive listener; he was intensely intrigued by your story.

You looked at your pearl watch and read the time. It was already midnight, and there were no available cabs for you to book. "Oh, forgive me, Mr. Shelby, but it's getting late, and I really must make my way home," you exclaimed, a note of urgency in your tone as you rapidly searched through your handbag, double-checking to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything.

"Stay here for tonight; there are no cabs available anymore, and I have a spare room for you to stay in," he said almost instantly. The tone of his voice suggests that he still wants you to be with him.

"Are you sure, sir?" he nodded to your question. The two of you hopped into his car, Tommy drove going to his house with you. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When you finally arrived at his house near the reception, he opened the door and invited you inside. The house wasn't particularly large or small; floral wallpaper was used everywhere, and circular picture frames adorned the large fireplace in the living room. As Tommy entered the house, you laid your white fur-like scarf on the chair.

Your heart raced at the sight of him, each beat echoing in the silence of the room. It was as if you were seeing him through new eyes, taking in the intriguing depth of his gaze, the chiseled lines of his attractive face, and the neatly combed hair that framed it all. He projected an effortless charm while wearing his usual suit, sparking a deeper admiration for his natural charisma.

Tommy did the same thing, starring at you -- your physique, your lovely golden dress, the way your white feather hat hung in your hair. His eyes communicated love and longing simply by looking at you. He knew you even before the reception. He knew who you were.

His hands cupped your cheeks as he approached you. You didn't know what was going on, or so you thought. Your cheeks flushed, and your heart fluttered at his moves.

"May I?" he asked quietly, his voice a smooth whisper that sent thrills down your spine. With a gentle nod, you gave him permission, excitement coursing through every fiber of your being. As his lips touched yours, a burst of energy flowed between you, igniting a passionate flame that appeared to swallow everything. Your breath mixed in the intimate space between you, resulting in a heady symphony of longing. Your hands reflexively moved to his neck, fingers threading through the delicate strands of his hair, while his firm grip on your hips drew you in, erasing any barrier between you. The kiss grew into a gloriously wild dance of lips and tongues, each movement a witness to the sheer intensity of your connection. In that moment, buried in the heat of the embrace, you tasted not only each other's lips, but also the burning need that held you together.

Fortunately, the house was empty, leaving just you and Tommy. He brought you to his bedroom, the air heavy with expectancy as the heated session went on. As you lay on the bed, the springs creaked beneath you, adding rhythm to the intensity of your touch. His lips trailed over your neck, leaving a path of kisses that sent thrills down your spine, each touch leaving its mark as you couldn't help but moan his name in pleasure.

"Mr. Shelby .." you moaned as he sucked the sweet spot of your neck, your legs locking his hips. 

"Tommy." he corrected. 

"I know your name, Mr. Shelby," 

"Then moan it." 

He began to undress you, leaving the floor gripped with your gold-colored heels and lengthy dress. Continuing the kiss, your hands moved to his suit, unbuttoning each one quickly.

Your naked bodies were bound together. His thick fingers found your clit and softly stroked it until his speed quickened, causing your back to arch as you gasped his name aloud.

"Fuck, Tommy.." His hands crumpled the sheets, and his lips curled into a smile, content with what he was doing.

"Does that feel good, mhm? Want me to stop?" he teased as his fingers slowed. Your eyes begged with him.

"No--please, keep going!" you cried, shaking your head. He desires his fingers to strike your cunt.

He stopped, causing you to whine. He laughed, noticing the emotion on your face. He positioned himself in front of your wet cunt before entering you. Because of the unexpected movement, you moaned more loudly than usual.

His pace was first steady, allowing you to adjust his length, but it soon increased. The bed creaked with every thrust he made. Your nails drove into his back due to the pleasure he offered you.

"You like that, love? Who owns this cunt?" he demanded, maintaining his violent thrust. Your breast bounces.

"Yours! Oh god - it feels good, Tommy."

Everything you felt was pleasure and joy. Tommy's cock abuses the area, making you burst with ecstasy. Airy groans and moans echoed around the dim room. You could feel his hot breath on your neck as he rested his head on.

His arm lifted your legs and pushed them towards your chest, allowing his cock to penetrate deeper and deeper inside you. The sudden change of posture hurt, but it was swiftly replaced with pleasure. Your gut swirled, and your cunt clenched on his cock, implying that you were close.

"Fuck - look at you clenching around my cock. Good girl," Tommy praised, his massive arms gripping your legs.

"Tommy, I'm gonna - gonna cum!"

"Me too, love. Cum on my cock, c'mon," he said. "'m going to fill you up, yeah? You like it? Me cumming inside your precious wet pussy?"

"Yes - yes!" you moaned loudly as you approached your climax. Tommy needed a few more thrusts before he released his seed inside of you. He slowly pulled out, spilling his white creamy load into your battered cunt.

He lay down alongside you, passionately kissing your lips.

"Ah, you're good in bed too, Mr. Shelby."

"You did well with your voice training today, Ms. (Y/n)," he taunted before you both went to bed.

[igotanidea]

I am Robin : Damian Wayne x reader (pt 1)

Summary: Damian x fem!s/o, who has no idea he's Robin. And who is scared of Robin. And who one day happens to meet Robin...

***

They weren’t living together, and definitely not in a leaving toothbrushes at each other’s place way. But their relationship wasn't casual either. After almost a year together, given Damian’s character traits, it could never be casual.

But Y/N wasn’t the type to rush him into anything and definitely not nagging to start sharing space. It was all right if he didn’t want to stay the night too. He was committed to his family and that was okay. Considering the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne himself, the Gotham’s persona, who tended to act a little eccentric, it was completely understandable that Damian wanted to check on him more often than not.

Who knew what kind of crazy idea could possibly enter the bored mind of a rich man.

It truly was no one’s wish to find some scandalous news from the first pages of the magazines.

So yes, she was full aboard on the idea of Damian’s checking on his father and his family.

Who seemed a little weird from the very beginning either way. The first time she met them all his siblings were nice, even awfully so, but she had this crazy feeling of being watched like a prey.

If only she knew why.

But yes, it was okay, because at least she wasn’t in a relationship with Mollycoddle, who demanded care and wanted to be treated with kids’ gloves.

But sometimes, only sometimes, she was wondering if it would be like that forever.

That she would have to sleep in the bed alone, wishing for him next to her.

That she would be forced to deal with her nightmares and loneliness and after work tiredness alone.

That almost every time she asked him to stay over he would prevaricate, giving more or less vague answers.

If only she knew why.

***

He was in the middle of patrolling with Batman and the rest of the family when Barbara’s voice came through the comms.

“Robin.”

“Yes? What is it, Oracle?”

“Y/N keeps blowing off your phone.”

Oh.

Obviously Damian did not take his device with him and definitely could not check whether his girlfriend was trying to contact him.

Barbara, on the other hand, was in charge of everyone’s notifications while they were busy during night hours, just to keep up the pretences of the batfam being completely normal citizens.

“Shall I respond?” Babs muttered to the comm, mentally rolling her eyes at the fact Damian was still keeping Y/N in the dark about his other identity. He was treating this girl seriously, it was obvious and even Batman would see reason in ensuring his blood son didn’t blow up a chance at happiness. Even with a civilian. And if not, Barbara would be more than happy to throw Bruce’s own mistakes in the area right at his face. And most likely the other batkids would gladly join her in this quest. Just for funsies. And for Damian obviously.

“Don’t you dare touching my phone, Oracle!” The last thing he needed was his more or less romantic and more or less spicy conversations with Y/N to come into the light!

“Do you want me to read the text to you?”

“Don’t you dare touching-“

“Robin, why can’t you just come forward and tell her?”

“Cause that would be putting a target on her back!”

“You are putting a target on her back by keeping her in the dark!”

“This is not—” Damian tried to argue, but never finished the sentence, realising, somewhere in the half of it, that Babs was actually true. “I don’t know what to do.” He finally settled on a deep sigh.

However, before Oracle could give him any relationship advice, Batman’s voice echoed from another line, calling his accomplices to order and stopping any personal discussions.

***

Meanwhile, Y/N was standing in front of the club, unsuccessfully attempting to reach Damian.

The party she was dragged to was a surprise to one of her work friends, who broke the news about getting married. Some of the girls decided it was a perfect opportunity for unofficial celebration and the party moved from club to club in the entire Gotham district.

It was impossible to not go. Y/N would be called antisocial, unfriendly and stiff the very same night.

But then it was late and cold and dark and she found herself far from her apartment, not sure how to proceed. Obviously, walking alone was a huge mistake, considering the location, but standing like a salt pillar was starting to turn even more stupid, as the lonely and bewildered woman unmoving on an empty street was the easy target for any thug.  

And Damian was not picking up his phone or responding to texts, that started to become more and more desperate as Y/n lowered herself to almost begging for help.

When nothing came in return, with a heavy and a little broken heart she decided to try and get home by herself.

It was better than being a sitting duck and freezing to death.

***

“Robin.” The voice came through the comms again

“What do you want, Nightwing?”

“I got eyes on Y/N.”

“And why do you bore me with such unimportant details?” Damian muttered, not really paying attention to what his brother was saying. The youngest Wayne was simply too focused on his target for the night.

“Um… Robin?”

“I am busy, Nightwing.”

“Damian-“ Dick dared to say Robin’s real name, getting  a bit desperate to get his attention.

“What now?!”

“I got eyes on Y/N!”

“Wh-what? What do you mean you got eyes on Y/N? She’s supposed to be home, safe and tucked under the cover, turning over on the other side while sleeping!”

“Well, she is not. She’s walking the street with someone on her tail, clearly chasing her.”

“What street?!”

“I’m going to take action now-“

“Don’t you dare, Nightwing.” Damian’s cold voice almost bore a hole in Dick’s head through the comms. “Oracle, give me Y/N location. I’ll be the only one taking the action when it comes to her.”

***

She knew she was being followed.

The man wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to it after all.

The heavy clatter of his boots echoed through the entire empty street, in perfect sync with the accelerated beat of her heart.

Headlines from the newspapers from the entire previous year flashed through her mind.

Rape.

Murder.

Assault.

Unexplained disappearance.

Y/n started to curse herself, instinctively reaching for the pepper spray, greedily clutching her fingers on the tiny, yet effective, bottle.

Though before she could actually use it, there was a loud thump behind her and she stopped with shaking hands and eyes closing, already saying goodbye to her life.

The man sure had a gun and that was the sound she heard. She was already dead. And no one will even know. She will bleed on the street, dying alone and in pain in the dark Gotham street, no news about her till the early morning and-

“Y/N.”

She spun around immediately. Whoever was talking, be it the man who was chasing her or someone else, he knew her name.

Robin. Batman’s sidekick.

The street light colours palette Robin.

Robin, the Gotham’s vigilante.

And one of her worst fears.

***

The thug was lying on the ground, blood was everywhere, including Robin’s uniform and she couldn’t make a single movement.

The most natural thing would be to thank him for the rescue and run away before he got too focused on her, reading right through her, seeing everything she did wrong in her entire life and bringing her to justice.

But she could hardly breathe let alone form one coherent sentence.

When he took a step towards her, she took a step back, almost tripping over her own feet, but miraculously finding balance.

He stopped, looking at her with a predatory smile, tilting head, waiting for a moment to strike.

His teeth shone in the dim light of a street lamp, growing, becoming sharper and she could almost imagine them tearing at her throat like a werewolf or some other supernatural creature, causing her pain for all the bad things she did and—

“You’re safe now.”

She blinked a few times, brought back to reality by his voice that was surprisingly soft. Calm, a little cold perhaps, but gentle regardless.

There was no blood, he was not a werewolf, and she was not in danger of being torn to pieces and having her insides dragged through the entire street.

But she was still scared, and not because of the thug, but because of the vigilante himself.

***

“You’re safe now.” Robin said calmly, keeping his distance. From Damian’s perspective under the mask, it was the worst thing he ever had to do in his life. Instead of rushing to her side, taking her in his arms, and giving her comfort and reassurance he had to keep hiding his face in the shadows. Unbeknown to him, Y/N was more than grateful about this fact.

“Uh-huh…” she stuttered, making Damian want to hug her even more. She was so shaken after being chased like this. After being put in danger.

It didn’t cross his mind, that she could be scared of him.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” This was not really a question in his head, but it was important to slowly assure her she was now protected.

“Uh-huh…” she stuttered again, with wide eyes and pale face, that Damian blamed on the aftermath of terrifying events.

“Okay.”

It was hard to not reach for her hand, envelop her in warmth and walk with her to her apartment. Making her her favourite tea and cuddling on the couch (a weakness he would never admit to his family). But he had to keep his mask, literally and figuratively. Therefore, having escorted her to her building and spinning on his heel, he left her alone.

Not for long though.

***

It took him fifteen minutes to change from Robin costume into regular, civilian clothes, almost searching for a phone booth like a freaking Superman, knowing that if Jon knew it, he would never let him live through it.

Meanwhile, he finally got hold of his phone and read through the desperate messages she’s been sending him for the last hour.

“Dami, please come pick me up. I’m at the XX”

“Dami, please…”

“I don’t know why you are not responding, but if I did something to make you mad, I am sorry…”

“Dami, I need you…”

“Please, it’s cold and I’m scared…”

“Dami… 🥺”

Oh no.

As if seeing her scared after dealing with the threat was not enough, now he also got the insight of what she was feeling and thinking while walking home alone.

That he left her.

That he didn’t care.

That she was alone.

And it made him speed the pace of the changing even more.

And causing Robin to make one, teeny-tiny mistake.

***

A knock on the door made her almost jump, settling on pretending she was not at her apartment. Or that she was sleeping – whichever seemed more plausible at 3 am.

“Y/n!”

The voice seemed familiar, but it could have been just the whispers of her stressed mind, combined with a desire for the presence of that one person she so desperately needed.

“Y/N! Open up, it’s me! Damian!”

She whimpered and moved deeper into the corner of the sofa, covering her ears.

He had to change tactics.

“I know where you keep the spare key. But if you don’t open in five, I’ll kick the door without the need to get it!”

An empty threat that could have only been made by him.

Four seconds later the bolt on the door rattled and Y/N stood face to face with Damian, who had absolutely no intention to put his words into action, just getting her to open.

“Y/N.” He sent her the most comforting and reassuring smile he could muster.

“Dami…” she sobbed, diving into his arms. “why weren’t you picking up your phone? I was scared and – and this guy-”

“Hush, dear.” His hands wrapped around her, taking a few steps forward so they were now inside her apartment and not in the hallway. “You’re safe now. I’m here and no one will hurt you.”

“But why weren’t you picking up?” she repeated nuzzling into him, the mix of emotions finally finding a way out in the form of uncontrolled sobs.

“My apologies, beloved. It was never my intention to make you feel abandoned. But I’m here now.”

“Mhm…”

“You’re okay. Shall I make you your tea? It will ease your nerves after being chased on the streets like that.”

“Yes, please…” she whispered and then a thought hit her. “Dami? I- I never told you I was being chased…”

“You know, it was quite evident. It’s Gotham. It’s late and your text was pretty clear-“ His green eyes met hers in a poor attempt to cover up for the obvious fail, trying to fill in the holes in the facts and silence her questions before they even arise.

But it was too late and she was too smart for being played like that.

There was no way Damian could have simply figured out what happened solely from her messages and ragged pieces of information.

His first question, right after comforting her, should have been what happened?

And how the hell did he get into her apartment almost right after she got in?

Right after Robin escorted her here?

“Dami--?” she stuttered with wide eyes, pulling slightly back, causing a little struggle when he tried to keep her in his arms.

Causing a little too much movement.

“Y/N, listen to me, I can—hey, are you all right?”

She was not.

She was not okay, seeing the familiar and well-known domino mask that fell from Damian’s pocket onto the floor in her apartment.

“You- you are—” her stuttering mixed with paleness and terror reflected in her eyes made him travel back to the conversation they had a few months earlier. 

Oh, no…

How could he forget…?

to be continued...

Part 2

[artytaeh]

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

MATTHEO RIDDLE— not horribly tall, but slightly above average. strong arms; what he doesn't have of height like the weasley twins, he has of muscles on his arms, even though not a ken-like amount, which he finds ugly. dark curls— inherited by his mother, the insanely crazy bellatrix lestrange, and beautiful eyes that he has no clue where he got from. long lashes, defined jawline.

in short, a handsome, easily found attractive, young man. and with that bad boy attitude? well, mattheo riddle is every girl's guilty pleasure of a daydream.

some, because they'd like to have their attitude and confidence fucked out of them, by mattheo riddle who certainly takes no bullshit. others, because they delusionally believe that they can somehow fix him— turning a doberman into a golden retriever.

mattheo riddle who's the only first year to not tremble under snape's gaze, because his father is voldemort. the thing, the person he fears the most.

mattheo riddle who doesn't even blink when teachers, older students and even intimidating people yell at him— this is child's play, compared to the cold, frightening aura of his father, and the eery sound of his mother talking to him; one second, she's calm, putting on a (scary) loving persona— then, she's raging, yelling and slamming things, hands on the table, almost throwing hands at her son.

mattheo riddle who stands on the end of the line, letting students get in front of him and even threatening some to take his place on the line, so he stands further behind. this only happens once, during that one professor lupin's class, with the boggart— because mattheo knows that it'd take the shape of his father, walking eerily towards him. not only does he hate the thought of having his classmates gossiping about him, about his family and making even more assumptions about him; but also knows that he'd stand there, paralyzed. incapable of even raising his wand, much less utter such an easy spell like riddikulus. for mattheo, what's ridiculous is his situation; how he'd love and thank the heavens, if he could have such a silly fear like insects, ghosts, or even clowns.

mattheo riddle who grows extremely confident because nothing scares him at hogwarts; after all, his father isn't there— the only thing that makes mattheo riddle tremble is his presence. anything else isn't half as frightening as coming back home to his mother, bellatrix lestrange, and father, voldemort he-who-must-not-be-named.

mattheo riddle who becomes scary and intimidating, so that no one can scare or intimidate him instead. he spent most of his third year at hogwarts practicing on the mirror— a way to turn his beautiful eyes into a dead stare, making sure that the shining glint of his eyes disappears, to become so scary, that no one would dare to mess with him like tom riddle does. or even draco malfoy, who tried to do this back on their first year, bullying mattheo into becoming his friend and follower—, but all of this was before they became genuine friends, along with theodore, lorenzo and blaise.

mattheo riddle who's known by the unhinged brother, less smart riddle— while others, who are aware of tom riddle's tendencies, call him the older psychopath brother, brilliant riddle. such a charming pair of siblings, aren't they?

mattheo riddle who smokes a whole package of cigarettes with theodore nott, when they're on the train back home. for holidays and for summer vacation, in silence, because they're too anxious and nervous to come back home, to leave their (although they're too proud to admit) safe place — hogwarts.

mattheo riddle who respects his older brother, tom riddle, because he thinks that in many ways, tom is like their father sometimes. and that scares him.

mattheo riddle who only learned how to swim and to stop fearing lakes, when his slytherin friends teached him.

( this happened on lorenzo's house, since he invited his friends to spend some days there, during summer vacation. after all, his parents are the less... frightening, in a way, and blaise zabini gatekeeps his mother from his friends, for obvious reasons. besides, lorenzo has the largest pool! upon realizing that mattheo stayed behind while they played in the swimming pool, the boys, for once, didn't turn the situation into a joke. draco stood behind, throwing opinions and dictating that they were doing it wrong— while theodore and blaise stood each by mattheo's side, making sure that he wouldn't get scared if he felt like he was drowning, while lorenzo is in front of him, advising on what to do. it was a mess. a mess that became a core memory of true friendship. )

even so, mattheo hates to go to a point of the lake where he's no longer tall enough to touch the sandy surface— because suddenly he's seven years old again, with tom riddle standing on the edge of the lake, smiling darkly at the sight of his baby brother drowning in the cold water.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

mattheo riddle who, after all of these years, still stares at his older brother with a mixture of resentment and sorrow— secretly, mattheo still wishes to be close with tom. to have a normal brotherly friendship with him, even if they're everything but a normal family. so, mattheo riddle, who envies pairs of siblings whenever he sees them around hogwarts halls, hugging, lightheartedly bullying each other. wishing he could trauma dump shared experiences of his parents with tom, who would've demolished inch after inch of mattheo's pride and feelings, calling him weak.

mattheo riddle who doesn't join draco when he bullies the weasleys. he never defends them either; he doesn't need to, because the redhead siblings stick around for each other. mattheo doesn't know if his heart feels like crying, or ripping apart with a vicious, angry jealousy that he doesn't have that. a sibling that cares enough to take care of him.

mattheo riddle who drinks and drinks and drinks until he passes out, or until he almost throws up his stomach away— rarely accepting any kind of help whatsoever, because he doesn't feel like he deserves it.

because pain and finding out a way to solve things by himself, is what he grew up used to. because his mother is a bipolar, sadistic woman; because his father is too feared by mattheo for him to even dare to consider asking for his help; because his older brother, tom riddle, isn't a pillar he can lean on to— rather, a pillar that would glady fall on top of him, crushing him under debris. he's another person to be feared, and who'd leave mattheo even worse than he already is.

mattheo riddle, who hesitantly accepts lorenzo and theodore's help. because lorenzo is too much of a mother of the group (whenever blaise isn't around, but mattheo doesn't think he'd ever allow the zabini boy to help him either. of course, this happens whenever lorenzo isn't planning his way to another girl's bed either) and by far, the most caring of the boys. or at least, the one who easily shows his worry without a hundred walls surrounding his heart.

and theodore nott, well— mattheo thinks that the term best friend is too corny, so he settles to admit that theo is the person who understands him the most. if he doesn't have tom, he has theo, to sympathize with his shitty situation, because theo's family and hardships are too similar, even though they don't share a last name.

they have matching wounds, inflicted by different people, but similar situations.

and because theodore is awfully moody, sarcastic and would punch mattheo into reason, well— mattheo unwillingly accepts theodore's (forceful) help.

· · ·

mattheo riddle who only ever has deep thoughts when he's throwing up from the alcohol, or becomes self-conscious of himself. of the evilness he provokes, of the unchanging way his fate was decided, as soon as he was conceived in his mother's womb. how he, no matter how he'd like to change, believes that he's a lost cause.

something that's not worth the effort, since mattheo riddle, younger brother of tom riddle, son of bellatrix lestrange and the dark lord himself, must have been born with a vicious evil heart. how could he not, with a family like this?

it must be on his dna. or so he believes.

when he's drunk, puke being wiped out from his lips and alone in the bathroom— this is the only time when mattheo riddle allows himself to pity himself. other than that, he'd scoff at the thought of doing so; because that's a weak thing to do.

and to survive his family, mattheo wouldn't dare to be weak a single day of his life. he might get killed if he allows a moment of weakness around his family. whatever family means, anyways.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

mattheo riddle who's always the first one to start a fight— and never the one to end it. either his friends push him away, or he's held down by some spell casted by one of hogwarts' teachers.

however, he will start a fight with a group of five gryffindors, if they make a nasty comment about mattheo's friends. if they dare to assume, to gossip, to say one mean word about the friends that tolerate mattheo's behavior even on his shittiest days. the first thing he does is grab the last one talking by the collar, so that his fist naturally punches the guy's face. yes, mattheo can keep up a fight with five guys— even though he knows that, as much of a good and violent fighter as he is, there's no way that he won't leave with a few bruises (and bloody knuckles from rashly punching back and forth).

nevertheless, mattheo riddle won't ever allow theodore or his friends to join him, if he's about to have a 1v1. not even to intimidate or make a single threat— mattheo thinks that it's pathetic and coward to do so, which is why sometimes, mattheo doesn't help draco when he puts up a stunt against a single student (or a group that is outnumbered by malfoy's little friends). when draco comes back, mattheo won't scold him— but he won't shut up either, at least making sure that by some miracle, draco understands how coward it is to do that, from the sarcastic comment that mattheo throws with no hesitation.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

mattheo riddle who actually has one of the most beautiful smiles. once his usual dead stare is gone, showing how those dark eyes of his can look so sweet and bright— squinting into half moons, when he truly laughs or smiles genuinely. his smile is one that makes you think that maybe, just maybe, there isn't any evil or meanness to this slytherin boy.

mattheo riddle who is so touch starved, that only a warm gaze from you, is enough to melt him and (at least mentally) get him on his knees. those dark eyes soften and follow every movement of yours— looking like a lost puppy, when you eventually shift your attention to something else, your gaze leaving him. he won't grab you, he won't yell for your attention out of pride— but if you were to look into his eyes, you'd see how mattheo silently hopes to some deity that you'll have your attention on him once again.

mattheo riddle who doesn't know how to be gentle, because he never knew gentle touches, caresses and soft approaches. this man is almost stupid because of this sometimes— mattheo isn't even aware of his own strength, so when he does hurt you unintentionally (by grabbing holding your wrist) and gets scolded about it... he'll genuinely look at you, confused. sure, he'll apologize— fine, sorry!

. . . however, mattheo isn't sure what he did wrong. was it really that hurtful? to him, he was simply holding you, not grabbing...

( because mattheo riddle was never held, only yanked or dragged along. )

mattheo riddle who would love to have people playing with his hair. twirl his curls around your fingers, tug at it (but gently, please! he easily complains at the slightest hint of discomfort!), massage his scalp, caress his dark hair— mattheo melts and for a moment, wonders if sleep does arrive to him this fast at night, like it does now that you're touching him there.

so yes, during classes, mattheo sneakily stands on the door frame— carefully watching where you decide to take your seat, before he marches up to you so he can take the other chair of said desk.

mattheo marches confidently, hands on his pockets and body a little bend to the front; focused on his target: you.

all of his concentration is locked on his goal: your attention for the whole class. and if he's too late, because some annoying girl or asshole with pants got there before him? one glare from mattheo, and they're gone.

mattheo doesn't even bother to take his books; he greets, crosses his arms on top of the table, settles his head there— and if you're too slow to understand what's this whole preparation for, well, mattheo has no problem to make his intentions clear, by (much gentler, this time) grabbing your hand and settling it on his head. among his dark curls.

and if you notice that they look softer and taken care of— well, mattheo won't be catch dead and much less alive saying it. but blaise noticed how mattheo bought a new shampoo, conditioner and a weird bottle that seems to help curly hair like mattheo's.

AND HOW DID AN ALL-IN-ONE SHAMPOO USER LIKE MATTTHEO, KNEW WHAT PRODUCTS TO USE IN WHICH ORDER, FROM DAY TO NIGHT? oh, that was easy; mattheo spent an evening leaning against the entrance of the slytherin common room, watching intently every student that entered or left during that hour of the day. his eyes glared up and down— searching for a slytherin, be it a witch or a wizard, older or younger than him, that has a type of hair similar (if not identical) to his.

finally, a slytherin girl was on her way to hang out with her friends. that is, until mattheo nonchalantly grabs her by the collar of her shirt, right when she innocently passes by him, then drags the girl along with him to a secluded corner of the slytherin common room.

( out of love for life and respect for their well-being, it's safe to say that her friends didn't come to save her. though, props to them, because they kept watching... just in case. of, you know, having to search for help. )

the slytherin girl trembles on her spot, rethinking her life choices; wondering if she had done anything to offend mattheo riddle, the dark lord's son— not the psychopath, the unhinged one. when he bends down, so that he's face to face with her, eyes squinting with his jaw clenched...

she closes her eyes. wondering if she'd be punched or have her hair grabbed to be slammed against the wall. however, after awkward ten seconds pass and her body is still intact, she opens one eye, to see mattheo making a grimace.

a grimace that would be funny if he wasn't so scary. a grimace that seemed to ask, 'what the fuck are you doing?'. which would have been verbalized, mind you, if mattheo didn't have a list of priorities at the moment. he opens his mouth, and this slytherin girl feared to have hallucinated such an innocent, random question.

'which products do you use for your hair?'

( ten minutes later, after having explained her hair routine in detail to mattheo riddle himself, who took notes and hummed for her to keep going, the slytherin girl goes back to her friend group. pale. she doesn't give details— no one would believe her. and she doesn't think that mattheo riddle would like having people know that he's about to spend 100 galleons on hair products to please you. )

౨ৎ please understand that i'm trying my hardest, ♡ ͡

my head's a mess, but i'm trying regardless . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i noticed that i have a few mattheo girlies enjoying my writing, so! please consider this a little bittersweet drabble for you. once again, tysm for the feedback! ♥︎

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[cute-sucker]

note: this is pretty dark! so please tw for toxic relationship (with rafe obviously!!) + this is for liona (inspo)

short masterlist: part one here, part two here, part three here, part four here, part six here !

words: 2,024 words

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

rafe was following you.

you could almost feel his gaze on you from the diner sometimes. as if he was waiting to strike. the first time you saw him, he was standing outside the glass diner a strange expression on his face. clearly, he was high out of his mind as he tried to stumble and hang onto the street lamp. you had been talking with jj, him chuckling about you having whipped cream on your face - and you spotted him.

he was staring dead into your soul, and you felt your breath quicken pardoning yourself to the bathroom. no, you couldn't do this, and when jj asked you what happened you had whispered some excuse.

he knew where you were. your masterful escape hadn't been masterful after all.   

sometimes rafe scared you. it was the early stages of your pregnancy with him. the feeling of being so suffocated carrying his baby. and it wasn't like he didn't love you no, sometimes you cried to him fists drumming on his chest, screaming, wondering where you had gone wrong.

where had you gone wrong for him to be so punishing. for his protective cage to make you fall prey to him? it was the feeling that your heart would break if he whispered a bad word, and you hated it cowering against his heavy words and hoping that he wouldn't get you back from putting a toe out of line.

being with rafe had been some of the worst and best times of your life. it was when you got a taste of teenage freedom, putting out a small dress to sneak to a party, tasting punch and he was there. you looked a mess with pink glowy lipstick, shyly trying to ease into your new shining persona.

he saw you, a hopeless deer in headlights and suddenly if anyone tried to bump into you - he was there. it felt nice to be cared for, and sometimes he'd take it far. taking you anywhere in your car, and making sure that his hand wandered near your waist.

but it was after the baby that things went wrong. he was cursing at you for being so stupid to get pregnant. you had cradled your head in your chest as he cussed you out, heavy drums in your heart. he tried to persuade you first -

"you don't need a baby. no, you don't need one," he would coo, eyes red from whatever he was on, as you tried not to stop yourself from sobbing. you made miek sounds, practically folding into yourself as you rocked from side to side.

he took this as you disrespecting him, "hey?" he snapped his fingers, eyebrows furrowed as he clenched his jaw, "what the hell is wrong with you? fucking embarrassment," he would spit out, almost as if he was disgusted with your behaviour.

then you would whimper with sadness, and it only amplified his anger, "jesus christ. i'm always taking care of you, and this is how you reward me?" he barked, his voice sharp and unforgiving. you shook your head, telling him you were sorry.

you had your baby in the morning, an early baby. he wasn't even there in the reception, as her wrinkly face mewled for someone. you had tucked her into your lap, swearing - swearing to get away.

but then he came like your prince charming, eyes red while carrying a baby bag, and a stupid pink outfit that he told you she could wear. it was tacky and too big, yet you felt the need to cry. maybe this was a sign that he would change. maybe this was a sign from the gods. there was a forced smile on his face, as he looked at your sticky baby.

it finally came down to how he acted around the baby. never cleaning up after. after all, you were eighteen when you had her, practically children as if you were playing family. he was smoking, abusing drugs and then coming back to your apartment telling you he'd get better.

the day you left was a breath of fresh air.

so what was he doing coming after you? you tried to ignore it, but sometimes out of the blue - weeks after his first sighting, he would be looking at the glass window with a clear look on his face. as if he was going to come in, and yet he didn't. every single time you dared him with your eyes, meek hands shaking as you tried to stay away from that entrance.

at this point, your favourite place was next to the counter, next to jj where you could yap as much as you wanted. sometimes jj would tell you to shut it as he made food, because one time the two of you were talking and he'd messed up an order. the guy had yelled at him, and all jj could do was shrug, a playful smile on your face looking at your flushed face.

the two of you were taking it slow. you didn't know how to do it all, but since that day he sat you down in his lap, playing with the strands of your hair - you didn't know who you were to him. yet, it felt right laughing with him, letting him touch your waist leaving you completely rendered. you were under a spell as if he was the sun and you were the moon.

you were running back to him every single time, a bright smile on your face. after all he was the one who told you to go to art school. so that's what you did at night while leaving your baby at the elderly women's house. she was so sweet, as your baby girl blubbered and giggled. she was the grandmother you had always wanted for your little girl.

everything was fine.

˚❀༉‧₊

it would be a lie if jj said he hadn't noticed the strange guy staring at the glass from time to time. he was always there when you were, giving you a stare that could bring the dead back to life. jj didn't know who he was, and to be honest he was giving him the creeps.

you always seemed to stiffen whenever the guy came into view, and jj couldn't help but scowl when the jackass came to view. it was the only time he hated the wide glass windows in the diner. it meant that you had to see that guy peeking in.

what creeped him out even more was the amount that the guy stared. sometimes he came out drunk, eyes red as he stumbled onto the sidewalk. jj was waiting for him to come in. waiting for him to confront him - and yet for his whole ordeal, he had never taken a step inside the diner. he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"i like this dress," jj mused the next day you came in. he wiped the table looking up at you. the diner was closed up, and the little bell jingled he knew it was you. he didn't know how this became a thing - but you always came after things ended.

sometimes the two of you would share an ice cream sundae sitting next to the counter, sometimes he'd get you some chocolate milk - but never had he asked why you came.

you liked talking about your day during those times. you sat there all pretty and prepared, he'd never admit it but he liked how much you dolled up for him. there was always some flowery blouse you had on, or a tight skirt. sometimes it was a maxi skirt or some jeans. but you always look so pretty.

you smiled bashfully at the compliment, biting your lip as you tilted your head. you held your baby tight, and yet she wiggled out of your hands to make it to jj.

"oiagh," she sputtered out, "wah, wah," incomparable words but jj couldn't hlep but chuckle, lifting her up to look at her better. she was around 10 months now, her tiny curls in pigtails. she was wearing tiny overalls and a backwards hat.

"look at you," jj murmured, toying with her hat, "such a cutie," he sighed, and she shrieked with happiness as jj poked in her in the stomach. he couldn't help but gaze over at you. you had this dazed happy expression on your face that made him giddy with joy.

you wiped your babies drool, before pinching her cheek, "she wanted to look like you."

jj laughed, eying you in an incredulous look, "i don't wear overalls," he pointed out, tugging at the straps for her to only scream with joy again.

you rolled your eyes, "close enough. it's the cap for me."

"alright. alright. i'm not fighting with you mama. c'mon lemme get you something..." he paused pretending to think, and you giggled, "you want something sweet, am i right?"

"ding, ding, ding! a point for mr. mayback!" you drawled, before sitting next to the counter. "chocolate milk, please."

jj folded his arms, a teasing lit to his voice as he watched you fix your dress, "you're working me to the bone."

"i like my men hardworking."

"so you say."

then the two of you were off, talking about the different things that had happened. he told you about the mess with the muffins, and you talked about your favourite show. it was a perfect evening, and before you knew it you were yawning resting your head on jj's shoulder.

"you look tired," jj breathed out, softly moving your hair out of your face. you stirred, sleepy eyes looking at him a gentle smile gracing your face.

your heart stuttered staring at him, "it's that one that keeps me up," you said pointing at the tiny baby who was also asleep next to the couches. then suddenly you watched jj get up alert but thought nothing about it.

he finally spoke up, "how about you take a small nap?"

that sounded great to you, and before you knew it you were burrowing yourself in jj's sweatshirt, sleeping in a warm bed.

˚❀༉‧₊

jj was practically running while trying to keep up with the man in the window. he was there again when the two of you were speaking, and he hated it. like a stalker following your tracks, so jj did what he was best at.

act recklessly.

"hey! stop right there asshole."

the man turned around at the sound of jj’s voice, his expression shifting from one of eerie calm to a volatile mix of anger and amusement. he stopped in his tracks, turning to face jj with a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"what do you want?" the man sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, rocking back on his heels as if he had all the time in the world.

jj’s eyes blazed with fury as he closed the distance between them, his fists clenched at his sides. "who the hell are you?"

the man scoffed, "i'm rafe. rafe cameron. i thought you'd know about me by now."

"i don't know what you're talking about fuckface."

for a moment, something dark flickered in rafe’s eyes, and his jaw tightened. but then, just as quickly, the mask of arrogance slipped back into place. "you're telling me you have no idea who you’re dealing with?"

jj's glare intensified. " listen man, i don't give a shit who you are," he started scoffing, "but i know the food looks great but you can't stay out there staring at people. it's messed up, makes you look like a creep. come in and get a bite or jus' fuckin' leave."

rafe’s laughter was cold and hollow, echoing in the empty street. "oh, i will. don’t you worry about that." he took a step back, his gaze never leaving jj’s. "but for now, i have better things to do."

and he jumped into his car, a shiny truck with blaring lights. all jj could do was look into the dark wondering who the hell rafe cameron was.  

taglist: @yourmumstoym @lionasvault @saturnrings77 @rainbowpiss34@wowza31419 @tcddszn@maraudersmyloves@stxr-slut@redhead1180@dinnodallas @breeistired @obaex 

let me know if you'd like to be added !! + feel free to request <3

[kikohao]

ᅠᅠᅠᅠ ⠀⠀⠀⋆˙. operation: one bed

★ ㅤㅤpairing ; agent!jeonghan x agent!reader ★ ㅤㅤsummary ; you and jeonghan were assigned a case together, you both played the roles of an engaged couple. why is it that you had to share a bed to sell the act? ★ ㅤㅤthemes ; spy au, one bed trope. fluff, mentions of seungcheol, soonyoung, and joshua ★ ㅤㅤwarnings ; cursing, kissing, slight jealousy, use of nicknames ("babe") ★ ㅤㅤword count ; 2k ★ ㅤㅤtaglist ; @nonononranghaee @abodyhasbeenfound ★ ㅤㅤa/n ; one bed trope with jeonghan has been rotting my mind for almost a week omg im really happy i was able to finish it on time! i've never really wrote a "kissing" scene before so im really sorry if its weird bye 😭 requests are always open! (texts, ot13 scenarios, drabbles, fics, mtls, etc) send an ask to be added to my taglist! likes and reblogs appreciated! <3

"Agent Kim, do you hear me?" You try to maintain a formal persona, as you talk into your built-in earphones as you make your way to the grand venue.

"Loud and clear. Make sure your earpiece is switched on at all times." A tuneless voice followed.

Upon entering the hotel, you and Jeonghan were greeted by the expansive lobby that screamed elegance and sophistication.

"They must be bloody rich," Jeonghan muttered quietly, but loud enough for me to hear. He was right though, there were multiple marble chandeliers, casting a warm, golden glow upon all the guests. 

It was extraordinarily exquisite.

"Pass the details," Jeonghan spoke into his earpiece as we moved to a certain corner of the corridors, hoping to maintain a low profile throughout the whole party. 

After a few shufflings of his notes, he responded.

"Agent Yoon, you're Jacob Choi, son of the most prestigious Grand Celestial Palace. I'm pretty sure no one would go into more detail about you, but make sure they buy the act. We can't risk anything. Agent Y/N, you're Ana Wang, Jacob's fiancee, I'll get back to both of you with more details on the individuals. For now, you both are an engaged couple, seemingly having an Alliance with Mr. Lin."

"Got it."

You and Jeonghan made your way towards the reception to mark you both in now that you've got your "personal" details. By doing so, you both were accompanied by a middle-aged man, possibly someone who worked there. He wore a black suit and bow, around 5'8?

"Keep an eye on everyone you see tonight," Agent Kim spoke from the earpiece.

"Why are you so tense?" Jeonghan muttered, "I'm not." You replied swiftly with a scoff earning nothing but a soft chuckle from him that kept on making my ears ring.

Why did your stomach suddenly start to churn? You disregarded it, possibly assuming it was hunger or thirst. Your train of thought was interrupted by a man who made his way towards us. He looked old, although, his rosy cheeks and flawless demeanor said otherwise. Guess he was the well-known, Mr. Lin.

"Oh, Mr. Choi!" He exclaimed out loud for everyone to hear, grabbing Jeonghan's hand and shaking it vigorously.

You tried extremely hard to keep in the giggles that were trying to escape your mouth as you looked at Jeonghan's reaction to the sudden interaction from the man. You forcibly had to look away because you knew you'd fuck things up the second you made eye contact with him.

"It's been so long! How're you and your fiancee? Ms. Wang ain't it?" He questioned, looking towards you. Maybe it was just you and your overthinking capabilities, but you swore something was off about how he looked at you compared to how he looked at Jeonghan, but you decided to brush it off.

"We're doing quite well, thank you." Jeonghan put out, maintaining a calm composure that very well contrasted with his normal personality.

"How's your mom doing? I'm so sorry that happened to her," continued the man. You and Jeonghan shared a quick glance at each other, one that said -- "Oh we're so fucked if we mess this up."

"Mom is doing quite well, thanks for asking. She's doing much better." You replied, noticing the intense tension that followed. Seems like staying here for too long may be risky.

"Babe, why don't we get something to eat? I'm starving." You shared teasingly, looking at Jeonghan, enjoying the flushed expression that lay on his face as you managed to throw in a pout to make it seem more genuine. You both needed to instantly get away for a while to ask Agent Kim about the next plan, and this was the only resort.

Jeonghan excused himself as walked towards one of the empty tables, hand in hand. As soon as we took our seats, Jeonghan voiced through his earpiece, "What do we do next?"

"So far, we haven't found anything. And, I'm guessing neither have the two of you. I checked with Agent Kwon regarding the party details. Seems like everyone attending is encouraged to stay the night, I'm pretty sure it's just for them to make more affiliates, either that or just to show off how rich they are. Either way, I and the crew think it would be beneficial if you did so, in order to uncover more details on Mr. Lin, it would also help in selling your facade since I'm pretty sure he's catching up with suspicions of his."

"Are you sure about that?" You spoke softly into the earpiece, observing the surrounding area, "It sounds quite risky,"

"It is, indeed, but it's your call on whether you want to."

You look at Jeonghan, he seems to have similar thoughts as you do -- he doesn't seem too fond of the idea.

"What do you 'reckon?" you ask him, simultaneously taking a sip of the non-alcoholic wine they'd provided all the attendees.

"Well, it is pretty risky. But, we'd better do as per Mr. Kim and Mr. Kwon since we'd have to put up with these titles until we get the requirements. It'd help sell the act." He finally spoke.

It was unusual. It was unusual how he seemed calm and collected amidst something like this. You'd imagined him to be some kind of reckless person like the persona he usually played so you weren't quite fond of going with him.

You nodded -- he had a point. The faster Mr. Lin believed us, possibly the quicker we could get this case over with.

And, this was it.

Jeonghan hurried towards the hotel management before it was too late to get a room while you sat at your spot, gazing at everyone who attended such a social gathering.

Guess you realized you zoned out when a young man, maybe in his 20s, sat next to you and started up a conversation like good old friends.

"No way, Ana? Is that you?" He put up a question, his face in awe.

"Oh, yes, hello." you manage to spit out, giving off a small smile as you gaze at Jeonghan, his back facing towards you as he converses with the management team.

Guess I'm fucked.

"You were never the one for these kinda parties, you always mentioned that they were too crowded. Guess you grew out of your phase?" He smiled cheekily avoiding the fact that he most possibly just insulted you, or at least the role you're currently playing.

Is this gaslighting?

A phase? How is not wanting to go out and talk with people a phase? You didn't know who Ana was nor did you ever meet her, but you most certainly didn't like someone like him straight up insulting someone.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You questioned, maintaining a small smile. The last thing you wanted was your cover to get blown.

"Oh, Nothing. How's Jacob? He be treating you well?" He continued as he took a small sip from his cocktail drink.

You nodded, glancing every now and then at your so-called "companion" who's left you to talk to some guy who supposedly knows you. It made you laugh how he thinks he's all that -- you could easily spot how the guy was wearing a worn-out suit and tie, most probably already used, and how he just seemed sketchy. 

"Keep an eye on everyone you see tonight," 

He did seem quite sketchy.

You spotted Jeonghan making his way back, guess God did hear your prayers after all. As soon as the guy spotted "Jacob" making his way towards us, he excused himself and left. Possibly to get another drink.

"Guess who managed to get us a room with my good looks," he winked at you, holding the keys high up. You couldn't help but chuckle.

Cute, you thought. Instantly regretting it when Jeonghan pointed out who flushed your face looked.

"Oh shut it, Yoon. Look, now you've ruined the mood." You shot back before he got a chance to say something sly.

His smile didn't last long though. "Oh and, who was that?" He asked, most likely mentioning the guy who'd been talking with you while he went to get the keys.

"Some guy who knows Ana. No clue, but he seemed sketchy." You replied, taking the keys from him.

A few hours passed with nothing but talking with the other participants, drinking, eating, talking again, drinking, talking...

"Huge thanks to everyone who was able to attend today. I wish all those returning back home a safe ride. Everyone who's staying for the night, you may make your way towards your rooms. Have a wonderful night!" Mr. Lin spoke out after clinking his wine glass, attaining attention from everyone present in the hall.

You followed Jeonghan as you made your way toward your room, slightly gazing in awe at all the picturesque art on the walls.

As soon as we entered our rooms, we both noticed the same exact thing.

There was only one bed.

One bed.

Anyone would expect Jeonghan to take up the sofa that was present in the room. Well, guess what? You were wrong.

There was a minute of silence before Jeonghan spoke out loud. "I'm taking the bed. You can take the bed if you want, but I'm not taking the sofa if that's what you're thinking." He smirked as he took off his shoes and placed them on the shoe rack before heading towards the bed.

Well, what did you expect?

That Jeonghan would give up the bed?

No chance and not at all surprising.

"You're such a gentleman aren't you?" You placed your shoes alongside him, making your way to the bed, not ready to give it up either. "They should've sent Joshua with me," You sighed out loud for him to hear.

"Joshua?"

"Well, anyone taking a good look at us would know that we're meant to be," You reasoned, followed by a breathy scoff from Jeonghan. You cooed at his reaction, "Aw, babe, didn't know you were the jealous type," you added, teasingly. You hated to admit it but playing Ana was fun.

"Yeah, right." 

We both had got into bed by the time it was 11. You switched the lamp that was present in your dimly lit room.

4 AM.

He stared right at me, with his dusk-brown eyes. But, it wasn't a normal stare. But a stare that held desire within. You both faced towards each other, the middle barrier made of pillows long gone.

"What?" You slurred slightly, still half-asleep, heart, leaping in your chest.

It was now that you realized that you failed to realize how ethereal he looked. His tired eyes bore into yours, as his bangs lay lazily on his face.

He leaned in slightly, reducing the gap between us. 

"Your eyes are really pretty," He muttered. It always amazed you how he didn't have much of a deep voice like other men, but still seemed dominant without it.

That was a stab to the heart. Not in a bad way though. In a way that made you want to kiss him. You wanted to hold him.

Maybe it was an exaggeration, but you swore you couldn't breathe as soon as he gently placed his lips, carefully molded into a heart, onto yours, locking it in place for a swift second before pulling away.

It lasted like a second or two, but your face looked as if you'd just run a marathon.

"Yoon, are you drunk?" you finally spoke out, not believing what just happened. You thoroughly enjoyed it, but how could he kiss you just like that?

"Yoon doesn't sit right with me, 'Babe' sounds much better."

[terry-perry]

okay I need some more alastor x Carmella’s daughter!

can we have an imagine this time of that situation?

A Business Proposal

“First the Princess of Hell, and now you've gone for one of Carmine's brats? You really have no shame, do you Alastor?"

Right on cue, Vox was ready to confront Alastor after the last Overlord gathering, not caring that everyone was still around to watch. It was just like the Vees to want an audience. Had it been anyone else, Alastor would've torn the obnoxious picture box to shreds and have his torment recorded for his next show. Vox wasn't worth the effort, however. In fact, Alastor knew of a better way to destroy him.

"My friend, there's no need for such jealousy," he started with the nonchalant tone he knew drove Vox crazy. "It's not my fault my natural charisma led to such powerful allies while all you can conjure up are underlings who do nothing more than feed your fragile ego."

That certainly struck a nerve since Vox began to grind his teeth as his stare grew more intense. Alastor simply stayed calm as he subtly carried a tone of smugness. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to have lunch with my lady love, whom you will not disrespect again," This was the only time he chose to strike actual fear in Vox's heart as he switched to his Radio Demon persona by darkening his eyes and letting his figure grow into a form that better radiated evil. "Not unless you wish to be a new voice for my broadcast..."

Vox could only stare in bewildered silence as Alastor threatened him. The jab was bad enough, but the last statement stunned him enough to merely nod.

"Darling?" A third voice that differed with its femininity and lack of intensity came through. "Ready to go?" Y/N asked her boyfriend, bearing no mind that he was in almost full demon mode.

Alastor snapped his head around in her direction, calming down instantly. He supposed he made his point, and he was rather famished.

"Ready as always, my dear!" He replied, offering his arm to her which she happily accepted. "I know a lovely little bistro that serves excellent venison."

They walked past the still-emasculated Vox who was doing his best to refrain from buffering.

"Always fun catching up with you, old friend!"

----

Alastor would be lying if he said he wasn't caught off guard by Carmilla's sudden invitation to her home. She may have been Y/N's mother, but he rarely interacted with her sans a few polite greetings whenever they saw one another. According to Y/N, she did approve of him, it was just hard to gather since for every jovial "Hello!" he'd give her, she'd return with a small nod and acknowledging hum. It could be rather off-putting for someone like Alastor who thrived on other's reactions to all he did.

Some feared him, which always brought a certain giddiness within him that bordered on titillating. Some believed they could outmatch him in the battle of wits, which he was always ready for with a good put-down.

Months ago there was that precious giggle his dearest Y/N let out to alert him that she carried a torch for him. He knew right away that was something he could use to his advantage. Working with the heir to Hell's throne was already advantageous, but being involved with one of the daughters of an Overlord with the largest assembly of weapons in the city was something that could make his position all the more concrete. Pestering gnats like the Vees, even with their childish disrespect, knew opportunities like this don't just come every day. It was most likely why Vox tried to provoke him like he did.

So this was why Alastor had to be sure he had Carmilla's approval since it would cement him further in his current position. For someone who believed a smile could go a long way in keeping many guessing, he was certainly thrown off his game by her lack of expression. He could only hope this invite to whatever this was could keep things favorable for him.

Alastor was welcomed in by no one as the door opened on its own like always. He stepped into a large sitting room which contrasted with the one at the hotel as the latter was bright and rather tacky. The Carmine household was more gloomy, yet rather welcoming. He thought it was because the room he was directed to had walls completely covered in books. No doubt his bookish Y/N inhabited this room often, having the habit of sticking her nose in one. Currently, however, sat her mother in an armchair, staring passively at him like always.

"Alastor," Carmilla greeted him, waving him forward. "Glad you came. Please sit."

She gestured him to a sofa next to her seat that he accepted, along with the glass of bloodred wine she offered. Sadly it was just that - wine. It will have to do.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you here so unexpectedly, without Y/N," she began, all business and direct, as always.

"If this is about my altercation with Vox this morning, I apologize," he said. He wasn't really sorry for putting the noisy picture box in his place, but whatever kept him in Carmilla's good graces. "As you know, he's an old acquaintance of mine. Things between us can get rather-"

She held up her hand to stop him before taking a sip of her wine. "That's not why I called you here. I've learned not to pay the Vees any mind long ago. No, I wish to speak to you about your relationship with Y/N."

At this, he kept his smile intact as always, but it held a certain wariness, a curiosity. He hoped she couldn't tell how he was preparing himself for whatever she could mean. She sat further back in her seat, studying him it seemed. When he chose to stay quiet, she continued. "I understand you're a busy person, as am I, so I'll do us both a favor and jump right to what I wish to discuss," without hesitation, she did just that. "I want you to marry Y/N."

Alastor could barely cover how he winced at that - the static emanating from him didn't help. Even with all the theories he conjured for this meeting, he didn't imagine this.

Carmilla must've noticed how she caught him by surprise since this was the first time he saw her look amused at the situation. She seemed to want to play with him since she took her time with her next sip before deciding to reassure him. "This doesn't need to happen any time soon," she said. "I don't expect you to get engaged tomorrow. I only want to give you my blessing if that's where you two end up. I find it beneficial for you to know beforehand because you're a businessman before anything else. You won't do anything unless you know it'll benefit you. It's why you're with my daughter in the first place, right?"

Well, there was no use denying it, so Alastor shrugged. The wariness, however, remained. "Y/N is quite a lovely lady with a certain sweetness and intelligence that I find endearing. If she so happens to come with a powerful family, then who am I to not want to get closer to someone who can mean a lot to me?"

Carmilla once more studied him stoically, which had Alastor's wide grin falter. "If I were in you, I'd do the same, I suppose. Which is why I know you'll continue to treat her well. You'll continue to meet her, talk with her, and if it gets to that point, marry her. If not, you'll go about your business like nothing. You're smart enough to know that you should treat this like any other transaction. If any issues, deal with me. Are we clear?"

Oh, she was making this too easy. Alastor almost wanted to let out a cackle of triumphant laughter. Had she stuck out her hand to shake he would have. For now, he'd settle for the clinking of glasses that signified a toast.

One marriage, coming up!

[aphrogeneias]

ease your weary mind — one-shot

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x assistant!reader

summary: not a first date, but some firsts of many for this unlikely couple.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: fluff, mild angst (reader overthinks, but eddie reassures her), brief smut (+18).

author's note: this is based on a request by an anon who wanted to know more about their first time and how it went down. i lost the original ask due to a glitch, but i hope they see this <3 thank you for reading.

He'd started kissing you when you'd turned the corner, and didn't stop until you'd reached the hotel lobby.

It was a full house that night, the entire ground floor filled with fans of another band that was also passing through the city that same weekend, loitering around the reception and lounge areas. It was the perfect disguise for you and Eddie as you were returning from your date, the guitarist pulling you by the hand through the crowd and into the elevator.

Not before stopping every few steps to steal a peck from your lips along the way.

Eddie had been smiling the whole evening, his dimples in full display while he listening to you talk about your job, your life, and complained about the bullshit Rick was always putting you through.

You didn't let yourself linger on the thought that it was you making him smile like that — was it, really? Or was it just the fact that he finally had a night off in weeks?

It was the kind of conundrum your mind put itself in since you first started seeing Eddie.

That wasn't your first date, there had been others ever since you'd finally given into his pleas. Sharing room service dinners, sneaking out to go sightseeing in whatever city you found yourselves at, late night talks on rooftops. You tried to keep him at arm’s length, but Eddie Munson had a way of slithering into your life like no other man ever had.

You'd be lying if you said it wasn't his charm, but it was more than that. Eddie was patient, gentle — much unlike the stage persona he had cultivated. Despite being loud, and proudly so, he never pushed you too far.

Not even you'd taken this long to let him fully kiss you.

A few dates, months of mutual flirting, weeks of sneaking around. It was only that night, outside the small Italian restaurant not far from the hotel you were staying at, you’d let him kiss you properly for the first time.

Not the small kiss he'd given you backstage when you agreed to go on your first date. Not the various, small kisses he'd stolen when you were distracted, and not the cheek and forehead kisses that made you melt each time they caught you off your guard.

Now, he couldn't stop.

The elevator was almost full when you squeezed yourselves in, and you would be lying if you said you weren't tense. Scared of being recognized, of what would happen when you arrived upstairs, of what would change between you.

From behind you, Eddie rested his head on your taut shoulder, arms enveloping your waist. He whispered under the chatter of the tight space you're in, sensual voice sending a chill down your spine, “Can't wait to get you alone.”

And as he lavished the side of your neck with tiny kisses, you felt like you should feel as giddy as he was, but you felt like there was something about to drop in your stomach, like something was about to go wrong.

When the elevator dinged as it landed on your floor, you were the one who pulled Eddie forward, away from the cramped box you were in. You thought that would make you breathe easier, but it didn't.

Eddie's kisses were a welcome distraction, pulling your body closer, walking you backwards until you hit the nearest wall. His hand came behind your head to cushion the blow, but his mouth never left yours, hungry lips never satisfied.

You couldn't seem to get enough either, even as your mind reeler with second thoughts, your body responded to his, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. His thigh came between your parted ones as his mouth travelled down your jaw, down to your neck, making you whimper into the air.

“Eddie…” you whispered, “I don't think you should be doing this.”

It was a mere trembled thought that had escaped your lips, when your mind got too loud to contain itself.

Slowly, he untangled himself from you, and you already missed him. One of his hands came to the side of your face, the other rested on the wall behind you. He looked worried, and you mentally chastised yourself for making him doubt. “You mean we shouldn't be doing this here or we shouldn't be doing this at all?”

“Both, I think.” You flinched, but not away from his touch. He flinched too, and his brows furrowed, making his eyes appear bigger. “I'm just scared, I think.”

“Scared of what, baby?” Still, Eddie's thumb ran over your cheek, and you felt yourself melt into his hand upon hearing that pet name, “Scared of me?”

“No! Oh, no. Not of you.” You shook your head, and frowned at yourself. 

You were being truthful, it wasn't Eddie you were afraid of. Not gentle, talented, caring Eddie. Not the man who trailblazed through life but treated you like a doll, no — but deep down, ever since he started making eyes at you from across the room, there was one thing you'd been scared of.

Of being used. Of it all being a ploy to get you into his bed, a challenge. That once he'd gotten you, you'd be a story for him to tell his friends, a footnote on his biography, an anecdote he'd love to recall some years from now.

The pretty assistant who played hard to get, but ultimately couldn't resist the Munson charm.

A shaky exhale left your parted lips, but you willed yourself to speak anyway. “Just sacred of this being a one time thing,” your voice was small, and you hates that, “that once you get what you want, you won't even look my way again.”

“Oh. Oh, honey…” Eddie pushed himself impossibly closer, grounding you with his warm body, “You don't have to worry about that.”

“No?”

He chuckled, despite himself. “No. Because once I have you, I'm not letting you go.”

Sighing, you didn't answer right away, but he continued. “You don't have to believe me right now, but I wanna take care of you.” Eddie kissed the corner of your mouth, breathing you in, “Let me take care of you.”

When he kissed you again, you let him — and when he guided you to his room, right opposite yours, you let yourself be carried into his bed, opening your legs to let him rest between the cradle of them, lips worshipping every inch of you.

The sincerity you didn't let yourself see poured through him, through the hands that undressed you reverently, that squeezed and pulled on your curves, that used his fingers to make you grab the sheets under you, losing control of your moans.

Losing track of time when he was inside of you, manhandling you into different positions. Pillows falling to the floor, joining your clothes on the carpet, covered in each other's sweat. Gripping tightly and not letting go.

Not anytime soon.