#and trying to put my thoughts into words? difficulty: impossible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

faiszt · 3 months ago

Text

⠀⠀⭑⠀𝆬⠀⠀CLOSE ENOUGH:⠀✴⠀ r. cameron.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ minors do not interact.

PAIRING:⠀s2!rafe x stalker!reader.

†⠀⠀LISTEN TO:⠀close enough by ava morse.

wordcount: 3.7k⠀⠀|⠀⠀CONTAINS: ⠀ smut content. violent behavior. obsessive behavior. hard / strong language. drug mentions. kidnapping. face sitting. rough sex. slightly size kink. p in v. unprotected sex. dirty talk. face fucking & tits sucking.⠀ minors who interact with this will be blocked.

꒰ SILLY NOTES:⠀hi, sweets! i still don’t have a masterlist and stuff, i know, but i just really needed to write this. also, this is my first time writing a smut in my life, so... forgive me for any mistakes, i swear i'm trying and i’d be so happy if you could tell me what you think of it.⠀⠀⠀⠀(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) 💬 ♡

there were two perfect words to describe you from what rafe thought: kind and sweet. so sweet, the kind that made him stop and think ‘what hole did you crawl out of?’ well, in a honest answer, the hole you crawled out of was hell. this isn't a silly little joke, it's reality, your sweetness was the perfect counterpart to the kind of obsessive and insane devil you've become since the day you laid eyes on him.

it took rafe longer to figure this out than you had anticipated before starting this freak game between you.

if he needed someone lovely, you'd be her. if he needed someone gentle, you'd be her. but, if he needs someone as crazy and fucked up as he is? his lucky day, you were all of that without even having to hide it with cute clothes and a damsel in distress demeanor.

150 days that you knew him, 150 photos of him kept in the last drawer of your dresser, right under your panties like a stupid plan not very calculated, but existing. a photo a day that you wisely chose every time you followed him around like an abandoned puppy, finding out things about him and his life was part of the shameless fun.

and each time he accidentally noticed you, you acted as he expected you to act. a confused expression and a gentle smile, pretending you were doing anything that a weirdo would, acting like it was purely fate putting you in the same place as him. what kind of shitty fate was this? god could only be punishing you for putting you in each other's lives.

but, no siege was impossible to close, and eventually, the pieces fell right into place in his mind. too late, he was the little mouse that bit the cheese in the mousetrap.

not that his insanity had reached its limit—you were never any different from that—it was just something you wanted to do and felt he needed, given how much stress you'd watched him go through lately. it wasn't wrong, was it? it was just love, no matter how strange, violent, and intense.

just a little help, you wouldn't hurt him... you'd just show that you can take care of him as well as anyone else since no one would take care of him if not you. plus, in the meantime, he could taste his own medicine with someone just like him, or worse.

“what the...” his eyes opened with difficulty, a throbbing pain in his head and his body limp, tingling, almost struggling to move. a dimly lit room, definitely not his room, unless he had been drugged enough to forget how he got there—which was what it looked like. “that’s all i needed now.” rafe thought he was talking to himself.

until he notices you there, sitting in front of your desk, swinging your feet with only one side of the earphone in your left ear, scribbling something. how cute, he thought, not thinking really much about it and when he did, well, he knew he was so fucked.

hands tied to the headboard, he wouldn't even question how you managed to drag him there, but there he was, gagged on a girl's bed. he could kick you if you came near, if it weren't for the clear fact that you both knew he wouldn't do it, first 'cause he wasn't afraid of you, second 'cause he wanted to know how far you'd go.

honestly, if you didn't go all the way, he'd make you go all the way with him since you were the one who brought him here, you had to do something about it now.

“are you plannin’ to make me die here or just playin’ some insane weirdo game, princess?” he shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position—even though nothing felt comfortable when his wrists were gagged. he was just trying to get your attention. was it strange that he was finding this too interesting and appealing to simply want to run away?

you turned in your chair, taking the earphone out as you left your pencil on the table. his eyebrows slowly rose when he noticed you was you, the acting was good, he had to admit, not every girl who was into him would simply gag him in her bed like he was her own doll. it was confusing, arousing, a lot of things his mind was trying to think about.

“you looked stressed, i just wanted to make you relax.” you mumbled with a sweet, albeit fake, smile, still swinging your feet in the air. so handsome, you thought, watching him with his disheveled hair and looking so vulnerable to you. “are you relaxed, rafe? or you need me to help you again?” 'cause there wasn't a single thing you wouldn't do for him at this point.

your smile only made him let out a nasal laugh, looking away for a brief moment as he stared at the ceiling. “nice way to relax someone, huh?” he scoffed. “but, since you’re offering... i think i’d be more relaxed if you let my wrists go from that rope.” he tried to suggest, blue eyes looking at you again with a disguised pleading, as if he could actually convince you like that.

“you look better this way.” you grumbled, standing up and walking over to sit on the edge of your bed, his knee lightly brushing against you for a moment. “but, if you wanna leave, i’m not really stopping you. just say the word and we both pretend it never happened.”

“but, i don’t wanna pretend it didn't happen... and i don’t wanna leave either.” he wouldn't say it out loud, but secretly he thought you were kinda wimp. what? you just do all of it and brought him here to... well, nothing? no, no, he knew you could do better than that. “i want you to do what you wanna do, or have you bitten off more than you can chew? don’t tell me you’re that stupid, princess.”

for a man gagged in your bed, he sounded very confident and intimidating in every word. he wanted you to do it so badly, whatever the fuck you had in mind, 'cause it was turning him on to see you do this to him. “come on, you know you didn’t gagged me in your bed to let me leave.”

and, as expected, what he said had exactly the effect he wanted. in less than a minute, your legs were on either side of his hips, straddling him as he looked up at you with a smug little smirk, not caring about the darkness in your eyes. you looked hot like that, he didn't really care about the implications of fucking you without using his hands.

“you talk too much, cameron.”

“then, you should shut my mouth.”

the implication of his words had almost immediate consequences. you bent over him, hands on both sides of his head, pinning him even further into the mattress as you pressed your lips hard against his. there wasn't one percent of delicacy in that messy kiss, just hunger and desire and rafe noticed it, feeling his blood rush to his lower half.

he moaned softly against your lips as he returned the not-so-loving affection, letting your tongue invade his mouth as if he was completely at your mercy—and he, actually, was. not that rafe had ever agreed to be on the bottom very often, but if it ended with you riding him, then it was for a good cause.

when you had the urge to separate your lips from his, it was like being woken up from a trance, he didn't say anything and if his wrists weren't gagged, his hands would be saying something for him. he ran his tongue over his reddened lips, slightly swollen from the inner contact, as if he wanted to know if the remnants of your taste were still there.

“y’know,” rafe started talking after a few seconds, noticing how breathless you looked from just one kiss. it was kinda cute, he'd give you credit for that. “if i wasn’t gagged here, you’d already be face down in that pillow.” he said with such conviction that you had to roll your eyes, thrusting your hips down only to see his facade tremble at the small contact over your clothes.

“yeah, yeah, but you’re gagged and i’m on top.” you gave him a mocking smile, gently patting his cheek before grabbing his chin, making him look straight into your eyes. “and that’s a lose-lose, for you, not for me.”

“lose-lose? i don’t see it that way, sweetheart,” his blue eyes dropped downwards, indirectly giving you the message that it wasn't bad for him when you were the one straddling him in your bed on any given day. “i’m just wonderin’ when you’re actually gonna act beyond these boring little kisses and put that pussy to sit on somethin’.”

“you’re talking too much again, cameron.” you shook your head in disapproval, sighing deeply as you pretended to think about what you were going to do to him. “but, since you want me to do something and i want you to shut up...”

you let the words hang in the air as you got off his lap, standing in the corner taking off your shorts and panties quickly, but to rafe it looked more like you were doing it in slow motion. every second counted and he was already missing your weight against his lap.

kinda ironic... that he was so comfortable being gagged in the bed of a girl he must have seen less than five times in his life. but, rafe never thought straight and he wouldn't start doing that now. it was even pleasurable for him to know that you were obsessed with him to that point. you might have been in physical control, but you both knew better than that.

despite the tension, you were on top of him again. knees on the mattress, your hands holding onto the headboard, the best way to shut him up and he wasn't really complaining about it, in fact, this was exactly what he wanted from the moment he thought of the possibility. a devious smile formed on his lips, his tongue moistening them for a brief moment as you graced him with that sight. shit, he wanted to touch you so badly, but he'd have to do it only with his tongue for now.

his tongue slowly passed through your wet folds like a tease of power, you might be on top, but he had his share of power too and he'd make sure to remind you of that. “you taste so good, princess...” he smirked against your cunt, giving it a brief suck before running his tongue over it again, only to see your expression falter and a shiver run through your body. “like a fuckin’ lollipop, so sweet.”

you placed more of your weight on his face, closing your eyes gently as you rubbed your clit against the tip of his nose, feeling his tongue suck hungrily between your wet folds. “mmhm...” you allowed yourself to let out a moan, looking down as your hips rocked over his face, his blue eyes fixed on you, attentively wanting to see you break under the touch of his tongue. he didn't want to miss a single detail of it.

rafe's pants were tightening around his crotch, his thoughts were hazy and he could only think of one thing: you and the dirty little noises that escaped your throat. he wanted to hear each of those and he wanted to be the reason for them. no one else, just him and he hoped you had used your weird obsessive behavior to understand that he was possessive as hell.

but, you were going far, he could feel it, pressing yourself harder and harder against his face and suddenly, the sound of the rope coming loose. your eyes opened in confusion, still numb from the brief pleasure he gave you, only for you to notice his hands loose from the rope, his wrists not even red. “what...? how?” you whispered, looking between his wrists and his face between your legs.

then, he pushed you back, not too hard, just enough to make you fall back onto the mattress and get off of him. “y’know... you’re bad at tying ropes, really bad,” he grumbled, sitting down on the bed before using one of his hands to pull you closer, climbing on top of you with an even more sinister smirk than before. “but, that’s good, it means i can touch that pretty little body of yours now.”

rafe didn't want to wait for you to have any reaction to that, he already waited for too long pretending to really be gagged in your bed, he didn't give a damn if he should've waited a little longer, he got what he wanted.

he pinned you against him and the mattress, crashing his lips against yours as he kissed you violently, as if he was trying to mark you or, maybe, he just really wanted to mark you. his tongue didn't ask for entry, it just invaded your mouth, making you feel your own taste, exactly as he wanted.

“did you like to taste your own sweetness, baby?” he whispered against your lips, sucking your bottom lip before kissing you again. “guess i have to take care of you now, don’t i? you’ve been following me around like a good puppy... i think you deserve a reward.” he pulled away from your face a little, only for his hands to go towards your shirt, pulling it over your head.

on a normal day, he'd take more of his time with you, but not today. today he was a little too eager for this, today you wouldn't go unnoticed by him.

“so sweet...” his fingers caressed your belly before he moved his lips down your neck, making sure to press wet kisses against it before moving down a little further and lightly biting your collarbone. you heard the sound of one of his hands going down to his pants, undoing his belt without any difficulty, as if he had done it many times before, and he did.

pants and boxers on the floor, he was hovering over you with an expression of hunger and desire, one of his fingers running over your cunt, he wanted to feel with his fingers how wet and ready for him you were. he patted your thigh, a warning for you to open it wider for him. you looked so pretty like that that he even felt like sucking you again. but, no, this time he wanted to make you feel everything.

rafe bent over you again, lips against yours, a cheap deception only for him to thrust his fully hard cock inside you. you opened your legs wider in shock, but you didn't push him away, you just moaned painfully against the sudden impact and he liked it, he really liked the way you lost your composure when he had no mercy on your tight little pussy.

no niceties or "just the tip", you were a weirdo who stalked him and he'd give you exactly what you wanted when you drugged him and took him to your bed. the kind of fuck that would leave you sore for days, and when you forgot about the pain, then he'd fuck you again... and again... and again.

he lifted your body a little, holding your legs as he slammed relentlessly inside your tight cunt, his cock was having trouble getting all the way inside you, but he didn't really care, he'd make it fit. “what happened to all that attitude, pretty girl? where did that "lose-lose" go?” he went deeper, making you sink into the mattress as you tried to contain the loud moans that wanted to escape your mouth.

“no, no holdin’ back your little noises, i wanna hear ‘em all.” he roared, his hand letting go of one of your legs as he held your chin firmly. “and eyes on me. if you close them or hold back your moans, i’ll stop and you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

you couldn't say a single word, you just nodded, agreeing with what he was saying, even though you didn't know how long you could keep your eyes open. “good girl.” he released your chin, his hand trailing down your neck and collarbone until he reached your bra.

just fucking you could be enough, but it wasn't, not for a greedy man like him. he wanted more and your tits looked so inviting to his eyes, he wanted everything he could get of you. everyone knew, if he wanted it, he could get it. so, he didn't ask, he just pulled one of your tits out of the bra. his fingers pinching your swollen nipple and circling it as he stared at you, wondering if this would make you go further over the edge or not.

him being too big for you was already something, but rafe knew perfectly where to push your buttons and he'd make you tremble without needing much, he wanted to break you so you'd know better before you thought you could leave him in a position like that. your legs locked around his waist, just so he could go balls deep, feeling you squeezing him tighter and tighter as your tight walls clenched in pleasure.

“mmgmh, rafe, fuck...” you whimpered, biting your bottom lip hard as you looked down to see his rhythm. thrusts so rough that the bed began to creak and he had no intention of being discreet about how good and hard he was fucking that sweet pussy of yours. “rafe... i need to... i need to come...”

a mocking laugh came out of him as he slowly thrust inside you again, really much slower than before, making you feel every inch of him stretching you out. “yeah, princess? you wanna come that fast? this pretty little cunt can’t handle such a big cock, can it?” he continued with the slow thrusts, like a tease that he was really enjoying doing.

“but, it’s okay... i said i’d take care of you.” rafe whispered, leaning over you again, his tongue flicking over your nipple that he had been pinching moments before. “then, come for me, princess, come while i suck your tit.”

his thrusts gradually increased again, making you see stars as he sucked on your nipple hungrily, his eyes flicking up to see your expression of pleasure. your loud moans and whimpers were music to his ears, like fuel that only motivated him to go deeper.

and when you got to the edge, by god, you squeezed him so hard and moaned like you were in heaven; and he enjoyed every second of it, pressing himself against you as he felt your legs tremble for him. “you did so well for me...” he licked your nipple once more before moving kisses up to your neck. “but, we still have one thing before we finish... and you’re gonna be a good girl and do it.”

“what? what’s left?” you mumbled, tired and breathless, your legs still shaking as he grabbed your body and made you sit on the bed. not understanding what he meant when you noticed him standing up, right next to you.

“come here ’n open your mouth, i’ll show you.” it wasn't a request, it almost sounded like an order, if you didn't do it he’d make you do it anyway. “open wide.” he said again as you sat on the edge of the bed, right in front of him. one of his hands gripped the back of your head, while the other gripped his still hardened length, positioning it in front of your lips.

your eyes widened a little, but you looked up to meet rafe's gaze and he looked very confident about what he was doing. “no hands, i just need your little mouth, pretty girl.” he definitely wasn't expecting you to nod, he just shoved his cock into your mouth and waited for you to do what he wanted. “mmh, yeah, just like that...” he smirked, satisfied with your work, moving his hips back and forth, not caring if you could handle everything he put inside that sweet mouth.

he, in turn, didn't need much either, you had already given enough of a show for him to feel his balls full, he just needed a little more, your lips around his cock would solve the problem. “that got you so far, didn’t it? this stalker thing, you’re exactly where you wanna be, aren’t you? with my cock hitting your throat, so pretty.” he moaned, using his dirty words to motivate you to swallow him all the way down.

his moans started to become more frequent, he stopped moving his hips, using your head as if you were a doll, back and forth quickly, choking you, he was slowly reaching his limit and the sight really helped with that.

rafe knew he wouldn't last longer than that, he was exhausted, panting, letting out long gasps every time he sank the tip of his cock into your throat. he needed to come. so, he did it. “stay there... that’s it... stop.” he gasped once more, thrusting himself deep into the wet heat of your mouth, his length twitching as he began to spurt hot streams into the back of your throat. “fuck... fuck... mhmm.”

he didn't move his head, not until he was one hundred percent satisfied, not until you had swallowed every little drop of him.

and when it was over, you were a complete mess, falling back on your bed, dealing with the intense aftermath of what rafe gave you. he joined you at your side, as breathless as you were, not regretting a single microsecond of what had happened between you. “next time you wanna do this, remember to tie me tightly to the headboard, princess,” he suggested, lying on his back to face the ceiling like you. “just call me and i’ll bring the rope.”

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox, you'll be welcome. ꒰ ˶> ˕ <˶ ꒱ ♡

©⠀𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐙𝐓, 2025.⠀don't use my work without my consent.

451 notes · View notes

dansroo · 5 months ago

Text

Don't get angry with him, he was patient enough. :(

content; Jayce Talis x reader. nsfw. blowjob under a desk. male! reader. needy! jayce. light overstimulation. mention of body fluids. established relationship. Jayce loving everything about you. you are not in a public place as such, but it is not the right place to do that kind of stuff. word count: 985 (I got confused and I had put the wrong number at the beginning, my apologies)

a/n; he's so stupid, I love him, ugh. english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammatical error !

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

You swallowed saliva with difficulty, unable to avoid letting out a trembling gasp as you tried to maintain your sanity and continue working with what you had in front of you. But you reached a point where what you were supposed to do had been lost along with the rest of the coherent thoughts that resided in your now blurred mind. The tool you held in your hand slipped, making a loud — sharp noise upon contact with the surface of the desk.

You bit the back of your hand in a failed attempt to muffle your moans. For God's sake, you could hear the lustful sounds that Jayce's mouth made while eating you under the desk.

The plans and annotations in front of you began to become less readable; you were fighting against the impulse to succumb. You couldn't let him get away with it and give him, on a golden platter, what he wanted.

His big hands wrapped almost completely around your thighs while his face was buried between them, taking you completely at a desperate rhythm. He knew that this was the least suitable time and place to do something like that, but he was starved; he needed you, and he was sure you would understand, right?

You felt a chill invading your whole body, along with a wave of pleasure that wrapped your stomach. Your legs felt weak, and you had the desire to grind your hips against his pretty face. You whined, clinging with one of your hands to the edge of the desk.

It wasn't his fault, of course not. No one ask you to look so good while you were working.

“No distractions, got it.”

Well, it could probably be just a little his fault.

But he truly made every effort to listen to you, to be attentive to every word you said, but he couldn't help it. Not with you looking so handsome in front of him. All he could focus on was the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way you bit your lip in thought, the way you had your sleeves rolled up and your hair was slightly tousled. The smudge of grease on your face, he find it strangely endearing. You were so invested in your work, so dedicated and passionate. It was... kind of hot.

God, he really loves you so much.

He lost count of all the times he moved around the room, trying to distract himself with anything other than you. Swallowing nervously, waited for you to realize what he wanted — that he wanted you — but that was impossible. You weren't paying attention to him, and he didn't dare tell you anything because he was embarrassed enough to open his mouth — but not enough to get between your legs. You made him feel like a damn teenager in love, and he had to admit that deep down, he liked it.

A moan choked at the back of your throat, eyes rolling back as your fingers tangled in your hair, combing it back. You sighed tremulously, feeling your hips contract with the effort you were making for not to cum. You almost did when Jayce pushed your length all the way down his throat, with a hand gripping you firmly by the waist. He knew what he was doing.

“S-Shit!” you whimper loudly, unintentionally throwing the objects near you to the floor with your arms. You couldn't see him, but you knew he was smiling right now.

He really tried to push those thoughts away, but they just kept creeping back into his mind. He tried to focus on his own work, but his mind kept wandering back to you. You caught his gaze a few times, giving him a quizzical look, but he quickly glanced away; pretending to be focused on the tool he was holding. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and he knew he was probably blushing like an idiot.

He found himself stealing glances at you whenever he thought you weren't looking. Every so often, he'd catch a flash of that beautiful smile, and it would make his heart flutter all over again. He watched the way your fingers moved with such practiced precision — oh your beautiful hands, he couldn't wait to feel them on every corner of his body; just like your magnificent and pretty fingers, which were not only agile to create things.

You two had been working for hours and he had kept his patience as much as he could, but he couldn't keep waiting. You wouldn't blame him, would you?

“Jayce…”

“Mhm?”

The vibration of his throat caused you an involuntary moan. You cursed in low, tilting your head lower, peeking between the edge of the desk and your body to look at him kneeling in front of you. Your cock was still between his lips, with a mixture of his saliva and your fluids dripping from the corners. He looked at you attentively, with dilated pupils, observing your face. His hair was a mess, but it still looked cute as always.

“Stop, this… this is not the-!” He stopped you, sucking your tip and stealing a hoarse moan in the process. You bit your lip, watching his pretty mouth move up and down for your entire length. It was much better to see it than just to feel it.

You rested your back against the chair, bringing your hand to his hair; where your fingers tangled between his brown locks. Your legs opened more for him, being the only sign he needed to realize that he had obtained what he wanted.

He didn't take his eyes off you for the rest of the night; he wanted to make sure he remembered this moment well, capturing every expression on your face and the sound of your voice.

And don’t worry, you will make sure to collect your debt later.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #gay #mlm #muh luh muh #x male reader #jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis x male reader #jayce x male reader #jayce x reader #arcane season 2 #i need him #hi again

634 notes · View notes

bellaxgiornata · 8 months ago

Text

Tell Me

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.3k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: “Why? Why do you love me?”

Warnings/tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, almost breakup

Summary: Matt has been acting cold for the past couple of weeks–ever since you told him you loved him.

a/n: Of course Matt was the first one who came to my mind for this prompt. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

“We’re done,” Matt stated. “That’s it. I can’t do this any longer.”

A thick and palpable tension hung in the air at Matt’s words, a heaviness so pervasive that you didn't need his heightened senses to feel it filling the apartment. Standing beside the leather couch, your arms tightly wrapped around yourself as if they alone were the only thing holding you together. Heart pounding rapidly inside of your chest, it felt close to bursting straight out if you dared to move your arms even an inch.

Across the room, Matt stood in front of the large living room windows with his back turned to you. The light from the billboard across the street washed the front of him in a dark crimson, casting looming shadows along his tense and rigid form. His hands were situated on his hips, fingers digging so sharply into his dress pants that they were pulling the fabric even more taut around his waist. Everything about his posture–from his clenched jaw to his squared shoulders–felt as if he was intentionally shutting you out as well as keeping a physical distance between the pair of you.

This is it, you thought. This is where he finally tries to push me away.

You’d known Matt for a while now. Long enough to know how he operated when things became just a bit too much for him or if someone grew a bit too close. Over time you’d slowly learned the signs of when he’d start to close himself off, beginning to read him sometimes better than he thought he could even read you.

It had been ten months since you’d met Matt while working on an article for The Bulletin. You’d interviewed him about a case that his firm had won and the pair of you had steadily and easily grown closer together after that initial encounter. Neither of you had been able to stay away from the other. You’d long since been past the point of just dating and occasionally sleeping together–you’d been an official couple for months now. You had clothing hanging in his closet and you knew exactly where he stored the red Daredevil suit that he donned most evenings. You knew about his past from the many late nights he'd opened up to you either after a rough patrol as the Devil or a case he was particularly fired up over.

But lately Matt had started to become prickly around you. Constantly on edge. Canceling dates and intentionally trying to avoid you. He was often gone in the mornings the few times you’d stayed over at his apartment, not even giving you his usual goodbye kiss before he left. He hadn’t invited you over as frequently either because most nights now he told you that he planned to stay late at the office before running out to deal with one thing or another as Daredevil.

This had all started just over two weeks ago. Right around the time you’d first told him you loved him. He’d seemed off that night, too. You remembered how he’d suddenly grown quiet in bed, his expression shifting to something impossible to read as he almost immediately shut you out. You’d assured him that you hadn’t expected him to say it back in the moment–and you’d meant that. You knew he’d heard the truth in the firm beat of your heart. Because you loved Matt. You knew him opening his heart up to let someone in was not something he did easily, and you were prepared to continue proving to him that you weren’t about to disappear from his life like he seemed to secretly fear.

You’d long since wondered if his sudden coldness was some sort of a test, one he himself wasn’t even aware he was putting you through. As if he expected you to leave at the first sign of difficulty in the relationship which had otherwise been fairly smooth. You’d always encouraged open communication between you both–something else you were aware he struggled with–but you’d always been patient and understanding with him, which was what you’d tried to be over these past couple of weeks.

Until this very moment. Because right now you did not fully understand why Matt had just told you that he couldn’t continue the relationship anymore. You could feel the tears building in your eyes as you stared at the back of his navy blue dress shirt, your eyes fixed on the wrinkles that formed throughout his work day. In your chest, you could feel your heart teetering on the verge of shattering, ready to break into pieces with only a few more words from his mouth. You found yourself wondering if Matt would be able to hear your heart break.

But you didn't want to let him go without a fight. You didn’t want to lose him. You loved him far too much to let him self-sabotage the relationship you'd both created and poured yourselves into over the past few months without even trying to get through to him first.

“There’s no way you mean any of that, Matt,” you told him, shaking your head and ignoring the sting of tears in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

His head snapped to the side when you'd finally spoken, the sharp angle of his profile swathed in red just over the top of his broad shoulder. His jaw was set firm, but even in the light from the billboard you could see the muscle jumping in his cheek.

“And what makes you think that?” he asked, a rough edge to his words.

“Because,” you answered, taking a small, hesitant step towards him and noticing the way he flinched. “I know you. I think you’re just trying to hurt me to avoid the perceived hurt you think is bound to happen if you continue getting close to me. Growing comfortable in our relationship. Because you think I’m going to leave you. You think it's inevitable.”

The muscle jumped in Matt's cheek again, the only movement you caught on his otherwise immobile body. Pressing your lips together, you tried to fight the way they'd begun to quiver. In this moment, it felt more like you were approaching a feral cat than a grown man–a feeling you'd experienced a few times with Matt in the past. And you knew right now that if you showed him any sign of weakness he'd pounce on it.

“You're scared,” you continued slowly, taking another cautious step towards him. “I think you're terrified of how great things have been between us. I think you feel as if you don't deserve the happiness I've seen written on your face when we're together.”

Something like an agitated growl rumbled in his chest at your words. Not exactly a noise of disagreement, but also not exactly the sound of a warning. It sounded more alarmed than anything, which had you feeling more confident that you'd just struck the exact problem he'd created in his mind.

“But you're wrong,” you assured him firmly. “You deserve love and happiness, Matthew. And I intend to be here with you. I will happily spend every day right by your side helping you until you see it for yourself.”

You took another cautious and careful step towards him, but you stopped moving the second you saw his lip curl back into something like a snarl. You could see his eyes narrow at you even behind the lenses of his red glasses just before he spoke.

“Why?” he growled. “Tell me why.”

Swallowing hard, your hands nervously curled up inside the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Why what?” you whispered.

“Why do you love me?” he demanded. “Why? How could you possibly love me?”

Freezing on the spot as your breath hitched, confusion briefly washed over you. Despite having now learned his strange behavior had indeed been brought about by you saying that you loved him for the first time weeks ago, it had taken you entirely off guard that he'd wanted an actual explanation as to why you did. But then again, that really shouldn't have surprised you quite so much considering you knew just how unlovable he thought he was. And you weren’t going to let an opportunity to tell him how you really felt slip between your fingers.

“Because you have the biggest heart I've ever seen, Matthew,” you began softly, emotion thick in your voice. “You keep it buried deep in your chest, hiding it from everyone, but I see it. Every time you come home with another banana bread or casserole dish and an excited story about how you helped someone in this city who'd otherwise have been looked over because they couldn’t afford good legal representation. I see it when you come home late at night bruised, exhausted, and bleeding but grinning in triumph as you tell me who you saved. I see it whenever you just simply look at me.”

The snarl that had initially curled his lips back gradually slipped off of his face while you'd been speaking, the hard lines of his body slowly beginning to soften. He didn't speak, but his shift in body language had given you some hope back. Hope that you could get through to him.

“And I'm not bothered by how much of yourself you give to this city,” you continued, once more carefully closing the space between you both as you slowly lowered your arms to your sides. “I admire you for it, Matthew. Ever since you told me the truth. I've never disliked that part of you. I’ve never taken issue with it. I’ve never been afraid of you. That part of you has only made me admire you more. Love you more.”

You were standing a few feet away from him now, able to see the faint tremble of his lips with how close you were. Everything you were saying was having an effect on him so you continued, hoping your words would start to sink in. Even just a little.

“And it's not just that I admire that big, beautiful heart in your chest,” you told him, “but I admire that big, beautiful brain in that handsome head of yours.” You paused, smiling a little back at him. “I think you're incredibly smart and brilliant, Matt. In and out of the courtroom. You're fiercely passionate about justice no matter the cost to yourself–whether it's sleepless nights out on the rooftops or hours pouring over files here at your apartment. And you're funny when you let yourself stop being so broody most days,” you said, your small smile growing a bit more on your lips as a tear slipped down your cheek. “You brighten my days more than you know, Matty. Always helping me to find the light in the darkness when I think there isn't any. Seeing the good in everyone…except for yourself.”

Reaching up, you wiped away another stray tear that had raced down your cheek with the back of your hand. Matt sniffled quietly, his shoulders sagging as he finally and hesitantly turned towards you. His hands had fallen from his hips, hanging at his sides as his fingers twitched.

“Do you really want me to go?” you whispered, more tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “Because I–I can take my things and leave if that's what you really want, Matt. I can walk out that door and leave you alone.”

Matt shook his head firmly, his mouth visibly trembling at your words. Tears had managed to slide their way beneath his glasses, trailing their way down his cheeks. The sight had your own tears falling faster as he timidly approached you, closing the small bit of distance that remained.

“No,” he breathed out. “No, I don't really want that.”

Feeling a flood of relief, you reached out and wrapped your arms around his waist. Drawing himself the rest of the way into the front of you, Matt immediately buried his face directly against your neck. You could feel a dampness forming on your skin from his tears, the feeling only causing you to hold him tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed into your skin. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I don’t want you to go. I didn’t mean it. I’m just–just–”

Turning your head, you buried your face into his hair as your hands began rubbing light and soothing patterns over his back while he struggled to find the words he wanted. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you breathed in that warm, rich scent that was always uniquely Matt. With his warm body wrapped around you, your once rapidly beating heart began slowing back to a normal rhythm.

“I know,” you murmured back, lips brushing his hair as you spoke. “I know you didn’t mean it, Matty. Relationships are scary,” you told him. “Giving someone so much of yourself is terrifying, I get it. But I love you and I don’t want to leave you. I’m not going to leave you.”

With his face still buried against your throat, you felt his features screw up against your skin before another rush of Matt’s warm, wet tears began to slide down your neck. Your hands fisted his dress shirt, holding him even tighter to the front of yourself as he cried. You didn’t need him to explain why he’d suddenly begun to weep because you’d already known the answer. He’d heard the truth in your explanation for why you loved him as you’d spoken them aloud. The same unwavering truth that was always present in your words.

“I love you,” he whispered into your skin. “And I don’t think I could ever stop.”

A smile pulled your lips upwards, tears burning at your eyes for an entirely different reason now. You pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to the top of his head as a warm rush of emotion filled you at hearing him finally say those three little words back to you.

“I love you, too, Matty,” you whispered. “And I don’t ever want to stop.”

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @millennial-birkin @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl @zomtart @justvalkyrie @steve-chandler

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil #Tuna-Tober 2024

777 notes · View notes

moonydustx · 5 months ago

Text

*Thinking and creating a little sketch of how my favorite characters deal with their partners dealing with problems.

To them, you are a force of nature.

Almost bordering on the utopian sense, an Odyssey written about you. You are the strongest person - perhaps resilient or resistant, he would really have difficulty in stipulating a precise name. From missions to everyday life, a fierce enemy or just a street fight, he didn't need to worry. He didn't need to, but that didn't mean he wouldn't. He would just lean against a nearby corner and appreciate you and your strength taking up the entire place even if it was just with words. The shine in his eyes indicated more than just simple recognition. There was respect, fascination and admiration there. You were an ode to many things he contemplated and being able to watch it from the front row made it all the better. However, if he saw someone trying to cheat, he would just move a few steps and touch the enemy's shoulder with false kindness. "You really don't want to touch my girl."

Luffy, Zoro, Mihawk, Law, Shanks, Kid (OP), Satoru, Suguru (JJK), Shikamaru, Kakashi (hear me out: he can do both) (Naruto)

To them, you are the most precious porcelain.

Not that they didn't see you as strong or resilient, quite the opposite. He admired those traits in you and knew that you would know how to make great use of your strength if necessary. But from the moment you agreed to be on their side, you no longer needed to worry. It was that old story of the privilege of a scary dog by your side. Missions that were too complicated? They would deal with the greatest risk. A silly fight in a random bar? The man who dared to raise his voice in your direction would not live long enough to brag about it. An impossible-to-open can? Leave it to him and you would be thrilled with the achievement. Sure, he knew that his manner could be a bit too much for some people, but your smile - even if it occasionally had a touch of sarcasm as you thanked him for being your great hero - was more than enough of a reward. That, along with all the thank-you kisses he would receive, oh, that was worth it.

Sanji, Katakuri, Smoker, Killer, Ace, Sabo (OP) Nanami, Yuji, Higuruma (JJK) Iruka, Yamato (I mean, he would scare the enemy just thinking about it) (Naruto)

a/n: Did I forget anyone? I saw Naruto during my writing hiatus and I thought it would be a good idea to put some characters here.

324 notes · View notes

cerastes · 16 days ago

Note

Any thoughts on stronghold protocol?

I think it's very fun and an excellent concept, but it needs fine tuning if they want to make it a permanent mode.

The concept is solid and I love it: Familiar units work differently because 1) of the auto-battler nature of it, where you set up everything and then let the game do its thing, especially important in this being the fact that skills activate based on effective auto attack range, and 2) there's no distinction between melee and ranged tile, and the maps are linear, simple rows that are designed around you having to necessarily meet the enemy yes or yes.

That in of itself is fun thanks to the variety of units and restrictions placed on the usual rules of engagement: You need to make sure your unit can actually activate their skill in a meaningful way, so you can't put Goldenglow or Laptop on the far back and global snipe, they won't activate unless an enemy enters their range. There's also a fun team-building aspect, more micro and immediate than Integrated Strategies, since you know what you'll be fighting from second 1 instead of having to gimmickproof your party in case of X or Y, with X or Y perhaps never happening in your run (ie: getting an Anti-Gopnik setup ASAP in IS3 if going for Last Knight ending). The items, cost opportunity, and ability to deploy doubles or make a strong Operator out of having three of them all make for a fun time, plus, every Operator costs 3 Coins no matter their Tier, meaning there's a very explicit incentive for you to upgrade your Supply Level ASAP so you can start getting those Tier VI Operators.

Now, what are the mode's weaknesses? Well, it's very hard to bounce back from a bad hand. If you just don't get something decent in the first 4 rounds, it's VERY hard to come back from that. You do have multiple lives and some rounds you just gotta lose and try again later, but if you didn't manage to win against an enemy, your odds are Very Bad for the next round because now they are even stronger while you may not increase in power significantly; Rerolling the shop is very cheap at 1 coin, which is encouraged until you can get a unit or item you can use, but at the same time, the deeper you go into the match, the more necessary it becomes to be able to make triples to get enhanced stats and free high rarity recruits, because Beagle can only tank for so long before she starts getting Bloodline of Combat'd out of existence in three attacks. In other words, RNG plays a huge, huge role, which is to be expected in a game mode that is as auto as its ever gotten in a game that has always had execution be involved in its endgame, but at the same time, it wouldn't kill to add some more consistency to your matches, such as the ability to spend perhaps 3-4 coins for a reroll that guarantees a Supply Level Tier recruit or a Supply Level -1 recruit, making it so you can pay a significantly more steep price in order to get something that's more likely to start paying dividends back when you are already on the back foot.

Now, this isn't an issue with Normal Mode, because that one isn't overtuned. It's Hard Mode (or Core Protocol) that really needs some fine tuning. I'm lenient on it because, well, it's literally the Hard Mode, it's meant to be hard and I want it to be more difficult, but there is a huge disparity in difficulty when it comes to the possible factions you are fighting: Hard Mode Sarkaz + Convicts is way, way easier than Hard Mode Sankta or Icefield + Anything. Sankta are insanely difficult, FAR more than any of the other factions in my opinion, with an enemy that's bulky, needs 4 block, and restocks Ammo to enemies that can use it meaning the Bomb Car Carts can produce infinite Bomb Cars to nuke the hell out of your composition, when they express counter to Bomb Cars is to not block them in the first place... Which is impossible due to the way the maps are built, as mentioned before. The way the HP scaling works, you'll never be able to meaningfully kill the Bomb Cars consistently before you get nuked, made all the more difficult by the Sankta units also including the Stun Crossbowmen from the Schwarz event and the freaking Lost Colossus from IS2 for some reason, so you are constantly eating long Stuns while you get Zerg Rushed by Bomb Cars that explode for lots of damage if blocked, or take Lives if they get past you, either because all your Block is already taken, or because your entire line is Stunned. Mind you, not even having two S3 Lumen is enough to take on this onslaught, as once you start actually blocking the Crossbows, they will stun their blocked, making for just too many units for Lumen to unstun, even when cloned. The only counterplay is literally to just have gotten a broken set up before this escalates. Which is... Kinda ass from a player experience perspective. I understand it's Hard Mode, but losing to the game not giving you the perfect storm of things you need, a very unlikely molotov cocktail of Operators and Items, to meaningfully play against this raw amount of units and crowd control, can be very frustrating. It's like I'm really playing late Overwatch 1 with all this crowd control.

In many ways, it's very reminiscent of SSS 1.0 where it was just very, very unfun because you could just get absolutely shafted by bad luck and Physical Damage was worthless. Unlike SSS 1.0, however, this is a temporary mode that they can refine and rebalance for an eventual permanent addition, which I think would be very, very fun. Overall, I love the game mode, and I hope they make it permanent. Right now, I think Hard Mode should be taken as something truly difficult, and Normal Mode for general play, because Hard Mode is pretty overtuned to the point where even factions that aren't the Evil Two, like Sarkaz, can completely shit over you with their Lifesteal guys, and if you get to Round 13 and have no counter to Mudrock, good fucking luck.

#legofrans #arknights

58 notes · View notes

facefullofsadness · 1 year ago

Note

HII SORRY IDK IF REQS R ON OR OFF BUT CAN I REQ GUITARIST DOM NEIGHBOUR YUNJIN X NERD SUB Y/N (FEM)

first of all, yes reqs are open dw. second, ANON IM OBSESSED WITH THIS CONCEPT GRRR FOAMING AT THE MOUTH

content - dom guitarist neighbor!yunjin x nerd sub!y/n (written like "studious nerd" not "loser nerd" like in the sakura fic), smut (rough sex, fingering, choking, degradation, mommy kink, edging)

wc - 1652

a/n - ffos stop writing rockstar!yunjin smut challenge (difficulty: impossible). and when I do a rockstar!au series w a bunch of diff idols just fucking y/n brainless, then what? bc look at the material, rockstar winter, giselle, hanni, yunjin, wendy, phew, I'm dizzy.

all you want to do is study or relax, but yunjin has her own agenda.

I imagine you're some kind of stem or pre-med major where ur head is always buried in books, trying to study and memorize and re-memorize and review all this fucking material. ur always preoccupied with your studies that when u finally get that moment to rest, you really bask in the peace of silence after a long day.

but of course, you can never have good things. bc as soon as you lay back on your couch, ur favorite snack next to you and putting your comfort show on the tv, you hear music blasting from your neighbor. the melody u conclude being an arctic monkeys song (taste jennifer! listen to do I wanna know for immersion :)) which you would enjoy on any other day, if not for the fact that you were trying to relax and NOT feel the vibrations of the electric guitar from next door. that being said, this neighbor had been practicing music EVERY DAY for the past few weeks.

it drove u insane. you have never tried to confront ur neighbor bc you hoped they would stop on their own (maybe due to social anxiety too but that's neither here nor there), but after WEEKS of this perpetual migraine, you had no choice.

building up the courage to walk over to their door and proceeding to practically pound on it, music louder now that you were outside their apartment. you were fully prepared to go ape-shit on the menace that had been tormenting your serenity for so long. but you didn't prepare for them to be hot?!

the music stopping after 3 rounds of your aggressive knocking and finally a red-haired sexy ass woman swung open the door fully, guitar slung on her back and tatted arms crossed, wearing black tattered clothes, the woman towering over you as she leaned forward, looking up at her eyebrow and septum piercings.

you gulped nervously, not expecting such a sight, the ginger raising an eyebrow at you curiously.

"what do you want?" she'd ask annoyedly.

her tone pissed you off and snapped u out of your trance, "for you to lower your music or stop playing."

bold, she thought.

"why should I?" the woman leaned against her door frame, a smirk tugging at her lips.

you huff out frustratingly, "because you've been blasting your music for the past few weeks and I'm sick and tired of it, it gives me a headache and you have no respect."

she scoffs, "aw, is my princess missing out on her beauty sleep?"

you close ur eyes and sigh, regaining urself so you wouldn't blow up, then looking up at the girl's eyes, "can you PLEASE lower the music at least?"

the ginger uncrosses her arms and leans forward again, one hand on the door frame and another gesturing at you, "do I get anything in return for being such a good girl for you?"

u feel chills go down your spine at her words and your cheeks heat up. the sound of her deep chuckle makes you look away.

"fuck you're cute, what's your name?" she tilts her head to the side.

"y-y/n."

"I've never seen you around y/n. you're telling me I've been living next to an absolute babe for the past few months and I didn't know? can't be having that."

your eyes dart anywhere else before you clear your throat, "anyway, thank you, I'll get going now."

"ah, ah, ah, not so fast y/n-ie. I haven't even told you my name yet!" you feel a hand snatch your wrist and pull you back, your body falling into hers.

you look up at the red-haired neighbor, "it's yunjin, jennifer to friends, but you can moan mommy to me."

you scream internally and feel your heartbeat racing. it'd be so fucking cringe to hear it if anyone else said it, but something about the way jen held you and looked at you like her next meal made your lower stomach feel on fire.

"do you wanna know how talented guitarists are with their fingers?" her naughty half-lidded gaze trailed the features of your face, looking so innocent to her, with your large black framed glasses and wide eyes.

"you're disgusting and a pervert miss jennifer," you say, trying to cover up your attraction to her and the situation (failing btw).

you try to pull away from her grasp, her strong hands gripping your arms tighter and holding you close, her face coming closer to yours, "oh please, don't lie and tell me you don't wanna fuck me."

"you really don't have any respect do you?"

"and where was your respect? came pounding on my door, demanding whatever bullshit you just said, didn't even ask me for my name miss neighbor!" a cocky smile spreading on yunjin's face.

"well I apologize but it should be common sense to not blast your music for the entire 5th floor to hear," you roll your eyes, crossing your arms in her hold.

"you look even better when you're angry, maybe I should piss you off some more."

god she pissed you off so much, it's unfortunate the girl was really fucking hot.

"I'm not pissed," you lied.

"no? what are you then? horny?" the audacity really.

you roll your eyes, "can I go?"

jen gives you an annoyingly smug expression and shakes her head left to right before pulling you into her place, shutting the door behind you, and pinning you to it.

"you may not be horny, which I don't believe, but I am now."

her grip leaves your arms and trails your sides. you let out a heavy sigh but try to hold your composure.

"hm? you're not pushing me away? does that mean I'm right?"

she chuckles lowly next to your ear, her greedy hands slipping under your sweatshirt and rubbing the skin.

"sh-shut up," you mumble, turning your head away from her face in your neck, her mouth leaving hot breaths and wet kisses across it.

her calloused fingertips tap against your waist and travel higher, "no bra? was your intention to get fucked so I could change my mind?"

she's so vulgar, like it gives you the ick, but she feels so good, you ignore the bullshit spilling from her lips.

she feels up your stomach and places each hand on your boobs, kneading them eagerly and breathing hard on your neck. you bite your lip to prevent any noise from escaping your mouth. you knew it was wrong, you knew it was dirty, but you knew it felt too good to wanna stop.

"c'mon princess, let it out for me," yunjin would whisper against your skin, her thumbs circling your hard nipples.

your hands clutch her bare shoulders as you feel her smile against your jaw. you struggle hard to hold back a whine as she pushes you into the door using her warm body.

"I have nothing to let out for you," lying again.

"I guess I just have to tear it out from you then," the guitarist says before taking her hands out from under your sweatshirt and grabbing you by the thighs, lifting you up and carrying you to her room.

your body falls against the plush mattress and you watch as the woman slings her guitar off her shoulders, crawling on the bed towards you.

"you may be able to resist how good it feels now, but not after I have my way with you... I won't be the one making so much noise after all."

oh and she truly kept her word.

yunjin's right hand fingers were plunged deep inside your pussy, thrusting in and out at unfathomable speed, while her left hand fingers were in your mouth, shoving them down your throat and making you gag.

your shorts and panties were somewhere lost in her room and if your vision wasn't blurred with tears, you swear your clothes hang from one of the guitars she had displayed on the wall. you sat with your legs wide open on jen's lap, your back against the headboard for stability, tongue sticking out so her fingers can reach deeper into your mouth.

all you could make out were the choking noises coming from your throat and muffled moaning conjoined with it. your cunt was on fire due to the pace at which her digits were ramming into you. your eyes were rolled back and your thighs trembled.

"you sick fuck, you're really enjoying this you know? I know you are, I know you love how rough I'm treating you. who would've known some lowly nerd like you would be into such freaky shit."

she'd pull the fingers in your throat out which caused you to release a deep groan, but return her hand to your neck, squeezing and pinning you against the headboard.

"m-mommy..." you'd desperately whimper out.

a sick chuckle leaves her throat hearing you call her the title she mentioned earlier.

"you may be a whore but you're good at following directions, aren't you princess?" she sinisterly smiles at your fucked out expression, pulling her fingers all the way out to slam them in again, using four digits to plunge into your gushing cunt.

your vision blurs completely as you feel your high coming quick. your back arches off of the wall and your body melts into yunjin's hold.

"cumming already? so sensitive, I don't wanna end it yet," she immediately retracts her hand from your pulsing core.

you whine desperately at the loss of contact and jennifer's grip on your neck tightens.

"listen here little slut, I barely even started. you're going to hold out until I have my way with you, got it?"

let's just say you're not the neighbor making the noise complaints in the next few hours (days? weeks? yunjin realllyyyy liked you).

a/n - guitarists' finger dexterity is no joke (I play guitar so someone plsss hmu :.) aka huh yunjin hit my line im begging you)

798 notes · View notes

fushiglow · 5 months ago

Text

10 things I've learned about being a fanfic author over the last year

At the time of writing this post, I have been writing and sharing fanfiction for Jujutsu Kaisen for almost two years. This time last year, my in-progress longfic, Over the Threshold, started to gain popularity and, over the last twelve months, I think it's fair to say I have become somewhat of a BNF in the SatoSugu community... Sigh...

While every creative wants their work to be seen, there is a threshold (ha) past which visibility brings difficulties, and unfortunately I went over it (ha) in recent months. It has changed my fandom experience significantly, and not entirely for the better. While there have been friendships for life forged, beautiful memories I'll carry with me for the rest of my life, and more kind words and fanart than I can shake a stick at, there have also been opportunists, naysayers, and even outright bullies.

Seeing your name thrown around in fandom spaces with little regard for the real person behind the writing — for your character, for your circumstances, for your creative liberty — does force you to re-evaluate your relationship with your work and your audience. With that in mind, I thought I'd share the lessons I've taken from the last year as a fanfic author.

I really hope this serves as advice for any fanfic authors seeking more visibility on their work, and also generally encourages more thoughtful engagement with fandom creators. Let's go!

1. Writing for anyone except yourself is still a bad idea

That doesn't mean it isn't sometimes worth taking reader preferences into account. It's just about knowing when to disregard them. We write fanfiction for lots of different reasons that vary from fic to fic. Sometimes, making other people happy is a good enough reason to write a fic, as long as that's what you set out to do and you're under no illusions about that.

However, letting reader expectations creep into your approach to your other work in a way that doesn't serve your personal creative vision is a bad idea, especially because...

2. People disrespect fanfic authors even more than you thought

There are plenty of kind, supportive people in fandom. However, the unfortunate truth is they are vastly outnumbered by people who will gobble up your work without even taking a moment to say thank you for the meal and who will, in fact, demand more from you instead.

Trying to please entitled people who are impossible to satisfy, who bring nothing of value to your fandom experience, and who may even resort to bullying if you don't play by their ever changing rulebook is a pointless endeavour — so don't bother!

3. Your writing process is a constant work in progress

Because you are a constant work in progress. You can't always expect something that worked for you a year ago to work the same now. There are too many variables in play, not least your skill as a writer. If the stabilisers you put on last year are no longer helping, maybe it's a sign you don't need them anymore. Maybe it's time to take them off and try something new.

I am still planning a more in depth writing process post, but the simple truth is, my writing process can be summed up as...

4. Whatever works!

My main piece of advice when it comes to writing is always going to be, "at some point, you've just got to do it". Sure, there are tools and techniques you can use to aid the process, but ultimately it always comes down to you and the words.

There's no right or wrong way to write, and there's no point comparing your process to someone else's, because ultimately you'll do whatever works for you. Whether you're someone who religiously practises a warm-up routine before sitting down to write or someone who stares at the screen for two months straight before vomiting up a masterpiece whole (or someone like me who jumbles their way through with a slightly different approach every time), it's all good as long as it ends with words on paper.

5. Writing for an audience changes the game

For better and for worse! Having an engaged readership on a WIP has, on occasion, created unique and invaluable opportunities to elevate my work beyond what would have been possible by myself. I'm very grateful for the artist-audience dialogue that I know we all crave when sharing our work with the world but aren't always fortunate enough to experience.

However, being aware of your audience while writing also influences your approach in unhelpful ways, no matter how much you try to get around it. Ensuring that I maintain control of that dialogue (or, at the very least, a 50/50 back and forth) requires constant vigilance.

6. Community is a double edged sword

I think everyone in fandom is seeking community of one kind or another. Building a dedicated community around my writing and seeing real good come of it was an unexpected by-product of sharing my fic with the world, but a deeply rewarding one. However, communities aren't static and they require a collaborative effort to maintain.

Series come to an end, fandom trends shift, people move on. On the flipside, you build something so wonderful that others want to share in its benefits without contributing in meaningful ways. Seeing a community so closely tied to your work and your sense of self shift into something unrecognisable until you start to feel like a stranger in your own space is very hard. Furthermore, managing a community in a dedicated forum takes significant time and energy which could be spent writing, which is why...

7. The most successful fanfic authors are selfish

What I mean by "successful" is up to you. However, whether it's replying to comments, supporting fellow creatives in the fandom, or even tagging work for discoverability, some authors disregard anything that prevents them from getting words onto the page. Some people are here to post their shit and leave — and more power to them.

The more of yourself you offer, the more people come to expect until, eventually, the already generous act of writing thousands of words for your fandom becomes the bare minimum. This is often where the topic of "fandom etiquette" comes up, but fanfic authors are already taking on a disproportionate share of the burden simply by sharing their work in the first place. Anything beyond that is a courtesy we are not obligated to extend. We should thank authors who thoughtfully choose to extend those courtesies anyway, rather than vilifying them when they don't.

8. Guarding your enjoyment is paramount

If, like me, you're an author who does enjoy being an active member of the fandom community, then it's important to watch out for the myriad of things that can come between you and your stories. Fandom politics, or even just fandom trends, can have a huge influence on your relationship with the characters that originally inspired you.

However, what other people are doing with them doesn't need to have any bearing on what you choose to do with them if you don't want it to. Responding to fandom trends in your writing can be satisfying, but maintaining a degree of separation between wider fandom and the stories that really matter to you is crucial, I think. That being said...

9. Collaboration feeds creativity

Some beautiful moments have been born from throwing an idea back and forth with my fellow fans. Simple things can rapidly snowball into territory you would never usually set foot in, and expanding your creative horizons like that can only ever be a good thing! Being open with your ideas in fandom spaces is always a bit of a worry, but the reward for extending that trust far outweighs the risk in my experience.

Additionally, I think we get caught up in the idea of absolute originality, but if you're active in fandom, you're always taking inspiration from your fellow creatives. Freely crediting the people who have inspired me has only ever brought wonderful things my way, and I've even gone on to develop collaborative relationships with some of them. Fandom is more fun with other people!

10. But ultimately, writing is lonely work

No matter how many friendships you forge, you still have to retreat into solitude to write the damn story eventually. Writing doesn't lend itself to active human connection as much as art or music. You can chat to someone while drawing or play an instrument alongside another person, but when you're writing, you have to go it alone.

And the worst part? Even when you eventually share your story with the world, no one will ever care about it as much as you do. Writing is such a deeply lonely experience most of the time, I think — which is why it's so important to hold onto all the things that make it worthwhile.

And that's that! I have been stewing on all of these thoughts privately, but I wanted to share them in case they're of value to someone. I tried to keep it as measured as possible, but I acknowledge that I'm in a bit of a bitter headspace about fandom in light of the Discourse TM and subsequent harassment over Christmas.

I don't think it will stop me writing stories for this fandom, but I do think it will make me more guarded in my interactions with the wider community, and I think that's a shame. I joined this fandom as a fan first and a creator second, and I'm deeply sad to feel like some of the parts I used to enjoy most are no longer accessible to me.

This experience has certainly got me thinking more critically about the trend of fandom creators seemingly becoming more distant as they gain popularity. The word "arrogant" is often thrown around, but I think it's much more likely that taking a less active role in fandom spaces isn't as much a choice as it is a necessary measure for the sake of wellbeing and even safety.

Fascinating in a sort of sick way.

#writing #fandom #fandom etiquette #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #long post

86 notes · View notes

thiccpersonality · 3 months ago

Text

The Difficulties of The Working Class (Just Clark Kent): A Beautiful Omega, His Pups and The Fact He Wants Both

Happy Valentine's Day my loves! I know this isn't a post for that Damian story, nor is it the 5+2 that I'm doing, but I did say that I was working on a 5k+ superbat story (that obviously didn't stay 5k+ words). I kept myself up the whole night just to be able to post this on today, though sadly I won't be able to make a double post like how I wanted, but I hope this will suffice?

I really hope everyone is able to find some humor and love within this story? 😂 Enjoy! 💛

Being a reporter can be a pretty rough job...or so Clark assumes. It doesn't make him as physically drained as his very human coworkers, however, the Kryptonian can often feel mentally and emotionally overwhelmed depending on who it is he's talking to and what exactly he's researching.

And maybe it's just his body's way of trying to relate to earthlings?

But, Clark often feels a physical weight on his shoulders or back when a scoop is particularly difficult to look into, or his legs get phantom aches and pains in them when he's been moving too much. All the bodily discomfort he tends to feel is most likely just Clark taking what he's heard the people around him complaining about daily and trying his best to imagine that for himself—again—in anyway to try relating to the humans around him, all to show that he's not too different. Anyway, Clark could go on forever talking about his identity crisis, but that isn't what this is about.

No.

This is something much bigger than any stories he could ever chase down.

'Why', you ask?

That's a very good question. It's because most of Clark's mental, emotional and physical distress comes with one eligible bachelor's children. 'Who?' You ask this time instead. Well, one Bruce Thomas Wayne and his hoard of children...or demons? Clark isn't too sure on what exactly those—creatures are yet.

Figuring out if Bruce Wayne's children are also an alien species like himself, an experiment gone wrong, or demons that crawled their way out of hell, is a mystery that Clark has yet to solve at this moment in time. But all is well—if nothing else—than because everyone's beloved Kryptonian has found himself growing closer to Bruce everytime they do an interview together. It's honestly like a dream come true...ah, having those strikingly blue eyes on you that is, not the hoard of gremlins children that stare into your soul from afar off because they most definitely know that you have a crush on their mother and do their very best to make your life miserable and your job impossible.

Clark can't say that he knows for sure how they feel when seeing someone try to flirt with your mother during business hours, and eye him like he's eye candy. But, he supposes he could understand feeling protective over the only parent/person who–out of their love and kindness–took you into their home and loves you for who you are.

You see.

Not much is known about the Wayne childrens parents. It's something that hardly anyone talks about, and while there have already been released (and confirmed) statements on how all of Bruce's children (except one) is adopted, most people-including Clark himself-wonder if that's all true. I mean, most of Bruce's kids look like they could be his by blood...especially the Wayne brothers, and there's also the possibility that the rest took after their birth fathers more than the billionaire himself.

But in all honesty. That's not a thought Clark tries to dwell on too much...he gets...jealous whenever the thought of Bruce sleeping around with anyone that isn't him pops up in this useless brain of his.

Which Clark truly feels guilty for feeling. Isn't that, what did one of Bruce's kids put it as, red flag behavior right there? I mean, they aren't even together, so why should he be concerning himself about who Mr. Wayne sleeps with? The answer: he doesn't know. Which is making Clark start to feel disheartened at the fact he ends up with more questions than answers, he's a reporter for goodness sakes! That's all he does is find answers to questions left untouched and unsolved. Anyhow, Bruce's kids make his job so much more exhausting than it needs to be (or should be) for him. I mean, when he said he wanted to feel human, he didn't mean for it to be in the form of the world's most menacing kids making him feel like he aged as gracefully as forgotten milk in the fridge.

No matter though.

Because Clark can put all his worries behind himself—please don't ask why again; he'll tell you this time. It's because he gets to interview (again) for the fourth time in the same year and month, his unofficial lover crush/boss, Bruce Wayne.

The man's smile can make Clark feel like he can do anything both in and out of his suit (civilian and superhero). He makes him feel indestructible, as if even Kryptonite wouldn't be able to take him down. Which maybe that's the secret weapon? Clark should give it a try sometime. But, the man and everything he exudes does wonder for Clark's health, especially when those soft, fair skinned cheeks flush a pretty pink whenever Clark looks at him a certain way when interviewing...there's always a pleasant smell that escapes Bruce Wayne's scent patches whenever Clark flusters him, a smell that only the Kryptonian can detect and bask in.

A fact that makes that possessive side of Clark simmer down like a dog finally given a bone after growling and barking for it.

And when looking at Bruce.

What a pretty bone he is. Clark wouldn't mind biting on that one any day.

Ahem! Where were we? Clark is being extremely unprofessional right now...he's about to go interview his crush/boss and he can't be thinking such thoughts while interviewing the other, or else nothing but intense staring and heavy breathing will ensue after simply looking at the man sitting in his seat with that beautiful smile on his face to welcome him.

Which Clark wouldn't mind staring at Bruce all day. But the other might not appreciate it, and might even fire him for looking so creepy.

And if he's fired. There's no more getting to hold in-depth conversations with Bruce and hear that soft as silk voice caress his eardrums like a gentle lover. He won't be able to see the billionaire's carefully sculpted (yet somehow delicate) face flush a soft pink whenever Clark brings up something he actually enjoys.

...

....

Oh, yeah...and there's also the fact that if he's fired, he won't be working anywhere ever again. There's also that.

But today is a day to be free of any burdens built up over the past few months of carefully inspected stories and grueling hours of getting the scoop on people that don't want to talk. Because Clark is now sitting (im)patiently in Bruce Wayne's lobby, waiting to be told by the too stern receptionist (her name is Clara) that he's okay to head on up to the office. Even if it's always the same routine of him being allowed up before the interview actually starts...Clara sure is stubborn about him actually going up when he's allowed (she claims he's too early and should just be on time for once. Rude).

Clark jiggles his leg up and down in an anticipatory manner, sighing softly as he stands up from his seat and heads over to Clara's desk, the woman only giving him a warning glance as he leans onto her desk before continuing to clack away at her keyboard.

"So...Clara-"

The strawberry blonde sighs, pushing her stark white cat eye glasses up her nose when they slip. "Mr. Kent. I swear if you are here to ask me, 'can I go up now?' one more time, I'm going to lollipop your throat with my pen." The receptionist rolls her eyes when hearing the defeated whine escaping the beta's lips, glancing up from her computer to look at the pouting reporter, raising a brow unimpressed at the behavior. "You are a grown man with a job, not a pup, please remain professional. And do you really think Mr. Wayne's children would accept a father who acts just like they do?"

Clara smiles victoriously at catching the taller off guard, basking in the embarrassed sputtering escaping from Clark.

"I-I don't—I'm not-" Clark looks around nervously to make sure no one heard them, narrowing his eyes at the female omega when she speaks up again, her voice amused while the corners of her lips tilt up impishly. "What? The only people around are you and I. Unless you're suddenly afraid of the chairs and walls talking about how embarrassing you are. Do you even realize how pitiful it is to see you trail after Mr. Wayne like a lost dog? And you always come way earlier than you need to and it always ends up the same routine."

Clark's flush deepens at how matter of fact the woman is about this...he's not that easy to read...is he?

"I-It wouldn't be the same if you just let me up early. You know Bru-Mr. Wayne doesn't mind it."

Clara snorts and shakes her head, "Well, I'm not Mr. Wayne, am I? I'm just a humble receptionist trying to do her job without bumbling Metropolitan reporter's disturbing me while receptioning." Clark's brow furrows and he groans while resting his cheek in his hand dejectedly, "Receptioning isn't a word, Clara. Are you sure you can't just-" he cuts himself off when seeing the omega reach for her pen. "You aren't a word, Kent. And I swear if you ask me to send you upstairs." Clark frowns in offense at the woman's implied threat, staring at the hand that squeezes the pen defensively. "First off, that doesn't make any sense. And second, you really meant that? About lollipopping me with a pen?! But...but it's such an expensive looking pen, surely it'd be a waste of money just to harm me?"

Clara twirls the object between her slim fingers, her smile pleased and relaxed. "I could afford it. Now, go sit down." Before Clark can raise another protest, a small child's voice speaks up from behind the man. "Good afternoon, Ms. Clara, is this...intruder disturbing you?"

Both Clara and Clark turn their gazes onto Damian Wayne, the small pup giving the larger male an assessing look before clicking his tongue. "Oh, it's you...again. Why haven't you kicked him out yet?" Clara smiles at the boy and sighs, "I've tried. Your mother just so happens to really like Mr. Kent's interviews...so here he is for yet another one. Are you here for lunch, sir? It seems a bit early to be out of school, doesn't it?" Damian tuts and straightens up his school uniform, lifting his nose high into the air and brushing off imaginary dust. "I got into trouble today. The only reason mother does not know about it is because he was doing something of the utmost importance today-" he side eyes Clark suspiciously and tiptoes up so that he can loudly whisper to Clara-"This Metropolitan invader isn't the...important thing, is he?"

Clara looks Clark up and down, taking in the cheap suit (that's one of the man's better one's) and clunky tie (which aren't bad things, she just likes teasing the man) before chuckling and whispering back. "No, it's definitely not him."

Before the beta can protest, Clara clears her throat, "Alright. Alright. Your mom would be cross with us if he heard us teasing his—friend. How about I send you upstairs to your mom? I'm sure he'd be happy to see you despite getting into trouble. And no matter what he may say, I am proud of you for throwing a nice punch to whoever troubled you."

Damian nods his head and gives a small, but genuine, smile at the receptionist. "Thank you. I'll have to remind mother to give you a raise."

Clark sighs and moves away from the desk, inching closer to his seat before Damian snaps his fingers towards him. "Straggler, you're coming up with me. It's always so pitiful seeing you sit there alone...like a dog left in the rain." When the man refuses to move, Damian looks over his shoulder to raise a brow at the other. "Are you coming or not?" Clark practically vibrates in excitement and speed walks to the open elevator, playfully sticking his tongue out at Clara before the doors close. "U-Uh, thank you so much for allowing me to come up with you! But what's with everyone comparing me to a sad, lost or wet dog?"

Damian just hums noncommittally while loosening the tie around his neck, he hates these things and wishes whoever invented them had a horrible life.

Clark clears his throat at the silence and works on fixing his hair and tie before stepping out of the elevator with the small pup, willingly ignoring the piercing glare sent his way as they both stand outside the omega's office. "Listen up, Kent. I'm going to enter first, because my face is the first one my mother should see, and then after that you can come ruin everything with your sudden appearance, okay?" Clark feels like crying. He doesn't know what he did wrong to get Bruce's kids to be (what is it that Jason says) out of pocket with him, but he just nods slowly and nervously stands as far away from the door as possible so that he's not seen through the glass by the hardworking omega.

Damian narrows his eyes at the taller one last time before opening up the door and smiling brightly at his mother once getting his attention, "Hello mother. How is everything going today?"

Bruce blinks in surprise for a moment before immediately pushing away from his desk and standing up to greet his baby son, "Damian? What are you doing here, baby? Did something happen at school today? Why are you here? Did-" the omega suddenly looks distressed-"did someone get hurt?" Damian hugs onto the omega's legs, rubbing his neck on the soft fabric of the pants so that Bruce smells like pup. "I'm here because I wanted to see you, mommy. I got in trouble at school because someone-as per usual-was being an idiot. Again, I'm here cause I'm in trouble and wanted to see you. And the only person that got hurt was that little idiot at school. But, if someone were to get hurt that we know, I bet it'd be that idiot brother of mine."

Bruce slowly finds himself relaxing as his questions were answered one by one, gently running his hand through his pup's hair while shaking his head fondly.

"I've told you about getting into fights at school if you can help it, baby. But, I'm always happy to see my little boy." Bruce purrs happily and picks Damian up, "Please try not to call your classmates idiots...even if it can seem true sometimes. And don't call your brothers idiots either...though, which one are you talking about hurting himself?" Damian nuzzles into his mom's neck with a small squeak, "I don't know? Maybe the one that would do a flip off of the Empire State Building just to prove he could do it all because he was in the circus. Oh, or the one that would encourage the stupid behavior of the first one. Or, the one who would die because he can't properly care for himself–oh, wait a minute. That's all of them."

Bruce sighs softly and bumps his forehead softly against Damian's, "Don't be that way to them. All of my babies are very smart, and I won't have anyone, even you, saying otherwise."

Damian gets so caught up in snuggling his mother, that he almost forgets about the reporter he (practically) promised to let see Bruce. Key word being: almost, as the sudden flash of a horrid looking patched pattern of the man's sleeve, seen out the corner of his eyes, jump scares the poor boy into looking out of the window and towards Clark Kent, who looks dejectedly into the glass as though he wants to be a part of what's going on.

Ugh! He really is pitiful.

Damian clears his throat and quickly scents Bruce more before speaking up, "Ah...yes. I almost forgot that I wasn't the only one to come up here to visit you-" he directs his snuggle drunk mom's soft gaze to the reporter in the window-"That...reporter you insist be one of the only people to interview you is right outside. It wasn't time for your appointment yet, but I brought him up with me anyway." Because he looks like a kicked dog whenever he sees him, is left unsaid, but he's sure his mom understands. Damian pouts slightly at the way Bruce perks up and looks towards the door, a startled flush tinting the omega's cheeks pink as he automatically makes sure his hair and suit look good for his special guest. "Why didn't you bring him in with you? I look like a horrible person making him wait outside like this."

Damian clings onto the omega tightly, pursing his lips in displeasure while glaring at where the beta stands outside.

"Maybe he should learn how to actually be punctual for once in his life, rather than coming when you aren't yet prepared. And mother could never look terrible-" the pup perks up when complimenting the omega, his squishy cheeks rounding out until his eyes squint as he smiles-"you are the prettiest person ever. I look like you, so I must be pretty too." Bruce chuckles fondly at the compliment and peppers his son's chubby face with kisses, "You and your siblings are such flatterers, you know that? And you-" he boops Damian's button nose softly-"are adorable. You're just my pup, my baby, my little boy whom I love so dearly." Damian shouts in mock protest as he's cuddled close to his mom's chest, accidentally giggling when the older playfully bites the ticklish side of his neck and squirming as the omega keeps it up with a few laughs of his own. "M-Momma—stooop!" Bruce blows a raspberry into the tan skin and inhales the calming scent of his pup, getting one last tickle in before kissing the boy's face.

"Okay, okay. I stopped. Satisfied?"

Damian hides his face in Bruce's neck, raising his shoulders up to his jawline just as a precaution while nodding. "Yes."

Bruce smiles softly and kisses the crown of his pup's head before shaking off his nerves and opening up the door for Clark, looking up at the tall beta fondly when he just stands in place. "I hope I haven't become a stranger to you?" Clark snaps out of his daze when the omega addresses him, blinking away the brain fog and smiling down happily at finally seeing the man of his dreams. "H-Huh?"

Clark scratches the back of his head bashfully when Bruce giggles at him, "What? What did I do? Why are you laughing at me?"

The omega scrunches his nose in an attempt to stop laughing. A thing that usually isn't hard for the billionaire as he controls his facial expressions all the time being Batman, but leave it to Clark to achieve what seems like the impossible. "I-It's not you, per se, not in a bad way. I just think that you're cute-" Bruce smiles kindly and ushers the taller into the room, unaware of the now disgruntled pup in his arms-"You usually are so talkative whenever you come up, but some reason you are being really quiet this time." Clark can feel the air leave his lungs as Bruce flutters his long eyelashes up at him, the look screaming genuine in a way that the omega usually doesn't show in public, as though this is just Bruce himself choosing to do this and not Brucie.

Something about it also is a bit more reserved and shy than usual as he juts out his lower lip into a pout.

"Has my beauty finally stunned you into silence, maybe?"

Clark doesn't know what he looks like right now...but he knows it's probably stupid. His brain feels like it's turned into mush at how...soft and eager the omega looks as he asks the question.

'Everything about you has.'

Is what Clark thinks...or that's what he thought he thought at least. He must have said it out loud as Bruce's pout disappears into a surprised look, as though his mind is processing what was said before he ducks his head shyly.

Yeah, he definitely said something out loud. The look Damian is giving Clark makes the man fear for his life.

"U-Uh...I'm sorry for saying that out loud...ha, ha, ha. I just—you—I never really have gotten to see you interact with your kids much, you know? They usually rush off when I'm around or don't talk. So, it was nice to see you be...uh, a mom just now."

The silence is deafening.

God, why is it so quiet?

Clark blushes something fierce and feels like being launched into a red sun, anything to escape the embarrassment of his big mouth. However, the regret is quickly replaced with one of satisfaction as that pleasing scent from before escapes Bruce's scent patches...and it smells...pleased? Happy? Satisfied?

Clark swallows nervously and stands a little taller, clearing his throat to get Bruce to look back up at him before giving the final tier to his compliment cake. "And I just think that it's a great look on you. I can tell you love your pups dearly, Bruce. And that's admirable." He holds his breath. Gosh, he hopes that didn't sound demeaning or anything? That's definitely not the route Clark was trying to go, but what if that's how he made it sound? He just...just thinks being a mom fits Bruce, especially witnessing that affection in person. It's almost unreal how gorgeous the man acts when he's...acting like a mother.

Oh, gosh.

Does that sound horrible?

Clark slowly spirals internally the longer Bruce just stares at him. Is this some weird fetish thing he has? He's not just thinking this way because he's objectifying being an omega or a mother?

Because if so. Someone should just shoot him with Kryptonite for being like a lot of these alphas in the world.

But, by only nothing short of a miracle, Bruce finally reacts with the deepest blush he's pulled from the omega yet. That hidden scent that only Clark can smell drifting the hidden alpha's way, causing his pupil's to dilate at the happy and (admittedly) alluring smell coming from the shorter. It should be impossible to smell this good, shouldn't it? Clark fists his suit pants at the overwhelming scents coming from the omega, detecting a smell that is more similar to–no? No way.

Clark inhales deeply (without being noticed) and closes his eyes for just a second to focus on that one particular smell, stiffening up when realizing the omega is releasing a scent of gratification.

And he wouldn't call it a sexual one exactly.

Even though there is a hint of that sort of pleasure in the scent as well.

No.

Right now. Right now Bruce seems to be releasing a scent similar to the one's omegas release when they find a desirable mate.

Clark's eyes bug open. Internally screaming, gagging, throwing up (all in good ways. I promise) at how his simple words have caused Bruce to react in such a way.

The reporter has to fight his inner alpha so hard right now. It's jumping the gun and practically demanding he make Bruce his right now so that the omega's family can finally become his own and they can get an early start of making pups of their own. But, he has to remind that eager part of him that Bruce's kids seem to not even like him...and that is one of the most important steps is to at least have them be comfortable enough around him before doing anything with or to the omega.

Bruce's soft voice finally speaks up, cutting through some of Clark's troublesome thoughts. "I...u-um..."

Clark feels like howling with his inner alpha at the sight of the shorter hiding his still red face in Damian's fluffy hair. "Thank you...t-that is always such a-a compliment to me. It reassures me that I'm doing something right with these pups of mine." Bruce looks up at the alpha before glancing away timidly and turning his gaze back up to the taller man once more, the way his cheeks push up and round out all to similar to Damian's face when he smiles big, the sight enough to have Clark wanting to bow and thank the omega for gracing him with such a sight. "Especially coming from you, Clark. I...admire you a lot, so thank you for the compliment-" he hesitates for a moment before pushing onwards-"and I'm sure that whatever omega gets to be yours someday will be so lucky."

It takes everything inside of Bruce to say that last part. A slightly bitter feeling in his mouth as the weight of what he just said settles on his tongue.

Before Clark can respond to the comment, a puppy's call bursts the two adults bubbles, both men looking down at Damian who's face is now lifted from the omega's neck. The boy huffs and squeaks in irritation while fisting his mom's suit jacket in his small hands and tugging desperately, "He's not cute!" Bruce and Clark are both taken aback by the random outburst, the omega rubbing Damian's back comfortingly as he thinks about what he did wrong.

A subtle hand movement from the corner of his eyes gets Bruce's attention, the man looking up at Clark and furrowing his brows curiously as the man mouths something to him.

The omega squints at the taller man's lips in concentration before the realization hits him.

That's right. He called Clark cute earlier.

Bruce tries to hold back his amused chuckle and bounces the pup slightly to get his attention, "Ah...is this because I said Clark is cute?" Damian's brows furrow more and he lets out a small growl, looking betrayed as his mother responds by giggling at him. Bruce coos at the hurt look he receives from the boy and clears his throat, "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to laugh. But adorable and cute are two different things, right? I think adorable is much more endearing than cute is."

Damian perks up at that and smiles innocently, "So that means he's actually ugly?"

Bruce shakes his head and looks at Clark apologetically, "That's not what that means. I just think that out of the both of you..." he trails off to build anticipation, smirking slightly at the insistent tugs to hurry up from his pup. Surprising the boy by suddenly attacking his neck again. "That you are my baby-" a ticklish nibble to the soft skin-"my pup-" a gentle brush of his nose to the neck glands-"my everything in life and more!" Bruce ends with a loud, over exaggerated eating noise to the neck as he digs into that weak spot, chuckling himself at the squirming pup's loud belly laughs as he tries to escape the omega's attack. "And therefore, that means that out of the two of you, your cuteness will always triumph his." Damian squeals (though he would insist otherwise) at Bruce getting one last nibble in before releasing him, causing the boy to slump against his chest again, his small hands releasing the collar of his mother's suit to now wrap around his tie absentmindedly. "Okay-" he purses his lips and fiddles with the tie-"I'll stake my claim on both titles until I'm pretty like you."

Bruce's face hurts from all the smiling he's doing right now, but he hums in satisfaction at how his pup is learning to be content with being a child more and more everyday. Placing a gentle kiss to the pup's forehead before refocusing on Clark.

"I'm sorry for taking so long to start our interview. I'm pretty sure we should have started already?"

Bruce smiles apologetically before heading towards his desk chair, making sure Damian is situated just fine in his lap before gesturing for the beta to take his seat. "Don't be a stranger today. We'll do everything as usual, the only difference is that Damian is here for it. Okay?"

The only difference?

Does the omega truly not realize what he's doing to Clark and all of his instincts and desires right now? How can he focus on everything else when all he wants to do is watch Bruce be a mom all day, and he truly means that respectfully. It's probably dangerous how...fulfilled Clark himself feels just from watching the family–heck, even reading about them in the papers is enough to bring out that warm, fluffy feeling of contentment. As though he's watching a family of his own just simply be.

Sigh...

Clark realizes how much he wants to have a family of his own every time he's around the omega.

But what's worse is the constant realization and confirmation that he wants all of those things with Bruce alone. And isn't that taking his wishes too far? All of those little moments with Bruce that seem like flirting are probably just in his head, right? I mean, he definitely is probably a little bit obsessed with the other in some way, probably to the point of imagining the other flirting back, amongst other things as well, cause Clark is positive it's not too normal to envision a whole life with someone you only talk to for work. And he's also positive that you probably shouldn't have dreams where said person you talk to only for work is carrying your pups inside him...and not even in the sexy, you turn me on sense, but quite literally imagining the ways you can love and care for your pregnant mate who works so hard everyday.

And while Clark knows he might be a little obsessed.

He also knows that he's terribly, undeniably, truthfully, a lot-fully in love right now.

Clark's shoulders slump slightly at the thought. He sounds like Clara right now with the made up word...so that must mean he really is in love.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Clark places a careful smile back on his face and takes his usual seat, pulling out everything he'll need to do this interview. "I could never be a stranger to you, and I would never want to be."

Because I hope to be more than that to you someday.

Clark sighs softly at his own thoughts, distracting himself by smiling at Damian instead. "Also, if he would like to, and if it's allowed, I'm sure the Planet would love to hear a few words from Mr. Damian." Bruce's eyes widen slightly in surprise, a doubtful look overtaking his features at the suggestion. "I don't know...I don't really like having the children in the news if I can help it, Mr. Kent-"

Clark interrupts Bruce with a calm smile, taking the omega's breath away as he looks at the other.

"I thought you asked me not to be a stranger with you today? Why are you suddenly calling me Mr. Kent?" Clark messes with his pen and holds eye contact with Bruce, his smile remaining open while his eyes suddenly hold a seriousness within them. "And you don't have to do anything that you're uncomfortable with, Bruce. If you don't want Damian to be in the papers, even if it's just with a quote, then he doesn't need to be. That's your choice ultimately as his guardian to make."

Ah! Why is Clark always so thoughtful?! It makes the omega's heart flutter and his stomach to tingle.

Bruce smiles thankfully at the other man, his posture relaxing at the beta's understanding, looking down when Damian taps on his hand to get his attention. "Do I not get a say in what I want to do?" The boy grumbles and crosses his arms to show how he doesn't agree with what's going on, huffing more when his mom just gives him that same amused smile once more. "I'm sorry. But you don't, not in these cases. You know that I consider it, but the choice is ultimately up to me, especially with those of you who are still underage...and I don't think I could handle seeing the comments people would, could and will make about you guys. And you know that no matter what, the media always finds a way to portray anyone horrible, even children. You all have enough troubles on your own...I'd hate to add onto that by shoving your faces in the news too."

Damian sighs softly and concedes to the rule by snuggling back into the omega's side. "Fine...but people find a way to talk about everyone in our family anyway and they barely know about us. It's not our fault we are iconic and they can't help but to talk about it all the time."

Bruce pats the boy's head for his obedience and laughs at how much Damian is picking up his older siblings ways of speaking.

"Thank you, puppy. And until the day you and all your...iconic-ness can be seen in public, you'll stay right here hidden away with me. Doesn't that sound better?" Bruce tilts his head down and to the side as he asks, humming happily when Damian snuggles more into his body, his small arms tightening around the omega's waist as his answer. "Well, since that's settled, Clark, would you like to begi-" Bruce sighs at the interruption from his desk phone, whispering a quick apology to Clark before picking it up and signing into the receiver. "Clara...what are you doing? You know I'm supposed to be having an interview right now?"

Clark does his best not to look like he's listening in on the conversation. Distracting himself with small doodles of his and Bruce's names put together on the back of his notebook in different fonts.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt the meeting we both know hasn't started yet. But, Mr. Hannington showed up for a meeting, or so he claims, and he isn't leaving no matter how much I insist that he has the dates mixed up. He told me to tell you that it's an emergency, but if you don't feel like coming down, I can just call security on him." Bruce rubs at his temple tiredly and sighs once again, "Why would you call security on him? He's a seventy-five-year-old man with memory problems. Tell him I'll be right on down and that I'm sorry for my misunderstanding, maybe find him something to snack on while I finish things up here, okay."

Clara makes a suspicious sounding noise on the other side of the phone, her computer keys clacking away and her voice lowering as she whispers. "You never know what a seventy-five-year-old man can be capable of, but I'll do what you said right away, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce sighs tiredly at the woman's paranoia (that's rich coming from him) and puts the phone back on its stand, clearing his throat to get the reporters attention, his icy blue eyes apologetic as he stares at the taller man. "I'm so sorry to cut this short when things barely even got started...but there's an older gentleman downstairs who usually comes around unexpectedly, expecting me to have a meeting with him. He's a very sweet old man with no one to keep him company, so I would hate to leave him alone for so long and disappoint him."

Clark is truly and definitely in love.

How can his the omega be this kind to people? This is exactly why Clark is so smitten with Bruce. The man is just so naturally caring and generous to anyone willing to accept his help. The reporter nods his head in understanding and rises out of his seat along with Bruce, "I understand. It's very kind of you to...entertain him like this when you aren't obligated to. I guess I'll see you whenever you schedule another meeting-"

"It doesn't have to be a waste of his time, mother."

Both Clark and Bruce look down at Damian for his interruption, the omega giving his son a pointed look at the suggestion. "We've already talked about this, sweetheart-"

Damian crosses his arms and huffs, "No. You talked about it and I just agreed because I love you."

Bruce raises a brow at the backtalk and puts a hand on his now cocked hip, "Damian Wayne-" at the full name, the pup immediately snuggles up to the man's side and wraps his small arms around the other's legs. "I'm sorry, mama...but, don't you think me being interviewed by someone as trustworthy as Kent could be beneficial to me?" Damian looks up at the omega, determined to get his way, smiling a little in victory at the man's curious look. "Think about it this way, mama-" he presses on when Bruce still doesn't correct him-"I can learn how to act and talk in interviews now, so that way when the time comes for me to say something in the news later, I know how to be professional about any dumb questions the reporters ask me."

Bruce hums thoughtfully, carding his fingers gently through Damian's hair and grumbling internally at how he can never properly stay mad at his kids.

'Well..." The omega glances at Clark considerately. It's true that he trusts the beta with a lot more information and things considered normal for someone who's ultimately his employee to be trusted with or to know, but it's also not his fault that the man has proven himself to be trustworthy and a gentleman to top it all off. But, just because he trusts Clark with himself, does that mean he trusts the man to be alone with his children?

Clark clearing his throat snaps Bruce out of his thoughts, the omega looking up at the now awkward beta as he scratches the back of his neck nervously.

"Um...if you wouldn't feel uncomfortable leaving me with Damian, I wouldn't mind giving him a trial interview. I promise that I won't record or write anything down...i-it can just be a few easy questions for your pup to get a feel of things, you know?" Clark glances down at Damian briefly before looking at Bruce again, licking his lips nervously as he shifts in place slightly. "Plus, I would be lying if I said the thought of getting to talk to one of your kids wouldn't be exciting-" at the omega's unwavering gaze stayed on him, Clark clears his throat awkwardly-"O-Only because I often see your children hanging around the office with you...but every time I come around, they run off or something. It's probably stupid. But, you've been such an amazing person to hang around, so I could only imagine what your kids were like, but I haven't really gotten the chance to speak or have a real interaction with any of them until today."

Clark laughs nervously and shrugs, "I don't know? I guess it was also a bit discouraging to see your pups run away from we whenever I come around. I've always liked children...so, uh...I guess having a whole group of them not feel comfortable around your presence is a bit sad." He paused for a second before panicking and waving his hands around frantically, "Of course I'm not saying that they are obligated to be near me or anything! That is fully up to them if they would want that. I just-I guess I just wanted to get to know them better since I feel I've gotten to know you so well now."

Bruce is silent. Damian is silent (and glaring). And Clark is most definitely quiet now that he's word vomited everything to the omega.

Are they still even talking about the interview? Bruce wonders silently. At this point, it sounds like Clark is someone he's been seeing romantically for awhile now and he is trying to get to know the family after a couple months or a year of dating one another. I mean, Bruce wouldn't mind that option either, but he's in a working environment...so the intense blush from imagining building an imaginary life with your employee is probably some form of inappropriate workplace behavior.

Nevermind the fact that said imagination is almost causing Bruce to just ask Clark to be the father of his children.

Yeah, that's definitely crossing some sort of workplace code of conduct.

Bruce sucks in a deep breath to calm down his racing heart and gently nudges Damian's head, giving the boy a soft and serious look as he gestures towards Clark. "Baby, do you...would you feel comfortable sitting up here with Clark for a bit while I take care of Mr. Hannington?"

Damian can't help the sassy reply as he looks up at his mom, "Do I...do I actually get a say here?"

Bruce playfully slaps the back of his pup's head for the remark, "Of course you do. This is different...like if I were to leave you in the care of a babysitter or something, I want you to truly feel comfortable around them above anything else. Cause it doesn't matter what my personal feelings or opinions are about Clark-"

Damian tugs on the omega's pants, his gaze steady as he stares his mom down. "And what are your feelings on him?"

Oh, wow...

Bruce suddenly feels called out by his own child (even though the boy hasn't said anything worthy of him feeling that way) as the boy looks at him almost analytically, the pink tint coloring his face once more as he does his best to meet the big green eyes of his youngest pup. "Well—" Bruce gives Clark a passing glance, his tone uncharacteristically soft-maybe even shy-as he answers—"I trust him a lot more than even I ever expected to. H-He's a really outstanding reporter...and man from what I've gathered."

Clark swallows down all the saliva that suddenly decided to have a get together in his mouth. How is it possible for his throat to feel too moist yet dry at the same time?

The taller man looks down at Damian and focuses on the serious look the boy wears. Watching closely as the boy's lower lip juts out into a pout as he thinks (like Bruce does), and how his eyebrows scrunch together and wrinkle in the middle because of how hard he's thinking (exactly in the way Bruce's does too). The pup huffs softly before sticking his nose high in the air as though he didn't look troubled before and kindly waves his mom away, "Well...if you trust him, mother, then surely I have a reason to feel comfortable around him as well."

Before Bruce can protest, the pup pushes insistently at the long legs.

"And before you scold me for what I said. I know that it's ultimately up to how I feel...but, I also trust your judgment as my mom. I know you wouldn't leave me with someone you know would hurt me-" the same can't be said about yourself, is left unsaid-"So, I am willing to find out for myself why you feel this way exactly. Now, off with you, mother. Go tell that old goat I said hello." Despite Bruce's complaints at being pushed, he humors the small boy and gives in to the pushes, heading towards the door step by step until he's 'shoved' outside of his own office.

Correcting Damian about referring to his elders as 'old goats' before the pup shuts the door in his face, respectfully, of course.

Clark shivers at the temperature dropping in the room suddenly when the pup turns around, the boy's soft green eyes (when looking at Bruce at least) suddenly turning sharp and cold as he looks the beta up and down. "Take your seat."

What is Clark to do but to listen?

This is a whole new side of Bruce's kids that he has never seen before. Of course, he's seen the kids in passing, usually when they ran away or made his job difficult by pulling little pranks on him, but he truly has never interacted with one of the creatures the children so closely before. He feels like his movements should be slow...and it's sad to say, but at this point he's not sure if the slow movements are for his sake or theirs.

Damian nods approvingly as the older listens to him and takes the same spot he was in earlier, hopping up onto his mom's desk chair and folding his hands as if he's in a serious meeting. "Look, Kent-" the pup sighs tiredly, as though he's been talking to the older man for hours on end already-"I understand that you have this...'infatuation' with my mother, but I'm here to tell you that whatever it is that you are scheming isn't going to work on him or us. You are here to do your job—" he pauses and waves his right hand around, rolling his eyes when the alpha just stares at him stupidly—"Your job, which is what exactly?" Clark blinks in confusion and pushes up his glasses nervously, "Um...being a reporter? More specifically: interviewing the people that I'm told to interview, go to the places I'm sent to go to get information, writing and getting the facts on my stories...to...uh...name a few things."

Damian nods his head, "Very good. And because you are constantly working hard to get such information from people, wouldn't you say that there requires a specific kind of professionalism to be had during work hours?"

Clark isn't sure where this conversation is going...but it sounds like one he doesn't want to have.

"Yes. Of course I remain professional during work hours. I wouldn't be a good journalist if I couldn't remain so."

The boy stares at him silently before humming and knocking thrice on the wooden desk, "Then why exactly have you been flirting during working hours with someone who you are sent to talk to for business? And not only that! But you flirt with someone who is now your boss." Clark flinches at the harsh accusation, looking on curiously as Tim Drake-one of Bruce's many pups-slides out from one of the desk cabinets with a large tablet in his hands. Damian choosing to carry on as if what's happening is completely normal, "My brother here has compiled up all the moments in which you've made those disgusting looking googly eyes at our mother."

Tim nods his head in greeting and draws Clark's attention to the device in his hands, his gaze accusing as he stares at the older man.

"Thank you, Damian. You did a wonderful introduction to this whole problem. Anyways, Mr...Kent, is it?" At Clark's slow nod, the young alpha continues. "That's what I thought. My siblings and I usually wouldn't bother to involve ourselves with our mama's business (that's a lie), but you see, we have been keeping our eyes on you these past few times you've come to interview our mom—" a few taps of the screen suddenly shows an image of Clark and Bruce, the video playing exposé style—"and we haven't appreciated what we've seen from you: 1. You are flirting on the job, 2. You are flirting on the job with someone who is supposed to be your boss now, 3. You are flirting with our mother and 4-"

Clark jumps in his chair as someone drops down dramatically from the ceiling, the tall and bulky alpha snarling meanly at the reporter. "And 4: We don't know what your fucking plans are with our mom, so spit it out or we'll help you spit it out."

Ah...

This one must be Jason. Clark remembers the few (un)lucky reporters who have actually gotten up close and personal with a few of Bruce's kids (jealous) saying that the second eldest boy is nothing like the omega describes him as: cute, innocent, a baby, the most precious being to ever walk the face of the earth, his small little boy; and now that Clark is looking at the alpha, he can see what those reporters meant. This 'baby' is built like a reinforced war shelter or something...but the man can't help but feel like this young alpha looks familiar in some way.

A whine escapes Tim from behind Jason's bulk, the much shorter alpha hitting at his big brother's back with his tablet. "That's no fair, Jay! You got in the way of my presentation! You promised that you'd wait until the end."

The older boy growls at being hit, but it must not be as threatening as he makes it sound as Tim keeps hitting him, even going so far as to start kicking at the older one's leg, in rebuttal to the sound. "I promised that I'd think about it, pipsqueak, and guess what my answer was? A big, fat, loud f-no. I'm getting impatient with this guy's innocent act...especially since he obviously wants something out of our mama."

Okay, okay, okay.

1. Clark knows he should be terrified right now because of how menacing Jason looks.

2. He is terrified...but not necessarily for the reasons they may want him to be.

3. How can he be scared when Jason calls Bruce, "mama", with an adorably scrunched up nose of protection (because that's definitely a nose scrunch of protection...Clark can tell. And is that something they all got from Bruce?)

And 4. Why is this whole experience making him want to father his pups these pups more than he already wanted to?

Clark, at the realization that his nervousness and fear is more so because he wants to impress Bruce's kids, rather than because they actually and genuinely terrify him, causes him to bury his face in his hands with a loud and pitiful cry.

Jason licks his lips in excitement at the reaction, a twisted smile gracing his face as he looks down at the wailing reporter and giving a menacing chuckle. "Yeah, you motherfucker (and I oop-), cry me a river you bastard. I wanna smell the distress coming off of you in waves by the time you leave this place. You think you can just-just enter our mom's life without us knowing about it, huh? You think that you can make heart eyes at him and get away with it, hm? You think that you can just waltz in here and try to take him away from us, is that it?"

What is wrong with Clark?

Why would he want to be a father to what seems like some of the world's most stubborn, paranoid, crazy, out of hand, bloodthirsty children to ever exist?

I mean, some of those descriptions may be a bit true...but, Clark also can hear the adorably sincere, protective, maybe a touch possessive (in the way pups can be over their mother's), dedicated, filial, genuinely loving and caring tone coming from these-these gremlin children.

Clark is just beginning to realize how crazy he either is himself, or, just how selfish he can truly be right now. Cause all he wants to do is to make these pups his own and be strong for them...because the way they seem to be talking right now disturbs his heart and penetrates deep down to his own protective instincts, at what sounds like the fact that none of these kids seem to have had a decent alpha figure in their lives.

I mean, what are they talking about taking there mom away? What do they mean by his 'plans' for their mom? They make him sound like he's here to hurt Bruce and his family rather than love them.

Jason growls low in his throat at the lack of a response from the seated man, the pups scrambling back in surprise when the reporter suddenly shoots up out of his seat and stands over them.

And stand over them he truly does.

They never actually realized how big the other man was until now...is he standing at full height?

Jason feels a pang of regret for talking the way he did. What if he got his younger brothers in trouble because of his big mouth? The young alpha pushes the younger two behind him, growling low in his throat when they try to protest his protection, forcing them to stay behind himself as they don't know what happens after backtalk. It always leads to beatings and bruises...and he doesn't want that to happen to them, not if he can help it.

"Stay the fuck away from us!"

Clark freezes at the deep baritone of the boy's voice. He sounds...angry? That one is for sure, but the Kryptonian can hear beyond the instinctual anger and down deep to the imperceivable–well, imperceivable to anyone without super hearing that is. The older alpha (though they don't know he is one) stands as still as he can be and lets his super senses do the work for him. Frowning at hearing the slight, almost unnoticeable, shakiness of the boy's vocal cords; fear, the boy is feeling fear when talking to him. Clark carefully scents the air and has to hold back his distressed cry at the uneasy, weary smell coming from the young man.

Jason narrows his eyes suspiciously at the taller and how he seems to have listened to the command to not come closer...at least for now he has.

Baby blue eyes look behind the alpha as the office door opens and Richard enters the room with the rest of their siblings. They were on standby as clean up crew just in case things got messy, but now, the older is inching his way on up to be close to Jason when seeing that glassy look trying to take over the younger one's eyes. "Jay, everything is alright, Mr. Clark isn't moving a muscle." The eldest Wayne child suddenly turns a sharp gaze onto said male, looking over his body to make sure that he's remaining in place.

Cass does the same and looks over the older man, relaxing slightly at what she sees and huffing a quiet laugh to herself at how open the other is with his feelings.

The beta pushes past Richard and skips over to her three brothers, giving a big smile to Jason in response to his protective hissing. "Cass! What the hell is wrong with you?! Don't get so close to him!" The younger tilts her head slightly and looks behind herself to get a glimpse of Clark, taking note of the sadness in his eyes before turning back to Jason and making an x with her arms, "I don't sense anything threatening from him. I promise you, Jason. Everyone is okay as far as I can tell...if anything, Mr. Clark is uber easy to read, if a bit confusing? He's thinking too many things at one time for me to pinpoint what's causing his distress."

Jason watches his little sister sign closely, snorting at the last part of her comment. "Yeah...right, distressed. Why in the hell would he be distressed right now? Because he's been called out for his atrocious behavior?"

Richard finds himself relaxing a bit at having Cass's two cents on what's going on, though he still wants Jason to feel comfortable enough himself to release Tim and Damian from his protective grasp...the poor pups look like they're suffocating with the way the taller is pressing them into the wall. "Maybe we can give him a chance to explain himself? Even if he is some big, horrible man at the end of the day...I don't think he would harm us, especially as mom can easily come up and catch him doing it. And he seems a little too fond over B to hurt us outright."

Clark blinks away the wetness in his eyes...he understands what Richard is trying to do, but it still is a pain to hear someone say that their brother thinks that you'd harm them to your face indirectly.

Jason stiffens up as Clark is on the move again, making a confused noise in the back of his throat when the beta hunches in on himself (as though to make himself smaller) and clasps his hands together as though he's begging for forgiveness. "I-I'm sorry if I have ever acted in a way that has caused any one of you to think I meant harm to yourselves or your mother. I doubly apologize at the fact that I don't know what it is that I did to make all of you feel this way, but if you would be willing to tell me so I can fix it..."

Everyone stares at the reporter in varying stages of shock, confusion or guilt, Barbara being the one to break the silence with a long-suffering sigh. "I told you guys that this would be going too far."

Clark glances over to the sheepish looking woman, the ginger waving her hand in a gesture for the man to relax. "I'm sorry about our behavior towards you...we...uh...we got a little to overzealous in our plans to come talk to you in concern of our mother's new interest, and I don't mean that to be offensive. Mom usually only shows this much interest in us...so I guess we got a little jealous over you."

Stephanie nods her head in agreement, though she still looks curious and a bit cautious as to why Clark is so interested in their ma. "Yeah, and I hope you can excuse Jason? He has some...personal issues, like the rest of us do, and he just got a bit startled." Jason tightens his grip on Tim and Damian (that he moved to holding at some point), burying his nose in their hair for comfort (just like Bruce does *sobs*) as he protests. "I didn't get startled! And I wasn't scared-" his baby blue eyes shift over to Clark cautiously as he slowly relocates himself and his baby brothers over to where his siblings are gathered-"I was just making sure that he didn't do anything stupid is all. You can never trust a stranger."

Stephanie deadpans, "But all of us met B and trusted him when he was at his strangest to us."

The slightly younger alpha frowns, "But this is different, Steph. B is-is our mama. He's able to be trusted because he's showed himself to be." The blond sighs softly in response and just tiptoes up to ruffle the younger boy's hair.

This time it's Richard who turns to look regretfully at Clark, "I'm truly sorry about all this. I feel like I should take most of the blame as I'm the eldest sibling...and I know for a fact that I didn't help dissuade the others when they made plans to come interrogate you-" the older whines as he's slapped upside the head by Barbara-"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I left out how I was one of the first to suggest coming here to do this."

Clark looks between the group of pups (because that's what they are, okay?) and finally lets his tears fall, causing the children to look troubles by the intense reaction.

Damian stops trying to wriggle out of Jason's arms at the sight of Clark's tears and sighs empathetically, "I understand how scared you must have felt when I started talking to you. But...just know that while I was trying to intimidate you, this was not the reaction I was expecting–hey!" He shouts in protest as his hair is roughly ruffled by Jason (who has chosen to release Drake...how unfair). "It wasn't you he was intimidated by, it was me, obviously."

Damian frowns deeply at the obvious lie, nipping and biting at the older boy's hand in retaliation, causing a chain reaction as the rest of his siblings join in on the chaos and forget the crying reporter watching them fondly.

It's only when the man releases a deep chuckle that everyone turns to look at Clark confusedly, especially as he keeps on laughing. "I-I'm sorry to disappoint...but I wasn't scared of either of you-" he looks between everyone before shrugging-"Well, maybe just a little boy at first? But, I'm so selfish and greedy; covetous about something that isn't even mine." Everyone is taken aback by the yearning in the deep blue eyes. "I-I accidentally said too much earlier to your mom when he was in the room...I am guessing that Tim and Jason heard me as they were hiding the whole time? But, I just wanted you all to be impressed by me I guess...I just found it discouraging how none of you seemed to feel comfortable around me whenever I came to interview Bruce."

Jason purses his lips and stares Clark down, "And why do you even want us to feel comfortable around you? It's not like we'd be around you twenty-four seven."

Clark nods almost dejectedly, a small sighs escaping him. "I know...I guess it was partly because I ended up coming around a lot, so to see you kids in somewhat of a consistent enough manner really made me hope that I could get to at least speak to one of you. And...um...I said that I was selfish and greedy earlier—" he swallows nervously at the sharp looks he receives for the change in tone—"and I meant that. I suppose you all were somewhat right when saying I had intentions, but I promise you that it's not anything nefarious."

Stephanie hums thoughtfully before waving her hand, "Explain."

Clark nods in thanks at the chance to share his side of things, "It's true that I've been...flirting with your mother-" he ignores whoever murmured about stating the obvious and pushes forward-"and I'm sorry for being unprofessional in my work, but...but your mom–Bruce, he's such a hard worker and a dedicated boss to those working for him, as well as a committed mom to all of you. And I saw that and I-truthfully I fell in love with his everything: his passion to make this city and the world a better place for the struggling, the reddening of his face when I take an interest in something he finds interesting, his care and adoration for children and youths of all ages and backgrounds." He takes in a deep breath and deals the final blow, "But especially I fell in love with the children of Bruce Thomas Wayne: my boss, crush-and honestly-someone who feels like my best friend during these moments of getting to know each other."

Clark doesn't know where the sudden confidence comes from, but he looks each and every single pup in the eyes as he finally finishes. "And when I said I fell in love with his everything, I meant everything. All of you mean so much to me and I haven't even gotten to know you. That's the reason why I was so scared, it's because I wanted you to see me as someone worthy enough to talk to and feel comfortable around, and I'm only sorry for not being able to be that someone for you all."

With that, Clark bows his head and waits for the biting remarks from the Wayne children, only to be surprised at the gentle tugging of his suit sleeve.

Cass smiles kindly at Clark when he looks up at her, the girl's eyes a bit watery from the confession and baffled at the level of sincerity radiating from the man as he confessed. "You...you already sound like more than what any of us deserve. We're sorry for putting so much pressure on you rather than talking it out...most of us aren't good at that-" she gives a playful smile to lighten the mood and continues signing-"or in my case, can't simply do so. But, your honesty is appreciated...if a bit overwhelming because of its level of sincerity. Thank you."

He doesn't know how it's possible, but Clark is falling more for Bruce's kids and how...soft they actually seem to be.

They just need a little love is all.

And maybe a father? (Fingers crossed)

Jason grumbles to himself dejectedly at how wrong his analysis of the man was. Which really is a good thing! He would have freaked out if he found out the other had bad intentions towards his mama, but, he also doesn't know what to do with this new information, because it's nothing like what he expected it to be.

However, in a rare moment of showing respect, Jason turns to look at Richard and nudges the older with his elbow to get his attention and opinion as the head alpha (when Alfred isn't around that is). "What do you think about this? About him?" Richard's eyes crinkle in that familiarly comforting way it does when he's low-key (read: high-key, cause he ain't low-key about nothing) excited about something, the older wrapping a lean, yet strong, arm around Jason's neck and leaning in to nuzzle the boy's cheek. "I...actually feel really good about him, Jay. Don't feel pressured to like him either just because I or anyone else does, okay? You were very brave today too, by the way, thank you for standing up to what you saw as a threat."

Jason would never admit it, but he preens under the praise and returns the muzzle back to his older brother, allowing his tense body to relax into the slimmer build as Richard holds him up. His blue eyes scanning Clark from head to toe, "I...think I trust him too? I'm scared that I do though."

Richard hums in understanding and hugs his baby (because he is a baby) brother close, the two watching as Damian finally gets out of Jason's hold and stands up in front of his siblings with a heavy pout on his face. "T-Traitors! The lot of you! All of you don't love mommy, for you betray him by falling for such acts!" Uh oh...the boy is stressed out right now, he calls Bruce mommy to/when: 1. To soften the omega up when he wants something, 2. When the omega is distracted with something and Damian whines for his attention or 3. When he gets distressed at a situation and wants to snuggle into Bruce.

And with the way he's looking right now, Damian falls into category number three.

Tim softly tries crooning to Damian when seeing the boy get teary eyed at what he perceives as unfair treatment. "Dami-"

"Damian?"

Everyone jumps in surprise at hearing Bruce's voice suddenly, the omega growing defensive at the thought of his pups having been hurt by Clark at the sight of their teary eyes, until he sees that the man himself also has been crying. "Baby, what's wrong?" Bruce purrs to soothe the distressed pup, lifting the boy into his arms and rubbing gentle circles into the small back as he looks between his kids and Clark for an answer. "What is going on right now? When did you kids even get up here?"

At the apologetic looks from his kids-and the very obvious looks Richard is giving Clark-Bruce immediately mourns whatever it is that his kids said or did to the poor beta.

"What exactly have you kids been doing while I was downstairs? And why are you all crying?"

Bruce extends a gentle hand to his kids and allows them to take off the scent patches on his wrists so that he can rub his comforting smell on all of them, his voice a calm rumble as he calms them down. "There you go, it's okay. Now, I want answers as to what is happening. No one is on trouble, understand? I just need to know if anyone was...hurt or anything." The doubt in Bruce's voice immediately causes all of them to speak up at the same time, the omega looking back and forth between his children in confusion as their words jumble together. "I love you, Bruce Thomas Wayne!"

Now that voice, that voice Bruce most definitely heard.

It's loud, booming, deep, gentle yet commanding and so undeniably alpha of Clark Kent.

Which is confusing. Isn't he a beta?

It takes a moment for everyone to get themselves under control, Clark being the first to shake himself out of his own surprise as he boldly takes off his scent patches so that Bruce knows about him. "I-I wasn't expecting for my confession to ever go this way-" he looks at Bruce's kids in amusement-"much less with an audience around. But, I said I love you and everything about you, from the top of your head to the soles of your feet I love you. From your piercing blue eyes and the way you roll them unknowingly whenever someone says it does something stupid—I should know, you've given me them a lot—to your pink lips and the way you pout them in deep concentration whenever you think hard about something."

Bruce is too busy staring in a daze up at the alpha to pay attention to whichever one of his kids cooed about the romance happening and for someone to scoot over so they can get a better view (though it's most likely Richard).

Clark keeps his eyes trained on the shorter man, standing to his full height and slowly stepping forward until he's right in front of the man, his gaze overwhelmingly fond and loving as he looks down at the smaller. "I love the way you gracefully handle the most troublesome situations in your city, yet complain about the small things like a certain vegetable you don't like in your food or how the weather is a touch too cold for your liking—" Bruce frowns at that and unconsciously rolls his eyes. "Those are perfectly reasonable things to fuss about–w-what?"

Clark watches as the omega adjusts Damian so he can hold him with one arm and pat at his face with his free hand, to see if there's anything on his face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

The alpha smiles and raises a hand slowly until he's cradling the soft face in his wide palm, basking in the heat radiating from the blushing man. "It's because I love you and the way you complain to me-" he whispers it as though it hurts him to realize just how much he can love someone else-"and...and I don't even know if it's possible for me to have you and for me to be yours in return. I—you are so beautiful, Bruce. Inside and out. And to be around you for so long the way I've been privileged to is such an honor, while also slowly driving me mad with thoughts and dreams about a future I don't even know is obtainable for me." Bruce's arms tighten around Damian, soothing the pup as he whines from the confession going on, his voice nothing but a whisper as he nuzzles the hand cradling his cheek. "Then...then why don't you ask me what I think?"

Clark's breath is taken away at how beautiful Bruce is, his eyes searching the omega's face hopefully as he swallows down his nerves and does as requested. "W-What do you think about me, Bruce? What do you think about us being together?"

Bruce exhales shakily at hearing the question even though he asked for it, "I think...I think a lot of things: how crazy you must be to actually enjoy being around me, how correct you are for loving kids-but especially my kids; how I think that y-you'd make a wonderful father to the omega lucky enough to have you as an alpha." Oh...is this a rejection? Clark can feel his shoulders automatically slump dejectedly, though he keeps his hand on the other's face, fighting off the urge to protest and complain. The alpha caught off guard at the warm tears dripping onto his palm and the warmth of the omega as he steps closer and closer, until their chests are aligned and Damian is cradled in a warm cocoon between the two.

Bruce's voice is small yet optimistic as he asks, "Can I? Can I be that omega?"

Surprisingly, Damian is silent this time, everyone holding their breaths as they wait for Clark's reaction.

Before Bruce can self doubt anymore, Clark lets out a happy shout and picks up the omega and swings him around, placing a tender first kiss onto the shy omega's lips. "You can...as long as I'm allowed to be your alpha in return?" Bruce feels overwhelmed at feeling so...loved and sniffles loudly, stretching up on his toes when Clark pulls away from their kiss, stunned at how addicted he is to the alpha's taste already. He nods his head quickly in answer to the other's question, "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Thank you, C-Clark."

The alpha wipes away the omega's tears, hugging the man close to his chest and places a tender kiss to the man's forehead as he lets him cry.

Clark catches Damian teary eyed stare in the middle of making sure Bruce is okay, giving a gentle smile to the pup as he croons softly to the boy. "And you-" he bends down until he's face-to-face with the pup-"I promise that I'm not taking away your mom from you or the family. I...I hope to add on to the family he's built, not take away from you guys, and I hope that I can prove that to you and your siblings in due time."

Damian remains stubbornly curled up against Bruce, though he's not as stiff and weary as before, his little nose twitching as he sniffles and looks between Clark and his mother.

"M-Mommy—" Damian whines and clings onto Bruce's suit—"he...he isn't like father."

Bruce sucks in a sharp breath at the admission, nodding his head in agreement, "You're right. He's not your father...he won't hurt you, baby, or me." Damian nods his head softly and leaves it at that, dragging Bruce's hand up to his face so that he can smell at the scent glands on his wrist to be comforted.

Well, that worked out better than expected for Clark, he gives a hopeful smile to Bruce before they turn to the rest of their kids.

Richard smiles brightly and practically vibrates excitedly at the thought of having a dad (again), "Welcome to the family! Is it too early to invite you over for dinner?"

Barbara rolls her eyes good-naturedly as she carefully pushes the eldest to the side and nods her head in polite introduction, "Excuse the family dog, he hasn't had enough playtime today-" she smiles at the offended exclamation she gets from the alpha, waving him off when he tries to play fight her over it-"I'm Barbara and that's Richard...though I'm sure you knew that? I'm really sorry about what happened earlier...but, I'm glad you're one of us now."

Clark feels like crying even more at the beta's kind acceptance of him into the pack.

Cass steps forward next and waves excitedly, "I'm Cassandra; the favorite child, but don't tell anyone else that. I admit that I don't understand why you love us the way you do...not many of us will right now, but like Barbara said, I'm glad you're with us now instead of anywhere else. I'm glad we didn't scare you off...you're kind." Clark barely has time to respond to the small girl before Stephanie is barreling her way through her siblings, the blonde eyeing him carefully now that she knows for sure he's an alpha. "Most alphas we know personally have sucked, so I hope you really aren't one of those ones? You don't seem like it though, so welcome to the family, and let's learn to bug people together. You and me. That's our bonding time."

That was...blunt, but appreciated nonetheless. Clark just is happy at the fact she mentioned bonding with him.

Jason bites his lip when the older alpha looks at him, scratching his index nail against his jeans nervously from the attention. "Uh...I guess I'm sorry for the...overreaction, but I don't have good experiences with alphas." The nineteen-year-old finds himself blushing as he quickly spits out, "But thank you for not freaking out about it-" a quick pause-"I guess."

Clark smiles and softly reassures the boy that there's no need to be sorry, unaware to how Bruce is melting at the dad energy radiating from the man.

Everyone stares at Tim as he's the only one who hasn't said anything yet. Not that he's supposed to, of course, but it's making Bruce worry about it the boy is feeling neglected already...he knows the pup as abandonment issues, so change is often a scary thing for him. "Timmy, is everything okay?" Bruce questions softly, gently brushing away some hair from the alpha's eyes just to see what's going on in his head. The boy only stares up at Clark as though he's found something (or in this case, someone) amazing, the teen hugging his tablet to his chest as he exclaims in awe: "I can't believe Superman is our dad."

Clark's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he chokes on his spit, the Wayne family practically breaking their necks to look at him as the room descends into chaos, Stephanie loudly exclaiming.

"I guess #superbat is now trending!"

And that's how Superman found out he was in love with Batman and vice versa.

(Damian's bio parent in this is Ra's Al Ghul. If I would have a decent writing schedule, y'all would have understood that as it's in the separate Damian story I said I was writing. But, just a quick explanation for anyone who would be curious as to who the parent is.

Just know that this also isn't related to the 5+2 story I have in this series as well, as due to popular votes, the majority wanted Clark (in said 5+2) to be Damian's bio parent. So, this takes the route on what I would have done if I would have kept anyone else but Clark as his other bio parent.

Also, please don't ask me what I was thinking when writing this? I was confused on whether to add the crack tags or not, especially as I don't think this is so silly/odd to the point of me tagging that, however, I felt (personally) that the certain way I wrote things was leaning into that crack-ish territory (though I'm most likely wrong lol).

Also, also, I had so many cute endings planned and some reason went with that. I swear if y'all are mad at the ending, I can try fixing it XD, but I just felt the story reached a certain point of angst I didn't expect to have for this...so I made the ending a bit silly-stupid

You all are always so greatly appreciated! And know that I love and appreciate each and every single one of you for taking the time to read, comment and kudos. You all are the most amazing Valentine's a girl could ask for, thank you!

Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

103 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 2 years ago

Text

The Impossible Choice (9)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, violence, domination ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm's End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

He woke up feeling such a terrible pain in his head and throughout his body that he wondered if he was just dying. He lifted his eyelid with difficulty, feeling the sunlight streaming into his chamber, burning his face, everything around him was spinning slightly, his image blurred.

He was completely alone.

He swallowed loudly at the mere memory of the crazy fantasies that he had dreamt through the night.

That his wife's sister had come to him to suck his cock.

That his mother had come to him, but when he woke, it was not she who embraced him.

It was his wife.

He stared at her then in disbelief, terrified, angry, and thirsty all at once, still completely drunk.

He simply threw himself on the bed with her and fucked her.

In this dream, however, she wasn't lying beneath him frightened, waiting for his orders. She was kissing him greedily, her soft, warm hands all over his body, her sweet voice struggling to say his name each time the thrust of his hips open her wide on his cock.

He asked her to stop, sensing that she was arousing something in him that he didn't want to feel.

The hot sensation that was spilling over his chest.

He felt embarrassed that he could behave like that in front of a woman in such an intimate moment, to show his weakness, his helplessness and suffering that no one but him had access to.

He squeezed his eye shut, sighing quietly.

It was only a dream.

He rose slowly and only then realised, surprised, that he was not wearing his shirt. He glanced down and saw that his breeches were untied, his heart in his throat, pounding in his chest so hard as if it was about to tear him apart.

No.

He stood up, walking over to his chair and saw that there was bedding lying on it, which he was sure that he hadn't brought there, next to him on the small table stood an empty cup and jug. He squeezed his eye shut, trying to breathe calmly, covered his face with his hands and knelt down, trying with all his might not to scream.

No. No. No.

FUCK!

He thought with bitter anger that she would surely tell this story at court, that she would brag to the other ladies how she had seduced the crippled One-Eyed Prince, how she had listened to him cry for his mother, how he had even begged her when he came inside her.

That he was pathetic.

That he was not a man, but a boy.

A child.

He decided that he would not speak to her, would not summon her to him this night, or any night in the future, until he was sure she was still bleeding.

He would not trust her.

He ate his morning meal alone, devastated, bitter and disappointed with his attitude. He thought that it was pathetic for any young woman to be able to bring him to such a state after two nights and decided that he needed to start controlling himself.

How he was perceived was more important to him than his own pleasure.

What he feared the most was that she would come to him, that she would ask questions, thinking that he wanted to answer her.

That they would now be friends, whispering sweetly their secrets in each other's ears, cuddling tenderly at bedtime.

He felt sick at the thought and put the rest of the grapes that he had just eaten back on his plate.

She did not visit him that day, or any day after.

She bid farewell to her family in his company, but they did not say a word to each other; he saw that she glanced at him, but he did not reciprocate her look.

He stared murderously at her sister, Floris, thinking that if it hadn't been for her and her stupid idea, nothing would have happened. He pressed his lips together at the sight of her brother, kissing her forehead again.

Even though she didn't reciprocate his affectionate touch, all tense, knowing that he was watching them, he felt furious anyway.

As her loved ones set off in their retinue, he turned away and returned to his chamber, paying no attention to her.

From then on, for several days, apart from polite courtesies at the supper in the presence of his family, they did not exchange a word with each other. His wife didn't seem to mind; she spoke a lot with his sister, Helaena, and it was to her that she paid the most attention.

He tried to see a twitch of amusement or pity in her eyes, evidence that deep down she was mocking him, but he saw nothing of the sort and was frustrated by this fact.

He wanted to classify her unequivocally, but he couldn't.

She never did what he would have expected her to do, and this made him feel miserable in her company.

He was exerting himself more than usual during his morning training sessions with Ser Criston Cole. They always practised at sunrise, when only servants walked around, because he was frustrated by the constant stares of the onlookers, their eternal assessment of his behaviour and movements.

It made it impossible for him to concentrate.

However, he could not hide his surprise when his wife came out to them one day when they were just beginning their warm-up in the empty courtyard.

What immediately caught his attention was that she was wearing something completely different from her usual attire.

Just as she had been when he had first seen her in Storm's End.

She was dressed in a tight, embroidered corset, hugging her waist wonderfully, with a buff, linen shirt underneath and well-fitting black breeches on her legs, her hair combed into braid.

She bowed to him and moved on, ignoring the involuntary stares from him and Criston.

He felt frustration at the thought that she was up to something again.

He watched her carefully as she approached a wooden table on which various melee weapons lay. She leaned over him and began to pick up swords of various lengths, as if she was checking something, he chuckled low under his breath, shaking his head impatiently, turning the hilt of his sword in his hand.

"Can I help you with something, my lady?" Criston Cole asked, slightly amused and intrigued, clearly wanting to understand what she was doing.

His wife looked a them surprised, she held in her hands a sword shorter and smaller than his, designed for fighting for younger boys.

"No need, Ser Criston." She said lightly and turned the sword several times in her hand with a lightness that left them both stunned. She approached them slowly, an unforced, warm, excited smile on her face.

"May I join you?" She asked cheerfully. He couldn't resist himself and laughed out loud, Cole gave him one reproving look.

"Is this some kind of joke, sweet wife?" He sneered, throwing her an impatient look.

He thought that she wanted to make a fool of him again, to humiliate him also in such a sphere as hand-to-hand combat which was his strongest point, his trump card.

She, however, looked at him surprised and confused, apparently for some reason not expecting such an obvious reaction. She swallowed quietly, casting a pleading glance in Criston's direction. He seemed intrigued.

He rolled his eye, furious, running the blade of his sword across the sand with rage as he began to ask her questions.

"Who taught you to fight, my lady?" He asked, folding his hands behind him, looking at her with a calm smile. She was clearly pleased that his response was different from her husband's.

"My brother and my father." She said with satisfaction.

He threw them a glance over his shoulder and saw that Criston had raised his sword and stepped back, apparently wanting to give her a chance. He pressed his lips together at this sight and wanted to say something on the verge of exploding with fury, but Criston forestalled him.

"Strike me." He said encouragingly.

His wife bent slightly on her feet, stepping half sideways to him and swung, the blade slamming against the blade with a loud clang of steel. Criston deflected her strike with ease.

"Good. Don't stand so stiff on your feets. Again."

His wife immediately applied his advice and began to push against him with a fierceness that apparently surprised Criston himself.

Watching her he thought, frustrated, that she really knew how to wield a sword and although she didn't do it even partly as well as he did, he couldn't help but admit to himself that it was impressive.

He didn't know how he felt about that thought.

"Come here." He commanded, turning his sword impatiently in his hand.

Criston and she stopped, breathing a little faster, heated from the sudden exertion. His wife approached him slowly, scared and curious at the same time.

He thought that he would knock this ideas out of her head, show her what a real duel was, so that she wouldn't think she could match a man.

He threw himself at her suddenly, swinging his sword, and she barely managed to jump away before his cut, surprised. His sword cut the air with such speed that she didn't even have a chance to swing, neither of them having a shield to defend themselves.

He knew that he could cause her harm, but he decided that she wanted it herself.

Their swords finally collided with a loud clunk of steel, she struggled to push him away and swung, cutting with her sword so that now it was he who had to dodge.

He thought with amusement that she knew the basics, but easily forgot the essentials.

He heard her squeak quietly as he suddenly tripped her leg and she fell heavily to the ground, her sword falling out of her hand.

Criston stirred uneasily at this sight but said nothing, all tense.

His wife, however, was not too concerned about the incident. She hissed quietly and rose, brushing off her breeches from the sand and dust, gripping the hilt of her sword again.

He stared at her, thinking that he was losing his patience, fearing that he was about to really do something to her.

He rushed against her again, this time even more aggressively than before, with each clash of their blades their breaths getting faster and louder. He wanted to slash at her again, but this time she jumped back, taking advantage of his inattention, swinging quickly.

Their swords clashed loudly and they wrestled for a moment, but he managed to push her sword away with such force that it fell out of her hand. He grabbed violently by the hair and pulled her close, their faces almost touching, her hot breath and scent teasing his nostrils.

"You like making a spectacle of yourself, don't you?" He hissed, walking with her step by step, forcing her to move backwards. She swallowed loudly, looking at him in shock, breathing heavily.

She said nothing.

He looked at her sweaty skin, hot from exertion, her flushed cheeks, her hair stuck to her face.

She looked exactly as she did when he saw her for the first time.

"Why are you doing this to me?" He muttered with unintentional pain that he tried to hide.

She looked at him with her eyebrows arched in pain, trying to understand him, her lips parted in accelerated breathing, her cheeks pink from exertion.

Or from something else.

He felt his manhood swell slightly in his breeches at the thought.

"Answer me." He growled, clenching his fingers tighter in her hair, impatient, trying to hide his arousal from her and from himself.

He heard how Criston Cole, anxious, wanted to step in already, moving towards them.

"I wanted to spend a little more time with my husband. Forgive me, I'll never do it again." She whispered, lowering her gaze, defeated.

"Stay back." He said coolly to Cole who stopped in mid-step.

He looked at her face, searching for anything that would allow him to conclude that she was lying or pretending, to be exactly like her worthless sisters, but there was something in her gaze, something tender from which he felt a burning sense of shame.

He knew full well that he had been neglecting her for weeks.

He had left her alone in a place completely foreign to her.

She hadn't told anyone about what had happened between them.

She didn't even mention it.

He leaned against her ear, feeling his heart pounding hard.

"Go to my chamber."

He saw her look up at him, terrified and surprised at the same time. He let her go, and she swallowed loudly, moving slowly towards the keep, glancing at him over her shoulder. Criston approached him, looking at him with condemnation.

"Is it appropriate for you to treat your wife so brutally, my prince? It's early, no one saw any of this anyway." He said, but he threw him one furious look.

"Don't try to interfere between me and my wife ever again."

Cole pursed his lips at the tone of his voice, knowing him well, understanding how easy it was to arouse his anger. However, he also knew that properly spoken and chosen arguments could calm him down.

"I've been watching her for a month, my prince. She's a cheerful, wise, bright girl, smart enough not to impose herself on you. Everyone waits patiently only up to a certain point; after that, she will neither fear nor love you. You will be indifferent to her." He said calmly as he ran his fingers through his hair, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"I don't care." He said too angrily and too quickly for Cole to believe him.

He stared at him over his shoulder in fury, his jaw clenched so tight that he thought it would snap.

He hated when Criston lectured him like a child.

He'd told him once not to forget himself, but that didn't deter him.

He couldn't confide in any other man.

He pursed his lips, swallowing softly, turning his sword, its blade resting on the ground, spinning in his hand.

"She's too unpredictable to me." He said finally, looking away in shame. Criston chuckled lightly at his words, which made him look up at him quickly with gaze full of frustration and embarrassment.

"If you wanted a predictable wife, why didn't you pick one of her calm, well-mannered sisters, trained to be everything you desire?" He asked, unable to hide the smirk that appeared on his mouth when he saw the grimace on his face, as if he had caught him in something that he was ashamed of.

He looked down, unsure of what to say, and squeezed his eye shut, letting out a silent curse, clamping his fingers on the base of his nose. Criston sighed, shaking his head.

"I am ready, my prince." He said, turning his sword in his hand, indicating with a nod that they could continue their duel.

He finished his training faster, knowing that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on it anyway.

She jumped up on the bed as he walked into his chamber, clearly terrified that she had upset him again. He looked at her with a blank stare for a moment, wondering if he was sure he wanted to do this.

She tried to do her best to please him, but he was a living fire.

Fire could not be tamed.

"Come with me." He said lowly, turning away, without even looking at her reaction. He heard her move behind him, trying to catch up with him.

He turned into one of the narrow corridors of the fortress, then ran down the stone stairs hearing the sound of her quick footsteps behind him. They walked down until they emerged into cold, chilly cellars, torches lit all around them.

At last they reached the main hall, in the middle of which stood a huge candlestick, on top of which were placed small burning candles, already partially burnt out.

Above them a gigantic, terrifying skull of Balerion.

He looked at her over his shoulder and saw that she was glancing around, shocked.

Apparently this place had made the same impression on her as when his father had first shown it to him.

It was the first and the last time for them to do something together, like father and son.

The king told him of his ancestors, of Balerion, Aegon and his conquests, of old Valyria. He was enthralled, and asked him often to tell him about it again one day, but never afterwards did his father find the time or strength to do so.

From then on, he came here alone.

Although he prayed with his mother in the Great Sept, accompanying her every week, here, in the underground, he prayed for things that he could not entrust to the Seven Gods. He hid these desires from them, this dark, empty side of his heart.

He prayed that his whore half-sister had burned alive in the Vhagar's fire.

He prayed that he could make Luke put out his own eye, to give it as a gift to his mother.

He prayed that Aegon would drown in his own vomit someday.

He prayed that he would become a king.

He could not explain to himself why he had actually taken her there. After she told him that she only wanted to spend time in his presence he realised that he had not allowed her to get to know himself in any way, treating her only as an object to give him an heir.

He felt remorse.

He knew that he had not treated her the way she deserved. For her patience and devotion any other husband would showering her with kisses and flowers, gifts and warm confessions of affection.

But not him.

He knew that he would never be this kind of husband to her.

He wanted to give her something in return, like when his father the king had given him a substitute of fatherhood in that one moment.

He took two candles in his hands and lit them from the already burning flames, then placed them in front of him.

One for him, one for her.

For his wife.

She stood beside him, watching him with fascination, he liked the fact that she didn't ask any questions.

She knew that he had taken her to a place that was sacred to him and she respected that.

"I pray here every day." He said indifferently, pulling out the burnt candles, tossing them into a special basket underneath.

He cared for this place as if he were its priest.

His temple of Fire and Blood.

He saw her look up at him, surprised, for a moment it seemed to him that she was analysing his words.

She stepped around him, walking slowly towards the centre of the hall, raising her head high in the air, as if she wanted to get a closer look at the skull of the largest dragon that had ever walked the earth. He swallowed loudly as she knelt down, placing her hands on her lap and bowed her head humbly.

She was praying.

She was praying in his sanctuary, his most sacred place.

His wife.

He approached her from behind, breathing quietly, feeling her flinch when his hand tightened on her shoulder as he pushed and forced her to lie on the cold stone floor on her back. Her lips parted in shock as his fingers slid down to tying his breeches, he swallowed loudly when she did the same, clearly understanding what he wanted to do.

They both panted loudly as he knelt in front of her, drawing her hips closer to him, pulling the material of her black trousers off her, leaving her ungodly naked from the waist down. He spread the material of his breeches to the sides, releasing his erection, giving himself a few encouraging squeezes at the root, looking at her in disbelief.

What was he doing?

He leaned in at last, placing one of his hands beside her head for balance, the other guiding the fat head of his cock against her tight slit, pushing against her, opening her wide with her moan of exertion. He sighed hearing her whimper as he forced his way into her fleshy, hot interior with an impatient thrust of his hips.

She was wet.

This discovery made him start pounding into her at once, as thirsty as she was after so long of intimate abstinence, their panting and quiet, tentative moans echoing loudly throughout the hall.

"Forgive me." He whispered helplessly, his thrusts greedy, hungry from the lack of their closeness.

He wasn't sure what he was apologising for.

Maybe for taking her in such a place, subjecting her to discomfort, for how he treated her, for his brutality, his ruthlessness, his coldness.

"Forgive me. I can't do it any other way." He panted, speeding up, gripping her hips in his hands, rooting into her with wet slaps of his thighs hitting against her buttocks, feeling like he was about to burst into tears.

He felt weak.

"I know." She whispered tenderly, entwining her hand in his hair, pressing his forehead to hers, brushing her wet, soft lips against his, trailing them over his skin, just as she had then, that night, her hot breath enveloping his face.

He stared at her helplessly, marvelling anew at the warmth of her insides, her tight, fleshy walls that clenched on him again and again, sucking him inside with a loud click of her wetness.

"Forgive me." He almost sobbed, clenching his eyes, trying to catch air in his lungs, feeling as if he was suffocating.

He felt her small hands embrace him, pressing him tighter against her, her fingers clenched on his back, their bodies entwined in a passionate, sticky embrace, the thrusts of his hips slamming into her quickly and brutally with lewd slaps.

"Just fill me, my sweet husband." She hummed into his ear and he let out a deep, low, helpless groan, her words surging through him like a wave, making him come hard inside her, hearing and seeing nothing for a moment, submerged in his own, almost painful pleasure.

He felt her core clench on his cock in fulfillment as he rocked his hips inside her for a moment longer, they were both panting loudly, pressed against each other.

He thought despairingly that, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't take it anymore.

He snuggled his face into her neck and let the tears run down his cheek; he made no sound, his body convulsed, trying to find an outlet for his emotions, his frustration, his fear, his loneliness. She felt, terrified, that something was happening to him, his warm moisture run down the skin of her neck.

She stroked his hair, embracing him with her arms, saying nothing, terrified of his condition.

He felt as if something inside him had died.

546 notes · View notes